Chapter Sixty-Five: The New Codebook

However, when he glanced at Ning Zhiheng beside him, he felt a bit embarrassed and said, “How about I leave this for you as a keepsake?”

Ning Zhiheng merely shook his head. He had little interest in such small pistols, finding his own Browning much handier. Over the past month, he had taken every free moment to practice at the shooting range, firing countless rounds. His accuracy had improved, and the feel of the gun in his hand had grown ever more natural. Changing to another sidearm would only throw him off.

Wei Liangbi, seeing that Ning Zhiheng was uninterested, was secretly pleased. He swiftly put the pistol away, his spirits high as he teased, “I was only being polite. If I really gave it to you, I’d be reluctant to part with it!”

Ning Zhiheng smiled without replying. Moving to the desk, he began to examine the items scattered across it. There was a stack of white paper. Lifting the top sheet carefully, he found them all to be blank, but he vaguely noticed faint indentations on the first page. Alerted, he took a document envelope from a nearby team member and carefully placed the papers inside.

After searching the desk, he paced about the room and suddenly sensed something odd beneath his feet. He shifted his foot aside, knelt down, and gently felt along the floorboards. He soon discovered that one plank had a wider gap than the others, with marks at the edge as if pried by a sharp tool.

He drew a dagger from his calf—a weapon he now carried ever since witnessing the spectacular knife fight between Huang Xiansheng and Sun Jiacheng, which had left him with a fascination for such blades. He had gotten one for himself, just in case.

With a gentle motion, he pried up the floorboard and set it aside, revealing a box beneath. Ning Zhiheng’s heart leapt with joy—the shape was remarkably similar to a radio transmitter.

He recalled how they had captured a radio during the arrest of Liutian Xingju, but had failed to find the codebook at the time. Perhaps this time, the haul would be more substantial.

He pulled out the box and set it on the desk, then called out to Wei Liangbi, who was searching the adjacent room. “Team Leader, I’ve found something!”

At Ning Zhiheng’s shout, Wei Liangbi hurried into the bedroom. Upon seeing the box on the desk, his eyes lit up. “Open it quickly!”

Ning Zhiheng lifted the lid, and sure enough, inside was a radio transmitter—just the type commonly used by Japanese spies: compact, high-powered, and with stable voltage, the most advanced portable radio of the era.

Wei Liangbi quickly reached in and pulled out the transmitter. “Check if the codebook is inside!”

“There’s a booklet underneath!” Ning Zhiheng’s sharp eyes caught a small booklet beneath the transmitter the moment it was lifted. He hurried to hand it over to Wei Liangbi.

Wei Liangbi set the transmitter down, took the booklet, and drew a deep breath. Gently opening it, he broke into a delighted smile. Flipping through several pages, he finally confirmed his hopes.

Waving the booklet in the air, he exclaimed to Ning Zhiheng, “Zhiheng, we’ve really hit the jackpot this time! An advanced Japanese spy encryption codebook!

Do you realize? This little codebook alone is enough for us both to soar in our careers—it’s worth more than capturing ten Japanese spies!”

Ning Zhiheng was pleased to see Wei Liangbi so excited, though he thought his assessment somewhat exaggerated. From what he knew, every Japanese intelligence group used different encryption formulas, so each codebook was unique. Even if they had captured this one, it would only be of use in cracking the Shadow Group. It didn’t seem quite as invaluable as Wei Liangbi claimed.

Wei Liangbi, ever shrewd, seemed to sense Ning Zhiheng’s thoughts. He chuckled softly and said, “In any case, this is a major achievement! I’ll explain more once we’re back.”

Having spent longer in the Military Intelligence Department, Wei Liangbi was privy to information Ning Zhiheng did not yet know. Now, surrounded by other team members, it was not the time for open discussion. Ning Zhiheng nodded silently and held his peace.

The search was thorough, but nothing more of significance was found—only a small amount of cash in legal tender and two gold bars.

Ning Zhiheng inferred that since Xie Ziming possessed a transmitter, he was clearly Liutian Xingju’s successor—the new leader of the Shadow Group—and would certainly have operating funds at his disposal. There was no way this meager sum was all he had. Since nothing more had turned up in the house, the rest must be hidden elsewhere.

He was confident that, as with the interrogation of Huang Xiansheng, no one could withstand the severe tortures to come. He would eventually get the answers he wanted, so there was no need to rush.

Once the search was complete, Ning Zhiheng left six men to stay behind and maintain surveillance, hoping for any follow-up leads. Although he doubted much would come of it, his guiding principle was that caution never led to grave errors—better to be too careful than not enough.

The entire team returned to the Military Intelligence Department. In Wei Liangbi’s car, he explained the situation to Ning Zhiheng.

It turned out the Military Intelligence Department had been established primarily because Chinese agents had suffered grievous losses on the intelligence front. Escalating leaks and blunders in the military had enraged the Director.

For several years, suppressing the rampant activities of Japanese spies became the department’s main task. The most pressing concern was the severity of intelligence leaks—their own codes were repeatedly broken by the Japanese. In contrast, when faced with Japanese encrypted messages, the telecommunications division was utterly stumped, as if reading an alien language.

Last year, the department went to great lengths to assemble a code-breaking team from the nation’s finest mathematicians, focusing on deciphering Japanese military intelligence. Progress, however, was slow. The main reason was a lack of genuine raw data—insufficient material for comparative analysis. In other words, they needed to capture more Japanese codebooks to analyze and identify patterns, thereby devising targeted decryption strategies. Otherwise, it was like searching for a needle in a haystack.

To put it simply, it was like a mathematical problem—finding the underlying pattern. Given several sequences of numbers, you must deduce the rule and create a formula. With the formula in hand, you can unravel even the most complex variations.

The slow pace of breakthroughs had long vexed the department’s leadership. Over the years, few Japanese spies had been caught, and most were of little consequence. The Japanese intelligence network was tightly organized, highly responsive, and extremely covert, always able to slip away from in-depth investigations without suffering real losses. Even the number of captured radio transmitters could be counted on one hand, let alone encrypted codebooks.

Up to now, the only codebook ever seized had been in an operation in Wuhan at the end of last year. That single acquisition was like a treasure to the code-breaking team.

The department’s leadership lavishly rewarded those who had distinguished themselves in that operation—the group leader and deputy leader of the Wuhan station’s intelligence team were promoted on the spot, their status raised by a grade, and their achievements reported to the military command, earning them third-class Cloud Banner Medals.

Other contributors were also commended and later received various promotions and material rewards.

Such generous and wide-ranging recognition was rare in the department’s history, a testament to how seriously the leadership regarded such matters.

Now Ning Zhiheng understood the magnitude of this operation. The codebook was not merely valuable for breaking the Shadow Group’s codes; it would provide the code-breaking team with crucial material for comparative analysis. Should this lead to a major breakthrough, it could dramatically alter the balance of power between China and Japan. It would mean the Chinese military had gained a new set of eyes—henceforth able to peer into Japanese military secrets. The implications were profound.

Upon their return to the department, Wei Liangbi wasted no time. He took the transmitter and codebook directly to his superior, Zhao Ziliang, head of the Operations Division, to report the case.

This matter was of such great importance that it had to be reported up the chain—there were things that neither Wei Liangbi nor Ning Zhiheng could handle on their own.

He instructed Ning Zhiheng that Xie Ziming was a key prisoner and must be transferred immediately to the Interrogation Division for questioning, to pry useful information from him as soon as possible.

Ning Zhiheng took Xie Ziming to the Interrogation Division for detention. This was his fourth visit to the division—by now, the procedures were routine. The handover completed, the interrogation was promptly scheduled.

By coincidence, the interrogation team assigned this time was the familiar pair of Jiang Wende and Zhang Ping.

Jiang Wende was surprised to see Ning Zhiheng once again. Spreading his hands, he said with a wry smile, “I didn’t expect it to be you again, Captain Ning. You’ve become a regular here in the Interrogation Division. In just over a month—less than two months—this is the third suspect you’ve brought in. A true young hero, your methods are formidable!”

Ning Zhiheng could only smile lightly and reply, “It seems fate keeps bringing us together, Captain Jiang. I hope this time we’ll work seamlessly and everyone will be satisfied.”

With pleasantries exchanged, there was no more need for words. Soon, the interrogation staff stepped forward and tightly bound Xie Ziming to the cross.

The thick wooden cross, long soaked in blood, was stained almost black, radiating a strong metallic scent that assaulted the nose.

As was customary, Ning Zhiheng was the first to question the prisoner. He wasted no time on pleasantries, striding up to Xie Ziming, grabbing his chin, and lifting it sharply. Xie Ziming’s head slammed against the wood behind him, making him groan with pain.

Ning Zhiheng spoke bluntly, “Mr. Xie, I have no desire to waste words. You know perfectly well why you’ve been arrested. We found both a radio transmitter and a codebook in your residence.

There’s no way you can deny your identity!

Now, I ask you: will you confess honestly, or will you insist on sampling every instrument of torture in this room before you finally speak? You’re a smart man—I don’t need to spell it out for you.”

Xie Ziming did not reply, only casting a look of contempt at him. By now, he had recovered from his initial panic and fear, his mind gradually settling.

The situation had deteriorated to the worst possible point. It was bad enough that the transmitter had been discovered, but the most disastrous part was that the newly issued codebook had been seized as well.

After the “Windmill” lost contact, the Tokkō headquarters immediately abandoned the old set of codes and issued a new one, entrusting it to him as the new leader of the Shadow Group. Who could have guessed that the codebook, just delivered to Nanjing and used for the first time to contact headquarters, would fall into the hands of the Chinese intelligence service? He knew all too well what a catastrophe the loss of the codebook would be—he bitterly regretted his own carelessness.

To this moment, he still did not understand where things had gone wrong. The Shadow Group had just been reactivated—he hadn’t even begun any operations.

At that moment, the words of his predecessor, Kawakami Kenta, echoed in his mind:

“They are advancing so quickly—it’s hard for us to keep up!”

It seemed Kawakami’s prediction had come true. The progress of the Chinese had left him unable to adapt, and the price he paid for his failure was beyond redemption.