A blonde female employee sitting at the desk smiles brightly.
“I would like to meet the person in charge here..”
“What’s going on?”
“If you say Max from Kansas, you will know.”
The female employee scribbled something down, as if writing down a name, and then pointed to the sofa.
“I’m going out of my seat for a moment. Could you please sit down and wait?”
“All right.”
“It’s quite cold outside. Would you like some hot coffee?”
“please.”
While Max was warming up with a cup of coffee, three men came into the office.
“Ugh. It’s so damn cold. Let’s go disguise ourselves and catch those guys tomorrow.”
“It seems like they’re only targeting rich people, so come tomorrow dressed up and look a little nicer.”
“Fuck, buy it and then talk. Where is that… But who are you?”
A man asks Max. He is sitting on the sofa with his face wrapped in a scarf, so it is impossible not to look at him.
“Oh, I’m from Kansas. I’m waiting for the chief detective.”
“Kansas?”
The three men look over Max with curiosity and wonder.
“Hey, if you’re going to be indoors, take your clothes off. It looks really stuffy.”
“If you do that, who will meet you?”
It might be different outside, but it seems strange to be doing this here. Max took off his hat without saying a word and even untied his scarf.
“Oh, an Oriental?”
“Huh!”
The female employee was surprised, and the Pinkerton detectives gasped. They were surprised just like everyone else, and looked around Max as if they were looking at a rare animal. One of them said that he had seen an Asian before and pretended to know him.
“Hiya. A Chinese guy I’ve only seen in California shows up here.”
“But how does the chief detective know an Asian?”
“I know. But even if we met, we wouldn’t be able to communicate. We usually communicate through hand and foot gestures.”
“No… You speak well.”
The three detectives stared at Max as he listened to the female employee’s words. They looked as if they were expecting a parrot to speak.
At this point, Max slowly got up from the sofa.
“Wow, you’re tall for a Chinese person.”
At one point, Max, who had grown to over 180 cm tall, appeared to be as tall or slightly taller than the Pinkerton detectives.
“This is Max Joe from Kansas. I have a question for you.”
Max stared into the eyes of each of the three men and spoke.
“The agents escorting the train to Stringfield. Where are those two now?”
“You should start by telling me why you’re looking for them.”
“He hit me in the back of the head.”
“……”
In an instant, the temperature in the office dropped as a cold wind swept through. The three men with distorted faces moved away from each other and surrounded Max.
“I thought you were arrogant from the moment I saw you. What’s the Asian kid thinking, acting up like that? The chief detective wouldn’t even know you.”
“The person I know is···.”
At this moment the door opened and a man came in.
It was a man named Stephen Toddy, the chief detective in charge of Pinkerton’s St. Louis office.
“You’re at a good time, Toddy. How dare this little Asian kid come here and….”
“Oriental?”
Toddy, who was about to take off his coat, turned his gaze to Max. He asked with a surprised expression.
“Max Joe, is that right?”
“!”
“Yes.”
“Oh. I heard from Director Allen. Let’s talk in my office instead.”
Toddy turned his head briefly and glanced at his employees.
The detectives and the female employee whispered as they watched the two go up to the second floor.
– You knew Director Allen, not the senior team leader.
– Did we do something wrong just now?
– well.
There was no standard for how to treat Asians, and from their perspective, it was ambiguous as to what was a mistake.
*
“They found him dead?”
“He was discovered two weeks ago, and he’s been dead for over a month. Do you have any idea? Quite a few agents have been deployed for this.”
The two dead agents were tortured to death.
A person who would do such a thing.
“John Crenshaw. It was him.”
Max explained the situation at the time, and also told of the backroom deals he had made with slave catchers.
“I came here to get information on the two dead agents and John Crenshaw. I hope you can help me.”
“Are you planning to handle it yourself?”
“I’ll decide after I get the information.”
Stephen Toddy told us to sit down for a moment, then disappeared downstairs.
[Max Joe, an oriental from Kansas, is a key customer and partner of Pinkerton. If he asks for help, he can take action and report back.]
These are Allen’s instructions distributed to each office manager.
When was there ever a director who did something like this?
It was proof that the relationship between the two was special.
Toddy carried out Max’s request without a second thought, as Alan had said.
“You three, stop what you’re doing and track down one person. His name is John Crenshaw. He lives in Gallatin County, Illinois. Find out his current location. You have two days.”
“Two days?”
“Why can’t I do it?”
“……See you in two days!”
“Get out now.”
As the three detectives ran outside as if they were being chased, Toddy looked at the female employee and said.
“You didn’t give me coffee or anything, did you?”
“I gave him a drink as soon as he arrived.”
“As expected, Nancy. Let’s work together for a long time.”
*
It was exactly two days later that Max got the information about John Crenshaw.
Stephen Toddy went to see Max, who was holed up in the inn, and handed him a report.
[John Hart Crenshaw, born 1797.
Plantation owner, salt mill owner, slave trader.
He was twice charged with kidnapping a free black man, but was acquitted.
Of the two buildings, one is where the family lives, and the other is where the servants live. However, there are rumors that strange sounds are heard from the upper floor of the house where the family lives.
[It is believed to be a place where kidnapped black people were held captive.]
Max, who had been thinking for a moment, spoke to Toddy.
“It would be difficult to take care of the kidnapped black people alone.”
“I think so too. That’s why I prepared the agents and the carriage.”
‘It’s so refreshing.’
Thanks to Toddy’s quick turnaround, in just two hours the agents showed up at the inn with a carriage and two extra horses. It was the three men I had met at the office a few days ago.
“Get on quickly. We have a long way to go.”
230km to destination.
Two of them pulled the carriage, while the remaining one and Max rode on horseback.
It was my first joint mission with Max and Pinkerton.
– What’s the relationship between that Asian guy and Director Allen?
– How would I know? Just behave yourself. Don’t be like that Asian guy or something like that. Okay?
After much persuasion from their chief team leader, the three were sent on a mission. Although they had been deeply involved since the time they gathered information on John Crenshaw, leaving Max and the mission was another matter.
A clanking carriage and endless plains.
The group, who had been silent for fear of being told a lie, became increasingly bored as time passed and they couldn’t stand it.
“Well… looking at the voter turnout in the last presidential election, the number of Germans increased considerably.”
“I saw it too. If things continue this way, it’s only a matter of time before the Germans take over St. Louis politics.”
“Tch. All Irish people are at the bottom, they always get screwed.”
“Honestly, there is something frustrating. Rather than fighting over jobs, wouldn’t it be better to find some empty land in the west and develop it if you came late? What good will come of fighting in a place that is already full?”
St. Louis is so densely packed with buildings that it’s nearly impossible to squeeze through.
And there was another conflict here besides slavery: the conflict between the natives of St. Louis (WASPs: white, Anglo-Saxon Protestants) who had driven out the Indians, the Germans, and the Irish who had flocked in during the potato famine of the 1940s.
The main causes of conflict and clashes are religion and jobs.
The influx of Irish people into the English-German conflict led to intense conflict.
Just two years ago.
There was an incident that culminated in the conflict between them.
The incident in St. Louis turned into a war in the city, with 10 deaths, 33 injuries, and 93 buildings damaged.
If you listen to their conversation, you can easily guess that they are Irish. Their story naturally came to Max’s ears, whether he liked it or not.
The topic of conversation shifted from politics to their own work. They talked about the work they had done just before their mission, and it seemed that they had a certain sense of pride as detectives.
“Thieves are still picking someone’s pockets in St. Louis today.”
“I found out this the other day while digging up information on John Crenshaw, but it seems like Scott knows something.”
“Scott? That sloppy black porter?”
‘A normal black person?’
Are you talking about mixed blood? Their conversation continued even as Max wondered.
“It seemed like he had something to tell me, but he seemed afraid of the consequences.”
“Scott will have a hard time coming forward since he’s about to be sentenced. Anyway, when you’re done with this, go see him and try to convince him.”
The story goes that there are thieves targeting the rich in downtown St. Louis, and a black porter who is about to be sentenced seems to know them.
‘If a black man is about to be sentenced, isn’t he a criminal? Then how is he working as a porter?’
When I’m bored, everything seems interesting.
Even the most amazing scenery loses its appeal when seen too often. The grass that fills the majestic plains of nature gradually becomes tiresome.
The detectives also spoke to Max.
“So, do you have any plans in mind?”
“I heard there are quite a few slave hunters and servants, so they wouldn’t just barge in.”
‘It’s a plan.’
At first, they thought about posing the Pinkerton detectives as slave hunters and Max as a captured runaway slave. But there was a fatal flaw in this.
What if one of the three agents gets hit in the back of the head?
It was too risky to trust them and disguise myself as a disarmed slave. In the end, I decided to give up on this method. Instead.
‘There’s no need for me to do it.’
Max took out a pack of camouflage cream and threw it at the small man his colleagues called Pony Potter.
“what’s this?”
“I guess you could pretend to be a black slave and the rest of us could be slave hunters.”
“What?”
Potter, his eyes wide open, looked at the object Max had given him.
The round, flat lid made of iron has the words ‘Mason Shoe Polish’ written on it.
But when he opened the lid, instead of shoe polish, it contained a black cream made by Max.
Shoe polish at this time was nothing more than a clear wax that made leather shine. It would take decades for black shoe polish to be available. Max also considered this as a business item.
“So, you’re telling me to put this on and become a black slave?”
Potter’s shit-chewing expression made his colleagues shrug their shoulders and suppress their laughter.
“This is a brilliant operation. John Crenshaw would be drooling if he saw you.”
“What the hell, are you kidding me? Are you making any sense!”
“Why doesn’t that make sense? You used to disguise yourself as a woman.”
“Is that the same as being black?”
Potter glared at Max as if he was going to devour him.
“No matter how much Director Allen asked for help, isn’t this too much?”
“Is this just my problem? You haven’t even found the culprit who killed your colleagues.”
Max responded calmly.
The two agents who were escorting the train were killed, but Pinkerton was unable to find the villain.
“Tell me who the culprit is, and help me get revenge. Shouldn’t you be grateful to me instead? These people are shameless.”
Max clicked his tongue in disbelief.
Potter, who had nothing to say, chewed his lips and changed the subject.
“Okay. But what if I dress up as a black man? With a scarf wrapped around your face like that, John Crenshaw won’t be suspicious.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll do it too.”
“…..”
‘Oh, shit. I keep getting talked to by Asians.’
Potter, who had been mumbling, swallowed his words and sighed.
He said he would do it too, so what do you have to say?
Potter frowned and looked at the camouflage cream.
I admit that Max’s plan is quite plausible.
It is unlikely that a slave trader would refuse a runaway slave.
Potter nodded reluctantly. Instead, he looked at Max and growled.
“If you go and make a mistake, I won’t let you stay still. If you get nervous like an idiot or lose your cool, be prepared.”
“I get it.”
In response to Max’s reply, Potter put the shoe polish case into his bosom. His colleagues offered him comfort.
“Disguising yourself as a black slave to catch a slave trader. That will go down in Pinkerton history. Your name will be recorded forever.”
“And that’s not all. If you succeed, other regional agents will be fucking jealous.”
“Oh, I’m so excited, so excited.”
Because the distance was over 200km, sleeping overnight was unavoidable.
Arriving near a town called Benton, the group decided to park their carriage in a suitable place and sleep.
Max stayed up all night with his eyes open.
When I left Lawrence, it felt like there were enemies everywhere.
In the morning, Porter was turned into a black slave by his colleagues.
“Apply it thoroughly to your back. And your butt too.”
“Fuck, you can put it on there, you crazy bastard.”
“But you really are like a black man. Even if you shoot people like this, you’ll never get caught, right?”
“What is that? Like some crazy black guy who goes to the same bar two years in a row and shoots people?”
It seems the rumor has already spread.
Potter and his colleagues raised their voices in excitement.
“That bastard’s bounty is no joke. If he hasn’t been caught yet, I wonder if he’s dressed up like this.”
“Hahaha. That could really happen. If you go to Kansas and erase your face, who’s going to find you?”
“Wait a minute, Kansas······?”
“!”
The giggling laughter suddenly stopped.
As if they felt something strong, all three of their gazes turned to one place.
Max, who was disguised with his back turned, slowly turned his head and everyone opened their mouths.
“Sir, no way. That black···”
“no.”
“If it’s Kansas….”
“I said no.”
Max answered firmly and wiped his face with a cloth. Potter tilted his head at the sight. Why would he erase the camouflage cream he applied?
“Why are you disguising yourself, stop?”
“This is the end for me. Juan Maxretha Joe es mi nombre (Juan Maxreta Joe is my name).”
“Hey, crazy! What are you talking about?”
“Wow. You speak Spanish too?”
Perhaps because of the language, his pale dark skin blended in well with hers, and it was easy to believe he was Hispanic.
If an Indian word came out of my mouth, it suited me in its own way.
‘What kind of human is this? He has a thousand faces.’
When Potter and his colleagues blinked.
Max snorted, adding a mustache as he asked where it came from.
“This is a camuflaje, you little shits (This is a camuflaje, you little shits). Get ready for breakfast, you little shits who only know English (Get ready for breakfast, you little shits who only know English).”
“Fuck, f*ck. Didn’t you just swear?”
“Let’s eat breakfast.”
