Father of France

Chapter 23 Nothing to do today
When Koeman arrived at the Eiffel Tower, a large crowd had already gathered, a sight that made the uneasy Sharmasinger feel uneasy.

"What do you want? I'm here to cooperate with the investigation."

Sharmasing struggled as he was being led away, his gaze avoiding the prepared cross. Even though he wasn't a Christian, as an elite from South Asia, he had vaguely heard what it meant to be treated as equal to Jesus.

"Keep him quiet." Koeman calmly put on his mask and ordered disdainfully. As soon as he finished speaking, four or five young comrades rushed up and started punching and kicking Sharmasinger.

Alain then realized why Corman had erected the cross. He shook his head helplessly, glanced at the Parisian citizens watching the spectacle, and ordered someone to prepare duct tape for sealing.

Koman, who was impersonating an upright official for the first time, still had some idealistic thinking. While waiting for the victim to come and point out his mistake, he set up a pot and started boiling tea eggs with tea leaves.

Freshly boiled tea eggs are bound to be bland, but that's okay. They're just meant to fill our stomachs, so we can't expect too much.

The suspect certainly didn't receive such treatment; he could only watch as the Frenchman who was about to commit violence against him sat on a bench, eating tea eggs and chatting idly.

"News from the Italian front: the 1st Armored Division and the 4th, 6th, and 7th Infantry Divisions have received orders to withdraw from Italy and prepare for a landing in Marseille." Alan was quick, devouring a tea egg in no time, and hissed as he spoke, perhaps because he had burned his mouth.

Upon hearing this, Koeman realized that the attack might be coming from northwestern Italy. On his way here, he had visited Sardinia and discussed with Admiral Dragon the possibility of annexing that French-speaking region.

In a place with a settled population of around 100,000, a few retaliatory rumors can be easily spread, causing the Italian-speaking population to flee, leaving only the French-speaking population, who then naturally fall into the hands of the authorities.

The situation is not so easy in the Saar region, which has a population of over one million. It is necessary to focus on spreading the war to civilians and creating a refugee crisis to force the locals to leave.

To achieve this, we must gain full command of the Sal region, fight and replace population simultaneously, and do so quickly.

If it weren't for the fact that the foreigners had already been knocked unconscious, this would have been a display of camaraderie among patriots willing to join the army, but unfortunately, the victims had already arrived.

Alan was very cautious in his actions, mainly because of the strong conservative atmosphere in the Middle East. In this kind of case, he definitely had to consider the woman's feelings. When the victim was brought over, he gave her a Lorraine cross mask to cover her face. Koman recognized the person who reported the case by her eyebrows and eyes.

The details of the case need not be elaborated. He knew the two knew each other, otherwise he wouldn't have known the perpetrator's workplace and name. It was simply that this third brother might have naturally possessed the innate confidence bestowed upon him by the upper class of a powerful and influential country, and mistook the victim's friendliness for admiration.

Koman, who has many years of experience in the keyboard industry, can understand this. It fits the stereotype of a powerful and influential country. If the Indians give you a little kindness, you'll be like this. Not to mention the higher-ups.

The details of the case are somewhat vague, and no matter what, it doesn't warrant the death penalty.

On the other hand, Koman did not intend to kill the Indian elite. If Sharma Singh could hold out for seven days, he would release him if he was still alive.

"Let's skip the pleasantries." Koman hadn't even remembered the victim's name; his words were purely out of goodwill. "Just tell me if this is the person; the details don't need to be repeated."

Seeing the victim nod, Koman turned around and ordered, "Tie her up and secure her to the nails." He paused and added, "Madam, you can go back to work. You're not fit to stay here. Leave the rest to me." "Thank you," the victim sincerely expressed her gratitude amidst the criminal's struggling screams. "It's such a good outcome so quickly. I don't know how to express my gratitude."

"Because I am kind." Koeman shamelessly praised himself, and even through the mask, his radiant smile seemed to shine through. "Just consider it a nightmare, go back, ma'am."

"This is vigilante justice! I'm going to appeal to my superiors, sob..." Alan actually prefers quiet occasions and doesn't need the atmosphere-building team's help. He simply taped her mouth shut, and it immediately became much quieter.

The quiet noise disappeared, leaving only the loyal citizens of Paris singing praises; law and order had finally arrived in loyal Paris.

Only when one is at the mercy of others can one truly feel the insignificance of one's own power.

Koman came over and drew his Damascus steel knife. Don't get me wrong, he just came over to cut the excess hemp rope; his thrifty character had always been with him.

As the hammer fell, blood streamed down Sharmasinger's palms, veins bulged on his neck, and his cheeks swelled up like a pufferfish. The excruciating pain in both hands stimulated his brain.

Koman bent down slightly and whispered in broken English to the nailed prisoner, "I am the greatest in the world, you asked for this dead end... Don't think that your base commander can take you away from me. I will personally write your death certificate and send it over."

In fact, Sharmasinger's identity was quite good. After the Normandy landings, a large number of troops from the colonies entered mainland France. These officers and soldiers inevitably clashed with the residents of mainland France. Using this fellow Indian as a tool was quite appropriate.

Since they all spoke French, he couldn't very well start by using force against the officers and soldiers from the French colonies who were fighting in the war. However, he could use the jewel of the British Empire to intimidate the colonial soldiers who didn't know any respect, regardless of their faith or skin color, so that they wouldn't make mistakes in this matter.

Of course, this only applies within France. Once they're in Germany, he doesn't care anymore; he's still the same Corman who tirelessly protects the interests of French soldiers.

The cross was erected, and blood was still dripping from the nailed criminal's hand. Koman did not leave immediately, but bowed his head and prayed devoutly, "Lord, forgive him. He does not know what he is doing."

“Forgive him.” The dozen or so comrades around Koman prayed with piety, “When you are angry, put him in a furnace as hot as lava.”

Upon returning to the Judicial Purification Committee, Koman didn't take out his work diary until the end of the workday, preparing to write something. In the end, he only made a brief summary: "Nothing happened today."

In his upscale apartment in Durham, Berlin, the German capital, Himmler returned home exhausted. His wife, Margaret, greeted him, but upon seeing the worry in her husband's eyes, she froze for a moment and softly asked, "Are you alright?"

"It's nothing." Himmler forced a smile, unwilling to share the deteriorating situation with his wife; it shouldn't be a topic she should be concerned about.

"Daddy's back." With a pure, girlish voice, Gudron Himmler appeared, bringing a touch of brightness to the entire room and dispelling the heavy gloom.

(End of this chapter)