Gunman

The three men huddled together for a detailed discussion, and they all agreed that assassination was indeed a very interesting method with good prognostic results. Of course, regarding the two objectives proposed by Minister Lucien, the other two felt that the first objective should be easily achievable. Intelligence and counterintelligence in the United States at that time were practically nonexistent.

Counterintelligence work in the United States —if it exists—is entirely under the jurisdiction of local police. How can the police manage counterintelligence? (Fouché: What did you say? But United States police, as long as they can draw their guns quickly, don't need brains smaller than walnuts. In fact, all they need is a cerebellum.) Local police in the United States simply don't have that capability.

On the other hand, the Ministry of Truth could easily and discreetly incite some genuine Southern idiots to do this, pinning the blame on them—it would be incredibly easy. However, the second objective, pinning the blame on the Ministry of Ministry of Police under Napoleon, is much more difficult, but it deserves careful consideration.

"Why don't we go and get all the files from the Ministry of Police's similar operations over the years, study them, see what the characteristics of their methods are, and then we can imitate their techniques," Victor said.

"That's unnecessary," Villefort shook his head and replied. "We've been studying their operational style and learning from their successful experiences. Of course, they've also been learning from us. So, after all these years, our style and their style are no longer different in these kinds of operations. So, Victor, we can't smear their style of operation."

"How about we use a new technique that none of us have used before?" Victor asked again.

"Ah, if I had to point out any difference between our style of operation and theirs, it's not entirely without difference. The main and most obvious difference is that if any new technological methods emerge in these kinds of operations, it's probably us who did it. Because our relationship with the Academy of Sciences is much closer than theirs," Villefort replied.

"So, in other words, it's easier for the guys in the Ministry of Ministry of Police to frame us than for us to frame them?" Lucien asked.

"Theoretically, yes," Villefort replied, "But technically, they rarely surpass us."

"And once such a place exists, Fouché is more eager to show it off to Napoleon, to let him see that although his Ministry of Police's research institute has limited funding, it is quite efficient," Villefort replied. "At least that's how he always has been. Because the problem between us and them, in the final analysis, is still a budget issue. Besides, there can never be any truly conclusive evidence in this matter, so under such circumstances, it is not a wise choice to frame his younger brother in front of an older brother."

Lucien remained silent. What Villefort said certainly made sense; Fouché would never do such a thing. But this fact only made him more frustrated. He had far more resources than Fouché, and Napoleon was his brother, yet he still couldn't suppress Fouché. In fact, on many occasions, his brothers, whether Napoleon or Joseph, trusted Fouché's information and judgment more.

Even if achieving the second goal wasn't guaranteed, it's always good to try. So, the plan was quickly approved.

By this time, the war on the North America continent had ended. The soldiers had all returned to their hometowns, but some of them found that life seemed to have changed. For example, at this time, they were in a bar, drinking and complaining with a hapless guy.

"Hahaha, you got kicked out because of this?" Tall Martin laughed so hard tears were almost coming out of his eyes.

"Laugh? What's so funny? I don't believe it. Imagine you're enjoying your meal, and suddenly someone, in the dead of night, in complete darkness, touches your neck with their hands. What do you think your reaction would be?" The shorter James replied irritably.

"So you didn't even look and just gave your wife a series of punches?"

"Sigh!" James sighed, picked up his glass, took a sip of beer, and said, "What about you? Stop laughing, what happened at home?"

"Ah, me? It's nothing much, it's just that when I was being intimate with my wife at night, I didn't realize I was using my habit to grab her hair and slap her twice, and then..."

"And then you got kicked out? Hahaha..."

"No, it's just that my wife's gaze towards me is very strange now, filled with fear. You know, sometimes when I open my mouth to say a single word to her, she gets so scared that she trembles, as if I were a wild beast. It's not just her who looks at me like that; even when I'm with the children, she watches from the side, her eyes filled with fear."

Later, I couldn't take it anymore and asked her what happened. At first, she refused to tell me, but I had to force her to, and she finally told the truth.

You know, those Yankees say in the newspapers that we in Canada are like wild beasts, killing and raping everywhere, doing all sorts of evil. They even say that we might be addicted to crime and can never become normal people again.

Then that night, I... Damn it, I've been through war, escaped death so many times. I thought I'd come back as a hero, but what happened? Before I knew it, even my wife was looking at me like I was a criminal...

"It's all those Yankees' fault!" James said. "They held us back during the war. And now that the war is over, they're saying things like that. Yeah, I've read the papers. That guy Fafnir and that bastard Gred are still attacking us like crazy, saying we're just like the Britain, not a bunch of good guys by nature."

Frankly, this statement is somewhat unfair to Fafnir and Gred. In fact, neither of them said Southerners were inherently evil. They simply stated that all people originally came from God and possess a noble nature, and Southerners were no exception. However, just as our ancestors Adam and Eve were tempted by the devil and tainted with sin, United States, especially some in the American South, were heavily influenced by Britain culture and Britain negative aspects. Coupled with the effects of the battlefield, these negative cultural influences manifested themselves, turning men who could have been good husbands and fathers into battlefield monsters. They were both victims and perpetrators. The psychological damage they suffered may be incurable, and they may never be able to live like normal people again.

To be honest, this isn't entirely without merit. In fact, to achieve a deceptive effect, one cannot be completely unreasonable when speaking. From this perspective, Comrade Trump has single-handedly destroyed the Lighthouse Country's years of propaganda (deception) efforts, living up to the banner he holds dear.

But those guys from the South wouldn't take reading comprehension seriously like a small-town test-taker. So they simply interpreted Fafnir and Gred's words as meaning that Southerners, like the Britain, were inherently bad people.

"Those two damn Yankees," Martin cursed, putting down his glass.

"I heard the club reopened. Shall we go and relax?" James said.

"Well, there's nowhere else to go."

The club they were referring to was a nearby shooting club. Before the war, a group of young people used to practice shooting together and exchange hunting techniques, from turkeys to Indian scalps. After the war started, almost all the club members, except for a few who were too old, went to war. The club naturally closed down. Now, at least in North America, the war is over. It's normal for the club to reopen.

The two paid, got up, left the bar, mounted their horses, and headed towards the shooting club.

To facilitate the firing of weapons, the club was located on the edge of the forest outside the small town. The two men rode their horses through the town, and after traveling a while, they heard the distant crackling of gunfire.

"It looks like they've really opened for business."

With that thought in mind, the two men spurred their horses to a trot, and soon the "Yorkson Shooting Club" came into view.

The club was a two-story building; the upstairs was a bar, and the downstairs was a storeroom. The two men arrived at the club's entrance, dismounted, and were immediately led away by black slaves who worked there.

The two were very familiar with the area, so they headed straight for the shooting range.

The shooting range was an open space below the small building. About a hundred meters ahead was a mound about thirty meters high. Placing the shooting range here, facing that mound, could effectively prevent bullets from flying off to other places. Before the war, the young people in town often gathered here. They would drink in the bar on the second floor while looking down at the guys shooting at targets below, and sometimes they would even bet on the outcome of the competition.

However, there are far fewer people here today than before the war. After all, war is not hunting, and the Britain are not Native Americans; they are not so easy to bully. So there are far fewer young people who used to frolic here. However, the gunfire at the shooting range is still quite frequent.

The two then walked around the small building and arrived at the shooting range.

They immediately noticed that there were quite a few people at the shooting range; almost everyone who had survived the battlefield was there. However, no one was betting with beer in hand, and the targets seemed different from usual. Instead of the normal chest targets with concentric rings, they had been replaced with two distorted portraits.

Just then, a gunman finished firing and put away his rifle. Seeing them approaching, he greeted them, "Martin, James, you're here too?"

"I came here to see if I could run into some old friends," James said. "And who's that on the target?"

"Who else could it be? Those two damned Yankees!" another man, who was aiming, replied without looking up.

"What's the point of doing this? Do you believe in Native American witchcraft? Do you really think that hanging a painting there will kill those two guys?" Martin suddenly blurted out.

As soon as these words were spoken, the people shooting at the targets stopped. The surroundings fell silent for a moment, with only the rustling sound of the images pasted on the targets in the wind.

After a long while, someone finally said, unwillingly, "What can we do? Those two guys are United States, and they have freedom of speech. They're not unprotected Native Americans."

Martin chuckled upon hearing these weak words.

"Did you know that when North America was still a Britain colony, the Boston Tea Party and the Lexington rebellion were also illegal? If everything were done according to the law, would United States still exist?"

"Martin, the laws of that time were bad laws made by the Britain, but our laws now are made by us United States ourselves. We cannot violate the laws we made."

"Who said we violated our own laws? Our laws don't allow such blatant treason. If it were really up to the law, these two guys would have been arrested and sentenced long ago. It's just that the courts over there in the North refuse to uphold the country!" Before Martin could answer, another person interrupted.

Then everyone joined in, debating whether these two guys had committed treason. But like most debates, people weren't really looking for a correct judgment, but rather for something that aligned with their emotional convictions. So most people felt that these two should have been executed long ago for treason. Some even went so far as to say, "Isn't lynching a fine tradition of our great America? Who cares about obeying the law? Don't be a coward, just do it! Besides, just go up north, shoot these two, and come back to Georgia, isn't that enough? Do you think those Yankees can come all the way to Georgia to arrest people?"

Indeed, in this era, cross-state arrests are practically nonexistent. The United States doesn't have a national police system; police are state-run. Massachusetts police can't possibly travel to Georgia to make an arrest. Theoretically, Massachusetts police, having identified a suspect, could request an arrest warrant from Massachusetts, which would then transfer the warrant to Georgia n't obligated to cooperate, especially since the governor would likely offend voters if they did. Therefore, such requests are usually simply discarded.

"But a trip up north costs a lot of money. If I weren't broke, I would have shot them all dead long ago," Martin concluded.