Welbe walked down the marble steps in front of the hotel with a briefcase. At this time, a black luxury car had been waiting in front of the door. The doorman in a gray uniform and a brimmed flat hat was diligently opened the door of the car for the customer.

Welbe took out a few twenty-five cent coins from his pocket and put them into the doorman's spreading palm. The big boy smiled happily and then thanked and bowed to the generous customer.

After President Roosevelt stepped down, the "Roosevelt Depression" named after him also came to an abrupt end. The prosperous intercontinental trade caused the US economy to recover rapidly, and the good days of the past seemed to have returned. From New York Harbor on the East Coast to San Francisco on the West Coast, there was a prosperous and busy scene everywhere.

Ordinary Americans do not understand what geopolitics and war economy are, and they attribute all this to the victory of the Republican conservatives.

Although the big part of the profit still belongs to those capitalists, starting a factory means a stable livelihood, and the whole family can fill their stomachs.

In 1940s, the average monthly salary of American manufacturing workers was $130. In fact, most people couldn't get that much, and the salary of grassroots personnel in the service industry was lower. For example, this doorman had a monthly salary of only more than $60, and he had to pay for the hotel uniforms and accommodation himself. Therefore, daily tips are an extremely important source of income for this big boy.

The doorman closed the car door for Verbe, "I wish you a smooth day today, Mr. Verbe." The boy said.

"Thank you, Tom." Welbe nodded gracefully.

The driver glanced at the back seat from the rearview mirror, then skillfully stepped on the accelerator, and the engine made a dull roar full of power.

"Good morning, sir." The driver put down the glass partition and asked the boss about the morning.

"Good morning, Clay." Welbe took out the cigarette box from his pocket and pressed the cigarette lighter beside the walnut handrail.

"Is this car a little too conspicuous, Clay?"

But the other party replied: "I don't think so. Sir, the place you are going to today must be decent enough."

This is a brand new 1940 Cadillac luxury sedan, the highest-end model in the Sixty Series. The car was sold at $3,820 at the time, which does not include the cost of customized interiors and additional equipment for customers. This is a luxury car specifically for the mid-to-high-end market, equipped with stylish sliding sunroofs and driver's seat partitions, the interior is made of walnut and leather seats, closed headlights, and all the inner and outer strips are coated with chrome.

"I think it's better to be the Chevrolet "Master". Although that one is also a luxury model, it looks a little lower-key than this Cadillac, and of course the price is more than a thousand dollars apart.

"Believe me, sir, this one is the most suitable one, sir." Seeing Welbe lit a cigarette, the driver raised the glass partition behind the driver's seat.

Most of the streets in San Francisco are double-lane, and traffic flow is relatively high near the Bay Area, and traffic jams are almost common. When this happens, the time for a professional driver to show his value is here. Usually, experienced drivers avoid roads that are prone to traffic jams and find the fastest path to their destination in the shortest time. Welbey feels that Mr. Clay does not belong to the latter because they are stuck on a main road with a bunch of vehicles rushing to and from get off work.

Verbe turned his eyes away from a hot dog stall on the street. He turned his face and raised his hand to knock on the glass partition between the back seat and the driver's seat. With the sound of an electric motor, the glass barrier with chrome-plated borders fell smoothly.

"Can you arrive on time, Clay?" Verbe asked.

The driver turned his head and looked at the rearview mirror and replied calmly: "It seems hard to say now, but I will try my best."

"Didi...Didi" the sound of horns on the streets was one after another, making people feel upset.

Verbe turned his head and looked through the rear window and saw the driver in the car behind him hitting the steering wheel with a desperate look on his face.

"Die it at the next intersection, Clay."

"I don't think it will work. The surrounding area should be blocked. It is rare here. Maybe something happened before." The driver raised his hand and adjusted the rearview mirror. Welbe could see a pair of gray-blue eyes from the mirror.

Clay is a field agent under the German Intelligence Agency. He entered the United States as a European refugee in late July last year and successfully lurked in San Francisco.

His group of "war" refugees mainly came from Germany, mostly descendants of Norway, Britain, Austria and Russia who live in Germany, and of course many of them are Germans. However, the passports of these Germans are full of J-shaped stamps, which means that they all have Jewish descent.

These refugees chose a tortuous and arduous route of exile. They first used various means to leave Germany and took international trains or neutral cruises to the Far East. Then they took Japanese cruises from Shanghai and Siberia, crossing the Pacific Ocean to the American continent.

They may not be the first European refugees to go to the United States after the outbreak of the European War, but they are the first war refugees to enter the west coast of the United States. And no one tried to take this route after them. One reason was that countries had strengthened the review of entry and exit identities, and the other reason was that the European war had ended in August, and the exiles lost the reason to become war refugees.

Clay's identity on his passport is Austrian. He was indeed born in Austria. However, he immigrated to Germany with his parents at the age of four. His family still has a lot of relatives in Austria.

Before the war, there were many Austrian descendants in Germany. Due to political ideas or personal reasons, some of them were expelled by the Nazi authorities, many of them were social elites such as musicians, teachers, doctors, and lawyers.

These people abandoned their property and relatives in Germany and came to the new world on the other side of the earth with simple carry-on luggage, hoping to live a happy and peaceful life here, but the cruel reality quickly shattered their daydreams.

After Clay entered the United States, the initial period of his life was quite difficult.

At that time, he was riding the Japanese cruise liner [Ryuda Maru], one of the sister ships of Chichibu Maru. What greeted Clay and the others on the San Francisco Pier was a joint investigation team composed of the US Customs, Immigration Administration and the FBI. In addition to reviewing the identities of all personnel, the agents also searched everyone's carry-on luggage and claimed to be to prevent anyone from entering the country with prohibited items.

In the next few weeks, Clay often found someone secretly surveillance of him. At first he thought his identity as an agent was exposed, but then he realized that it was not what he thought.

The local police station monitored him were agents who were full of war refugees because their past experience told them that it was difficult for these outsiders to find suitable jobs in the local area. In order to survive, they often took risks and did some illegal tasks.

Clay was worried that it would arouse suspicion from the police, but during that period, even when he stayed in poverty on the streets, he insisted not to use the activity funds in his secret account.

Next, the elite agent of the German Intelligence Agency was running around every day to survive. He initially worked as a loader and unloader at the dock for a while, then became a salesperson at a grocery store. He also worked as a bartender in a bar in the tenderloin area and worked as a bodyguard for a wealthy businessman for a while.

Until one day, Clay suddenly realized that it seemed that no one had been monitoring him for a long time. It was obvious that he had gained the trust of the local police and was cut off from the list of potential threats, which also meant that he had successfully integrated into the city and was no longer a "foreigner" in the eyes of the locals.

Before Welbey arrived in San Francisco, Clay was considering working as night shift manager in a hotel. He also planned to rent a house in the sunset area and find a girlfriend if possible, so that it would be easier to conceal his identity and continue to lurk in the local area.

However, it seems that Clay's plan cannot be continued for the time being. He will follow the other party as a private driver and bodyguard until the entire mission is successfully completed.

"We've been stuck here for ten minutes. Do you have any other suggestions?" Verbe raised his wrist and looked at his watch.

"I'm sorry, sir, I didn't expect this to happen." The driver shrugged his shoulders American.

"When you have time now, please introduce me to the situation there." Welbe pulled out the bounced cigarette lighter and lit the cigarette roll on his mouth.

"What you want to know is..." The driver turned around.

"Chinatown." Verbey spitted out a cigarette.

PS: Recovering, thank you for your support.
Chapter completed!