Chen Ke stood up and approached the corpse of the blond man.
The man's blood had spilled everywhere after his artery was cut, flowing from the center of the hall to the door of the restroom; his body was now pale and cold to the touch.
He had intended to change into the man's clothes, but the blue tracksuit was already soaked in dark black blood, and Chen Ke didn't have ti to wash it, so he had to give up that idea.
However, the triangular bag he carried was originally red, so the bloodstains weren't too noticeable, aning he could still use it.
The bag allowed Chen Ke to carry more items and freed up his hands for other tasks, which was much more convenient than stuffing everything into his coat pockets.
There was sothing else on the man's body that caught Chen Ke's eye—a holster hanging at the waist. The left side of the holster could fit a full-size handgun, and the right side had three spare magazine pouches.
This was very useful for Chen Ke; he could fit his commonly used 9mm handgun into the holster and cover them with his wool coat. Drawing the gun would be much quicker than fumbling for it in his pockets.
Chen Ke began to search through the triangular bag and found at least three 9mm spare magazines, each loaded with 12 bullets—perfect for his Glock, but the magazine model didn't fit into the Glock's handle, and the blond man's FN509 had already been dismantled by Chen Ke.
Looking at the gun parts in the pool of blood, Chen Ke shook his head, too lazy to reassemble the gun, and simply emptied all the bullets from the three magazines into his bag.
Ironically, there was even a rolled-up body bag in the bag, suggesting that the organization's plan had been ticulous. Chen Ke wasn't sure if the organization had underestimated his skills or if the blonde man had been overconfident. Either way, the assassination had failed, and they were probably still waiting for a response now.
There was also a phone in the bag, identical to the one Chen Ke carried—neither could connect to the internet. He powered it on and scrolled through the call log and phonebook, comparing it with his own phone.
He noticed that the blond man had never contacted "Mr. Lan i"; rather, there was significant one-sided contact with another number.
"...2005.06.21 6:22 pm: B330, dismantle."
"2006.09.01 9:13 am: C193, dismantle."
"2007.01.16 8:45 pm: C426, dismantle."
"2008.07.21 6:22 am: B503, dismantle."
"2009.03.22 10:52 pm: B124, dismantle."
As Chen Ke read through the repetitive ssages, he fell into deep thought. Judging by the dates of the ssages, this blond man must have been a veteran Assassin for the organization.
Disturbingly, the latest ssage was sent just 20 minutes after Chen Ke had escaped from the building. From the content of the ssage, it seed "B124" was likely his own code na within the organization.
He also discovered that these assassination targets coded by the organization bore either a B or a C prefix. Chen Ke speculated that these prefixes might represent the Assassin's class, although it could also simply be a categorization based on the type of mission.
Continuing to browse through the man's phone, Chen Ke found a recent brief exchange with another number:
"Is the package at ho?"
"Yes, co in through the window."
"I am downstairs now."
"Red window."
...
Chen Ke scoffed as he approached the woman's body, where he spotted an iPhone fallen on the ground, naturally locked, but he decided against tampering with the phone. It was entirely possible that the organization was tracking and monitoring them through their phones.
On a whim, he picked up the blond man's phone, took out his own phone, and, checking the numbers, dialed "Mr. Lan i."
"Beep...beep..."
...
Pankia paced back and forth in front of the computer, his eyes never leaving the old corded phone on the desk. "The Executioner" had been dispatched; if the operation went smoothly, Slavin should be calling him by now.
Slavin was Pankia's confidant and the executor of "The Executioner Plan," specializing in handling unruly "guns." Slavin had never disappointed Pankia before, and this ti should be no exception.
A pleasant chord ringtone suddenly sounded, and the BlackBerry vibrated on the desktop.
Pankia paused for 2 seconds, hastily grabbed the phone, but when he saw the unfamiliar number on the display, suspicion flooded his mind.
It was impossible for a stranger to call this number!
Other than his controlled Holy Relics Hunters, certain internal consortium operators, Slavin, and his grandfather, no one knew this number. The number segnt was even on the carrier's VIP list, so promotional calls couldn't co through.
Could it be grandfather?
Hard to say, the old man had been growing increasingly irritable and impatient lately... A cold sweat trickled down Pankia's forehead. He pressed the green answer button.
"I am Pankia... who is this?"
"So Mr. Lan i is nad Pankia."
Upon hearing that familiar voice, Pankia's eyebrows twitched, and his eyes widened.
"Lin Mo... you..."
"B124 is still alive, you must be very disappointed."
Pankia's hand pressed down on the table, his veins bulging on his forehead.
"Lin Mo... I don't know what kind of ga you're playing, but if you think you can fool !" He roared aggressively into the phone.
"Oh oh... buddy, you sound very irritable, but I should be the angry one."
"What do you want, huh? Money? Or sothing else?"
"Countdown. How to turn off the countdown. That's all I want to know."
Pankia was taken aback for a mont, countdown? He racked his brain, trying to sift through the tons of black ops and dealings for any information about a "countdown."
But no matter how much he recalled, he could not find even a hint of anything relevant.
"Lin Mo, I don't know what you're talking about."
"Mr. Lan i doesn't know about the countdown? Weren't you the one who personally stuffed this thing into our heads?"
"No matter what you say, Lin Mo, you're dood, ssing with gains you nothing! Si's consortium will use all its resources to hunt you down!" Pankia threatened, feeling the other was toying with sothing nonexistent.
"Threatening gains you nothing, Pankia, I'll co for you, send soone more professional next ti."
"Lin..."
"Beep..."
The other party hung up the phone.
"Shit! Shit! Fuck! Damn! Fuck!"
Pankia roared in the room, hurling his Blackberry phone to the floor where the battery cover popped off with a snap and the phone rolled under the bed.
He had just been mocked by an Asian assassin under his own command, Pankia was furiously unstoppable, wishing he could fly to Opportunity City himself and tear Lin Mo into pieces.
Chord ringtone ca from under the bed.
Pankia sighed, bent down, and crawled under the bed to retrieve his Blackberry, it was Slavin calling.
"Boss, the Hunter has withdrawn, no losses. We had a good haul," Slavin reported.
Pankia breathed a sigh of relief, finally so good news, at least he could report back to the old man.
"Slavin, B124 just called , this ans the assassin failed," Pankia said.
"This is impossible... C095 is a seasoned assassin, besides it was an ambush..."
Pankia crawled out from under the bed and sat back at the desk. News websites were still live broadcasting the latest developnts of the sudden incident in the office buildings of Opportunity City.
"Boss, we just lost B124's signal, and C095's too... he might have destroyed his phone," Slavin's voice sounded a bit anxious.
"I don't know what B124 wants, but since he wants to play a cat and mouse ga with us..." Pankia said coldly.
"I'll mobilize all assassins in Opportunity City to hunt down B124..." Slavin was quick to understand.
"Don't fail again..." Pankia said, hanging up the phone.
Reviews
All reviews (0)