Marilyn had barely gotten out that "I don't know" when Heidi, in her arms, lifted her head. "Mommy, is it...?"
"Don't say it."
Marilyn clapped a hand over the little girl's mouth, but Tang Jingyao had already heard. A smile spread over his face as he started toward them; Marilyn, the child in her arms, went white as a sheet. Then, all at once, a huge explosion thundered out, and the whole building shuddered as if in an earthquake. Tang Jingyao caught hold of the back of the sofa; he was just reaching for the walkie-talkie to ask what was going on when gunfire erupted!
The lights in the inner room where the Mafia men were holed up went out. Because of the blast, the lamps in this room too flickered like heat lightning. Machine-gun and pistol fire and the shouting of those Italians blended into one chaos inside; muzzle flashes stuttered as fiercely as strings of firecrackers.
Marilyn hugged Heidi and dropped flat onto the sofa; Tang Jingyao leveled his pistol at the door, terrified, while the Mafia man standing by that door had only just drawn his own gun when a stray round fired from inside punched through his forehead, and he toppled slowly.
A long while passed; the shaking finally died away, and the crazed gunfire in the inner room stopped. By now all the three in the room could see was that Mafia man's corpse and his blood at the doorway. Tang Jingyao stood with his gun in his hand, not daring to move for the longest time. When nothing happened for so long, Tang Jingyao screwed up his courage, hauled Marilyn up off the sofa, pushed her out in front of him, and edged toward the inner room.
By now Marilyn had a rough idea who had come, and she was not afraid. When they reached the doorway, in the light spilling from the lamps outside she drew a sharp breath—and felt a small, secret swell of joy. The room was a wreck: five corpses, blood everywhere, and the window on the outer wall had collapsed into the room. Plainly the man had burst in from outside, fought a pitched battle in such cramped quarters, killed every one of these people, and then climbed back out through the window.
A moment later Tang Jingyao took in the scene, and he was shaking almost all over. He threw Marilyn a look, then spoke into the walkie-talkie: "Report, quickly—what... what just happened?"
"BOSS, it's the sloped corridor on the west side, the one with the conveyor belt—it's been blown out. We... we've probably got five brothers buried under it."
The voice from the walkie-talkie was panicky and frantic. Tang Jingyao howled in a fury, "Forget that side! Everyone get up here, all of you, come to me!"
The other end had only just answered when another voice cut in: "Help! Help! He's outside! He's outside—he jumped down from above just now, Second and Fourth are both dead, he killed them. It's a kid—no, he's..."
Then the transmission cut off.
"A kid? Impossible... I've got it, it's a dwarf, it's a dwarf..." He ran hurriedly to the window and looked out. The factory's third floor stood as high as the fifth floor of an ordinary building; he truly had no idea how the man had gotten up, or how he had gotten back down. Outside it was pitch black, nothing to be seen. He had only just turned around when the walkie-talkie crackled again.
"BOSS, a slab of blasted concrete has blocked the corridor. We're pushing it aside, almost there..."
Gunfire erupted.
"...He's charged in, he's charged in."
Hearing the gunfire outside the room go on without pause, Tang Jingyao felt his whole body shaking. He walked back inside, glanced at Marilyn and her daughter, and heard the shooting gradually thin out. Only then did he key the walkie-talkie: "How is it? Did you kill him?"
A tense, panicky voice came back: "No—not yet. He's too quick, like a monkey. A few brothers just poked their heads out and got shot dead. Right now, right now..."
Only then did Tang Jingyao understand why the gunfire had grown so sparse. He ground his teeth. "What? You mean he's just one man, and all of you... are pinned down by him alone?"
"BOSS, he—he—he... his aim is too good. Whoever goes out dies right off..."
"I @#￥%&*..." For a moment Tang Jingyao was raving, not even knowing what he was saying. Then he keyed the walkie-talkie and said loudly, "Everyone, on my count of three, charge out and open fire together. I refuse to believe he can wipe out all of you at once! One, two, three..."
The instant the word "three" was out, they all began charging—and as if in answer, a voice came over the factory's PA system at the same moment: "Is that what you really think?"
The men came charging out with their heads hot, only to find they had no idea where the enemy was, and that broadcast had shaken them to the core. As they sprayed fire wildly at everything around them, a burst of machine-gun fire came raking down from above and to the side, punching through four men on the spot; in an instant everyone scrambled back into their hiding places. Only the little squad leader, trembling, got on the walkie-talkie: "BOSS, watch out, he's reached... the broadcast room..."
"Then get up here, now!"
Tang Jingyao was shivering.
After Tang Jingyao had taken over this factory, he had indeed had a PA system put in—but the broadcast room was right next door to his own room. How is that possible? The corridor below is blocked, so the men below can't come up. But I had several men posted outside too, and they were killed without a sound...
He pictured all of it, until he could almost see that murdering demon stepping closer and closer to his door. He hurriedly pulled a submachine gun from the drawer as well. He was just weighing taking Marilyn and her daughter hostage when the voice that had come over the PA a moment ago suddenly appeared on the walkie-talkie.
"Mr. Tang, let me introduce myself. My code name is Vermilion Bird. Someone has paid a very high price for your life. Once you're dead, please don't hold it against me."
Tang Jingyao's teeth chattered. Thinking back to how the man had not charged into the room when those Italians died—so he had not come to rescue this mother and daughter at all. It was purely... someone wanted him dead...
"Whatever he paid you, I think I can..."
Bang—someone slammed against the door. Tang Jingyao's finger tightened on reflex, the machine gun spewing flame at the doorway, while from the walkie-talkie the other man's voice came through as leisurely as ever.
"Don't be foolish, Mr. Tang. If I could be moved by money at a moment like this, I wouldn't deserve to call myself a killer anymore. This is where it ends. Accept your fate." The voice was hoarse and soft, and positively earnest, like a man patiently advising you for your own good.
If a whole crowd had come attacking, Tang Jingyao might not have ended up like this—but tonight's business was truly too uncanny. One man, by his own strength, had climbed five stories, charged in on the heels of the explosion, calmly killed six experienced Italian Mafia men and left again, and then single-handedly pinned down everyone in the factory. This man could control whatever he chose to control. He struck wherever he wanted to strike, appeared wherever he wanted to appear, like a ghost or a god.
The door, battered too violently by the machine gun, crashed down—and what fell with it was in fact one of the men he had posted outside, long since shot into a bloody sieve. Tang Jingyao kept firing madly without a pause; finally there was a click, the gun ran dry, and in that same instant—pff, pff—two rounds fired from outside punched through both his hands. A childlike figure walked in through the doorway.
"Daddy..." She had more or less figured out by now that her father was a bad man, but seeing Tang Jingyao screaming on the floor, Heidi still could not bear it. Marilyn caught hold of her, though, and the two of them looked toward the door—and both froze.
"Uh..."
"Brother... Brother..."
They never would have guessed that the harmless little boy of before had turned into a scar-faced, middle-aged dwarf. As the two of them stood stunned, the dwarf waved a hand. "No time to waste. Marilyn, take the gun and get ready to leave." A moment later he said, hesitating, "Do you know how to shoot?"
"I—I do." By now Marilyn understood that this man was that little boy; who his real self was could be set aside for now. Marilyn nodded, took up the pistol from beside Tang Jingyao, and the little girl ran over: "Brother... are you really Brother? How—how did you turn into this?"
"Be good, Heidi. I'll explain once we're out." The little girl reached up to touch his face; Jiaming hurriedly turned his head away, looking toward the stairwell landing beyond the door. Alone, he could get out easily, but with two women in tow, things got uncertain. Just then gunfire came from behind him; by pure reflex he whipped around and was already at Marilyn's side. It was Marilyn, the pistol in both hands, who had just shot dead Tang Jingyao as he still struggled on the floor.
He had seen a betrayed wife kill her husband before, but never so cleanly. So the deeper the love, the bitterer the hate...
The thought flashed through his mind, but he did not dwell on it. He turned back. "All right, get ready—" Before he finished, Heidi's scream rang out: "Mommy—" Inspiration struck; Jiaming grabbed behind him—and sure enough, Marilyn had swung the pistol around, aimed it at her own body, and pulled the trigger. With a clatter, the whole gun flew apart in the air into its pieces.
"You big-titted, brainless idiot woman!"
Jiaming very nearly swung a slap at her. Seeing the tears brimming in Marilyn's eyes, he roared, "I put my life on the line to come save you, and this is how you repay me? Let me tell you something—you owe me two lives.
The way we Chinese reckon it, you'll have to be my beast of burden this life and the next just to repay my great kindness! You want to die? Then I'll walk out of here right now and leave you and your daughter for those bastards to rape and then kill, and rape again and kill again!"
He had always let his thoughts wander, and now the curses came pouring out of him. Hearing that she and her daughter were to be left behind, Heidi timidly clutched Jiaming's hand. Marilyn's whole body trembled faintly; her face streaming with tears, she stared at the dead man on the floor. After a moment, Jiaming shoved the other pistol into her hand and said coldly, "Follow behind me. I'll tell you the safest way to go. I don't want to waste words—if you die here today, I will absolutely leave Heidi behind! I mean what I say. Suit yourself."
A person who has already pulled the trigger on herself once generally does not have the nerve to try suicide a second time. Jiaming raised the small submachine gun in his hand, and the two who poked half a head out at the stairwell landing were finished off on the spot. The rubble below had been cleared away and men were charging up—which meant the hard fight to come was about to break.
This is getting a bit difficult. Looks like it has to be done this way...
A hint of a smile curved the corner of Jiaming's mouth; paired with the scar on his face, it made him look cold and savage. He paid no mind to the blonde beauty still dazed behind him. He patted the little girl's head, and his voice softened:
"Let's go home."