In the monitoring room of the Lower Manhattan Hospital, the kidnappers dragged the seven bloody corpses away to a corner. No one bothered to clean the bloodstains on the ground. It served as a reminder to the others of the massacre that happened. The CNN reporter in charge of recording the event was beside himself with shock at the sight of the cruel scene. He stood there, stammering, not knowing what he should do.
Locke's expression was sour as he stared intently at the several big screens in the monitoring room, his brow furrowed. The headache Zhou Qingfeng had caused him extended way further than the killing of seven subordinates by him.
Locke started plotting this kidnapping ever since he had gotten out of jail, for a whole two months. He hired twenty-four fearless men to join him. If this was a typical street kidnapping, he would not have needed so many people. Now, the unexpected situation left him short of manpower.
There were only seventeen people under him now. Aside from himself and his younger brother, there were only fifteen others. There was no way a group as small as this could contain the hundreds of hostages in the hospital. Add a troublemaking policeman into the mix, and it got even harder!
All Locke could do now was intimidate the police with the few bombs planted amongst the hostages. If he just dallied around and the police organized an all-out assault, he would be reduced to a pile of ash in no time. The main problem was, how should he deal with that Officer Hugo lurking in the basement?
To be honest, the ferocious attitude of Zhou Qingfeng that saw him kill seven of Locke's subordinates made Locke feel somewhat helpless. He could not help but feel that Zhou Qingfeng was inhumanly powerful. After thinking things over, he walked from the monitoring room and entered the adjacent room. Confined there was the crux of this kidnapping—Leila Fox.
Miss Fox was currently enjoying her last dinner. She had already handed out the supermanaging rights of the conglomerate's central computer. After the rights were transferred, today would mark her deathday.
"Miss Fox, how's dinner?" In one fluid motion, Locke sat down opposite of Leila Fox. He picked up a bottle of red wine on the table and glanced at it a few times. He asked, "Mouton… What is this wine?"
"Put it down. It's mine. Don't dirty it." Leila Fox remained emotionless, her posture composed. She put down the small fork in her hand, wiped her mouth with a napkin, and said, "There should be another three hours before the transfer is finalized. You aren't so hasty to kill me, are you?"
"No, no, no, it's not your problem. It's mine. I want to ask something. That policeman that saved you, that guy you said is called Victor Hugo, who is he? Is he an agent from the ESU? Or some other remarkable individual?"
Noting Locke's bemused expression, Leila Fox's eyes lit up. She stated evenly, "It seems that Officer Hugo gave you a lot of trouble."
Immediately, Locke shook his big head. He then wagged a finger at her and snapped, "No, there's no trouble. The elevators have already stopped working, and all tunnels, exits, and entrances are guarded by my men. He is trapped in the parking lot with nowhere to go.
"I have already planned to pour gasoline into the parking lot. I'll just have to toss in a match, and that policeman will be roasted like a suckling pig, provided he doesn't die of suffocation first."
"But he isn't dead yet, is he?" Leila Fox raised her head up haughtily and said with a smile. "Some man was just talking about sending people to deal with Officer Hugo, and now said man is talking about pouring gasoline. Let me guess, the men you sent have all died. Lots of them, too. Am I right?"
Slap!
The large-headed Locke slapped Leila Fox square on the face, sending her crashing to the floor. The somewhat neurotic gang leader twisted his body uncomfortably and huffed, "Miss Fox, talking to you is really no fun at all. Yes, I admit it. That f*cking policeman killed seven of my men. He annoys me. He pisses me off!
"So, our game has ended. I'm gonna change the rules, burn him to death with gasoline. Let's see what he can do this time. He's gonna die. I'll make sure of it!"
Locke turned and left after roaring until he was satisfied. The ex-bodyguard Raj in charge of guarding the place had a pistol in hand. He sat by the side, sneering. "Miss Fox, I know that you're a prideful woman, but you really shouldn't piss my brother off—he has a pretty bad temper."
Leila Fox crawled up from the ground with difficulty. Her face was marred with two red palm-shaped slap bruises. There was blood on the corner of her lips. Despite that, she tidied her hair unconcernedly and the smile never left her face as she replied, "You can't ask too much of a person who's going to die. I won't bend to anyone."
Raj had no way to deal with her. The beautiful Miss Fox continued eating her last meal. She savored all the dishes in front of her slowly, her expression calm. It was only when she bit into a cherry decorating a dish and felt a particularly hard pit that her hope that she would be able to escape this place increased.
"Everything will depend on that policeman. I can only hope to escape if he stirs up more chaos and causes more trouble." Leila Fox held the pit inside her mouth as she went on eating her dinner slowly. In her heart, she was praying that Zhou Qingfeng could work with her and help her escape.
In the parking basement, Zhou Qingfeng had already changed his look. He discarded his police cap. Although he was still wearing the uniform, he layered over it a battle vest he picked up from a corpse. The vest smelled pervasively bloody, but that was the least of his concerns.
Zhou Qingfeng had eight magazines in his vest pocket. In his hands were an M4A1 carbine rifle, and in the holster strapped on his thigh was his Glock 17 pistol.
Zhou Qingfeng's current appearance looked sinister. Although his face was still that of a youthful eighteen-year-old teen, his entire aura had changed. The lives he had taken had given his look a sharpened edge.
His "Gifted" ability had contributed to his swift growth. After several gunfights, his knowledge of guns increased sharply. In the beginning, he had no idea how to use the M1911A1 in his hands, but now he carried the M4A1 like it was second nature. The familiar feeling he felt was as if he had used the weapon for decades.
Zhou Qingfeng was unable to leave the first floor of the basement. Regardless if he chose to exit via the fire escape tunnels or the car slopes, there would be two to three kidnappers cornering him. The thugs did not bother to come down. They just blocked the pathways and did not let him leave.
And then gasoline was poured in.
Seeing the gasoline, Zhou Qingfeng understood the kidnappers' motives immediately. Those bastards were afraid of him now that he had reduced their forces by seven men. As no one could be sure that they would not be the eighth, they chose to deal with him in a cruder way.
There was not much gasoline, but the basement would soon be devoid of oxygen if the gasoline was ignited. Zhou Qingfeng would die of suffocation even if he was not burnt to death.
As the smell of gasoline became thicker, Zhou Qingfeng knew that he must get out of here! Or else he would die!