0074 chased into the building.

“Don’t move, hands up! We’re Hong Kong Police. You’re surrounded!” shouted one of the SWAT officers, tense and pressing his Model 5 almost against the Tie’s nose.

Tie could only manage a bitter smile, but as soon as he tried, blood spilled from his mouth.

“What are you laughing at—” The leading officer, seeing Tie’s strange smile, was about to question him, but at that moment, the remnants of the beret outside the fuel tank burned away, and the last bit, still aflame, dropped into the tank. Instantly, the entire armored vehicle became a massive bomb. The ensuing explosion unleashed a torrent of fire that engulfed Tie and the officers beside him.

Meanwhile, Hou Rui, who had first pursued Minister Mohammed, was unaware Tie had fallen. He ran down the street with his Ithaca 37, drawing screams and panic wherever he passed. Soon, he reached the building where the minister and his bodyguard were hiding. As soon as he entered, the diminutive bodyguard lying in wait in the lobby opened fire.

Three shots rang out, coming straight at him. Hou Rui had no choice but to throw himself backward, sliding across the floor feet forward, head back. Even so, he couldn’t dodge everything: one bullet gouged a bloody trench above his collarbone, one struck his helmet and ricocheted, and the last nearly pierced his ear, tearing a chunk from his left earlobe.

“I—damn!” Hou Rui, lying on the floor, having danced with death, burned with anger. He shouted and fired back. The muzzle of his shotgun flashed, and powerful steel pellets blasted a crater into the pillar the bodyguard was hiding behind.

Dust rained down, nearly whitening the bodyguard’s hair, but he kept firing relentlessly.

With the lobby between them, Hou Rui braced himself on his elbows, retreating while shooting at the pillar. Each shot from the Ithaca tore chunks of marble from the pillar, leaving the bodyguard behind it battered and desperate.

When the bodyguard had dragged Minister Mohammed into the building, the few passersby in the lobby watched out of curiosity. But now, with gunfire erupting and bullets flying, they screamed and fled in chaos. One panicked man ran right into the line of fire and was torn open by a blast from the Ithaca.

Click—out of bullets. The bodyguard, realizing his predicament, tried to escape, but Hou Rui seized the moment and fired at his leg.

Steel pellets shredded the bodyguard’s calf muscle, snapped the bone, and blew away everything below the knee, sending him crashing to the floor.

Seeing his opponent incapacitated, Hou Rui scrambled to his feet, rushed forward, and planted his boot firmly on the bodyguard’s back. He quickly searched him, making sure there were no hidden threats.

With the threat neutralized, Hou Rui flipped the bodyguard over and leveled the shotgun at his face. “Where is the minister?”

The bodyguard only groaned, clutching his mangled leg.

“I asked you, where’s the minister?!” Hou Rui shouted, firing a round near the bodyguard’s ear, blasting a hole in the floor. The urgency gnawed at him. Judging by the bleeding, the bodyguard wouldn’t last long. If the minister was hidden somewhere in the building, finding him would be no easy task.

“Go to hell, you bastards!” the bodyguard cursed, defiant even in agony.

“Tell me, and I’ll call you an ambulance right away.” Hou Rui switched from threats to promises, betting that no one would willingly throw away their life. The hope of rescue might lure him to cooperate.

“I’ll wait for you in hell,” the bodyguard whispered, his voice fading, head slumping as death claimed him. Hou Rui checked his pulse and confirmed it. Reluctantly, he was now forced into a game of hide-and-seek with Minister Mohammed in the building.

“Wild Dog, where are they?” Just then, Lux and the Werewolf rushed in and immediately asked Hou Rui.

“He hid them.” Hou Rui pointed at the bodyguard’s corpse with his shotgun.

“Hong Kong Police will be here any minute. We should split up and search. With such little time and the minister wounded, he can’t have gone far—no more than the thirty-fourth floor at most,” Lux analyzed swiftly and dashed for the stairwell. The Werewolf was about to take the elevator when Hou Rui suddenly grabbed him.

“What is it?” The Werewolf looked at Hou Rui, puzzled.

“There are cameras everywhere. We've been recorded. Go to the security room; I'll hold off the police for now,” Hou Rui said, nodding at the ceiling cameras.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” The Werewolf shook off Hou Rui’s hand and sprinted toward the elevator.

In the lobby, Hou Rui was left alone. He picked up a woman’s silk scarf from the floor and covered his face. Then he locked each of the glass doors, gathering the four residents who hadn’t managed to escape at the reception desk.

“Please, brother, you’re just after money! Don’t kill me. Take whatever you want!” A man in his forties, mistaking Hou Rui for a robber, knelt and begged, terror etched across his face. Beside him, two young women, sisters perhaps, clung to each other, crying quietly and trying not to anger Hou Rui. The last hostage, a security guard, had ducked behind the reception at the first gunshot, only to be dragged out by Hou Rui.

Hou Rui had no time or interest in these hostages. He bound their hands behind their backs with their own belts and turned his attention to the lobby.

It was an ordinary residential building, the lobby about a hundred square meters. Three marble-clad pillars lined each side. The reception desk sat between the two rows of pillars; the elevator was to the right, stairs to the left. Besides that, the lobby held nothing but a row of mailboxes, an electrical panel, and a few decorative plants.

A quick circuit confirmed there were no back doors or fire escapes; the only way in or out was through the six glass doors at the front.

“Not exactly a fortress,” Hou Rui muttered to himself. But the next second, he saw through the glass doors that the street outside was swarming with police cars and a mass of black-uniformed SWAT officers, all surrounding the entrance.

Suddenly, two shots echoed from upstairs. Instinctively, Hou Rui crouched, while the two sisters among the hostages shrieked, holding each other.

“Quiet!” Hou Rui snapped, trying to silence them. As they huddled in terror, the police outside began to shout through a loudspeaker.

“Listen up, you inside! You are surrounded. We are Hong Kong Police. I demand you put down your weapons, release the hostages, and come out with your hands raised!” A commanding voice repeated the message in Cantonese, Mandarin, and English.

“Only an idiot would listen to you,” Hou Rui muttered, sitting on the floor behind the reception with his hostages, loading his shotgun.

A few minutes later, more gunshots echoed faintly in the building, then the monitors at the reception went dark—Werewolf must have taken the security room. At least Hou Rui didn’t have to worry about his face being exposed.

“Listen up! I am Liu Guozhu, Hong Kong Police negotiator. I am unarmed. I am now walking slowly into the building, hoping we can talk. I’ll do my best to meet your demands,” came another voice through the loudspeaker. This time, a man in a suit and bulletproof vest actually walked toward the entrance, hands raised.

Hou Rui, not knowing how long Lux would need to find the target, needed to buy time. Still, he didn’t want anyone entering the building; any intrusion was a risk, and he was guarding the door alone, with no margin for error.

When the negotiator started knocking on the glass doors, trying to enter, Hou Rui answered decisively with a single shot, shattering a ceiling lamp in the lobby. The negotiator froze, and two SWAT officers with shields rushed over, dragging him back.

Hou Rui knew that by firing, he’d shut down negotiations. The police would likely try a direct assault next. To avoid that worst-case scenario, he would have to demonstrate some rationality, buying more time for Lux and the others.