Chapter 33: The Rescue Plan
The moment the girl stepped out, Boss Wang hurried to her side.
"Boss Li—what did he say?"
"A mixture of truth and lies." Li Siya's voice was cold. "Some of it can't be verified, so we had no choice but to let him talk."
"Give him a taste of pain. He'll spill everything."
"Not on a flower boat." She cut him off with a sharp gesture. "Too many eyes and ears, too little space. If there's howling and screaming, word spreads immediately. Move him somewhere else before the interrogation."
"Good—I'll arrange it right away."
"After you get his confession, do what you want with him. If you want to leave yourselves an out, don't damage him too badly. Best would be to dispose of him cleanly—dead men tell no tales."
Boss Wang nodded, understanding she'd decided on permanent silence.
"Send the information to the usual place. I'll be staying in Guangzhou a while longer." She called out, "Let's go," and from the shadows emerged another slender figure wrapped in a black cloak. The two jumped ashore and vanished into the darkness.
After a long silence, two accomplices emerged from the cabin. "Boss Wang—what about us?"
"Hmph. How can we not eat fat meat that's fallen into our hands?" Boss Wang spat into the water in contempt. "Who does she think she is? Just an errand-runner for the Grand Chief."
"About moving locations..."
"Move my ass. What does that girl know? 'Howling and screaming'?" He laughed derisively. "Just pole the flower boat out, find some desolate creek to moor in, and take our time questioning him. You could administer the Ten Great Tortures of the Ming and no one would hear a thing."
"Ten Great Tortures of the Ming—is that even real?" The underling looked puzzled.
His companion understood the truth: Boss Wang was simply too stingy to pay for a new hideout, and too attached to his paramour on this boat. Why not keep the profits in the family?
Still, it was true this place had too many eyes. Master Gao wasn't someone to take lightly either. Extra precautions would be necessary. After some thought, Boss Wang issued his orders.
"Keep him hidden on Qingyan's small boat. Ma San and Little Zhao will watch him."
He then positioned two more sentries at key access points. One was a Danjia man skilled with throwing knives—deadly accurate within twenty paces. Boss Wang placed him closest to the flower boat. If anyone came to rescue the hostage, a pair of flying blades could take down one or two men, buying enough time for Ma San to row the small boat away.
The enemy might also approach by water, so he stationed his greatest investment—a military archer—on the flower boat's rear deck. From that elevated vantage point, the man could cover the water and embankment within a hundred paces.
No matter how influential or wealthy Master Gao might be, whether he sent constables or escort guards, they'd be nothing before a sharpshooter who could hit a willow leaf at a hundred paces. Boss Wang savored the thought. This archer was a military deserter, but his skills were superb—fast and accurate. Hiring him through the city's underworld had cost good money.
Silver—Boss Wang never begrudged it. In the end, whoever paid the ransom would foot the bill. Why save money for others? For the three sentries and two guards, he paid ten taels each up front, with another fifty taels promised from the ransom. Even the worthless bouncer on the flower boat got five taels. The whole gang of petty criminals was now in high spirits, eager for action.
While making arrangements, the liaison sent to coordinate with the Haopan Street surveillance team returned. Boss Wang had established a system: twice-daily reports, morning and evening, on activity at the Gao mansion and the sea merchants' residence.
"Any movement?"
"Nothing unusual. The Gao household is bustling—lots of people coming and going—but no one went to the authorities or an escort bureau. Word is they're receiving an important guest from the capital."
"And the Australian merchants?"
"Nothing visible from outside. But..."
"What?"
"They've been setting off firecrackers all day."
"It's confirmed." Ran Yao stood once again before the upended square table, except now the chalk stick was actual chalk instead of a lime cake. "Wen Desi is being held on the fourth flower boat at He embankment in White Goose Pool. The boat is called Xuanzhu."
Several people led by Beiwei sat silently watching Ran Yao and the table. Behind them on a large painting desk sat multiple walkie-talkie chargers, while a 19-inch LCD monitor displayed nearly ten camera feeds in rotation. Below the desk, computer cases, battery banks, and tangles of wire cluttered the floor. The air was stifling. Xiao Zishan, on monitor duty, wore only an old man's undershirt and was still dripping with sweat.
A blown-up digital photo was taped to the rosewood tabletop. This type of flower boat had a wide, flat bow with the stern raised high. A large sweep oar was mounted at the stern, with two smaller oars at the bow—convenient for maneuvering in narrow waters. The boat was elaborately decorated with carved beams and painted rafters.
All flower boats, regardless of size, had three sections: bow cabin, middle cabin, and stern. The middle cabin was largest—about half the vessel's length—with curtains hanging on all four sides for privacy. Based on their analysis, Director Wen was most likely being held there.
Five people regularly lived aboard: the madam, two prostitutes, a servant woman, and a bouncer.
"According to reconnaissance from the Qiwei Escort Bureau, this flower boat has displayed a 'Closed for Charter' sign since the twentieth of last month. Over the past ten-odd days, several strangers have been coming and going regularly. Though they can speak Cantonese, they're not locals—some have been overheard speaking Hokkien to each other.
"Except for one surnamed Wang, none of them stay overnight on the boat. This Wang suspect leaves early every morning and returns near dusk.
"Three days ago—the day Director Wen disappeared—these people all vanished, but the charter sign stayed up. Daily food and vegetable deliveries haven't decreased. Yesterday, someone spotted one of the boat's prostitutes showing off a small shiny object. Based on the escort guard's description, we believe it to be a nail clipper."
"A nail clipper?"
"Yes. A small Five Rams brand nail clipper with a plastic cover. According to the missing items list, it should belong to... Xiao Zishan.
"There's one more piece of evidence." He taped up another digital photo. "Based on photographs and identification of individuals around that boat over the past two days, this person matches the suspicious individual we photographed at the Haopan Street teahouse on the day of the incident."
Two days earlier, after the Qiwei Escort Bureau efficiently reported that Director Wen was likely being held on a flower boat at White Goose Pool, Ran Yao and Beiwei—accompanied by Sun Chang and using the Gao household women's sedan procession as cover—had conducted prolonged on-site surveillance at White Goose Pool. They gathered extensive material. Their investigation confirmed the escort bureau's intelligence was reliable.
There was no time to waste. They decided to act immediately. The ransom letter hadn't arrived yet, meaning the situation remained stable. Once the criminals moved locations, finding them again would become far more difficult. Ran Yao would lead the operation: three from the Athletics Group plus Lin Shenhe, with several escort guards assisting.
The plan was straightforward. Lin Shenhe would use the small-caliber rifle to suppress the battlefield. The Athletics Group would split into two assault teams—Ran Yao's team would attack the flower boat head-on from the embankment while Beiwei led another team in a rowing boat to cut off the water escape route. Once successful, escort-bureau carriages waiting on the embankment would pick everyone up. The reason for not retreating by water was simple: the Danjia were expert swimmers and boatmen. If pursued, the transmigrators might not be their match.
The operation was set for 5:30. The transmigrators had learned White Goose Pool's rhythms. In this season, flower-boat business didn't start until after six. Before that, there would be few pedestrians but visibility would still be good. After the operation, everyone would retreat into the city before the gates closed. If the criminal leaders were outside the city walls, by the time they reacted they wouldn't be able to enter. If they were inside, news wouldn't reach them in time—ancient communication was basically people walking on two legs. In this, the transmigrators held a natural advantage.
"Wouldn't it be better to move at night? We have night-vision goggles—they'd be blind."
"After dark, the city gates close. We don't know the terrain out here—fighting them on their ground, we might not have the upper hand. And Ming-era night-blindness may not be as widespread as we imagine."
With the plan set, everyone prepared separately. All wore stab-proof vests and emergency inflatable life belts in case of falling overboard. The four assault-team members had steel helmets, goggles, combat boots, and stab-proof gloves—protected from head to toe. To avoid attention, they wore hooded cloth cloaks over everything.
Engineer Wang would stay to guard the residence with a five-shot shotgun. Xiao Zishan would accompany the escort-bureau pickup team as communications officer with the walkie-talkies. Everyone received a walkie-talkie for constant contact.
After lunch, Lin Shenhe spoke briefly with Xiao Zishan, who nodded and left. Lin Shenhe then took the Emei-brand small-caliber rifle and began a fieldstrip on the table. It was an excellent domestic sporting rifle—the EM751 free rifle, chambered in .22 Long Rifle. With a 4x scope, he was confident he could hit a human target within 200 meters.
But though he'd fired many guns abroad, he had no feel for this particular rifle. To ensure accuracy, he needed test shots.
The rifle was old but well-maintained. Lin Shenhe stripped and cleaned methodically. While he worked, Beiwei came over from the front courtyard. Seeing him occupied with the gun, Beiwei swallowed whatever he'd been about to say and watched in silence.
Only after the rifle was reassembled did he speak.
"Shenhe," he began haltingly, uncertain how to frame it, "about you being sniper..."
"What—afraid I can't handle it?" Lin Shenhe was unconcerned. He raised the rifle and practiced shouldering it several times.
"Well, I know you've fired more guns in America than I've ever seen, and you can talk circles around anyone about small arms." Beiwei hesitated. "But you've never been in the military. Real combat is different from playing at the range." He took a breath. "By rights, I should be doing this myself, but the assault team is already short-handed."
"Don't worry." Lin Shenhe set down the rifle without elaboration. "Come watch me test-fire?" He handed over a pair of binoculars.
Beiwei accepted them, still full of doubt. The firing range was set up in the alley beside the courtyard—high walls and a long enclosed space made it ideal. Xiao Zishan had already measured out fifty meters with a tape measure and taped a paper target to the wall.
Lin Shenhe took up a kneeling position at the fifty-meter line. He adjusted the sights, chambered a round, and engaged the safety. He tucked his right heel under his buttocks for stability, right knee on the ground, and refined his entire shooting posture.
The 4x scope brought the target's center into sharp focus. Not a breath of wind. From the courtyard came the chaotic crackling of firecrackers and thunderclap bangers—cover for his test shots. He barely heard them. He was aware only of his pulse beating faintly, the tiniest muscle tremors clearly reflected in the scope—the black bullseye swaying rhythmically with his body's micro-tremors.
He held his breath. In that motionless second, he squeezed the trigger.
The recoil was smaller than expected. The small-caliber rifle had a special stock buffer pad, and for someone accustomed to all manner of firearms, Lin Shenhe barely felt it.
Beiwei raised the binoculars and shook his head. The bullet had struck between 7 and 8 o'clock—on paper, but not even the 4-ring.
At fifty meters, only ring four. At two hundred meters, who knew where the bullet would land.
Lin Shenhe didn't move. He didn't immediately eject the shell—keeping the barrel temperature stable improved accuracy. After reloading, he fired again. This time, up two rings. A third shot hit the 8-ring.
From the fourth bullet on, the impacts stabilized—three consecutive shots almost all at the 8-ring. He readjusted the sights. The next five shots all landed in the 10-ring.
"That should be good enough." Lin Shenhe glanced at the remaining ammunition. There wasn't much left. He'd wanted to fire ten more rounds.
"Nice shooting." Beiwei gave a simple assessment. "But on the battlefield, you're shooting at people. Can you pull the trigger when it counts?"
"Why couldn't I?" A strange smile appeared on his face. "I hunt often."
(End of Chapter)