Chapter 52 Lữ took the Beretta that Sơn had handed him and began to clean it. He felt as though he had been transported back to the old days in the deep forests of the Trường Sơn range. Whenever a mission loomed, he would meticulously clean his weapon, caressing it with the tenderness one might show a lover. He had to treat the gun with care and affection—it was his lifeline, after all—and he certainly didn't want to discover, in a moment of crisis, that it had jammed due to poor maintenance.
Lữ sat waiting, the gun resting in his lap. He hadn't wanted Uyên to witness this, but she had refused to leave. His only option was to tell her to go into the bathroom and lock the door tight should any shooting break out.
Lữ had grown suspicious of the Chinese waiter the moment he noticed the man stealing strange glances at him and hurriedly pushing his food cart away as if fleeing a ghost. Lữ opened his door to watch the waiter; when he saw the man rush into a small room at the end of the hall to make a call, Lữ followed. Pressing his ear against the door, Lữ caught snatches of the conversation—his own name and Á Trung’s mentioned as the waiter spoke to the Triad headquarters. That was enough. Lữ knew instantly that the waiter was tipping off the Triad; within half an hour at most, they would send gunmen to take him out.
Lữ hurried back to his room before the waiter finished the call. He immediately phoned Montello. The plan had been set two days prior, and Montello was simply waiting for Lữ’s call to set things in motion. Montello had warned Lữ that Cheng’s organization was large and staffed by many skilled gunmen. He worried that storming the Triad headquarters while their forces were fully assembled would result in heavy losses for the Mafia. If they could split the Triad’s forces, however, eliminating them would be far easier.
Lữ was weary of constantly changing his lodgings every night and being perpetually on the run, fleeing the Triad’s pursuit. He proposed a plan: let the Triad discover his location, and while Cheng sent men to eliminate him, Montello would strike the Triad’s headquarters. Montello assured him that a few of his own men would be stationed at the hotel to ambush Cheng’s henchmen the moment they appeared. Three Mafia gunmen would lie in wait in the hallway; any Triad member who burst into the room would be ambushed and taken out instantly.
After hanging up with Montello, Lữ waited. True to the Mafia boss's promise, just over ten minutes later, the room phone rang. A man named Larry—after reciting the pre-arranged code—informed Lữ that he and two other gunmen were already at the Four Seasons, ready and waiting for Henry Cheng’s men to come to their deaths.
"Just stay put in the room," the man said.
"Don't be afraid! Larry here has got it all covered." Lữ smiled. Little did the man know how accustomed Lữ was to gunfire and bloodshed. He wondered about Larry’s marksmanship—and if he had to defend himself, would his own gun hand still be as steady as it had been over a decade ago? Lữ mused silently, caressing the gun resting in his lap with more tenderness than he had ever shown in his past romances with Uyên, Kim, or Miriam—memories that felt like a distant, vanished past, even though they were not long ago.
° ° °
Ricky unleashed a burst of gunfire into the spacious living room. There was no return fire. His team, having breached the back entrance, had already taken down four Triad members. Johnny, who had stormed in through the front door to meet him in the living room, reported that he had eliminated three others. A total of seven filthy Chinese thugs had been sent to meet their ancestors, but his own side had suffered two casualties as well.
The remaining expert marksman inside the house had shot the two men storming the living room right in the crown of the head—a display of consummate skill and deadly precision. This meant Henry Cheng was still hiding somewhere within the cavernous living room, and Montello’s gunmen had to tread carefully to flush out the Triad leader.
° ° °
Crouched behind a massive black bronze vase, Cheng peered out. A group approaching from the front of the living room had linked up with the squad that had stormed in from the rear. Eight gunmen fanned out, covering the vast expanse of the room. They advanced step by step, and Henry Cheng knew he was out of options; in moments, they would reach the far end of the room where he was concealed. He took aim at the tallest man in the group—who appeared to be the leader—and squeezed the trigger.
The bullet struck Ricky square in the forehead, sending him toppling backward. But simultaneously, the seven remaining gunmen unleashed a hail of automatic fire at the black bronze vase. The vase was knocked backward, exposing Henry Cheng, who was now completely defenseless. He raised his gun, intending to take out one last man, but it was too late. Hundreds of rounds from seven Uzi submachine guns tore into his body; in an instant, he was reduced to a shapeless, mangled heap of flesh slumped against the wall, lying beside the precious antique vase—now as twisted and ruined as its owner.
° ° °
Wang Li, Paul Huang, and Frank Teng entered the Four Seasons Hotel. Wang Li had wanted to go alone, but Henry Cheng had insisted the other two accompany him.
"This guy Lữ is dangerous," Cheng had said, determined that Lữ would not escape the Triad’s grasp this time. Upon entering the hotel lobby, Wang Li glanced around and jerked his head, signaling Huang and Teng:
"You two take the elevator. I’ll go up the stairs just in case. Wait until I get there before you storm Lữ’s room."
Wang Li had seen plenty of action in hotels across Hong Kong and the U.S. He knew that if an ambush occurred, the threat would likely emerge from the stairwell. Although Lữ had no idea the Triad was coming, Wang Li refused to leave anything to chance; he always secured the stairwell before carrying out a hit in a hotel.
Paul Huang and Frank Teng stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the sixth floor. Compact automatic pistols were tucked discreetly beneath their black leather jackets. Wang Li shook his head as he watched them go. How did the Triad recruit guys like this? Going on a hit dressed in black—it was practically advertising their Triad affiliation and the fact that they were about to kill someone.
He bounded up the stairs, taking three or four steps at a time; the stairwell was deserted. In moments, he reached the sixth floor. Wang Li cast a final glance around. The stairs above and below were completely empty. Satisfied, he pushed open the door and stepped out. Just then, he heard a sharp burst of gunfire coming from the direction of the elevator.
° ° °
Larry saw three Chinese men enter the Four Seasons and instantly recognized them as Triad gunmen—especially the two wearing all-black jackets and dark sunglasses.
*A bunch of morons! Going to commit murder but acting like they’re putting on a show for everyone!* Larry thought to himself. One of them broke away from the group and vanished down the far end of the hallway. Larry couldn't figure out where he was going—maybe just off to the restroom to take a leak. Those Chinese guys had all sorts of weird habits and rituals.
Larry cursed under his breath, damning every filthy Chinese person on the face of the earth. He spoke softly into his walkie-talkie upon seeing the two men in black press the elevator button to go up:
"Two Triad guys are taking the elevator up. You know what to do." Dick’s voice came back crisp and clear:
"OK! We’re waiting right by the elevator doors. We’ll handle it." Larry smiled. When the elevator doors opened, those two Chinese guys would be met with a hail of bullets from Dick and Valentino, who were lying in wait. Taking out the Triads would be a piece of cake—there was no need for Montello to be so fussy with his instructions! As for the third guy, Larry would simply step into the restroom and put a bullet in his head; that would settle everything neatly. He walked down the corridor toward the restroom near the emergency exit stairs, only to hear the sharp crack of gunfire ringing out from the floor above.
° ° °
Wang Li glanced toward the elevator and instantly realized they had been ambushed. Two tall Americans were spraying automatic fire into the elevator car. Huang and Teng had just stopped at the sixth floor; the moment the doors cracked open, Montello’s henchmen—who had been lying in wait—unleashed burst after burst of automatic fire. The two Chinese men slumped to the floor, unable to react in time.
Wang Li drew his gun and sneered. One of the Americans spun around, but it was too late; a bullet from Wang Li’s weapon slammed into his left chest. Before the man could even process what was happening, he took another bullet to his right temple. Two hulking bodies slowly collapsed to the ground.
Wang Li walked over to the elevator and spat on the floor. He felt no pity for his fallen associates. Gunmen as stupid as the four men lying dead here were bound to die sooner or later; the world simply didn't have room for fools who liked to play with guns the way they did.
Wang Li slowly approached Room 645. He fired at the lock and kicked the door open. As it swung wide, he stepped inside, unleashing a long burst of gunfire, but found no one. He was momentarily taken aback but reacted instantly, dropping into a crouch and rolling into the room; a bullet grazed just inches above his head.
Wang Li cursed under his breath. This Lữ wasn't an amateur; he couldn't afford to underestimate him. Wang Li rose and fired toward the far end of the room, where the incoming fire had originated. He heard a faint cry that was instantly stifled. Lữ had been hit but had managed to suppress his scream. Wang Li felt a grudging admiration; it took immense grit to stifle a cry like that while wounded. Yet, it meant Lữ was still alive. Somewhere in the corner of this vast, luxurious Four Seasons penthouse, Lữ lay wounded, waiting for Wang Li to come and finish him off.
° ° °
Lu heard the roar of gunfire near the elevator and tightened his grip on his weapon. The Triads had arrived, and Montello’s men had sprung their ambush. He rose and retreated toward the corner of the room to wait. If things went smoothly, Montello’s henchmen would wipe out the Triads, and he would have nothing to worry about. But what if the Triads prevailed? Lữ told Uyên to lock herself in the bathroom and stay put, then crouched behind the writing desk at the far end of the room.
The gunfire suddenly ceased. Lữ heard footsteps stop outside the door, followed by a shot fired into the lock. He cursed silently; the Triads had taken out Montello’s men. But he had no time to dwell on it—bursts of automatic fire from Wang Li’s weapon were already raking the room. Lữ raised himself slightly and saw the small, wiry figure of a Chinese man standing in the doorway, spraying bullets at the bed where he had been lying.
Lữ fired three shots in rapid succession, but the man nimbly ducked and rolled aside. Suddenly, Lữ felt sharp stabs of pain in his chest and right arm; the gun was knocked from his grasp. He barely managed to stifle the cry rising in his throat before collapsing to the floor. Everything unfolded at breakneck speed, like a film in fast-forward. He squeezed his eyes shut against the pain that seemed to tear at his chest. When he opened them, he saw the Chinese man slowly approaching, the gun barrel aimed at his head, ready to fire.