"Sorry, but if you don't want your four men to get hurt, you'll let me go," Guan Yumeng said, revealing a detonator in his hand. "I think you know exactly what this thing is."
Of course, Hannes recognized the detonator. "You bastard."
"Goodbye, Minister. I'll be seeing you," Guan Yumeng said calmly as he walked away.
Watching him leave, Hannes, filled with rage, slammed his hand down on the desk. After a few seconds, he turned to his secretary and ordered, "Get someone to find Nick and the others."
"Yes, sir." The secretary quickly picked up the phone and made the call.
Twenty minutes later, the unconscious Nick and his team were rushed to the hospital. Two hours later, after they had regained consciousness, they met Hannes at his home in the city.
As soon as they arrived, Hannes asked, "Are you alright?"
Nick shook his head, "Luckily, there was a small window in the room. With the airflow, we didn't inhale too much of the anesthetic gas. After the doctors administered the antidote, they said we're fine."
"Good, but tell me exactly what happened. How did all of you get taken out like that?"
Nick didn't answer right away, too embarrassed to admit they had fallen into the old man's trap. They had planned to ambush him, only to be ambushed themselves, knocked out one by one. "Sir, after reviewing the scene, I think we might be in bigger trouble than we thought."
"What do you mean?" Hannes, already dealing with the humiliation of being outplayed by an elderly man, was growing more frustrated. Sending his men to catch Guan Yumeng had backfired, leaving him wide open for the man to confront him directly and then slip away.
Nick shook his head. "No, sir, it's not that simple. When we searched the room, we didn't find any signs of stun grenades or anesthetic gas. Yet, the reality is that we were first stunned by a grenade and then knocked out by gas."
Nick then pulled two warped chess pieces from his pocket. "These were found in the old man's room. I suspect this is what knocked us out. But when we checked them, we found no trace of anesthetic or explosive materials."
Hannes was stunned. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that this old man is either working for a powerful organization or for a government. Otherwise, there's no way he could have access to equipment even we don't understand. There's something else I find suspicious," Nick said, pointing to Hannes' suit. "The bulletproof suit you're wearing—I went to London to pick it up for you. When Murphy and I confronted the old man, I noticed that the material of his jacket felt exactly the same as your suit."
"No," Nick paused to think. "Actually, it felt even finer and softer. If it's also bulletproof, it might be even more advanced than yours."
"Dammit, are you sure? This suit cost five million pounds, and I only got it because Catherine gave it to me as a favor from our past dealings," Hannes said, now not just shocked but genuinely concerned. Was this unassuming old Asian man wearing something more expensive than his own elite gear?
A long trench coat made from material that could surpass his own suit might be worth up to 7.5 million pounds. Murphy, standing nearby, chimed in after hearing Nick's observation. "Now that you mention it, Nick, I also felt like there was something strange about that trench coat," Murphy said. He walked over to Hannes and pointed at the suit. "Apologies, sir."
"Go ahead," Hannes nodded, extending his arm so Murphy could feel the fabric at the cuff. After about ten seconds, Murphy nodded in agreement. "It feels very similar. This material is incredibly smooth to the touch, with a noticeable grainy texture."
"Dammit." With both of his trusted men confirming their suspicions, Hannes began to believe their assessment. Previously, he had no intention of revealing the identity of the killer to Guan Yumeng. But now, confronted with the possibility that the old man's coat could be worth 7.5 million pounds, he began to seriously reconsider his stance.
Hannes cursed inwardly, "Damn rich people! If you have so much money, why didn't you hire bodyguards for your daughter? And you let her shop on second-rate Oxford Street?"
To avoid any more unexpected encounters and to buy himself more time to properly investigate the killer's identity, Hannes made a decision. "Notify my wife, Mary. We're going to the farmhouse in the countryside."
"Yes, sir." His men nodded. The open terrain of the countryside would make it easier to defend and give them some breathing room.
As they were packing their belongings, Hannes, surprisingly, left by himself and drove to a nearby restaurant. This unexpected move caught Guan Yumeng, who had been tailing him from a distance, completely off guard. Guan Yumeng got out of his car and followed Hannes to the restaurant entrance. Through the window, he saw Hannes cozying up to a young, attractive woman. Curious, he quickly put on his special glasses. "Sunday, did you capture the photo?" he asked.
"Apologies, Mr. Guan. There was an error in the capture process. The photo was not taken."
"What? Fine, you take the picture then," Guan Yumeng quickly ordered.
"Understood, Mr. Guan."
Just as Guan Yumeng prepared for another opportunity to capture incriminating evidence against Hannes, the deputy minister received a message on his phone. He opened it to see a picture of himself with the young woman he was sitting with, taken just moments ago.
His phone rang, and the woman sitting beside him, sensing his unease, excused herself. "I'm going to the restroom," she said, standing up.
Once she was gone, Hannes answered the call. "Hello, who is this?"
"This is William Devonshire. Interested in a meeting?"
"What?" Hannes almost jumped out of his seat in shock. Realizing that his outburst had drawn the attention of other diners, he quickly composed himself and apologized. "Who did you say you were?"
"William Devonshire. I won't repeat it a third time. You've seen the photos. Now, if I told you that the woman sitting next to you was one of the participants in the London bombing, what would you do, Mr. Lem Hannes?"
Hannes glanced at the woman who had just returned to the table. If what Devonshire said was true, then naturally, he would kill her on the spot. But outwardly, he kept his composure. "How do I know you're telling the truth?"
"That's why I suggested we meet. And remember, Mr. Hannes, I'm William Devonshire."
"Fine," Hannes replied, smiling at the woman beside him. "I'll call you back soon."
"You'd better not do anything rash with the woman next to you. Just keep things as they are. We'll talk when we meet."
"Okay, no problem."
After hanging up, Hannes used the excuse of needing to make a call to keep his distance from the woman, who was trying to get closer. "Sorry, Maggie, I have to go," he said, shaking his phone. "I just got a call, you understand."
"Alright, take care of your business," Maggie smiled sweetly. "Take care of yourself. I'll wait for your call, darling."
"Yes, I'll contact you as soon as I'm done. See you soon, dear."
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