Thriller Paradise
chapter-261

There was a hostage who stood at the front door of the bank. His hands and legs were secured by a small yet sturdy plastic lock, and he was wearing a money bag over his head. The glass door of the bank was an automatic door that slid open to the sides. There was a sensor that would cause it to open whenever there was someone close to it.

Due to the presence of this hostage, the glass door was constantly left open. Looking into the bank lobby from the street, at this moment, the police could not see the presence of the other hostages. In their sight, there was only this one hostage. There were two dead bodies lying on the ground. One was lying near the front door, the criminal who had held the machine gun and slaughtered the hostage earlier; the other was lying near the counter. His identity was unknown. The police had no idea whether the extra body belonged to a hostage or a criminal, nor did they know how he died. But their rudimentary observation confirmed the fact that... the death of this person had to do with the gunshots and explosion that they had heard earlier.

The dead body of the criminal with the money bag and the other criminal who died in the explosion were hidden from the sight of the police. They died in the blind spots of the police force.

"I believe you should have a set of binoculars with you, right, inspector?" Feng Bujue spoke from the phone again.

Clapton had no idea what this criminal was playing at. Therefore, he could only answer for now. "I do."

"Use them and look over at the counter," Feng Bujue said. Clapton did not put down the phone. He waved his hands and had one of the officers next to him pass him the binoculars. From his position, it was just right for him to observe the entire counter. But Feng Bujue had already hidden under the counter from the inside, and naturally, the phone that was sitting on the counter earlier was sneaked under the counter as well.

"Can you see me?" He raised one of his hands above the counter. He raised his right palm high above the counter and waved it left and right several times.

"Yes, I can see you. What do you plan to do next? Give me the middle finger?" Clapton asked.

"Hahaha... please forgive me for only being able to show you my hand, inspector," Feng Bujue said with a smile. There was much humor and enjoyment in his voice. "Since the glass door is now open, this means that your snipers can shoot into the building whenever they have the chance. Even though I have the bargaining chip of the vault password, exposing my head to the scope of the snipers is a risk that I am not willing to take blindly."

"Fine, what is it that you want? It has been more than twenty minutes since you moved the hostages into the safety vault. You still have not told me..."

"I wish to give you a present, inspector." Feng Bujue cut Clapton off.

The inspector was baffled. "Wait a minute... do you mean you wish to release the hostage at the door? Okay... I’ll have my men to go and intercept him immediately..."

"If your people dare take one step closer to the man, I will kill him on the spot," Feng Bujue warned.

"Then, what is it that you want?"

"I had him stand there because I need him to make sure that the glass door stays open," Feng Bujue said with a smile. "Only with that will I be able to show you the present. This is my way of delivering the present to you."

As he spoke, a large object that was rectangular in shape was slowly rising from behind the counter. Clapton, who was observing the situation through the binoculars, could not believe his own eyes.

"This, inspector, is a pile of twenty USD paper notes that are bound together to form a square that is one cubic meter." Feng Bujue naturally was not using his arms to hold the object above his head. He was using the floatation function of the Anti Gravity Gun to keep the object afloat.

"What are you planning to do?" Clapton had a very bad feeling that rose up in his heart.

"I am planning... to do... this..." Feng Bujue said as he adjusted it to the perfect angle and then shot out the ’Cash Bomb’. The pile of cash flew over the head of the hostage at the door and flew out from the bank at a slanted angle. When it was flying through the air, there were several hundred dollar bills that fluttered out from the ball. It attracted the attention of all the police officers, reporters, and citizens that were gathered on the street. The ball of money created a beautiful arc as it flew through the air before making contact with the outer wall of the building that was right across the street. It exploded at about the height of three to four floors above ground.

Then, with the appearance of the breeze that picked up right at that moment, the dollar notes... dispersed down the street.

Five seconds... ten seconds...

The people did not take too long to react. When the people behind the police cordon reached out to grab the money, the situation was doomed to get out of control. Soon, only the small area before the bank that was cordoned off by the police cars was not influenced by the raging mob. For several meters beyond that, hundreds of citizens and reporters had rushed through the police line to grab the free money. In fact, some of the police officers who were supposed to hold the crowd back were quietly and silently bending down to swipe the money that had landed close to them.

"Hahaha..." A laughter filled with madness came from the other end of the line. "Dogs of capitalism! Enjoy this sugar-coated present that I have given you!"

"Have you lost your mind? Do you know what you are doing!" Clapton could not hold it in anymore. He roared angrily at the phone, "You are not just a criminal; you are a terrorist! Who are you? What organization do you belong to?"

"Hahaha... I am Bill Gates! The fighter for communism! Nothing will be able to stop me now!" Feng Bujue started to ramble off some nonsense and he could not stop guffawing, "I am here to give you the sincerest greeting from Andrew Jackson[1]!"

As he said that, he sucked up the second ball of money and shot it out from the bank. After the second money ball exploded, it was a complete chaos outside the bank. After all... the police officers were people as well, and the officers of Gotham City were risking their lives every day for a pittance of a salary. Who could really blame them for succumbing to the allure of money?

It did not take long for many citizens to cut their way through to the front of the bank. Some of them were bent over, grabbing the notes from the ground; some jumped into the air with their hands waving, trying to grab the notes that were fluttering down from the sky. Every one of them had quite the haul in their arms. Other than that, since the bank notes were all new notes, they were able to float in the air for a long time.

The situation was like someone had just fired off a ball of confetti into the sky. The sky was filled with colorful papers and the place was filled with celebrating people. This situation meant that the snipers who were placed in position had lost their use.

"Do not go after the money! Ignore them! Hold your positions! Do not let yourself get distracted! Pay attention, people!" Clapton grabbed the loudspeaker that was next to him and started to yell. "Keep your eyes on the front door of the bank! Do not let your guard down!"

Although maybe not willing to admit it, most people in the world belong to the same kind of people—if other people are picking up money, they will join the crowd and pick up the money; if people rush through the street without paying attention to the rules, they too will do the same; if other people spit on the ground where they should not, they will also violate the rules; lastly, if someone sets fire to the Yasukuni shrine, they will give it some thought and then go on the street to destroy a Japanese-made car.

But there are a small number of people in the world who are the opposite. Perhaps in normal situations, they violate the rules and spit on the ground, but at the most crucial moment, they can hold the bottom line.

At that moment, about half of the police officers stationed at the bank entrance held their positions. They trained their focus on the door and ignored the rain of money that was showering around them. They tried their best to maintain the order and focused on the movement that was possible from inside the bank. These people knew very well in their heart what they were supposed to do and what they were not supposed to do. If they joined the crowd to grab at the money and allowed the criminals to rush out from the bank during this chaos, the consequences would be even worse.

"Do you like my present, Mr. Inspector?" Feng Bujue’s voice once again came from the phone, "I am not yet done..."

He fired the third money bomb. When the third ball exploded, he said through the phone, "The warm up is almost over. Now let’s play a little game."

He paused for a moment before continuing.

"I will release some of the hostages and among these hostages, there will be my partner mixed amid them."

"What is wrong with you? Is your brain even working correctly? Why would you volunteer information like that to me?" Clapton thought about that immediately once he heard what Feng Bujue had to say. "Or could it be that... he is trying to make use of this opportunity to betray his partners?"

"The situation now on the street is extremely chaotic," Feng Bujue said. "The snipers will not fire at the area before the front door, and the police cars are stuck in traffic and cannot be driven away. Therefore, if there is any slack in your quarantine, my partners will be able to mix into the crowd and get away."

Earlier, Feng Bujue had been giving orders to the three criminals; now, he had turned around to give orders to the police force. Clapton was not someone who was easily fooled. He understood there were two possibilities as to why the other party would say something like this. Either this ’John Doe’ wanted to harm his own partners, or he was setting up some kind of ploy. There was not a third possibility, unless of course the man was just seeing all of this as a big game...

"Has the tactical team at the back street returned to their original position?" Clapton whispered softly to the officer who was posted next to him.

One of the officers stepped forth to answer. "Yes, they have been watching the building. There is no strange movement. Every iron bar on the windows is perfect and has not been tampered with. They also did not see any movement inside the rooms."

"Are you sure there is no other exit from this building? Like a ventilation vent or underground sewer?" Clapton asked.

"There is a ventilation vent that leads out from the roof. We have a sniper posted there to watch the exit. For now, no one has been seen to climb out from that place just yet. Other than that, even if the criminal does decide to get to the roof, there is no way for them to get down from the roof as well."

Hearing that, Clapton lifted his head to look up. The bank building before them was about seven to eight meters tall. If someone decided to jump down from the roof, even if they did not die, they would be incapacitated for life. The adjacent building was at least three to four meters away from the bank’s roof. Furthermore, there was a fence. Even with a running start, the possibility of someone jumping across the gap to another building was extremely small.

Humph... I want to see how you plan on escaping from this place, Clapton thought to himself.

"Alright, Inspector, the hostages will be coming out soon. You’d better be prepared." Feng Bujue spoke through the phone. "After you have identified my partner, give me a call."

With that, the phone was hung up again. Then, from one side of the counter, several figures appeared. All of them had money bags over their heads, and their hands and feet were tied together.

"After the hostages come out, remove the money bags from their heads but do not release any of them. Bring them all to the side and temporarily watch over them." Clapton’s mind was still relatively clear. He had started to plan the next course of action with the officers around him. "Listen, you have to be careful around all of them. They might just appear to be apprehended... Do you understand? There could be someone hidden among them that might just fire their weapon at you."

On the other side, Feng Bujue was like someone directing the traffic. He hid under the counter and said, "Right, right. Guys, that is the correct way you are heading. Just as I told you earlier—straight ahead for about eight steps and then turn left ninety degrees. Yes. Line up now, one by one. When you hear the people in front of you jump away, start jumping. I do not want you to bump into other people and injure yourself."

Under Feng Bujue’s direction, the hostages jumped toward the door one by one in good order.

"Hey! Winston, you can go now!" Feng Bujue then turned to yell at the hostage who had been standing for so long at the door. The position and angle that this Mr. Winston faced was personally adjusted by Feng Bujue before he raised the shutters. He had already given the orders to Winston beforehand. If Winston dared to budge even one inch from his position, he would shoot. He needed to hear Feng Bujue shout this command before Winston was allowed to jump forward.

Winston, having heard the order, felt relief wash over him. The few minutes that he had spent standing at the glass door were as long as years. Finally, he had been given release, and he was crying tears of joy in the bag. But after he jumped away, it was not a blanket, medic, or concerned voices that awaited him. It was...

"Sir, can you please come this way?" An officer peeled off the money bag that covered Winston’s head, but he did not remove the plastic lock around Winston’s hands and legs. He dragged Winston to the side and ordered him to sit on the ground. Soon after that, another two police officers came over to look at him guardedly.

"What are you doing? I am one of the hostages!" Winston cried for mercy.

"Please cooperate with us, sir. The criminal might be mixed among the hostages and run into the crowd during the commotion," one of the officers replied.

"What do you mean by that? Are you suspecting me?"

"We cannot be certain about anything at the moment. This is for your safety as well, sir."

Winston did not know what to say; he was just about to complain, but he turned around and saw the money that was raining down from the sky and the crowd that had gone mad trying to grab anything they could get their hands on.

"Hey, what the hell is happening? You tie up the law-abiding citizen and treat me like a criminal, but you ignore these people who are stealing money?"

...

Five minutes later, all twenty-nine hostages had been evacuated out from the bank, and Feng Bujue, after the last hostage jumped out from the building, closed the shutter doors again. The interrogation and clarification of the hostages’ identities began in a hurry. After rudimentary questioning with the hostages, Clapton obtained a series of information that shocked him to his core.

"Alright, alright, ladies and gentlemen... can you please give me some peace and quiet?" Clapton said. "Let me see if I can get this right... At first, there were three bank robbers, but then they were all killed single-handedly by one of the hostages. And it was that man who took you guys hostage later. It was a highly-intelligent psychopath with an absurd attitude..."

"Yes."

"That’s right."

"Exactly."

The hostages hurried to answer.

"He has no partners and did not harm any of you, and no one is locked inside the safety vault?" Clapton asked again.

"Yes, that’s correct."

"Yup."

"In a certain way, he saved us."

Clapton laughed drily. "Sounds like he is a hero then. In that case, why is this John Doe playing these tricks with us police?"

"Perhaps he is afraid that you might mistake him as part of the bank robbers?"

"That’s right. Maybe he’ll end up being interrogated like a criminal, like how we are now!" "Indeed! Quick let me go, or I will go to the mayor to report all of you!"

"Fine, fine. Let me just confirm his physical appearance with you one last time... He is Asian, has short black hair, and wears a purple suit—is that right?" Clapton asked. After he got the affirmative answer, he went back to the phone and called the number again. After it rang five times, Feng Bujue finally answered it. "How can I help you, inspector?"

"Kid, I do not know who you are or what game you are playing," Clapton said, "but you are in big trouble."

"Haha... what kind of trouble?" Feng Bujue asked with a smile. "I am all ears."

"I know you are not one of the bank robbers. The fact that you killed the three of them can be seen as self-defense, and some would say you stepped up to the plate, but..." Clapton paused. "After you killed them, you continued to hold those people hostage and used that to threaten and toy with the police. You even tossed the money inside the bank out into the street. That is no different from a bank robbery."

"Then... please tell me, Inspector Clapton," Feng Bujue said. "Am I a hero or a villain to you?"

His voice suddenly turned urgent. "The answer to this question is very important, so please consider it twice before answering."

"Open the door and come out to surrender. We will continue this conversation at the station." Clapton did not answer Feng Bujue’s question. "Now, you do not have any hostages. If you do not come out now, we will have to storm the building."

"Answer my question, inspector." Feng Bujue ignored the man’s command and instead stressed his question.

"Of course, you are a criminal! What else do you think you can be?" Clapton roared into the phone. "Quick, open the door to surrender."

"Hmm..." Feng Bujue hummed to himself. "So, that’s your answer... Hmm... Interesting, very interesting."

He thought for several seconds and then said, "Okay, I will open the door now."

The shutters slowly rose, and the scene that they saw was similar to the last time the shutters rose.

"Raise your hands and come out from behind the counter," Clapton ordered into the phone.

"Haha... I will have to refuse," Feng Bujue replied.

Clapton’s patience with Feng Bujue was wearing thin. He waved his hand and signaled for his people to go into the building to make the arrest. At the same time, he tried to distract Feng Bujue’s attention. "Is your game not finished yet? I do not wish to see another death for the rest of the day."

Four officers with guns and weapons entered from the front door. They quickly split up and surrounded the counter. Clapton held the phone in one hand and the binoculars in the other to watch the scene unfold. When he saw his men get close to the counter, his heart rose to his throat. He was afraid that Feng Bujue might resist arrest, and a gunfight might break out.

But to his surprise, what he saw was...

The four officers looked behind the counter, and the one with the fastest reaction instantly talked into the walkie-talkie attached to his shoulder. "Sir, there’s no one here."

"What?" Clapton let slip his shock.

On the other end of the phone, Feng Bujue started to laugh. "Ha ha ha... Now, Inspector, would you like to guess what happened after the shutters went down last time?"

"Search the place. He has to be still inside that bank somewhere! He must be hiding somewhere!" Clapton was not worried that Feng Bujue might hear him; he gave his order through the walkie-talkie.

"Hmm... Are you sure?" Feng Bujue smirked coldly.

Clapton then turned to the phone. "But I remember I was dialing the number for the bank counter..."

"Calls can be diverted, Mr. Inspector." Feng Bujue smiled. "I was lying when I said the person’s phone was running out of battery. His phone had plenty of charged. In fact, I’m holding it right now."

Clapton then knew what had happened. The things that were said, the hostages that had their heads covered and limbs tied together, and the hints that his partner was hidden among the hostages—that was all to buy time.

Everything that he has said and done... everything is interconnected, Clapton thought to himself. Until the door was lowered that last time... he knew full well that I would uncover everything from the hostages. All of his lies and actions would be exposed. The only thing I do not know now is... What did he do in the time between when the shutters fell and rose again?

[1] Andrew Jackson was the seventh president of USA. His profile is printed on the twenty USD dollar bill.