Rich Jack actually hated the noisy atmosphere of nightclubs. While he could block out the excessive noise by actively reducing his perception, this would also reduce his sixth sense's sensitivity to danger.
However, he had to admit that having a beautiful female companion who could draw envious glances from everyone in the room, male or female, did greatly satisfy a man's vanity.
The men present didn't quite understand the etiquette of such nightclubs, so they sat at the bar, quietly drinking while waiting for the women to complete their investigation.
Anna and Park Min-young spent nearly an hour, flitting through the private rooms on the second floor like butterflies, before returning to the bar on the first floor.
"I didn't find Zhang Mingjun, nor did I see that Korean guy named Michael Joe. I heard there's a VIP suite on the top floor reserved for the president, so he should be there,"
Anna leaned into Jack's arms, took his left hand and wrapped it around her slender waist, resting her chin on his shoulder and whispering.
Her face flushed slightly, as if she'd drunk quite a bit; a faint scent of alcohol could be smelled on her breath.
"Are you okay?" Jack was a little unsure of the girl's alcohol tolerance; generally, young women were supposed to be quite strong drinkers.
"Don't worry, with my skills, no one can easily touch me." Anna put her arm around Jack's neck and chuckled in his ear, "As expected, the more powerful a man is, the more jealous he is."
"Don't worry, although it's unpleasant to share you with other women, I won't cheat on you. Hehe, that Seres metaphor is really interesting. Do they have any prejudice against the Irish?"
"I'm just worried you'll get drunk and make trouble." Jack awkwardly grabbed the girl's restless hand.
Despite living in the open-minded European and American culture for many years, this was the first time he had experienced being teased in public.
Fortunately, Anna knew the important things to do. She touched Jack's lips, rubbed some lipstick on him, and then broke away, reaching out to the bartender for a glass of ice water to cool herself down.
"There aren't any suspicious people in the booths around the dance floor. Zhang Mingjun either hasn't arrived yet, or he went through the back door." Ma Xidao circled the central dance floor several times before returning to the bar.
"Let's have Jiang Zhentai pretend to be a waiter and go up to the rooftop to scout out the way?" Jack pulled out his phone to send a message, but everyone else's phones rang simultaneously.
"Rooftop private room! Zhang Mingjun!"
Jiang Zhentai, presumably having set up the group text, immediately selected the group message.
A second message followed, "Help!"
Unexpectedly, he was the first to locate his target. Jack signaled to everyone, "Minrong, go out first. Return to the car to find Stanley. Xidao, hold the fire exit. We must not let Zhang Mingjun escape."
With that, he and Lin Zheling hurried toward the stairs, one in front and one behind. Anna, carrying her small shoulder bag, followed behind them.
The Chroma nightclub had a simple structure, with the first and second floors connected. From the second-floor corridor, one could look down at the large dance floor in the center of the first floor.
The third floor was the top floor, a single, spacious penthouse measuring approximately three to four hundred square meters. Passing through the private room area on the second floor and ascending the stairs, one could see the closed door.
From here, the roar of the subwoofer downstairs could still be heard through the resonant floorboards, but it couldn't drown out the intense, clattering sound of gunfire within the private room.
"Can you give me a gun this time?" Jack, for some reason, sensed a hint
of resentment in Lin Zheling's tone. He drew his SIG Sauer sidearm and spare magazine, then pulled his favorite FK7.5 from his waistband.
Normally, a private room like this would have at least two bodyguards or security guards stationed outside, but there was no one. Furious, Lin Zheling darted up the stairs and, looking down, saw dark red blood seeping from the carpet.
He pushed the door, but it wouldn't open. It seemed blocked by something. He
took a half-step back and kicked it. A body half-lying inside was forcibly removed. Lin Zheling barely managed to peek inside when he was forced back by bullets fired at the doorframe.
"Try again." Anna pulled a stun grenade from her purse, unhooked the safety pin, and Lin Zheling pushed the door a second time.
"Bang!"
A loud bang echoed through the private room, accompanied by a rustling of dust. Lin Zheling rushed in first.
"Who am I? Where am I? What am I doing?" Jiang Zhentai, dazed and dazed, asked himself these three soul-searching questions as he swung his head from the circular bar in the center of the hall.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!" Deafening gunshots echoed in his ears, and a body fell before him. He instinctively lunged forward, snatching the fallen pistol. Ten minutes earlier,
Jiang
Zhentai, dressed as a nightclub waiter and carrying a fruit plate, had effortlessly slipped into the top floor private room, following three "colleagues."
As expected, he found Jang Myeong-jun and Michael Cho engaged in a negotiation on two sofas facing each other. It was clear that communication wasn't going smoothly, and the atmosphere was tense.
Michael Cho was a Korean-American, but as the youngest son of a chaebol, his American citizenship was merely a convenient means of communication.
He spent most of his time in South Korea managing his business, engaging in various money laundering schemes under the guise of investments.
Over a month ago, his largest partner, Jang Myeong-jun, had led his men into the house and, threatening the lives of his wife and children, demanded the withdrawal of the entire billion dollars he had been wired into the company over the years as investments.
Michael Cho had profited handsomely from these years, and naturally, he was resentful. Although he had been forced to agree, it was a billion dollars.
He could find another wife if he lost her, and another child if he lost her, but without the profits from this billion dollars, he could only return to his chaebol father in disgrace, hoping to inherit a larger share of the family fortune.
The allure of wealth, coupled with a gang of gunmen as bodyguards, suddenly made Michael Joe feel like he was on top again.
This was especially true after seeing Zhang Mingjun so arrogantly show up again with only three men, and being frisked and disarmed by his own bodyguards at the door. Michael Joe felt even more confident.
He knew the source of the money, and he knew even more clearly that if he could kill Zhang Mingjun...
"I wanted to let you go, but you have absolutely no self-awareness." Zhang Mingjun lazily leaned back on the sofa, seemingly unconcerned that their conversation was overheard by the waiters who arrived to serve wine and fruit.
"What self-awareness? Isn't it more important to assess the situation, you idiot?" Michael Joe looked at the three unarmed men standing behind Zhang Mingjun, then at the dozen or so bodyguards standing behind him, their Glocks strapped to their waists, and felt a surge of courage.
"You really think I'm just your employee!" He flashed a bank key shaped like a USB flash drive.
"I do have the money, but I think you have another option."
Michael Joe winked at a subordinate, and a travel bag filled with US dollars was thrown to the ground.
"Here is $5 million in cash. Take this money and run to Vietnam or the Philippines. Isn't your biggest concern now how to survive the pursuit in the north? You are such a hopeless fool."
With that, he suddenly stood up from the sofa, pulled a pistol from his waist, and pointed it at Zhang Mingjun's head.
(End of this chapter)