"Too little? Name your price," she pressed in a whisper.
So the "masked girl" samsara player had money. Interesting.
"No. Not forming an alliance," Fenric said flatly.
"You—"
"Hey! You two done whispering? Get back to work!"
The bark came from Luk.
Fenric gave the woman a bland smile and returned to his station. She glared but let it drop—for now.
From Fenric's behavior alone, she was sure: he knew something about the mole. Yet he wouldn't team up, wouldn't share intel. That stung.
—--
Triad Side – Crow's Team
Elsewhere, the samsara players led by Crow were crammed into a sedan tailing Eric Tsang's convoy. The Samsara system had slotted all four of them into roles as Eric Tsang's junior enforcers.
Crow drove, eyes on the lead car's taillights. "Listen up. I've got three top mole suspects: Little B, Keung, and Anthony Wong."
He pointed out assignments. "You two—track Little B and Keung. I'll stick with Anthony Wong. Anything weird, don't jump. Signal me first. People die for real here."
"!!"
That sobered them. All three nodded.
—--
Eric Tsang's car rolled to a stop outside a downtown building.
Plainclothes officers already embedded nearby spoke into hidden mics: "Sparrow has landed."
Inside the temporary command office, monitors lit up. Adrenaline spiked.
"Pull entrance feeds. Now," ordered Superintendent Wong.
Video popped on-screen: a short, thickset middle‑aged man swaggered through the doors.
Ugly? Sure. Laughable? No one here dared. This was Eric Tsang, the most dangerous drug boss in Hong Kong—violent, careful, powerful.
His entourage followed. Among them: Anthony Wong, the police undercover.
"Attention," came another whisper over comms. "Sparrow in the cage."
Superintendent Wong turned to Inspector Andy Lau. "Any comms between Eric Tsang and his people?"
"Nothing logged. They may have swapped burners," Andy Lau replied smoothly.
Intelligence handled comm intercept. If he said no signal, the room had to take it at face value.
Superintendent Wong nodded once. Said nothing.
Seconds ticked by. Then—abruptly:
"Who's Luk?" Superintendent Wong asked.
Luk—round‑faced, forgettable—straightened. "Sir, that's me."
Superintendent Wong glanced from Luk to Andy Lau. "No one's eaten. Andy, take your man, go downstairs, pick up pork chop boxes for everyone."
"??"
The room blinked as one.
Send the division inspector on a food run? With a major sting underway? Unthinkable. Unless…
Unless Superintendent Wong wanted both Andy LauandLuk out of the operations room—now.
Fenric's mouth twitched. Superintendent Wong is sweeping the moles off the board.
Others began to catch on. Whispered looks. Even the middle‑aged woman—a samsara player in the police camp—shot Fenric a sharp, newly respectful glance.
More than one mole? her eyes seemed to say.
Luk frowned. "Sir, for a food run you can just send—"
Superintendent Wong cut him off with a lazy wave. "My operation, my call. File a complaint with HQ later. Move."
"Sir, I—"
"Come on, B," Andy Lau interrupted lightly. "Let's go." (That "B" nickname—Big B—stung.)
Luk's expression soured, but he fell in line.
"You have enough cash?" Superintendent Wong asked Andy Lau.
"Plenty," Andy Lau said with a smile.
"Good. Bring receipts."
They were almost out the door when Superintendent Wong pointed. "John. Help them. Too many boxes for two."
Fenric paused, caught Superintendent Wong's look, and understood instantly: escort duty. Watch them. Stop any calls. Block payphones. Report.
"Understood, Sir!"
He stepped away from his console.
But before they left, the middle‑aged woman abruptly stood. "I'll help too."
Fenric's brows pulled together. Troublesome.
Superintendent Wong studied her a beat, then nodded. "Fine. All four of you—go."
And just like that, a simple errand squad formed: Inspector Andy Lau, Luk, Fenric, and the suspicious middle‑aged female officer—who, Fenric now knew, was a fellow Samsara.
As they moved out, the atmosphere in the ops room shifted. Those paying attention had seen enough to draw conclusions:
Superintendent Wong did not trust Inspector Andy Lau.
Luk was under equal suspicion.
And John—quiet, unremarkable John—was suddenly being inserted into key moves.
"..."
The middle‑aged woman samsara player expression tightened. How does he know all this? she wondered, watching Fenric. And if he's right about two moles… what else does he know?