Madness ecstasy

-

Doudou casually tossed the newly created spherical scrap metal aside, letting it roll around; the night outside the window was quiet:

"You give me a bad impression. Neighbors should be honest with each other, right? Even if you did something bad, you should tell me."

The boy named Doudou took two steps forward: each step felt like stepping directly on the skinny man's heart; he froze in place, not even having the strength to continue running away.

"I don't like liars, and I don't like bad people even more."

Doudou squatted down and grabbed the skinny man's head with his hand. The skinny man could feel the cold touch of his palm against his forehead. His scalp began to be pulled from the periphery to the center.

Can human hands be so cold?

While his mind was full of random thoughts, the skinny man's mouth reacted even faster:

"Wait! Wait!! Wait a minute! I'm your neighbor first!"

"I didn't lie to you, I just didn't tell you everything!"

The skinny man gasped for breath, his lungs making a strange gurgling sound like a bellows:

“And, and”

He racked his brains and finally found a rebuttal:

"When we met before, you also refused to tell me where your family went. I asked you many times."

Doudou pulled his hand back slightly—the skinny man could feel the pain in his scalp ease slightly:

"Oh yeah, sorry, that was my fault; I forgot to tell you."

He raised his hand and pointed at the ceiling above his head:

"My parents are in heaven."

"I think they all seem to be having a good time."

Bad: The skinny man shuddered with fear--

This answer made him realize that he had asked the wrong question. Absolutely wrong! Bringing this up now to defend himself was a death knell.

[Nonsense, all nonsense! The most dangerous place is the most dangerous place. Safety is bullshit! !]

Doudou looked into the skinny man's eyes, his words full of seriousness:

"Then the part about being honest—we've already covered it! But you're a serial killer, a bad person. It's terrible to have someone like that in the neighborhood! You're scaring me so much I can't sleep."

The cold, soft touch reappeared on the man's forehead. He waved his hands around, slapping his palms against his head, but it felt like he was hitting a concrete support column. Only his fingers and palms were thumping and hurting.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry for not telling you the truth! I'm not a bad person, I'm really not a bad person, and I'm not a murderer! No matter what they say, I didn't do it! I was wronged. How can I use a ruler to kill someone in my condition?!"

Doudou stood up straight, grasped the skinny man's head, and lifted the skeletal body up. He looked left and right, sizing up his scrawny neighbor and his eyes, blurred by his severe myopia. His facial features were twisted into comical shapes by the stretching of his skin.

"Well--"

After pondering for a moment, Doudou raised the index finger of his other hand and placed it in front of his mouth:

"Shh, shh!"

"Wait, wait! Stop for a moment. You really do look more like the victim in a murder movie. Maybe you're the kind who was wrongly accused? But I need to be sure!"

"From now on, I'll ask you questions and you answer them. Cut out the nonsense: what you're saying now is like a villain in a movie. I can't believe it at all."

The skinny man raised his palms and covered his mouth tightly - but his head was held by the handle, so he couldn't nod hard to express his agreement.

Doudou frowned seriously and stared into the other person's bulging eyes:

"The TV said you were a PhD in mathematics?"

The skinny man's head trembled more than nodded:

"Yep."

Doudou narrowed his eyes even more seriously, almost gleaming with brilliance:

"So you're definitely doing your high school math homework, right? The kind you do during the summer?"

A strange question--

"Uh wow!"

Perhaps it was because of fear, or perhaps it was because of the bizarre absurdity; the skinny man could no longer bear it, and with a strange cry, he vomited everything in his stomach.

Chapter 28

Lately, shopping ads for air fryers and ovens have been playing all over the TVs—even the TVs in department store windows are blaring them non-stop.

Richard can guarantee that if everyone were to fall into the underworld right now, Mong Cai City would definitely be able to play the role of an oven in the King of Hell's kitchen.

Pedestrians on the street were sweating and staring blankly at the shadows they cast in front of them; car horns made strange, listless noises, and parasols were the only bouquets of flowers in this season, and everyone held one in their hands.

Richard crossed the street and bought a bowl of summer cypress tea under an awning. He drank half of the brown liquid in the paper cup, but the sweat he produced was more than the drink he had just consumed. After making sure that no one was following him, he got up and went into an apartment building called Jinqiao Building in the alley.

Neither he nor his [former] partner John Dou were long-term field officers in Mong Cai - but Richard still set up two safe houses in Mong Cai; one was registered with his personal fake identity, and the other was a commercial and residential property rented under the name of an office through a subsidiary of Asia-Europe Post.

The fake identity registration is on the surface, and the real safe house is on the other side: as a field worker of Asia-Europe Post, Richard must consider the possibility of confrontation with local law enforcement agencies, or other companies, groups or organizations; then the anti-reconnaissance part must also be taken into consideration.

Although Richard himself had no idea how effective this anti-reconnaissance arrangement would be - corporate wars had not happened for a long time, at least he himself had not experienced it.

No matter what industry you go into, there are always some who are just starting out, and Richard's job is no exception. I heard that a colleague had prostitutes all over Southeast Asia, and if anything went wrong, he would just slip into his mistress's bedroom and stay with her for a few weeks.

Richard naturally scoffed at this: not only was its safety not guaranteed, but it was not even cost-effective enough to use it as entertainment outside of work.

The reason why he didn't laugh at these behaviors was simply that he didn't like to make too many comments on irrelevant trivial matters.

He considered himself a rare academic among the field staff of Asia-Europe Post - he had participated in one or two field staff social gatherings and the company's annual meeting. Other field staff rarely followed the instruction manual during their induction training; he was much more reckless than John Dou.

The reason is not complicated: although Asia-Europe Post's performance is booming, the expenses of the field staff's original routine tasks - safe houses, informant training and placement, local intelligence gathering at the mission site - are becoming increasingly difficult to reimburse.

Perhaps it’s the growing power of Asia and Europe’s postal services, or perhaps it’s simply cost-cutting: [People in the Tower] seem to be encouraging a more aggressive style of operation in the field, rather than stealth and security.

Richard is a special case—he pays out of his own pocket, using his activity allowance and salary to build the safe house. The reason is simple: the career path of a field agent is inherently difficult, and Richard naturally values ​​his life.

At least he won't die so early like John Douglas; Richard has already written a plan for his career and life until he's 60. When he retires, he plans to use his severance pay to buy a yacht and sail it all the way to the Caribbean:

He had heard that Dominican carpaccio was delicious and he really wanted to try it - but even on his annual leave, Richard couldn't leave Asia.

Thinking of this, Richard's pace could not help but quicken: he had intelligence that had to be reported.

The truth about the boy in the yellow raincoat and John Dou's death in Tianhu Community.

The safe house was not very spacious; it only had one bedroom and a living room, and the only way to go to the toilet was to use the public bathroom in the corridor - it seemed that the security was not enough, but his funds were limited.

Richard used his key to unlock the door, his hand clutching his service pistol under his arm. He waited at the door for a moment, making sure nothing was amiss, before entering.

Everything seemed almost the same as when Richard rented the house - in the sunlight, one could see the thin layer of dust on the surface of the furniture and the thin fluff floating in the sunlight: it had been several weeks since Richard last came to the safe house in Mong Cai City.

There's no sign of anything out of the ordinary.

The toothpicks positioned in the crack of the door and the iron wire stuffed in the window panes were all the same as before Richard left: his salary was not enough to install an electronic security system in every safe house; he could only use these simple and effective methods.

The dust covering the safe house was a natural sign of surveillance, and the floor was covered in a thick layer - just like an apartment that had no signs of life for weeks, which was consistent with the impression that Richard had in his mind.

There are no footprints, no abrupt clean areas; the dust is still there, so there should be no intruders.

Normally, these simple and effective protective measures are enough to prove that the safe house has not been exposed; the safe house is still a safe house.

But Richard still felt his own rising alertness: the beating of his heart was like a drum, deafening in the quiet room -

Something was wrong: a malaise that permeated Lee Chuck.

It's too quiet.

Normally, the safe house chosen by Richard is relatively quiet: this is not only due to budget considerations, but also the guidance in the field training manual.

If a safe house is locked and attacked, the noise caused by the breach can more easily attract the attention of surrounding civilians - considering the enemies that field operatives are fighting against in most of their missions, attracting the intervention of local law enforcement agencies can sometimes save the lives of field operatives.

Richard's safe house was naturally chosen with the same mindset. He knew that Jinqiao Building not only had a number of rooms available for rent as both commercial and residential space, but also housed numerous small businesses, including cafes, bakeries, and teahouses.

The safe house floor alone naturally had some. Customers weren't constantly coming in, but at this hour, the kitchen was always bustling with activity, getting ready for the next business.

Part of Richard's job is to capture the incongruities in other people's daily lives.

This also made him dare not underestimate his intuition: as he was told during the on-the-job training, intuition is not just the result of the human subconscious processing of external information.

Just as the world is not just the reflection of light on the human retina—

Apart from the home radio set with an antenna that filled the entire iron table in the middle of the living room, there were several mirrors placed everywhere in the living room: a dressing mirror embedded in the wall, a makeup mirror on the table, and even a Bagua bronze mirror hanging from the ceiling.

Richard likes it this way; looking forward allows him to collect information behind him, which makes him feel more at ease.

These mirrors only reflected Richard and the beams of sunlight filtering through the glass panes. This orientation not only avoided possible sniper points outside the window, but also allowed for complete visual information from inside the safe house through the cleverly placed mirrors.

It can be said that Richard is now standing in the safest position in the entire safe house.

[Safest]

at this time--

He realized that this was also the place where he would be most relaxed.

flutter!

Even with the silencer, the sound of the bullets being fired is still clearly audible:

Before hearing this muffled and crisp sound, Richard had already bent down.

The bullet passed over Richard's head; it tore through the air and pierced into the floor, and the exploding wood chips stung like sharp needles.

If Richard hadn't lowered his head, the bullet would have penetrated his occipital bone, crushed his tongue and mouth, and then rolled out -

"Well."

He heard a thud behind him, almost only slightly behind the shooting, a sound that sounded like disappointment and embarrassment:

Richard raised his left arm, and held his right arm against his chest as if to embrace himself. The pistol in his right hand pierced through his left armpit and fired through his windbreaker.

Bang! Puff, puff!

Gunshots rang out simultaneously from the muzzle of Richard's gun and from behind: he could feel something hard whistling around his torso and neck, and a hole was drilled in the hem of his windbreaker.

However, the gunfire behind him was farther away than at first, the two bursts of gunfire drifting back and forth. His unaimed shooting also had an effect, forcing the other party to change their firing position.

Richard lifted his left foot, lifted his right foot, and pushed hard - the sudden change in center of gravity caused his entire body to roll diagonally forward and slide into the bedroom like a ball.

Bang—his back hit the wall, stopping his momentum; the clock above his head swayed, but it did not fall down after all.

Richard leaned against the wall, one hand holding the gun pointed at the door; with the other hand he patted his torso and limbs vigorously - there was no warm blood, no burning pain. Perhaps it was God's blessing that the three bullets did not hit him.

[There really is an ambush, there really is an ambush——]

But this was not the reason that frightened him the most.

[Shit! This time, I might really be doomed!]

the most important is

When he bent over to shoot, he saw: there was no gun or human figure behind him - but the muzzle flame burst out from the void more than one meter above the ground.

The killer who ambushed Richard was invisible.

-

Chapter 29 Invisible

It's not even a simple change in the surface - the opponent can even eliminate the shape of clothes and weapons: this level of advantage is too dangerous for someone like Richard who has not received blind combat training.

Don't worry. Don't worry—think. Think!

Richard unloaded the magazine, confirmed that it was loaded, and slammed it back with the heel of his palm; he shrank his body and pointed his pistol at the door connecting the living room and the bedroom.

He knew something was wrong—but Richard hadn't had time to report the yellow raincoat monster or call for backup:

Who ambushed and attacked him?

What's going on? So sudden? Are they starting another corporate war? But why are they calling me in? Are they going to check every Asia-Europe Post office in Mong Cai?

If that were the case, then I would have been too clever for my own good: I should have just gone to the safe house I rented under my own name.

No, that's impossible.

Other companies wouldn't just deploy a single assassin: even if it was just a small-time operative like him, planting a trigger-activated bomb was more effective and more cost-effective.

Was he being monitored? Or was it somewhere earlier?