Ninety-Seven: Ambush

The Time-Traveler’s Wave Rider, No Pop-Up Ads

One shot, one kill. Perfect score. Wei Hua satisfiedly took the M40 sniper rifle apart, packed it into its case, slung the case on his back, and leaped straight from the roof of that building to the roof of the neighboring one. After several such leaps, he had already vanished from the scene of the shooting. He was headed to the outskirts to absorb electricity. His daily intake of electricity could not be interrupted, and he very much wanted to know what would happen after the deep integration of the bio-computer was complete.

The Indonesian police soon established A Qim’s identity. The motive for the killing appeared to be a vendetta, but the bullet that killed him left many people feeling that his death was suspicious, far more complicated than an ordinary grudge killing. The bullet had already been recovered by the Indonesian police, and when the officer in charge of the case learned that the round that struck A Qim was a special cartridge for an M40 sniper rifle, he immediately sensed that there was something unusual behind the case. The M40 sniper rifle was military-grade weaponry. How could an ordinary thug get hold of such a thing?

Wei Hua did not concern himself with any of that. After one night of drawing in electricity, he hid the weapon in the countryside and returned to Jakarta, where he mailed the second extortion letter to Longmachi Agujia. Just like the first one, it was made from words cut out of newspapers. Only this time the demanded sum had been raised by fifty percent, and the deadline remained one week.

On the third day, Wei Hua went to another place designated in an extortion letter for the handover of money, but once again no one showed up. After the deadline of the third letter passed, Wei Hua simply stopped going to check. He felt that this kind of thing had to be done one family at a time.

Haste makes waste. There was no use rushing. The only way was to make a huge stir, to whip up such a storm that everyone in the city knew there was this extortionist who did exactly as he said and killed without blinking. Then all the plantation owners would believe the threats were real, and their only choice would be to obediently pay up. Between money and life, they could choose only one. By then, Ah Liang’s acquisition plan would probably be nearly complete. Still, Wei Hua worried that something unexpected might happen, that other people might move in to buy the estates. If they were Indonesians, Wei Hua could cut them down without the slightest hesitation. But if they were not Indonesians, he truly could not bring himself to do it.

Longmachi Agujia felt as if he were about to collapse. He had plenty of women, having married one after another over the years, and there were even more women outside the house, but for some reason he had only one son, A Qim, and that son had been born to his lawful wife. The other women had borne him nothing. Now even his only son was dead. Who was he supposed to leave his vast fortune to in the future? Let his women divide it up and then go keep other men? The thought sent fury boiling through his heart. He absolutely had to find the killer of his son and avenge him.

Just as he had sent his men out to investigate, Wei Hua’s second extortion letter arrived. The letter’s message was clear enough: since Longmachi refused to pay for the lives of himself and his family, then his son’s life would no longer be his to keep. What was more, the demanded ransom had been increased by fifty percent.

Now that he knew who his enemy was, Longmachi could not possibly stop wanting revenge. He intended to take vengeance with his own hands. When the police investigating A Qim’s murder came to his home, Longmachi deliberately concealed the matter of the extortion letters, and the police in turn concealed the exact circumstances of A Qim’s death from him. They only said that A Qim had died from a gunshot. Longmachi simply assumed that his son had been killed by an ordinary firearm, something like a common pistol. He had no idea that his son had died under an M40 sniper rifle. If he had known that, he probably would not have brought a pack of rabble armed only with homemade guns, machetes, and the like to seek revenge.

Longmachi’s men had been lying in ambush at the payment site designated by Wei Hua two days in advance, waiting only for Wei Hua to arrive. On the appointed day, Longmachi and his so-called adviser set out in two cars with six bodyguards and headed straight for the meeting point.

The payment location Wei Hua had given Longmachi was on the outskirts of Jakarta, in a very remote area. The terrain there was complicated and well suited for hiding. Wei Hua knew this terrain better than he knew his own hand, but he still came early. However, the moment he approached, he discovered that someone had arrived before him and seemed to be carrying weapons.

In the darkness, Wei Hua quietly moved closer and realized that these people did not seem to be police, but rather Longmachi’s men. It seemed Longmachi had not learned enough from his lesson, Wei Hua thought.

So Wei Hua opened the oversized pack on his back, which weighed more than a hundred kilograms, took out a military silenced pistol, and began clearing out the ambushers stationed around the payment site. It did not take long before all of Longmachi’s men had been eliminated. Wei Hua found a clean patch of ground, lay down, and waited for dawn.

Around nine in the morning, Longmachi arrived with his adviser and bodyguards. Fearing that the ambushers would be discovered, Longmachi had not contacted the men he had stationed there. In his view, with dozens of his own people lying in wait, there could not possibly be any problem. He had no idea what kind of person he was up against.

Just as Longmachi’s car stopped, Wei Hua appeared more than ten meters away, wearing a mask. A large boulder stood behind him, and he had stepped out from behind it. Watching Longmachi, his adviser, and the bodyguards get out of the car, Wei Hua asked,

“Did you bring the money?”

“You’re the one who wrote the letters? Did you kill my son?” Longmachi asked, his face twisted with ferocity.

Looking at Longmachi’s contorted features, Wei Hua replied unhurriedly, “Yes. I’m the one who wrote the letters, and I killed your son too. Cut the crap and take out the money.”

“To hell with your money! Go die!” Longmachi shouted, pulling a handgun from his chest and firing at Wei Hua. At the same time, the six bodyguards and the adviser also drew their guns and opened fire. But they were too slow. By the time they shot, Wei Hua had already ducked back behind the boulder.

Longmachi and the others realized that Wei Hua did not seem to have brought any weapon with him, so the whole group charged straight for the boulder. When they reached the far side, they found that Wei Hua had already vanished without a trace.

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