At 03:00 in the morning on August 25, 2007, the storm reached its most ferocious peak. The heavy rain swept through a small town in southwest Austria like a massive ocean vortex. Muffled, latent thunder rumbled across the dark clouds, and in an instant, lightning tore a pale white streak across the pitch-black night sky, illuminating the trees swaying wildly in the storm. This was immediately followed by deafening thunderclaps and the roaring noise of torrential rain.
Tan Xiaoqing, leading local police officers and two of his subordinates, quickly secured an assault position in the corridor of the small inn. The sound of the thunderstorm outside masked their faint footsteps, and the entire process felt like a black wave surging in from every direction.
Their target was Room 602, where the criminal he had been tracking for two years, the leader of the mercenary group “Black Web” known as the “Madman,” was hoarded!
Tonight, the local police station received a tip-off, and after a comprehensive analysis, he decided to launch a rapid ambush and capture. Rushing here through the raging storm, the scent of blood drifting from the room made his sensitive nose tingle slightly. Yes, he caught the Madman’s scent, just like a hound sniffing out a starving wolf lurking in the darkness to prey on the flock.
With one minute left until the operation, Tan Xiaoqing pressed close to a window, glanced at the pitch-black sky outside, and cursed inwardly at the damn rain for hindering his capture operation.
At a time like this, he should be in his office sipping hot coffee, looking over documents, and continuing to draft plans to completely destroy the Black Web, rather than rushing into an arrest like this. It was all because of this damn rain, this damn raid, and this damn Madman!
The Madman came from the East, just like him. This individual was a master of long-range sniping, an expert in multi-terrain combat spanning urban areas, jungles, and plateaus, and a booby-trap specialist. However, what surprised Tan Xiaoqing the most was that no one had ever seen the Madman’s true face. Even after tracking him for two years, Tan Xiaoqing had only caught glimpses of his back a few times. Some said he was a crazy, perverted, pale young man; some said he was a middle-aged man with a ferocious appearance; others said he was a gentle and refined scholar. To all this, Tan Xiaoqing had always been dismissive. He didn’t care what the Madman looked like; he only wanted to catch him.
Composing his mind, he reviewed the steps of the capture plan once again in his head. For this operation, he only had nine people fighting alongside him, and he certainly did not believe this six-story inn could trap the Madman. Yet, the excitement of clashing with the Madman every time made him eager to try, his blood boiling and his nerves taut, raging as fiercely as the storm. Staring fixedly at the door of Room 602, he gave the hand signal to ready themselves to Officer Oumier beside him.
Meanwhile.
A window in Room 602 was half-open. Raindrops pattered against the wool carpet like bullets, making the unlit room feel even more cold, dark, and desolate.
A young man sat in the center of the room, staring blankly at the wet carpet beneath his feet. Outside the window, a flash of lightning streaked across, illuminating his handsome profile. His dull face was like a lifeless statue.
Accompanied by the rumbling thunder, a discordant chime rang out, ticking away the early morning hours. His hand slowly raised, turning on the television light. It cast a glow over his rugged chest, which was tightly wrapped in blood-stained bandages. His chest heaved rapidly, irregular and sickly.
“Broadcasting a breaking news alert.” The news anchor suddenly changed tone: “At 01:30 early this morning, local mafia boss Jeni was shot to death in his own bedroom.”
Hearing the name, his vacant eyes blinked slightly. The wind and rain outside grew even more violent as the news anchor continued: “When this homosexual mafia boss died, he was completely naked with a fatal gunshot wound to the back of the head. According to a preliminary police investigation…”
The television screen flickered and went blank. He threw the remote control onto the ground, tilted his head back high, and watched the lightning cast streaks of light across the ceiling. His hollow gaze seemed as though this body had lost its soul, no longer able to convey anything through his pupils. The next second, a look of alertness suddenly flashed across his dull face. His black pupils turned toward the room door, and at the same time, his hand picked up the gun that had been resting on his stomach.
In the corridor, Tan Xiaoqing waved his hand to signal the officers opposite him to carefully flank the position, then turned back to nod at the men behind him. The officers on both sides quickly rushed to the sides of the door, and a fully equipped officer prepared for the assault. He raised his leg, his black boot filled with strength and carrying a strong gust of wind as he kicked outward. Unexpectedly, Tan Xiaoqing, guarding the side of the door, stopped him with just one hand.
How could this slender Eastern man have such great strength? The officer looked at Tan Xiaoqing in surprise.
Everything was suffocatingly quiet. The moment he leaned against the wall, he seemed to hear movement inside. To ensure the smooth completion of the capture operation, he could not afford to miss the slightest disturbance. Signaling everyone to wait, Tan Xiaoqing pressed silently against the door. Faintly, he heard singing, a desolate and distressed song.
The singing was intermittent, and some notes were even out of tune, but this song made Tan Xiaoqing think of a tragedy where grief could go no further than a dead heart. Because of this, he lost his focus at this critical juncture, being dragged by the song into a gloomy shadow that would never know happiness.
The officer in charge of the assault on the opposite side grew somewhat anxious and waved to catch his attention. Cursing “Damn it” inwardly for being infected by the emotions of a criminal, Tan Xiaoqing waved his hand, quietly stepped back a few paces from the door, looked up at the hanging light fixture, bent his knees, and leaped up, silently clinging to it. Everyone watched in dumbfounded amazement, but he had already grown alert, making the hand signal for an assault in five seconds.
Five, four, three, two, one.
Accompanied by a flash of lightning, the door was kicked open. Blinding light, thunder, and shouts instantly filled the space as four officers rushed in like a black wave. Three-hundred-and-sixty-degree shooting points initiated an attack simultaneously.
A cheap vase shattered with a crisp sound as it exploded on the table, and the bullet holes on the wall popped and chained together like knocked-over dominoes. In a fraction of a second, Tan Xiaoqing swung into the center of the room from above like a nimble cat! In an instant, he saw the Madman sitting steadily on the bed in the inner room, surrounded by countless explosives and a striking red timer.
Zero hours, zero minutes, six seconds.
Zero hours, zero minutes, five seconds.
“Fall back!” Tan Xiaoqing roared, then grabbed the officer closest to him and sprinted toward the window. The other three also followed and jumped out the window. Before they even hit the ground, the roaring explosion and scorching heat wave struck, violently blasting all four of them far away as they tumbled to the ground in a disheveled state.
“Hell! What the hell is going on? How did you know those bombs were real?” Oumier slammed his battered cap onto the ground and grabbed Tan Xiaoqing by the collar.
Tan Xiaoqing did not explain. He coldly slapped Oumier’s hand away and stared at the burning room. He didn’t know how to explain that split-second premonition; perhaps the moment he heard that song, he had sensed the Madman’s intention to perish with them.
Suicide. Why?
Watching the panicked people rush out into the rain at the scene, curses, cries, and shouts echoed endlessly. Gradually, these sounds were isolated into another world, appearing hollow in Tan Xiaoqing’s ears. He recalled the first time he saw the Madman: dark pupils, tightly pursed lips, looking like Satan deeply in love with God while gazing upon humanity with disgust.
“Chief Tan? Chief Tan?”
His subordinate from the Interpol headquarters roused him from his thoughts. He wiped the rainwater from his face and barked, “Step up perimeter security immediately and confirm casualties!” Having issued his orders, he glanced at his luminous watch amidst the wind and rain, which displayed the date, month, year, and time.
August 25, 2007, 05:12:25
Volume 1: The Beach Murder Case