Chapter 167 Hand Over My People
Grace followed the man to a stack of crates. When he pulled away the tarp, the boxes revealed piles of explosives.
Peter approached it and took one look, his face paling. "These bombs pack serious firepower. If they detonate, this ship will be blown to smithereens."
Grace's heart hammered against her ribs. "Are these explosives part of smuggled arms?"
Peter shook his head. "Doesn't look like it... These are old-style explosives. Wouldn't fetch much on the market."
Grace frowned in confusion. "Then what are these explosives doing here?"
When the others heard about the explosives, they panicked, and immediately fled the cargo hold.
"Someone's run outside!" a voice called out.
Grace whipped around, her heart sinking. "Don't go out there!"
The deck was crawling with Black Mass operatives. If they were discovered...
Just then, a sharp shout echoed from the deck above, "Who goes there?!"
Immediately after, urgent alarms began blaring throughout the ship.
Footsteps thundered overhead as crew members rushed toward the cargo hold.
Grace commanded, "Move! We've been spotted."
Everyone tensed like cornered animals.
Grace shouted, "Every man for himself!"
The group surged toward the exit, flooding onto the deck.
Grace grabbed Lily's hand and ran.
The alarm reached the bridge.
A white-haired man sat on a sofa as the phone rang. A subordinate's frantic voice came through: "Chief, we have a problem... I need to report two situations."
"Speak."
"The 'merchandise' locked in the cargo hold has escaped! These people somehow got out of their cages, and their collars have been removed..."
The man's face hardened. He crushed his cigar in the ashtray. "Bring them back."
This was the middle of the ocean.
These pieces of "merchandise" were humans with flesh and blood, they weren't birds that could fly, nor fishes that could swim.
They had nowhere to run.
Let them escape, then drag them back and lock them up again.
The man's voice turned icy. "What's the second matter?"
"The Perseus is surrounded by unidentified armed vessels!"
The man's expression sharpened. "Armed vessels?"
He opened his computer. The radar display showed over a dozen dense signal points closing in on the Perseus, a constellation of dots gradually expanding from distant green specks at a thousand feet to large red signals barely a hundred feet away.
The dots continued to spread, shifting from green to red.
This signal pattern meant these contacts had reached dangerous proximity to the Ocean Monarch's coordinates.
The man's face went rigid.
He switched the surveillance feed to the deck's observation tower.
The largest armed cruiser had anchored directly beside the Perseus, with boarding ramps extended between the two vessels.
Next, a squad of highly trained mercenaries emerged onto the armed ship's deck, each one fully equipped for combat.
The man recognized them instantly by the Shadow organization armbands on their sleeves.
They were Shadow mercenaries.
Each soldier carried premium gear, standing at rigid attention. In the center of the formation, a tall, lean figure stepped into frame.
Alexander wore a tailored suit beneath a long military-style coat, his black hair tousled by sea winds, his all-black ensemble nearly melding with the night itself.
The white-haired man shot to his feet!
He stared fixedly at that handsome, commanding face on screen, momentarily frozen as if struck by lightning.
"It's him..."
He maximized the image, freezing on Alexander's face.
"Alexander..." The white-haired man's mouth moved, but no other sounds emerged.
These dozen armed cruisers—he had brought them all.
These mercenaries were all hired by him.
The white-haired man asked, "How many men did he bring?"
His subordinate replied, "Unknown... but these dozen armed cruisers are no ordinary vessels..."
The lookout continued his assessment while reporting: "Ten of them have triple-mounted cannon turrets. The mercenaries on deck are about three hundred."
Each armed vessel mounted three cannon turrets, with each turret capable of striking targets thirty miles distant.
These were Shadow organization's heavy weapons. Beyond that, Shadow's mercenaries each commanded premium rates.
He knew Alexander controlled half the capital markets—the mere mention of that name could shake the earth itself.
But why had Alexander mobilized such a massive force, dispatching so many armed vessels to surround his ship? What justified such an overwhelming show of strength?
A subordinate suddenly reported: "Chief, they're requesting satellite signal connection."
"Chief, awaiting orders."
The white-haired man's face had turned ashen.
After a long moment, he managed with difficulty: "Put him through."
The signal connected quickly.
Alexander adjusted his satellite headset, his voice cutting through the transmission like winter steel: "Dietrich, my people are on your ship . Hand them over now.
Dietrich's face went white. "You..."
Alexander continued, "Surprised? As the shadowy mastermind running this criminal empire, tracking down your identity wasn't easy. But since we're old friends meeting again—I imagine you'd like to catch up. So, will you release them , or do you want to chat first?"
Dietrich forced a smile. "Alexander, your reach truly knows no bounds, bringing such a massive force all the way out here. You're demanding I release some people—what people, ?"
Alexander replied, "You know exactly what I'm talking about. When you had Robert killed to silence him, you knew he'd kidnapped my woman."
Dietrich said, "On that point, I owe you an apology. My subordinate acted without authorization in taking your woman, so I had him eliminated. However, I run a business, you run a business—business has its rules. The woman you want has already been purchased. You understand—business requires honor, cash for goods. Besides, what kind of woman can't you have? Why mobilize such a massive operation over one woman?"
Alexander's tone remained glacial. "You have your rules, I have mine. Taking my people requires my permission first. If you're stealing from me, then..."
He looked up toward the camera. "This is international waters. If you don't hand her over, I'll kill you. However, as an old friend, let me offer some advice—don't refuse the easy way only to choose the hard way. If you won't take the soft approach, I don't mind using force."
Dietrich laughed coldly. "How arrogant! You know this is international waters—lawless territory. You want to kill me? If you've got the balls, you and your woman can join me in hell. Let's all go down together."