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墨書 Inktalez
On the ship, the atmosphere had changed drastically; the previous camaraderie was nowhere to be found. Fortunately, it didn't take long before we docked. I had expected to bypass Somalia, but that wasn't the case. It seemed that the pirate issue had been significantly addressed. Upon arrival, local police were already in contact and took Franco and Mai Lang away as soon as we disembarked.
As we stepped off the ship, cars were waiting for us. I wasn't sure of our exact destination since I was unfamiliar with this place. However, I needed to find a way to contact my department back home to update them on my situation and inform the Special Investigation Team about my current status.
When we arrived at our destination, I noticed a two-story building nearby, with a small, well-kept lawn in front. The entire structure was simply yet elegantly decorated, exuding a sense of cleanliness and sophistication. Zhao Mingkun turned to those accompanying us and said, "Leave one car behind; you all go to the location I found earlier. We'll return on our own shortly."
I got out of the car with Zhao Mingkun and asked, "Who are we looking for?"
"Have you heard of the Mafia? This is one of their factions," Zhao Mingkun replied with a smile, then beckoned me closer and said, "You'll soon understand why we've brought you here."
I furrowed my brow. It was common knowledge that Italy was the homeland of the Mafia, but I hadn't anticipated that my involvement would connect me to them. It seemed this operation was going to be anything but simple. While our country didn't have organized crime in the same way, here it had become an integral part of societal development. Unlike the street thugs who swore incessantly, these individuals had already ascended into high society.
Yet, this place didn't seem particularly luxurious. As I pondered this, I followed Zhao Mingkun to the entrance.
Zhao Mingkun knocked on the door, and after a moment, it opened to reveal an old woman who appeared to be in her sixties. She wore loose clothing, an apron, and a hat; despite her age, she carried herself with grace. Zhao Mingkun introduced himself: "I'm Mink; we've spoken before. May we come in?"
The old woman nodded and gestured for us to enter. We changed into slippers before following her up to a sunlit room on the second floor. She knocked on the door and spoke something in Italian that I couldn't understand. After receiving permission, she opened the door.
I nodded at her and followed Zhao Mingkun into the room. It was a large study with three massive bookshelves against the walls. The shelves were filled with various books—some in Italian, others in English, French, and even Chinese—covering topics from social development to plumbing repairs, from black hole formation to recipes for fish-flavored shredded pork; it all seemed vast and intricate.
In the center of the three bookshelves stood a wooden table made from fine wood—though I couldn't discern much about it beyond its appearance. The table legs were intricately carved with dark patterns on top. To my surprise, it held traditional writing tools from our country: several Parker pens alongside a Chinese-style pen holder and an exquisite coffee cup set.
At that moment, an elderly man in his sixties was bent over the table examining something. Upon seeing us enter, he continued his work without speaking. I realized then that regardless of nationality, this tactic was quite common. He deliberately left us waiting to assert his dominance and establish his presence.
I had seen this routine many times before; after all, I wasn't a loyal member of any organization. While others might stand respectfully, I wasn't inclined to tolerate such arrogance. So I began to move around; Zhao Mingkun couldn't stop me as I tapped on the bookshelf and picked up small trinkets from nearby shelves.
The clattering sounds finally got under the old man's skin; he cleared his throat lightly and said, "Mink, is this the person you've brought?"
When he lifted his head, I finally saw his features: a high nose bridge, large eyes, and neatly trimmed facial hair suggested he must have been quite a handsome man in his youth—someone who could have captivated many hearts. Though aged now, there remained a sharpness in his gaze that conveyed authority and vigor.
Zhao Mingkun's previously imposing demeanor completely vanished in front of the old man. I couldn't help but shake my head; this wouldn't do. One must maintain a balance of humility and confidence. Zhao Mingkun nodded and said, "If you don't go through the police for this matter, the person we found is definitely a good candidate. If the mission is completed, I hope you will keep your promise!"
Hearing Zhao Mingkun's words, I sensed some implications. It seemed that this was not the organization's headquarters; bringing me here appeared to be for me to carry out certain tasks to facilitate their transaction. Analyzing this, it seemed that the organization was still developing domestically; otherwise, why would there be so many locals?
The old man adjusted his glasses perched on his nose and scrutinized me from head to toe before saying, "Of course, we always value integrity in our dealings. I have met your leader and know his background. If you can accomplish what you set out to do, I will certainly uphold my end of the bargain. But if you fail and embarrass us, you know what the consequences will be."
Zhao Mingkun replied earnestly, "If we fail this time, you will see our corpses in the newspapers."
Upon hearing this, the old man burst into hearty laughter, his cheerful expression tinged with menace. All of this dialogue was in English, and I understood it clearly. Then the old man clapped his hands, and an old woman walked in from outside, carrying two cups of coffee.
The old man said, "To celebrate your potential success, have a drink."
I took a sip but found it rather unpalatable and set it aside. It wasn't until we left the room that I regretted my haste because Zhao Mingkun informed me that this cup of coffee was worth a month's salary—what they called Luwak Coffee—which made me almost turn back to drink it all.
Zhao Mingkun drove as I asked, "What agreement did your organization reach with that old man? What exactly do you need me to do?"
Zhao Mingkun shook his head and replied, "I'll take you to a place first. Once we arrive, I'll tell you everything. Before that, you'll need to choose a few helpers since we're currently on Mafia territory. If all goes well, you'll experience many things here that you wouldn't encounter back home."
I pursed my lips and fell silent as Zhao Mingkun drove me toward our destination. It seemed my foreign trip would not be idle; however, as long as I could move freely and find ways to connect back home, there would be plenty of options. After a while, Zhao Mingkun brought me to a relatively secluded area.
Along the way, I noticed fewer people until there was no one around at all. We got out of the car; it appeared this was the temporary residence Zhao Mingkun had arranged for us. Although it was already autumn, the oceanic climate still felt warm and pleasant.
Zhao Mingkun clapped his hands, and everyone inside stood at attention. Aside from the missing middle-aged man and a few absent bodyguards, everyone else was present. Zhao Mingkun looked at them and said, "You all know the rules; each person who came along will receive one hundred thousand. If anyone dies along the way, their family will receive four hundred thousand. Now I need to pick out a few helpers; the rest will stay behind to transport supplies. Understood?"
"Understood!" several people responded.
I frowned as I observed their demeanor; they were clearly veterans with military discipline. I had noticed this early on—it was impressive. I asked Zhao Mingkun, "Stay behind and transport supplies? Are we preparing for battle?"
Zhao Mingkun shook his head and then nodded, saying, "It depends on how you see it. You could say it's a fight, or you could say it isn't. As I mentioned before, the Mafia leader we met today is just one faction among several here, and we need to get involved in the conflicts between these Mafia groups."
Zhao Mingkun continued, "They are fighting over a box, but these upper-class individuals think that violence is inappropriate, so they decided to play a game—a Murder Game. In order to establish a connection and gain support from this faction, we have taken on the task of participating on their behalf."
I nodded and then said, "So your plan is to win over the Mafia here by bringing me in to die? You went through all this trouble just to involve me in such a game? Surely there must be something else at play. What is it?"
Zhao Mingkun shrugged and replied, "You really are clever. We didn't bring you here just for that. However, I can't disclose everything right now; you'll understand later. The higher-ups said that if you complete this game, some information about Captain Shi will be revealed."
"Is that true?" I looked into Zhao Mingkun's eyes and asked seriously.
Zhao Mingkun nodded and said, "Of course it's true. But if we lose this time, we're not their match here. We made it clear to him that if we fail the mission, we'll end up as two names in the newspaper."
I extended a finger toward Zhao Mingkun and said, "So now I understand why you brought so many people along. It seems you must have prepared a backup plan. If we lose, I suppose it won't be too disastrous for us? Can you tell me what backup plans you've made?"
"Ha ha!" Zhao Mingkun laughed at my words but didn't directly answer my question. Instead, he said, "For now, let me introduce you to a few assistants—some skilled hands we can use in this game!"
On my first voyage out to sea, I encountered a well-known Bengal Aid Worker—young and impulsive—but too poor to actually fire a shot until the First Mate told me that a bag of instant noodles could get me through the night with a group of women...
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