Hong Kong Island: From a small stall to a global supplier

Early in the morning, as usual, the shrimp in the siu mai were very tender, the glutinous rice was very fragrant, the boat congee was as smooth and fragrant as ever, and the water chestnut cake had a soft, glutinous, fragrant and crisp texture.

Every time he ate breakfast, Sir Michael Sandberg felt grateful that he was in Hong Kong.

After breakfast and a quick tidy-up, the driver was ready, and as always, we got in the car and left the villa.

On the Majixian Gorge trail, Haihua Ke, dressed in cycling gear, pulled out a walkie-talkie from his pocket. "Time: 7:02, target passed."

"receive."

McDonald said that Haihua Yu, who was walking her dog, glanced at the license plate number, tilted her head and whispered to Mike at the collar, "7:05, target passed."

"receive."

At the intersection of Huayuan Road and Hongmian Road, a man's voice came from the walkie-talkie on the control panel of a black Ford: "Target passes position number 1, please prepare."

A few minutes later……

"The target has passed position 2 and is expected to arrive in 7 minutes. Please be prepared."

"The target passes position 3 and is expected to arrive within 3 minutes."

Mark: "Guys, get ready."

After checking the AR-15 in his hand again, he picked up the hood next to him and put it on. The hood was quite long and could cover his entire neck, with only his eyes and nose exposed, which did not affect his breathing.

"The target is 300 meters away."

"200 meters."

"100, estimated arrival in 8 seconds." Mark hung the walkie-talkie around his neck.

"50 meters!" The voice on the walkie-talkie suddenly rose in volume.

"30 meters!"

“Dog, dog!” Mark yelled.

The car door opened, and the two jumped out of the car, turning around and rushing towards the back of the car.

The driver, Dominic, jumped out of the car and quickly set up his gun against the hood.

In the passenger seat, Powers had his gun resting on the window.

Inside the car, the windows were down, and both guns were set up and aimed.

In the traffic, the Rolls-Royce stood out from the crowd, still as eye-catching as ever. Cars in front and behind deliberately kept a distance from it, fully highlighting its nobility and elegance.

Of course, the shooting angles were also given up.

During the morning rush hour, vehicles and pedestrians on the road were startled by the masked man who suddenly jumped out. Most people instinctively looked around without realizing the danger, which is far less effective than in the United States.

Sir Michael Sandberg closed his eyes to rest. Inside the car, an English radio host was reading the morning paper. His commute to work was the most relaxing time of his day; listening to the news and gossip helped him put in a good mood.

Suddenly, the body lurched forward, and the driver slammed on the brakes.

"Fuck!" he blurted out instinctively, gripping the chair as he was about to say something, when... *clatter clatter clatter*

"Da da da"

"Da da da"

Rolls-Royce truly lives up to its reputation as a top-tier luxury car; its sealing and sound insulation are excellent, making the gunshots sound completely subdued.

He instinctively turned his head to look in the direction of the sound, but before he could see what it was, he felt something hit him a few times, shook, and looked down to see blood spurting out.

"I……"

He only managed to utter one word before his head tilted to the side, and a bullet entered from his right forehead. After losing his balance, the bullet rolled around in his brain before slamming heavily into the back of his head, carrying a piece of broken skull and spraying a mixture of red and white matter onto the seat.

The driver's instinctive reaction to the problem was to brake, which made it much easier for Mark and his men to aim.

Six carbines fired alternating bursts of long and short fire, raining down bullets on the Rolls-Royce like a storm. In just about five seconds, more than 100 bullets were fired, turning the elegant and dignified Rolls-Royce into a sieve in an instant.

"Retreat!" Mark shouted, leading the charge towards the Rolls-Royce.

The mission objective is to eliminate the target, not just destroy a vehicle. Before retreating, it's essential to confirm this, as the employer is not someone to be trifled with.

Even a dilapidated Rolls-Royce is still a Rolls-Royce; its nobility cannot be concealed!

The car door couldn't be opened from the outside, so he raised his gun, pulled the trigger, and fired a burst of bullets at the glass. Then, with a "bang," he smashed the two butts of his gun, reached inside, opened the car door, and immediately saw his target.

Although he's missing half a head, as a Frenchman, I'll never mistake a British man's bald head!
A Brit with half a head missing is a good Brit!

From getting out of the car to completing the confirmation, it only took 35 seconds. "Perfect!"

"Dog, dog!"

I had already circled the area several times and was familiar with the three evacuation points.

Six burly men crossed the road without any regard for the traffic. Dominic even glanced at the cars on the road, a glance that startled the driver inside one of the cars.

Screams only started to erupt from the vicinity after the six people had crossed the road to the other side.

Shooting!

This isn't a Hong Kong movie, this is the real world!
Watching movies is great, but encountering it in the real world is terrifying!

No matter how grand and luxurious a Rolls-Royce may be, it is not bulletproof. The Belgian SS109 steel-core 5.56 NATO round easily penetrated two layers of the car body and still retained most of its kinetic energy. Vehicles in the firing path were also penetrated again.

Within a few dozen meters, a rear-end collision occurred, and in addition to Shen Bi and his two companions, at least seven or eight other people nearby were injured by stray bullets.

The planned evacuation point was more than 80 meters away from the ambush point. The six fully armed men ran there in 20 seconds. There were no cars here when they came before, but now there was a Toyota Hiace with a French flag parked on the side of the road.

I opened the car door, got in, and sure enough, the key was in the ignition. I started the engine, stepped on the gas, and sped off.

A magnified map was thoughtfully placed on the control panel, clearly depicting a green corridor. The rest was simple: just follow the route and rush through.

“Wow, wow, this is going so well, guys, it’s like a drill,” Dominic said with a laugh.

“The simplest kind of exercise, which requires absolutely no brainpower,” Bowers said with a laugh.

"No, it felt more like a game to me. You just rush in, make a run, receive the ball, and then fire a powerful shot into the empty net. It was so damn easy. I hope all the tasks that follow are just as easy."

"You're dreaming, but I like it!"

"Haha, I'm starting to like Hong Kong now, it's such a great place!"

"This is the legendary Eastern trade. Damn, money is so easy to make."

Several people laughed loudly, were they nervous?
nonexistent!

This isn't some poor, desolate place with low-rise buildings. This place is full of people and skyscrapers, and the roads are full of cars. They can't run fast, but neither can the police.

Once the police receive the report, determine the location, and call for backup, it becomes impossible to find their whereabouts.

I drove along Queen's Road to Sai Wan and sure enough, I saw a red sign on the side of the road with the words "Transfer" written in English.

They didn't care whether it was a parking spot or not; they just jumped down, picked up the sign, and ran.

Six masked, gun-wielding men suddenly appeared on the street. The leader had a sign on his shoulder. People around were stunned by this scene. What was going on?
Making a movie?

People in the car and on the road watched as the six people rushed to the seawall, jumped in, waded into the water, boarded a speedboat, and with the roar of the engine, the speedboat cut through the seawater, creating a cloud of white spray, before slowly disappearing from sight.

Nobody paid much attention. Those who were curious just glanced at it and moved on. Those who had to go to work didn't care much about being late; their wages would definitely be deducted.

……

Upon receiving the alarm, the alarm center followed procedures, first determining the alarm level and then immediately contacting nearby patrol vehicles (PTU) to assess the situation.

First, we need to verify the authenticity of the incident. It's impossible to immediately dispatch a large number of police officers upon receiving a report. If it's a false alarm, who will be responsible for wasting police resources?
It doesn't matter who dies.

Even if the Governor of Hong Kong dies, you won't get a promotion or a raise if you report it to your superiors.

They won't punish themselves for following the rules and regulations.

Civil servants should act like civil servants and stop worrying about their superiors. Do they really think they're the masters of Hong Kong?

During the morning rush hour, there was some traffic congestion. The PTU officer ran the last 200 meters or so and arrived at the scene 7 minutes later. When he saw the Rolls-Royce that had been smashed to pieces, the trainee inspector in charge felt his scalp tingle and immediately reported to the command center, including the license plate number.

There are only a few dozen Rolls-Royces on Hong Kong Island. You can tell who owns one just by looking at the license plate. Sir Michael Sandberg's head was practically smashed.

The senior inspector of the command center grinned, picked up the phone and personally reported to the main island headquarters of the Operations Department Command and Control Center. After the call was connected, he immediately said, "This is Shan Yifei from the command center. This is Chief Inspector Jian Wenbin. There has been a shooting on Cotton Tree Drive."

After saying that, he began to hold his breath.

Upon hearing the words "shooting incident," the operator at the island's regional office immediately jogged to the Chief Inspector's Office, where the shift was changing, to report the incident.

Upon hearing this, the Inspector General exclaimed, "What? The shooting on Cotton Tree Drive?"
The ruthless bandits were armed with automatic weapons?

The first thing that popped into my mind was the Kwun Tong shooting incident. My head buzzed, and I stood there dumbfounded.

The chief inspector, who was changing shifts, turned around, took two quick steps, and then started running.

The sound of footsteps startled Jian Wenbin awake. He took two deep breaths, quickly walked over, and answered the phone, "This is Jian Wenbin. What's going on?"

"A shooting occurred on Cotton Tree Drive. It was HSBC Chairman Sir Michael Sandberg's car. Police officers at the scene reported that Mr. Sandberg was shot and killed." He spoke breathlessly, clearly in a hurry.

"Where are the criminals? Where did they run off to?" Jian Wenbin shouted.

"Police officers at the scene are investigating, and the situation is currently unclear. I recommend that the main roads be closed immediately."

How long has it been since the incident?

"It's been 10 minutes..." "You!" Jian Wenbin roared and hung up the phone in anger.

"Boss, should we block the road?"

Jian Wenbin closed his eyes and thought for a few seconds, then said, "No!"

"Report this to the Operations Department first."

It's been a full 10 minutes, the thugs are long gone.

This is the most prosperous area in Hong Kong, the financial center and the political center, not some low-class place like Kwun Tong.

Once the road closure order is issued, it won't be lifted for several hours. The stock market, foreign exchange, and futures markets are worth a lot of money every minute. If the financial people are delayed from going to work, who will be responsible for the losses?
Catching criminals doesn't bring much credit to the chief inspector of the command and control center; at most, it's just a matter of timely response. Instead, he has to bear the wrath of the victims.

If the criminals can't be caught...

I dare not even think about it!

He's probably been torn apart alive!

I'm not Wang Yaotang, who makes ten thousand yuan a month. Why would I risk my life like this?
As per procedure, mobilize all available PTU units to the scene to set up a cordon and call ambulances. Then, holding my breath, I made a phone call to the Operations Department at headquarters: "This is Chief Inspector Jian Wenbin from the Command and Control Center. I'm looking for Senior Superintendent Shao Mingkun from the Operations Department..."

"I lost it!"

Shao Mingkun immediately reported to Chief Superintendent Abbot of the Operations Division.

Abbott immediately contacted Andy, the assistant director of operations...

"Another shooting? More than 100 bullets? And who died this time?" Andy rubbed his temples, his head aching. "Damn it, what's going on in Hong Kong!"

Upon hearing that Sir Michael Sandberg had died, Andy blinked. The chairman of HSBC had a very good reputation. He hadn't heard of anyone having a grudge against Sir Michael Sandberg. How could he have been shot?
And they even managed to fire over 100 bullets?

As for road closures...

It took him more than 20 minutes for the news to reach his ears. Even if the thugs walked on foot, they would have walked a long way by now.

"Block the road section and mobilize resources to obtain detailed information as soon as possible."

Shaking his head, he got up and went to report to Kelvin. Kelvin was also shocked. Damn it, this security department can't do its job anymore!
When ordinary people get into trouble, the more attention they pay, the less the news reaches the ears of important figures.

When a big shot gets into trouble, the small-time people don't seem to care, but the big shot will be very anxious. Of course, it's more likely that the small-time people simply don't know what happened.

Han Yili was feeling dizzy and lightheaded. The chairman of HSBC, the issuing bank of the Hong Kong dollar, had been beaten to death in the street. How much pressure would that put on the police force!

Hong Kong has hundreds of thousands of community members, yet it remains the safest city in Asia.

Even if Hong Kong were a place where no one would pick up lost items and no one would lock their doors at night, the fact that the HSBC chairman was shot and killed in the street would still indicate a chaotic situation in Hong Kong!

Vice City!

"Investigate! Mobilize all available resources and make sure the perpetrators are caught!" Han Yili roared. "Meeting! Summon all leaders! Call a meeting!"

……

The boss won't let your lateness go unpunished just because Shen Bi is dead, nor will he promote you or give you a raise. You'll still earn 2000 yuan a month, so it won't have any impact on ordinary people.

But for the wealthy, this is nothing short of a major earthquake!

Mr. Bao: Shen Bi is dead?

Li Zhaoji: Shen Bi is dead!

Xu Shixun: Shen Bi? Dead?
Li Xiangjiao: My dad is dead?

Wang Yaotang: Haha, I'm dead!

Pu Weishi: Sim Bi! He's dead!
Prudential, a Scotsman, joined the National Bank of Scotland as an intern at the age of 16 and HSBC Hong Kong at 23. He subsequently worked in branches in Germany, Malaysia, Singapore, and Sri Lanka. At the age of 48, he returned to the Hong Kong headquarters as General Manager.
Eldon: He's dead!

Eldon has long served at HSBC in Asia, where he was HSBC's Chief Economic Analyst, responsible for Asia-Pacific business.

When news of Sir Michael Sandberg's death broke, it sent shockwaves through Hong Kong's financial sector. HSBC's stock plummeted, dragging down a large number of stocks with which it had close business ties, including Cheung Kong Holdings, Hutchison Whampoa, Wing Tai Holdings, and Hang Seng Bank.

Upon receiving the news, a large number of banks, including Standard Chartered, Hang Seng, Bank of East Asia, DBS, Tai Hing, and Wing Lung, immediately convened a meeting and unanimously agreed to tighten lending conditions and pursue debt recovery from the relevant companies.

Cheung Kong, Henderson Land, New World Development, Sun Hung Kai Properties, Swire Properties, Wharf Holdings, and many others have all begun to lock up their accounts and prepare working capital to cope with the impending financial shock.

Everyone knows that Sir Michael Sandberg was the pillar of HSBC, the backbone of the company. With his death, HSBC would be leaderless and inevitably fall into internal strife. This is not just a matter of leaving the chairman's position vacant.

When someone rises to a higher position, a vacancy arises, allowing those below to advance further. Who doesn't want to improve?

There's only one position available, so digging up dirt on your rivals is obviously more effective than showcasing achievements.

This is a chain reaction: digging up dirt quickly turns into mutual accusations, and accusations quickly turn into a situation where whatever you agree with, I must oppose, until we end up framing each other...

Moreover, those who take action are not necessarily at the same level; they are more likely to be people below them. After all, if more people above are demoted, more opportunities for advancement will be created.

HSBC, a leading player in Hong Kong's financial sector, has connections with various industries, which inevitably leads to personal relationships. Every year, it also accumulates a large number of bad debts. Once a conflict breaks out, the companies with poor performance are the first to suffer!

Some companies are bound to go bankrupt!

HSBC has been developing for over a hundred years. From its early days when there were many employees in one position, to now when there are many employees in one position, it has long been overcrowded. Coincidentally, with the negotiations between the two countries, the future of Hong Kong is bleak, the global economy is shrinking, the real estate market is declining, and a loan crisis is already brewing. Hong Kong's financial sector has become a powder keg, and the sudden death of Sir Michael Sandberg is the fuse!

Now, it doesn't matter who killed Sir Michael Sandberg. He's dead, and he doesn't have a powerful family backing him. Everyone at HSBC is eyeing the board of directors, and other companies are eyeing HSBC. Who has time to care about a dead man?
The police were making a lot of noise. Wang Yaotang had been waiting for Kelvin and Cabello to come to him for help with the investigation, but they never came. He was stuck in a rut, so he finally just made a phone call and asked the two of them to have dinner together.

“Not only are you curious, but I am too.” Kelvin picked up his red wine, took a sip, and then said with a smile, “I was all prepared to work overtime, but the Governor’s Mansion just called Han Yili over and gave him a good scolding, and then nothing happened.”

"HSBC did issue a statement saying they would definitely find the killer, but no one pressured us. We did investigate with all our might, but the Ford left at the scene had an engine number indicating it was sold in the United States, and the chassis wasn't from the same batch. It was a stolen, assembled car, and the license plate was fake. The clues ended there."

"The shell casings left at the scene were Belgian and theoretically should not have been found on Hong Kong Island at all."

"According to eyewitnesses, they saw them get into a Toyota Hiace. The investigation revealed that they went into the harbor from Sai Wan, but the car was not found at the scene. It's gone, it's disappeared."

“We found a gang in the black market, and they said they didn’t smuggle the weapons in. Several arms dealers were also arrested and beaten until they vomited blood. But the Hong Kong arms market is mostly made of Soviet-style imitations from the north, then weapons left behind by the US military in Vietnam during the Vietnam War, then Taiwanese goods, and finally those from Thailand. These underground arms dealers have never sold Belgian goods.”

“The perpetrators acted swiftly and decisively, with a strong military style. We now suspect that it is the Russians who are behind this,” Kelvin said, shrugging.

Wang Yaotang's expression gradually became strange...

"Slap!" Wang Yaotang slapped his thigh. "That's right, the Russian bears, it must be them. These barbarians are causing trouble all over the world. Central Asia, India, Vietnam, Thailand, Indonesia, they're everywhere. How could they possibly let Hong Kong go?"

"We must be vigilant against their attempts to disrupt Hong Kong's security and economy, thereby provoking Sino-British relations. On the one hand, they are trying to contain Britain, and on the other hand, they are undermining economic development in the north. The Russian bear is like the spreading Black Death!"

Kelvin nodded repeatedly as he listened, "Good, well said."

By escalating the matter to a higher level, it will no longer be a problem for their administrative security department.

“Speaking of this, I can’t help but laugh,” Calvin said with a smile. “When we received the news that Shen Bi had been shot, the most excited person in the police department was Heywood. He was jumping around like crazy, as if Han Yili was about to be dismissed and then he would be called upon to save the day. But two or three days have passed and nothing has happened. It’s hilarious. Han Yili must be furious.”

Even Wang Yaotang was amused by the idea of ​​a professional clown.

The dinner was a pleasant affair for both host and guests, and Wang Yaotang was relieved. He had known that no one would care about Shen Bi's death, so there was no need to send anyone from Europe.

Of course, it just takes a little more effort, but the result is good.

After killing Shen Bi, the six men returned to the hotel and now act like ordinary tourists, drinking and playing with women every day, as if nothing had happened.

As for the houses that were previously provided to them, they have long been cleaned up, leaving no clues behind.

Aside from the stock market, Wang Yaotang hasn't seen much of a chain reaction from Shen Bi's death. If it weren't for the calls from Li, Xu, Bao, and Guo, he would have thought the so-called big boss was just bragging.

After waiting a few days, Wang Yaotang turned his attention back to his own affairs. The last penny in Jia Hua's account had been spent. Since no one from the Lu family, the shareholders of Jia Hua, had appeared, the bankruptcy application was jointly submitted by Gu Yuanbin, Tong Jianbo, and others.

……

Public Works Department.

Harold Dodgson glanced at it and tossed it to his secretary without saying a word.

The fact that they didn't say anything already shows their attitude: postpone and delay.

The next day, Gu Yuanbin, Tong Jianbo and others arrived at the Public Works Department early in the morning to inquire about the situation.

Harold's face immediately darkened upon hearing the report from his subordinates. "Is K. Wah the only company in Hong Kong? Don't you have any other work to do?"

Harold gave them a severe dressing-down, and the men slunk out. They had done their job and were satisfied with the several thousand dollars they had been paid.

On the third day, Gu Yuanbin, Tong Jianbo and others stayed at the Public Works Department for another day. When they saw Harold at the end of the day, they rushed up to ask him something but were stopped by someone.

"Ha," Harold scoffed. "So what if you, Wang Yaotang, have power and influence? Without the cooperation of the Public Works Department, you can't do anything. You think you can show off your power to me? Go ahead and be all high and mighty!"

On the fourth day, Harold thought that Gu Yuanbin and others would come to cause trouble again, but when he arrived at the Public Works Department in the morning, he didn't see anyone there, which made him a little strange.

give up?
Or is Wang Yaotang planning to use other methods?

For example, bribing oneself?
snort!
Need more money!
Just as he was wondering when Wang Yaotang would ask someone to find him, there was a knock on the office door, and the head of the Civil Engineering Department pushed the door open and walked in.

“Michelle, you look like something’s wrong?” Harold asked with a smile.

“Yes, Mr. Harold, although I hate to admit it, I have to say that I did my best, but I’m sorry,” Michelle sighed.

"Don't worry, sit down and talk. There's nothing we can't solve. Tell me about it?"

"The supply of sand and gravel for the land reclamation project has been cut off, and we have to stop work today," Michel said in a deep voice.

Harold's expression gradually twisted. "No, wait a minute, what did you say was broken?"

"Sand and gravel supply."

"How is that possible!" (End of Chapter)