Hong Kong variety show: From being bitten by a cockroach to becoming a legend

Chapter 156 Going All the Way

"Target confirmed, three marked boxes."

Each box contained 30 million in cash.

"Move it!" the pig-nose-masked robber ordered.

Several robbers dragged two of the boxes, but because they were so heavy, they had to abandon the last one. However, Ah Zu and his friends weren't after the money, so they didn't care if they couldn't take it; they just wanted to have fun.

"Withdraw." The pig-nose mask gave the order again, his voice flat, as if what had just been completed was not a thrilling robbery, but a routine moving operation.

The entire process, from the raid to the retreat, took less than two minutes, an incredibly efficient operation comparable to that of the Navy SEALs.

A few minutes later.

The robbers had already made their escape.

Only spent shell casings and the acrid smell of tear gas lingered in the air, mixed with the pungent smell of burnt tires, blood, and the metallic friction that was nauseating.

Deng Weitao struggled, leaning against the cold, twisted car door, slowly shuffling his body to sit up. His eyes burned with pain, his vision filled with blurry, swaying patches of color and shadows, tears mixed with irritating secretions streaming down his face. He shook his head violently, his ears ringing sharply, but he could vaguely hear Fei Sha retching not far away.

"Fei Sha—He Wenzhan—report the situation!" His voice was so hoarse it didn't sound like his own.

"————Deng————Deng sir, Brother Zhan, Brother Zhan, he————"

Deng Weitao's heart sank. He barely managed to focus his gaze and looked in the direction of Fei Sha's voice.

In the blur, I seemed to see He Wenzhan lying motionless in a pool of blood a few steps away, the road beneath him stained red.

"Damn it!" Deng Weitao roared, and with a strength he didn't know he had, he crawled over on all fours. The flesh was warm and sticky to his touch. He Wenzhan's carotid artery had stopped beating, and a gruesome bullet hole in his chest was still gushing blood. His bulletproof vest had been torn apart by a close-range rifle bullet.

He Wenzhan is dead.

Deng Weitao knelt beside He Wenzhan's body, his hands stained with his colleague's warm blood. He raised his head, his eyes blurred with tears, and looked at the wide-open back door of the armored truck. Inside, there should have been three clearly marked silver gold boxes, but now only one remained, lying askew in the corner of the truck. The other two had vanished.

Of the 100 million in cash, a full 60 million was stolen!

It's over, it's over.

The mission failed, a huge sum of cash was stolen, and his colleagues suffered heavy casualties—forget about promotion, even keeping his police uniform is in question; that Englishman Richard will never let him off the hook!

"Cough cough—Boss Deng—" Fei Sha slowly moved to Deng Weitao's side: "Boss Deng—what do we—what do we do? Brothers died, so many people were injured—how are we going to explain this when we get back?"

Deng Weitao was breathing rapidly, his eyes glazed over, clearly stunned by the enormous blow.

"You fucking ask me? How the hell should I know?!"

At this moment, Fei Sha gritted his teeth and said in a low voice, "Boss—we should divide the thirty million in the car among the brothers. Even if we lose our police uniforms, at least we'll have food to eat."

These words, like a black lightning bolt, cleaved through Deng Weitao's chaotic mind.

He whirled around, his crimson eyes fixed on Fatty Sha: "What—what do you mean?"

Fei Sha shuddered under his gaze, but the words were already out and couldn't be taken back. So, he steeled himself and leaned even closer, almost whispering in Deng Weitao's ear: "The scene is so chaotic, the robbers came and went like the wind—when we report it, we can say—the robbers stole all three boxes! Yes, all of them!"

As he spoke, his gaze swept across the scene. Besides the injured PTU officers, there were also three employees of Hengsheng Bank in the armored truck, who were huddled in a corner further inside the truck, seemingly terrified. Two of them were sobbing softly, and the other was clutching his injured arm, his face pale.

"How much is the compensation? Is it enough for medical expenses? Is it enough for the rest of our lives? Inspector Deng, think about it, we risked our lives, shed blood and sweat, and what did we get in return? Song Zhaowen is just a gangster. His money is free money, so let's take it—let's consider it compensation for our brothers!"

Deng Weitao's breathing suddenly became heavy, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it would shatter his sternum. Divide the thirty million? Blame the robbers for everything? The thought was insane, but in this desperate situation, it grew wildly like a poisonous weed.

"The others—" Deng Weitao said hoarsely, his gaze sweeping over the team members around him, some lying down, some sitting, all groaning in pain. Did they all hear him? Would they agree?

Seeing that his boss had given in, Fatty Sha was overjoyed and called over the brothers who had regained some mobility.

"Brothers, Zhan is dead, and Qiang and Mingzai are seriously injured; we almost all died here. Are we just going to go back and wait to be disciplined, kicked out of the police force, and die without money for treatment? The robbers took all the money, and we didn't save anything, but there's a box in the car—there's still one in the car. Let's divide it up, give Zhan's family some compensation, and leave ourselves a way out! Otherwise, what do we have? Huh?!"

Despair is the best catalyst.

A young police officer, shot in the arm, was the first to raise his head, his eyes bloodshot, choking back tears: "My—my mother is still in the hospital waiting for surgery—"

Another officer, bleeding from his mouth and nose from the explosion, gasped for breath: "I think I've suffered internal injuries—what can the police force's disability allowance even cover?"

"Damn it! The robbers stole a hundred million!"

"Yes! Let's divide it! If we don't tell anyone, who will know?"

After speaking, these people turned their gaze to Deng Weitao, who was the on-site commander. No one dared to act unless he gave the order.

Deng Weitao narrowed his eyes, recalling Song Zhaowen's arrogance, gritted his teeth, and squeezed out a single word: "————Fine!"

A look of wild joy flashed across Fei Sha's face, but he immediately lowered his voice: "However—boss, those few people from Hengsheng—" He gestured with his chin toward the three trembling staff members in the carriage, his eyes fierce.

Deng Weitao's heart skipped a beat. Yes, the PTU officers could coordinate their stories for money. But what about the Hengsheng people? Who could guarantee they wouldn't blurt things out? What if even one of them had a slip of the tongue, or gave themselves away during police questioning—

A murderous intent surged into his heart. Now that things had come to this, there was no turning back.

He looked at Fei Sha, his eyes icy cold and devoid of any warmth. He shook his head slightly and then pointed with his chin very subtly to the tactical knives in the hands of the team members: "No guns, make sure the bullets match the markings—keep them clean, everyone has to go."

Fei Sha's pupils contracted sharply, and he instantly understood Deng Weitao's intention: to silence them! Moreover, to create the illusion that it was the work of robbers, police guns could not be used; only melee weapons could be used, and even—everyone had to be involved, tied to the same boat!

Fat Shah took a deep breath, turned around, and faced the PTU members who were sitting or lying down, but all listening intently. His voice was hoarse but carried an eerie calm: "Brothers—there's no other choice now. For everyone to live, for everyone to have a way out—those three in the car can't be spared."

A deathly silence.

Only the mountain wind howled through the broken car windows, and the suppressed groans of some wounded soldier could be heard in the distance.

A few seconds later, the young police officer who had been shot in the arm was the first to tremble and pull out his dagger, followed by the second, and the third—

Inside the carriage, the three Hengsheng employees seemed to sense something was amiss. They stared wide-eyed in terror, desperately shrinking back, uttering muffled pleas and sobs.

Deng Weitao stood at the door of the carriage, blocking the exit.

Fei Sha was the second to step into the carriage, his knife trembling, but he aimed it at one of the men.

Then, the third member squeezed in, followed by the fourth —

The process was brief but brutal.

When the last member of the team trembled as he pulled the blood-stained knife from a body that had long since stopped moving, the carriage was already a scene of carnage and blood.

Deng Weitao tossed away his cigarette butt with trembling hands, his voice dry and hoarse like sandpaper scraping: "Clean up the scene, take the box away..."

Move them down, the rest proceed as planned — report.

But Deng Weitao never expected that on the other side of the hill, there was a long-tube camera pointed at them.

The entire process, from the robbers' appearance to their killing off witnesses and dividing the loot, was recorded.

Wu Zhaoyong bent over, almost vomiting all his bile.

"Ugh... Damn it, these cops are even more ruthless than us gangsters. Ah Hua called the boss, and the whole thing was filmed smoothly."

In fact, Song Zhaowen had already made arrangements a day earlier.

This Hong Kong variety show world is not the real world; the crime rate is extremely high.

Four hundred million in cash will definitely attract some fools.

So, he sent out three teams to follow the three cars. If nothing happened, great; if something did happen, he would take pictures so that he would at least know which group was behind it and that Song Zhaowen could settle accounts with them later.

The HSBC and Standard Chartered escort vehicles transported goods smoothly.

Following Heng Sheng in this group are Wu Zhaoyong and Ahua.

Unexpectedly, besides recording the robbers, they also recorded something even more shocking!

Who would have thought that these PTU officers in West Kowloon would be so audacious as to commit murder to cover up the crime, embezzle the remaining assets, and lie about the truth...

"Breaking news from Hong Kong: At 9:15 a.m. today, a vicious armed robbery of an armored cash transport vehicle occurred on Macquarie Road, Hong Kong Island. Preliminary reports indicate that the number of robbers is unknown, they are well-equipped, and their methods are extremely professional. A fierce gun battle broke out between the robbers and the police at the scene."

It is understood that the hijacked vehicle belonged to Hang Seng Bank and was transporting a large sum of cash, amounting to HK$100 million. The incident resulted in the death of at least one police officer, serious injuries to several others, and the tragic deaths of three Hang Seng Bank staff members accompanying the vehicle. The West Kowloon Regional Crime Unit has launched an investigation, and this station will continue to follow the story.

E

The background of the midday news anchor on TVB was the chaotic scene on Macquarie Road, with flashing police lights, yellow police tape, busy forensic personnel, and a body covered with a white sheet.

Tsz Wan Shan, the main hall of the Cheng Hing Society.

Song Zhaowen leaned back in his large leather chair, toying with a smooth, lustrous jade thumb ring in his hand. His face was expressionless, but his eyes were sharp as an eagle's. Wu Zhaoyong and Ahua stood with their hands at their sides in front of the desk, not daring to breathe.

"The footage is very clear." Song Zhaowen finally spoke, his voice calm and unreadable: "From the appearance of the robbers to their murder, the division of the loot, and the staged crime scene—it's all done in one continuous shot. Ah Yong, you've done a great job this time."