Chapter 5: Assassination (Part 3)

Silver Shadow's assassins soon found the guard's body in the corridor, but they still thought little of it. Shooting an ordinary person said nothing about the assassin's skill.

Gilson II, however, was very nervous. People who led lives as comfortable as his generally prized them dearly, so he summoned nearly ten guards and hurried down to the underground safe room, surrounded by them. His two younger male cousins on his father's side and his uncle naturally decided to take shelter with him. They all feared that if they rashly tried to go home now, they would probably be killed before they even reached the garage.

The safe room was built beneath the mansion, with an entrance inside the house. It was not particularly well hidden, but only the palmprints of Gilson II and his family could open its electronic door. There was no key at all, so even if someone else discovered the room, they could not open it.

This safe room was Gilson II's last line of defense against death. Even if Double Eagle Commandery suffered a nuclear strike, with the bomb landing right outside his mansion, he could survive as long as he hid inside. The room held enough food and water to sustain three people for about four months. Its sturdy outer walls resisted blasts and radiation, and it had its own air circulation and waste disposal systems. It was practically designed for the end of the world.

There were supposedly even more advanced facilities in Tiandu. Gilson II had heard that the emperor and the royal family had long since built an “Ark” out of pure alloy. If Earth ever became a landscape of glaciers and magma, with zombie creatures and radioactive contamination covering what little land remained, the thing would come in handy.

The present problem was not quite that serious, though. However many assassins there were, and whether or not they were still in the mansion, Silver Shadow's killers would secure the count's residence. Gilson II only had to wait until the fighting outside was over before he could leave.

The safe room's door closed again. The count had driven all the guards out; he was not paying them to take shelter with him. The only people left inside were Gilson II himself, his wife and son, who had arrived just before him, and his two cousins and uncle.

Though the six of them were uneasy, they could still learn what was happening outside through their communicators. Gilson II kept contacting the people outside for updates, but there was still no sign of the assassin.

Time passed slowly, and their confinement made them increasingly restless. The reasonable conclusion now was that the assassin had fled after learning he had been discovered. But that seemed to contradict the phrase “the man who will take your life,” which he had forced the guard to say earlier. If he meant to run, he could simply have shot the guard and left, or escaped without showing himself at all. Why go to the extra trouble?

In the end, Gilson II could only assume that the man knew his whereabouts had been exposed and his assassination attempt was bound to fail, so he had decided to frighten him through the guard's voice over the radio before running away. At least that way the trip would not have been entirely wasted, and he could salvage a little pride.

After two long hours of waiting, it was the small hours of the morning. The count repeatedly confirmed with the people outside that the entire residence was secure, inside and out. At last, he decided to leave the safe room.

The electronic door slowly opened, but the corridor before them was unfamiliar.

The six people inside were stunned. What lay beyond the door was not the count's residence at all. What on earth was going on?

The corridor was very dark. Soon, footsteps sounded. A man dressed in black was approaching the safe room's door through the darkness.

“Who is it?! Who's there?!” Gilson II demanded. Even as he spoke, he was reaching toward the scanner beside the door, ready to close it again.

A cold glint flashed, a blade hissed through the air, and Gilson II's right thumb was gone.

Gambling Snake's throwing knives were as thin as paper and as long as a finger. In his hands, they were swift, forceful, treacherous; fast, precise, ruthless.

Losing a thumb was agonizing, but Gilson II knew this was no time to roll around on the floor. He was the one closest to the door, while the five behind him had gone deathly pale with fright and stood frozen. He quickly reached out again with his left hand to close the door.

It was the count's last chance, but Gambling Snake had already reached the doorway and was hardly going to let him succeed. At this distance, there was no need for a throwing knife. Gambling Snake swept his sleeve blade across, slicing away most of Gilson II's left hand and leaving only a small stump of palm. The exposed tendons, bones and blood vessels showed how clean the cut was, though they were soon obscured by the blood spurting out.

Gilson II toppled backward onto the floor. His family began to scream.

Gambling Snake drew his gun. It had originally held six bullets, one of which he had used to kill the guard. Over the next few seconds, he fired the remaining five in rapid succession, each into a different person's head.

Whether women, children, adults or the elderly, Gambling Snake killed without the slightest hesitation. To him, they were all the same.

Gilson II showed little grief at his family's deaths. If his relatives were dead, so be it. He had plenty of women and illegitimate children; he could simply make one of the women his lawful wife and pick an heir he liked. But he could not let his own life end like this.

“Whatever your employer paid you, I'll pay three times as much… no, ten times! Just let me go.”

“This has nothing to do with money, my lord,” Gambling Snake said coldly. “History teaches us that sometimes killing one or two people can resolve a great many complicated problems, restoring a disrupted order and appeasing the people's anger, giving them peace, even if only for a short while. That is why you must die.”

Gilson II felt that this man did not sound like an ordinary assassin. He immediately thought of resistance organizations and changed tack. “Wait! Spare me! I'm worth more alive! You're killing me to build your reputation among the common people, right? Listen, if you let me go, I can fund your organization. I can be your man inside the Empire. With my wealth and position, your organization could do as it pleased throughout Double Eagle Commandery. You could become North Asia's Steel Commandment!”

“Someone like you, who sees everything in the world as a business transaction, will never understand.” Gambling Snake grabbed Gilson II by the hair and dragged him out of the safe room. “The people are the foundation of the state. When the foundation is secure, the state is at peace. The Trade Partition Decree is even more shameless than an ordinary monopoly. You put up no capital and take no risks, yet claim a large share of the merchants' net profits.

“A state must observe the principles of government. You already levy taxes, yet you compete with the people for profit as well. What sort of conduct is that? And you aren't even doing it to increase the Empire's revenue. You and the governor are simply abusing your power for personal gain.”

As he spoke, Gambling Snake dragged Gilson II along. The count struggled with all his might, to no avail. They went down the corridor into a small room. A door opened onto an expansive view. Only then did Gilson II discover that he was in a clock tower more than ten stories high. Looking out, he saw fires burning throughout the city, lighting the pitch-black night sky.

“You aren't the only one tonight. Everyone in league with you, including the governor, and all your families, have already been wiped out.” Gambling Snake pinned Gilson II against the windowsill. “You spoke of an organization just now. You were right. There is an organization behind me, but I can answer for all my brothers. We have no desire to become another Steel Commandment, and we couldn't care less whether the common people see us as angels or devils. All we seek to do is rid the world of the festering corruption you represent, down to its very roots.”

Gilson II knew he had little time left. His eyes filled with savage hatred. “You think you're a hero! You bastard! You're all going to die! The Empire won't let you get away with this! Your deaths will be a hundred times worse than mine!”

Gambling Snake sneered. Qianming had evolved from the medieval Dark Ages to the present day without ever being completely destroyed. There were reasons for that.

“The individual dies with the body, but the spirit lives forever. You cannot kill us all. But you are about to vanish forever, along with that hollow soul of yours, stuffed full of desire. Even if later generations remember you, it will only be to revile and curse you.”

A thick rope was looped around Gilson II's neck, and a kick sent him out of the clock tower. In the instant before permanent damage to his spine robbed him of consciousness, he caught sight of that cold-blooded creature's satisfied smile.