Chapter 2800

"Li Suo!" Zhao Hong was also very curious—how could they have caught the person so quickly? But the most important thing now was to interrogate Yang Aiguo urgently; other matters could wait: "Let me use your interrogation room."

"No problem!" Li Feng personally led Zhao Hong to the door of the interrogation room and reached out to push it open.

The interrogation room had no windows, or rather, the windows were blocked; the room was dark. Li Feng stepped inside, reached out, grabbed the light cord by the door, and pulled it—only to hear a click, and the tungsten filament bulb hanging from the ceiling lit up.

"Get in!" Old Qian kicked the little devil's butt again: "Don't fucking act uncomfortable—you're the one who'll suffer the punishment."

The little devil staggered, lunged forward, then tripped his foot on the threshold with a thud, falling flat on his face like a dog eating shit. Because his hands were cuffed behind his back, he couldn't even make a defensive move when he fell, so he landed hard and solid.

The big bump on his forehead swelled up visibly, red and shiny. One of his front teeth was knocked out, his lip split open, and his mouth was full of blood.

"Get up." Old Qian grabbed the little devil by the back of the collar, lifting him like a chick: "Stop fucking pretending to be dead."

The little devil really wasn't faking death—he'd taken a hard fall. Even after being pressed into the interrogation chair, his head was still buzzing.

Zhao Hong said to Li Feng: "Li Suo, do you have any recording devices?"

"Yes!" Li Feng didn't go get it himself but called out to an officer outside to fetch one.

Although he still didn't know what kind of case this was, after catching the suspect Zhao Hong didn't take him back to the criminal police team but instead borrowed their interrogation room, proving the case was serious and urgent.

What mattered was that Zhao Hong now suspected him—if he left Zhao Hong's sight and something went wrong with this case, Zhao Hong would surely be the first one the bureau's disciplinary committee came after. In the end, even if he'd done nothing wrong, falling into the mud and pulling down his pants—whether it was shit or not, it was still shit.

Soon, the officer brought the recorder and placed it on the interrogation table. Then he glanced at Li Feng, received no further instructions, and silently left the interrogation room.

Zhao Hong pressed the record button, then took out a cigarette and lit it: "Yang Aiguo, do you know why you were arrested?"

Yang Aiguo lowered his head, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. That fall had really been hard—several minutes had passed, and his consciousness still hadn't fully returned.

"I... I don't know!" Yang Aiguo answered instinctively; in fact, even if he were clear-headed, he wouldn't have thought it was about the assassination of Zhou Andong, because in his subconscious, Liu Wenku hadn't acted yet, so this matter would absolutely not be exposed.

"You don't know?" Zhao Hong snorted coldly: "Then tell me—what's your relationship with Liu Wenku?"

The three words "Liu Wenku" drilled into Yang Aiguo's ears; this guy shuddered, his three souls and seven spirits, which had been drifting in midair, instantly returned to their places, his eyes full of terror: "Liu... Liu Liu Liu Liu Liu Liu Wenku?"

"Exactly!" Zhao Hong showed a hint of a smile—Yang Aiguo was just a small-time thug with shallow cultivation, and the fear in his eyes couldn't possibly be hidden from Zhao Hong, this veteran criminal investigator: "Speak—what's your relationship with Liu Wenku?"

Yang Aiguo's throat rolled as he swallowed a mouthful of bloody, slightly sweet saliva: "Liu... Liu... Liu Wenku is is is is is... is my cousin."

"Liu Wenku is your cousin, huh." Zhao Hong asked again: "He has ten thousand yuan in his hand, saying it's from you—is that true?"

Yang Aiguo was terrified; at this moment he finally realized the matter might have been exposed. He wanted to shake his head to deny it, but his head wouldn't obey, and he nodded vigorously instead.

Zhao Hong nodded, then asked: "Why did you give him ten thousand yuan?"

Yang Aiguo forced himself to steady his mind, and his speech became a bit clearer: "He's my cousin. When he was a few years old, his parents were gone, and my mother raised him, so we two brothers have always been very close.

Three years ago, he got into some trouble and was locked up. After he came out, life wasn't easy for him—I couldn't stand it, so I gave him ten thousand yuan to start a small business, hoping he could get his life back on track quickly."

Zhao Hong didn't ask further, just stared at Yang Aiguo.

Being stared at made Yang Aiguo's scalp tingle, and his heart grew more and more panicked. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, and that still-bleeding big bump, irritated by the sweat, ached and swelled painfully.

"Where did the ten thousand yuan you gave Liu Wenku come from?" After over a minute, Zhao Hong continued the question.

Yang Aiguo gritted his teeth and said: "I earned it."

Zhao Hong gave him no time to think, immediately asking: "How did you earn it?"

Just as Yang Aiguo was pondering how to answer, a harsh shout came from beside his ear: "Speak!"

Yang Aiguo was so frightened he jerked violently and blurted out: "I earned it working as a waiter at the song and dance hall."

"Oh, you earned it as a waiter." Zhao Hong took a puff of his cigarette: "How many years did you work at the song and dance hall, and what was your monthly wage?"

Yang Aiguo's mind turned, and without hesitation he said: "Five hundred yuan a month. I started working when the song and dance hall opened, and it's been two years already."

Old Qian couldn't help laughing and slapped Yang Aiguo's shoulder: "You little brat, your math isn't bad—five hundred a month, two years makes twelve thousand."

"You earn five hundred a month—how much do you spend each month?" Old Qian said: "Food, cigarettes, alcohol, and social obligations. Don't tell me you don't eat, don't drink, don't smoke, and have no social dealings at all."

At this moment, Li Feng spoke: "Besides, Yang Aiguo is addicted to gambling—because of mass gambling, we've caught him many times."

"Is that so?" Old Qian said with a smile: "Yang Aiguo, now you can say—how did you save up this ten thousand yuan?"

Yang Aiguo was dumbfounded, cursing inwardly: "Damn, I forgot to include food, drink, and cigarette money!" Then his eyes darted, and he said: "Just now I said it wrong—I actually earn eight hundred a month."

"Smack!" Old Qian raised his hand and slapped Yang Aiguo's head: "Damn, do you think we cops are idiots?"

Yang Aiguo was hit so hard his head rang, little stars flashed before his eyes, and it took a while before he came to.

Old Qian snorted coldly: "Yang Aiguo, have you ever thought—how would we know about Liu Wenku, and how would we know you gave him ten thousand yuan?"

Zhao Hong continued: "I think you should also know how serious it is to hire Liu Wenku to assassinate Zhou Andong with money. If you confess honestly, it's merit through service. If you stubbornly resist to the end, you're the mastermind—then get ready to eat a bullet."

Upon hearing the matter had already been exposed—especially the part about eating a bullet—Yang Aiguo was so scared he nearly pissed his pants. Because in his heart he knew this was definitely not a bluff.

"I'll speak!"

Yang Aiguo had no hesitation—this guy was just a small-time thug. When taking the money, he was bold as brass, never thinking of consequences. But once the matter was exposed and his head was on the line, he had no guts to tough it out.

"It was Ji Zhanyong who gave me the money, telling me to find Liu Wenku to kill Zhou Andong."

Zhao Hong asked: "Who is Ji Zhanyong? Do you know where he is now?"

Hearing this, Li Feng's face changed dramatically—his whole face turned pale as paper, his legs felt weak. Damn, these dog bastards actually dared to plot Zhou Andong's assassination.

After all, Yang Aiguo and Ji Zhanyong both live in his jurisdiction. Even if Zhou Andong just got a scratch on his arm, he'd have to share the bad luck. By then, if they just stripped him of his clothes, that would already be thanks to his grandmother's blessing.

"Captain Zhao!" Li Feng's voice trembled somewhat: "How... how is Zhou Andong?"

Seeing Li Feng's face turn pale, Zhao Hong felt secretly delighted, but his expression showed nothing: "Director Zhou is fine, but this matter is too vicious—before it draws superior attention, we must cut the knot swiftly and solve the case."

The weight on Li Feng's heart lifted—as long as Zhou Andong was unharmed, he was safe. Moreover, if he cooperated well, he might even turn misfortune into fortune—earning merit was certain.

"Ji Zhanyong's nickname is Old Seven, twenty-eight years old, and he also hangs out with Wang Hu, counting as Wang Hu's capable aide." With merit right before his eyes, Li Feng immediately became energetic: "Yang Aiguo is just Old Seven's little lackey—not fit for the table."

Zhao Hong stared at Yang Aiguo and asked coldly: "Yang Aiguo, how much money did Ji Zhanyong give you? Was Wang Hu involved in the plot to kill Zhou Andong?"

At this point, Yang Aiguo dared not hide anything—he spilled the beans: "Ji Zhanyong gave me fifty thousand, and I don't know if Brother Hu was involved.

But that morning, we went to the song and dance hall, and Brother Hu called Ji Zhanyong into the back office. I don't know what they said, but when Ji Zhanyong came out of Brother Hu's office, he gave me fifty thousand yuan and told me to find someone to kill Zhou Andong."

"You little bastard, you're dark indeed." Old Qian laughed: "Ji Zhanyong gave you fifty thousand, but you only gave your cousin ten thousand."

Zhao Hong waved his hand, turned, and walked out: "Li Suo, you arrange someone to watch Yang Aiguo well—others, follow me to arrest Ji Zhanyong and Wang Hu."

………………

At the same time Zhao Hong was leading people to capture Fu Laoqi and Wang Hu, on a cargo ship sailing in the East China Sea, two crew members stood in front of a container at the very top, glanced at the number on it, exchanged a look, and one of them raised his hand and began tapping rhythmically.

Dong dong dong—dong dong—dong dong dong!

Immediately, there was a response from inside: Dong dong dong—dong dong—dong dong dong!

The two crew members laughed, one of them opened the container, and a wave of urine stench and foul odor hit them, making them quickly hold their breath and step back two paces.

Damn! Five disheveled, unshaven men walked out.

As soon as these five guys came out, they all tilted their heads back and took a deep breath. A man in a dirty white coat said: "Finally let us out, I was about to suffocate."

One crew member peered into the container: "Not dead yet?"

"Not dead!" another short man in a white coat said: "Although we didn't give him food, we've been giving him nutrient solution the whole time, so he didn't die and is actually quite energetic."

The crew member chuckled: "Hurry up and take out the urine buckets and feces bags inside, this smell is too strong."

A rather fat man, gritting his teeth, said: "We've been stuck in this container without seeing daylight for four or five days, eating, drinking, urinating, and defecating all inside it. Do you know how we managed to endure it?"

The crew member laughed and said: "Don't play the victim, we're all just working for the boss, just with different divisions of labor. The benefits we should get, no one took more than their share. Besides, back then you were jumping up and down shouting that you wanted to go kidnap someone—who else can you blame?"

Damn it! The fat man cursed: "I regret it."

At that moment, two people dumped the garbage they had accumulated over these days into the sea. After waiting about twenty or more minutes, the smell finally dissipated. Then everyone entered the container.

Yin Xuan was bound like a zongzi, with two smelly socks stuffed in his mouth—he didn't know whose they were. Seeing the crew members come in, this man struggled desperately, making uh-uh-uh sounds from his mouth.

The two crew members stood in front of Yin Xuan; one of them squatted down, reached out, and pulled off the sock blocking his mouth: "If you have anything to say, I'll give you a chance—speak."