Chapter 1029

At 1:07 a. m., near Nagoya, a public gymnasium was temporarily requisitioned as a mobilization point.

This gymnasium is usually where nearby residents play badminton and table tennis, but now it is packed with police wearing dark blue uniforms and black tactical vests.

Over a hundred officers were divided into three echelons: the first echelon handles frontal assault, the second handles flank envelopment, and the third seals off all possible escape routes on the perimeter.

A thin layer of blue moisture-proof mat was laid on the gymnasium floor; most people leaned against the walls or sat on folding chairs, some chatting softly, some dozing with eyes closed, some checking equipment.

Several cases of mineral water and energy bars were stacked in the corner, and on the movable whiteboard by the wall were attached several blurry surveillance screenshots of Vikram—Fernandes and a terrain map of the short-term rental house vicinity.

The air was filled with a mixture of sweat, leather gun holster odor, and the rubber smell accumulated over years on the gymnasium floor.

Although the temperature at this hour was considerably lower than during the day, with over a hundred people packed into the enclosed space, the air conditioning running at maximum power still felt somewhat stuffy.

One officer pushed open a window crack, and night wind blew in from the harbor direction, carrying salt and the distant low hum of cargo ship whistles.

Okada Masayoshi stood before the whiteboard, holding a laser pointer, delivering the final terrain briefing. His voice was neither too loud nor too soft, just loud enough for the over thirty members of the first echelon to hear clearly.

He marked the entrance, stairs, rear window, and roof escape exit of the short-term rental house on the terrain map, then assigned each person's

position and task.

Yes, after a series of investigations and surveillance on Vikram's movements, the Special Mission Division finally roughly locked onto Vikram's current temporary hiding place.

This descendant of Indian Goa currently resides in a short-term rental house near Nagoya, characterized by low cost, no registration required, and a constant flow of unusually mixed people, making it especially convenient for concealing one's whereabouts.

Moreover, this person possesses certain counter-surveillance capabilities; after discussion, Okada Masayoshi and Uesugi Muneyuki et al. decided not to startle the snake.

Deploy at 4 a. m., strike in one go!

So after roughly obtaining the information, everyone went to rest for a while.

"Everyone, don't get too excited." Okada Masayoshi said, then glanced at his Rolex: "It's now 1:10. Operation time is 4:00 sharp. There are still nearly three hours. Everyone, stay put and rest. Have bento at 2:30, check equipment at 3:30, and depart at 3:50."

Although he said this with his mouth, Okada Masayoshi's face was full of excitement.

This is the first time he has commanded the entire operation in his capacity as Special Investigation Headquarters Chief!

Take it down!!!

And Okada Masayoshi also calculated clearly that it has already been six or seven hours since dinner time, everyone will be

hungry and need to eat, but this kind of operation cannot afford to eat too full, otherwise it will affect combat effectiveness, so the best state is to eat and then move out about two hours later.

After the orders were conveyed, the tense atmosphere in the gymnasium eased slightly.

Some people began chatting in low voices, the topic gradually drifting from the case itself to other matters.

Maeda Toshihide leaned against the wall, took off one boot, and was rubbing his ankle, muttering: "Overtime, overtime, overtime, I hate overtime! Ah, I really want to revive Rome and the Second Reich!"

Asō Kōta sat beside him, scrolling news on his phone while occasionally glancing at the match.

Date Nagamune leaned against the opposite wall, eyes closed, dozing; Kai Toru leaned on Date Nagamune's shoulder, sleeping soundly.

Ikeda Erena sat near the doorway, spine straight, hands resting on her knees, eyes scanning back and forth across the gymnasium, occasionally pausing to glance at Uesugi Muneyuki.

Uesugi Muneyuki sat on a folding chair in the corner of the gymnasium, with the already-torn case summary spread out before him.

"Asō, what are you looking at?" Uesugi Muneyuki noticed Asō Kōta looking at something, so passionate, uttering one "Yo-shi" after another, "Ssu-koku-ichi," "Ya-haku-ichi-to-shi-die~": "So passionate!"

"Watching the men's table tennis team final! Wow! Zhang Ben! Zhang Ben 3—0 swept the opponent! Lifted the men's team championship trophy! So strong, Zhang Ben, my dripping Superman! I declare you are the true melon baby of Nagano Prefecture!"

"Table tennis, who are they playing against?" Uesugi Muneyuki showed some interest.

"They're playing against the absolute best." Maeda Toshihide sneered and shook his head: "Look at this backhand twist-pull, completely unstoppable, the opponent exhausted from defending, plus this little triangle, specifically targeting this spot!"

"Ah! So noisy!" Date Nagamune opened his eyes: "Just wait, we're about to move out, and you're doing nothing here but watching table tennis?"

"Ah, I'm still sleepy~" Kai Toru also wearily opened his eyes.

"Anyway, we still have three hours!" Maeda Toshihide said proudly: "They say, why sleep long while alive? You'll sleep long enough when dead! Besides, don't you think this is a good omen? Zhang Ben won the best, so our operation tonight will surely go smoothly."

————Why not just award four medals at future Olympics: bronze, silver, gold, and best of all."

Kai Toru yawned.

"What logical connection is there between these?"

"None. But it sounds auspicious."

Date Nagamune rolled his eyes, then closed them again.

But after a few seconds, he opened his eyes again, took out his phone, and glanced at a message from Moriya Akane.

The screen showed only one line: "Asleep, good night."

He stared at that line for two seconds, the corner of his mouth slightly twitching, immediately sent back a "good night," then locked his phone and slipped it into his pocket.

Wait for me, Akane-chan, once we settle this case, I will confess to you!

Oh no, I already am boyfriend and girlfriend with Akane-chan~

Hehehe~hehehehehehe~hehehe~

Date Nagamune revealed a lecherous smile like a pervert.

Then he noticed everyone was looking at him askance.

"You're so disgusting." Ikeda Erena said bluntly.

"Hey! How can you say that!" Date Nagamune complained: "Uesugi-san also often makes this expression."

"That's different; when Muneyuki makes this expression, it just looks handsome and confident." Erena said coldly.

Everyone: "There's some truth to that, indeed."

Date Nagamune: "——

After a moment of silence, Date Nagamune decided to go check on the bento situation early.

Around 1:50 a. m., the gymnasium door was pushed open from outside.

Date Nagamune brought in two people pushing handcarts, each cart fully loaded, packed with neatly stacked bento boxes.

He placed the plastic bag on the long table beside the whiteboard, waved at everyone: "Bento has arrived. Nagoya local specialty bento! Everyone, line up to get yours!"

"Oh oh oh! It's bento! It's bento!"

"Here it comes! Here it comes!"

"Ah, as expected, the celestial officials from the Metropolitan Police Department—resources are just different!"

"And there's this collective pre-order thing—this time we really got lucky thanks to Uesugi Chief!"

"Supposedly coordinated by Toyota? Great!"

"Is this a Nagoya specialty?"

A rustling sound of people standing up echoed in the gymnasium.

The officers at the front opened the plastic bags and took out the lunchboxes.

Igarashi was the first to pull out his lunchbox, which used a paper container with "Bay Iron Ribs Bento" written in kanji on top, accompanied by a picture of braised ribs and pickled vegetables.

Kai Toru was second, his lunchbox labeled "Ikegami Rice Parcel" with a pair of chopsticks tied to the cover by a rubber band.

The third was "Fenqi Lake Bento," chosen by Ikeda Erena, containing braised ribs rice and braised meat, plus grandmother's vegetables and mountain greens.

The fourth was "Milkfish Bento," caught the eye of Nan'gō Yuiichi, containing milkfish belly, minced meat rice, julienned ginger, pickled vegetables, and braised egg.

All the lunchboxes were made of paper, rectangular, with different cover designs.

"Uesugi Chief, come on, hot Nagoya specialty bento! I specially ordered this for you!" Date Nagamune handed over two paper boxes.

Uesugi Muneyuki: "?"

He took the two paper boxes and noticed his was especially large, with "Iron Road Super Large Defecation Bento" printed on the cover, plus a small line below: "Guìlín Junior Recommends," "Time difference not bad, huh," "Time to eat."

The lunchbox was tied with a thick rubber band; opening it revealed a whole fried chicken leg, skin golden and crispy, glistening with oil under the gymnasium's fluorescent lights.

The second lunchbox opened to reveal a pork chop larger than a palm, accompanied by braised egg, pickled vegetables, sausage, and a large portion of rice.

Uesugi Muneyuki: "???"

Is this a Nagoya specialty?

Uesugi Muneyuki stared at the fried chicken leg, then at the words "Guìlín Junior Recommends" on the box cover.

Never mind, don't worry about those details.

Since I got to eat it in Nagoya, it must definitely be a Nagoya specialty without doubt! (Confirmed!)

Uesugi Muneyuki lowered his head, glanced again at the big chicken leg, then slipped the rubber band back onto the box, picked up his chopsticks, and took a bite. The fried chicken skin was crisp, the meat tender, seasoned slightly sweet and salty, with a hint of five-spice powder.

He chewed, swallowed, and said: "Not bad."

After eating, let's go duel with Indian ascetics!

Others also started eating.

Maeda Toshihide held a Bay Iron Ribs Bento, took a bite of the ribs, and his eyes lit up: "Delicious! Truly a Nagoya specialty—just fragrant!"

"We Nagoya people build our way to the world one bite of braised meat rice and big pork chop at a time!"

Ikeda Erena took a Fenqi Lake Bento, opened it to see besides ribs and bamboo shoots there was also a braised egg and a piece of dried tofu, she picked it up and tasted a bite, said nothing, but her chopsticks moved faster than usual: "Delicious!"

The gymnasium filled with a mixed aroma of fried pork chop, braised meat, and five-spice powder, blending with the salty damp air from the harbor outside the window, creating a strange yet comforting late-night cafeteria atmosphere.

Nagoya bento! Delicious! Oh, sort of!

Uesugi Muneyuki finished the chicken leg and super large pork chop, closed the lunchbox, and placed it on the floor beside his feet.

He leaned back on the folding chair and closed his eyes.

The gymnasium at after midnight was very quiet, only occasional murmurs and the distant sound of ship whistles from the harbor. He thought this was probably the last calm before the storm.

After resting, it was 3:50 a. m.

Okada Masayoshi stood up from his seat and walked to the center of the gymnasium.

His movement was small, but everyone in the gymnasium seemed to be awakened by some signal, standing up one after another, throwing lunchboxes into trash bags, checking gear, tightening shoelaces, and zipping up jackets.

Over a hundred people completed the shift from standby to combat readiness in under five minutes, the process silent and orderly, only the clinking of metal buckles and the muffled sound of footsteps on the floor.

Okada Masayoshi stood in the middle of the crowd and looked around.

"Plan begins! Operation codename: Nagase Ren!"

"Japan's police, the time to protect our honor has come!"

He gave no further mobilization, simply saying: "First echelon, follow me. Second echelon departs in three minutes. Third echelon seals the periphery according to the preset line. Move out."

He turned and walked toward the gymnasium entrance.

Over thirty from the first echelon followed behind him, steps uniform, boot soles striking the gymnasium floor in a dense rhythm.

The second and third echelons stood in place, waiting, seeing them off.

On the street outside the gymnasium, over twenty police cars had already started their engines, headlights cutting white beams through the pre-dawn darkness.

Okada Masayoshi boarded the lead vehicle, closed the door, and the convoy slowly started, forming a line heading toward the short-term rental house!

Deploy! Deploy! Deploy!!!

But they didn't know that at a street corner about two hundred meters from the short-term rental house, a broadcast van with the "Chubu News" logo was quietly parked by the roadside.

The satellite antenna on the roof was already set up; inside, reporters using long-focus lenses and night vision equipment clearly captured the convoy's arrival.

The red indicator light on the camera glowed in the darkness, and the footage was transmitted in real time to Tokyo's news headquarters.

And at a farther intersection, another broadcast van from Fuji TV was stopped there, with female anchor Hisaka Akiko on the phone, voice low but tone carrying suppressed excitement: "We're here! We're here! The police cars are here!

Probably twenty or so! Wait a moment—when they get out, there'll be a lot of them!"

"Big news! Big news is coming!!!

The short-term rental house is a three-story simple apartment building, its exterior walls gray concrete, each floor with exposed walkways and iron railings.

The lights in the stairwell: only two still on, the rest either broken or loosened by someone.

Okada Masayoshi, after the first echelon arrived, did not immediately order an assault, but instead had two officers circle to the rear to confirm the rear window and escape route.

Two Nagoya local officers bent low, moving along the wall base, disappearing into the darkness behind the building.

About a minute later, the walkie-talkie crackled: "Rear window locked, no one entering or exiting."

Okada Masayoshi nodded, gave a hand signal to the frontal assault team: "Move out!"

Six officers forming the breaching team moved along the wall base toward the first-floor entrance.

The officer at the front gripped a breaching ram in his hand, while the officers behind had already holstered their pistols.

They reached the door, and the team leader of the breaching unit pressed his ear against the door panel to listen—inside was very quiet.

He nodded to his teammates behind him, gave a signal to prepare, then suddenly snatched up the breaching ram and slammed it toward the door lock!

The door lock gave way with a dull thud, and the door panel sprang inward.

The breaching team immediately entered in single file, guns trained on both sides of the hallway.

"Police! Don't move!" The first shout echoed in the narrow hallway.

The first floor was empty.

The breaching team swiftly advanced toward the stairwell entrance, with the second team following closely behind.

The stairwell was filled with the smell of stale cooking oil and some kind of spice.

Nobody?

"Go up!" The officers who had rushed in gestured with their hands.

They continued searching the second floor, where the far end of the hallway had a half-closed door, with a faint light seeping through the crack.

The breaching team approached that door. As the officer in the lead reached out to push it open—

Sudden change!

The door was violently flung open from the inside.

Vikram Fernandez, whom the Japanese police had been desperately hunting, appeared in the doorway!

He wasn't asleep! Instead, he wore a dark short-sleeved T-shirt and a pair of dust-covered work pants, gripping an iron baseball bat in his hand, the shaft worn smooth and shiny, the handle wrapped in a layer of black tape!

He looked completely calm!

No shouting, no hesitation, not even giving the police time to react!

The iron baseball bat swept out with a whoosh of wind—before the first officer could even raise his gun, his wrist was struck, the pistol flew from his hand, hit the wall, and clattered to the ground.

The second officer recoiled sideways in fright, but Vikram followed through with a backhand strike that smashed into his shoulder, the man letting out a pained groan before collapsing to his knees, clutching his shoulder and writhing on the ground like a Bosnian shrimp!

My bones are broken! My bones are broken tooth sound!!!

The third officer tried to draw his pistol, but the hallway was too narrow—Vikram had already closed the distance, the tip of the baseball bat striking precisely at his chest armor, sending him flying backward to crash into the stairwell railing.

In the blink of an eye, the three officers responsible for breaching the door lay helpless on the ground!

Vikram then burst out of the hallway and ran downstairs.

His stride was extremely fast, each step steady and firm.

Officers in the second-floor hallway attempted to intercept him, but this Indian man's close-quarters combat ability in confined spaces far surpassed that of ordinary people—the baseball bat in his hands moved like an extension of his own arm, each strike carrying a unique spin and explosive force.

One officer was swept in the knee and collapsed unable to rise; another lunged from the side to grab his waist, but Vikram elbowed him in the back of the neck, his vision going black before he slumped to the ground.

In less than a minute, all six officers of the frontal assault team were down on the ground!

Afterwards, Vikram opened the window, twisted his body and leapt—amid the stunned stares of nearby officers and the frenzied shouts of television station personnel—a leap of faith, he jumped into the garbage heap below, then vanished into the complex terrain and shanty area!

Everyone, including Uesugi Muneyuki, including Okada Masayoshi, and even all the television station personnel at the scene who had received the news and were now broadcasting and recording live, stared wide-eyed in disbelief!

Holy shit!

Can Indians fly?!?!?!?