novellhall Chapter 110 The remnants of the old era
Chapter 110 The remnants of the old era
Chapter 110 The remnants of the old era
Police lights flashed wildly among the palm trees on Waikiki Beach, shattering the gentle sound of the waves.
Qin Han leaned against the pillar in the restaurant with bullet holes, still shaken.
Not far away, Rona was being helped to sit in a chair by two hotel maids. She was breathing heavily and her face looked a little pale, but her eyes had returned to calm.
"This caliber of bullet is not common in Hawaii." The speaker was a middle-aged police inspector who squatted in front of the stone pillar and used a ballpoint pen to fiddle with the bullet embedded in the pillar. His voice was full of vigilance.
Qin Han brushed the sawdust off his hands and looked at the police cordon set up at the edge of the woods, but he couldn't find the escaped killer in the palm grove.
"We searched the entire grove, Mr. Qin. There was nothing there except a few footprints."
The police inspector stood up and dusted off his uniform: "The other party was very professional. They didn't even manage to hit you at this distance. I must say, your reaction time was as fast as a trained special forces soldier."
Qin Han squinted at the shimmering sea under the moonlight: "I am a martial artist, so I must have some skills to protect myself."
He strode toward the police inspector and said coldly, "Inspector, instead of worrying about my reaction speed, you should be more concerned about why an assassin appeared on this beach."
"I think Colonel Parker's old friends in Las Vegas" probably really don't want Miss Lorna to continue publishing his scandals in the newspapers.
"You mean—the Las Vegas Mafia?" The police inspector's brow twitched.
Colonel Parker's case is now a hot topic across the United States, involving the Mafia and a massive debt dispute; anyone who gets involved is doomed.
"Besides them, I can't think of anyone else who would harbor such hatred towards a journalist who just exposed a transnational fraud case." Qin Han deliberately guided the police inspector, pointing to the suite on the hotel rooftop with its lights on: "Mr. Elvis is in this building. If the attackers' target isn't just Lorna, but also him, your mission won't be easy."
Upon hearing the name "Elvis," the police inspector's expression changed.
If something were to happen to him during his leave, not only would his position as a lowly police inspector be affected, but even the Honolulu police chief would likely be forced to resign.
"You're right, Mr. Qin." He wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and immediately beckoned to several subordinates: "Listen! From now on, increase the patrol density inside the hotel! Add manpower at all entrances and exits!"
Two armed special police officers will be assigned to the executive suite floor, on duty 24 hours a day!
Watching the police inspector's hurried departure, a cold glint flashed in Qin Han's eyes.
This misleading tactic could leverage police resources to increase protection for the hotel, but he knew perfectly well that the assassin was clearly a trained fighter and was definitely after him; he wouldn't give up so easily.
I must get a weapon for self-defense!
Back in his suite on the top floor of the hotel, Elvis, wearing his bathrobe, paced back and forth on the carpet.
His swollen face was filled with unease, and even his carefully styled sideburns were a little messy from being pulled.
"Qin! Lorna! Thank God!" Seeing that the two were safe and sound, Elvis stopped abruptly, rushed forward, and grabbed Qin Han's shoulder forcefully: "I heard gunshots! Those security personnel were running around the corridor like madmen! What happened? Did the people in Las Vegas hire assassins? Did they track us here?"
The fear emanating from the depths of his heart made this king on stage appear exceptionally nervous.
Lorna patted Elvis's trembling hand and gently comforted him, "It's alright, Elvis. The police have sealed off the hotel; it's safe here now."
Qin Han sat down on the sofa, looking at the still-shaken Elvis: "It has nothing to do with Las Vegas, Elvis. Those Mafia members have already been dealt with by our friends at the Pentagon; they won't cause any trouble."
"Right now, I'm bringing some trouble back from Hong Kong. A group of Japanese people think I'm in their way, so they want to bury me in Hawaii."
"A Japanese man?" Elvis was stunned, his eyes darting around in their sockets. "Is it Hiroki Ishii, the guy you fought in the ring with?"
"He's just the tip of the iceberg." Qin Han unbuttoned his shirt, dispelling the stuffy feeling on his body. "Behind him stands a huge Japanese right-wing conglomerate, and a group of old-timers who see the rise of Chinese people as a thorn in their side."
Although Elvis Presley did not participate in politics, after so many years of navigating the world of fame and fortune, he knew very well how crazy the word "profit" could drive people.
He sat back on the sofa, looking out at the beach stained red by police lights, and suddenly asked in a low voice, "What about tomorrow night's performance? Qin, should we cancel it? I know you're trying to help me get back into shape, but if this causes you to lose your life, I'll never forgive myself."
"Cancel?" Qin Han turned his head, his gaze sharp as lightning. "Elvis, if you cancel the performance now, it means I've already lost."
"They wanted to tell me this: Chinese people cannot hold their heads high, and the king I've chosen will have no choice but to obey. I have no way out now."
Qin Han walked up to Elvis, placed his hands on his sturdy shoulders, and encouraged him, "The performance will proceed as scheduled. Not only will you sing, but you'll sing better than ever before!"
"I want to let those rats hiding in the shadows know that it's not their place to make the rules here."
Elvis raised his head and looked at Qin Han's hard face. The burning gaze made some of the feelings in his body that had been exhausted slowly revive.
"Alright." Elvis stood up abruptly, and in that instant, the dejected feeling seemed to vanish; the king of the stage returned. "I'll listen to you. Even if bullets rain down from the sky, I'll still be sitting firmly on that high stool tomorrow night!"
He turned around and shouted at the door, "Lei! Come in!"
A burly "Memphis Mafia" member pushed open the door and entered.
"Go get Qin a good weapon, something powerful. Also, make sure the guys bring all their weapons for tomorrow night's performance!"
"Understood." The burly man nodded and quickly left.
As Qin Han watched Elvis's figure, a smile finally appeared on his face: This man has finally found his purpose again!
"I'm going to see an old friend tomorrow during the day." Qin Han looked out the window at the night sky. "Elvis, get me a car. No driver needed; I'll go by myself."
The next morning.
The Honolulu sun still shines brightly, and the air is filled with the salty scent of the sea.
Qin Han wore a dark blue long shirt, which covered the python revolver at his waist.
Although this thing is bulky, its power is real, making it especially suitable for someone with strong hands like him.
"Qin, do you really not need me to go with you?" Luo Na stood at the hotel entrance, adjusting his collar with some concern.
"You stay in the hotel. This is the safest place in all of Hawaii right now," Qin Han whispered. "The police and Elvis's men are here. Don't go out. Wait for me to come back."
After saying that, he got into a Chevrolet sedan, started the engine, and sped off towards the old town.
Following the address Bill gave, the car wound its way through several alleyways before finally stopping at the entrance of an alleyway called "Coral Street".
Far from the hustle and bustle of Waikiki Beach, most of the buildings here are old, with peeling paint revealing the red bricks underneath.
A few old men in worn military uniforms sat scattered along the roadside, cigarettes without filters dangling from their mouths, watching the outsider warily.
At the end of the alley, Qin Han saw a crooked wooden sign with the words "【The Old Soldier "sBar】" painted in dark red.
It was clearly not the bar's opening time in the morning, as the doors were tightly shut.
"Swish, swish." A sweeping sound came from the corridor on the side of the bar.
After rounding the corner, Qin Han saw an elderly man with gray hair.
He was wearing a gray work vest and was meticulously sweeping the trash in front of the door with his head down.
"We're not open yet, young man. If you want a drink, come back at seven o'clock tonight." The old man glanced up at him and continued cleaning.
Qin Han silently walked to the side, picked up another broom leaning against the wall, and helped the old man clear the fallen leaves on the other side without saying a word.
Time passed by, second by second.
About twenty minutes later, the path, which had been covered in dust and fallen leaves, became clean and tidy.
The old man stopped what he was doing, leaning on his broom, and looked at the young Chinese man with some curiosity.
It was a face covered in wrinkles, with deep-set eyes and a pair of gray-blue eyes as sharp as a drawn bayonet.
"Few young people are willing to do such tedious work as you," the old man said. "Who are you?"
"I'm Bill's friend." Qin Han handed the telegram to the old man, looking him straight in the eye. "He told me that if I encountered a rabid dog in Hawaii, only the owner of this bar on the whole island could help me."
The old man's eyelids twitched slightly.
"That bastard Bill—" he chuckled, with a hint of nostalgia, "always liked to cause me trouble."
"The telegram says you're his benefactor?" Then you're my friend, Samuel. After all, it's him who feeds my old buddies.
The old general casually leaned the broom against the doorframe and beckoned to Qin Han: "Come with me, young man. Before we get down to business, I think you should go and see what they left behind here."
Led by Samuel, Qin Han arrived at an old building.
The building is very old, even somewhat dilapidated, with a sign hanging at the entrance that reads: "Pacific Veterans Welfare Home".
The two entered the house one after the other, and a pungent smell of alcohol hit them.
In the central hall, a dozen or so elderly people with gray hair were sitting.
Most of them were wearing old US military uniforms, some missing arms, some with empty trouser legs, and others with half their faces covered by gruesome burns.
Even in the sweltering midday heat of Hawaii, many people are still wrapped in thick blankets.
As Samuel walked, he nodded to the veterans. "Good morning, Hank. Did you sleep well last night?"
"Not bad, Samuel. It's just that damn prosthetic leg is starting to get moldy again," muttered an old soldier sitting in a wheelchair.
The old general turned his head and looked at Qin Han, his tone filled with undisguised pride: "Did you see that?"
Bill was my best student, and he funded many of my old comrades-in-arms; otherwise, relying solely on the government's meager pensions—humph!
"That day, right here at Pearl Harbor, many of us sank into the Pacific Ocean forever before we even saw the enemy."
"Later, I joined the Flying Tigers, went to the East, and personally fought against those Japanese. You should be able to understand that feeling: the taste of blood feud etched into your bones."
The two stopped at the deepest part of the orphanage, where Samuel pushed open a large door.