Chapter 154: Pulling the Hard Drive

Chapter 154: Removing the Hard Drive

The faint clinking of a string of keys echoed sporadically down the hallway.

Jian Ruochen, holding a pistol fitted with a silencer, leaned quietly against the corner, not letting even a hint of his clothing show.

The two men selected the office key, then first pressed down on the door handle. "Locked from the outside. That old man Moer Kelin is truly paranoid."

"Paranoid, indeed," the other man corrected. "Stop reading Mr. Cha's books; you can barely recognize many characters."

He lazily added, "There's definitely no one inside. No point in going to check."

Jian Ruochen closed his eyes, holding his breath, focused and waiting.

After such a long delay, the situation on the rooftop remained unclear. But given the West Kowloon Major Crimes Unit's rescue methods, Sir Chen and the others couldn’t afford to take too long.

Waiting longer would only arouse more suspicion.

At most, twenty minutes.

If these two still didn’t go in to check, and he had to open the door himself after they left, time would likely run out.

Should he just rush them and grab the keys?

That was too risky.

The hallway was, after all, an open public space. Footsteps were clearly audible, and the silencer wasn’t a magic tool for complete silence—it only reduces some of the gunshot noise. Firing recklessly in the open would definitely attract attention from other rooms.

He clenched his fingers, slightly narrowing his eyes, counting the seconds in his mind, his eyes watching everywhere, ears listening in all directions.

Behind the corner where he was hiding was a hallway of moderate length, with one door on each side—two rooms in total.

Loud conversation drifted from under the doors; it seemed the people inside could push the door open at any moment and discover his hiding spot.

Fine sweat covered Jian Ruochen’s back, sticking his shirt to his spine.

Ten seconds later, a soft click came from the lock of office 0997 not far away.

The door opened.

Jian Ruochen straightened up, leaned toward the office direction, and glanced sideways.

The two men walked in. From the sound, they seemed to be going through the motions of a search.

Jian Ruochen stepped out from the corner.

He had only taken a few steps toward room 0997 when he heard the sound of a door opening from the corner where he had been hiding.

The person coming out had unsteady footsteps, with arms around each other’s shoulders, joking and laughing: "Hahaha, Brother Wang, luck’s on your side today! Wanna go pick some fruit (slang for soliciting prostitutes) together later?"

"You lecher, coming to the water room to run points (money laundering at a laundering institution) and still thinking about picking fruit. You’ll wreck your kidneys sooner or later."

The voices grew closer, as if right on his heels. From the sound of the footsteps, they had already reached the corner. Just a few more steps and a glance, and they would see the suspicious figure standing barefoot on the tiles.

Heart pounding loudly, Jian Ruochen couldn’t afford to hesitate.

He picked up his pace, glanced inside the office to scan the interior, and seeing that the two investigators had their backs to the door, he silently grabbed the door handle, closed the door behind him, and simultaneously crouched down, hiding behind the back of an English-style velvet sofa positioned with its back to the door.

No sooner had he steadied himself than the two voices and footsteps outside quickly reached the door of office 0997.

The joking grew louder, tones slurred with drunkenness.

"Who knows what Moer Kelin is busy with? We should prepare some gifts another day and visit this British politician, properly thank him. I wonder what he likes."

"Money, power, alcohol, cigarettes, tea, sex. I’ll bring the latter three, you bring the former three, how about that? Hahaha!"

The laughter faded into the distance.

Jian Ruochen relaxed slightly, loosening his grip on the gun, wiping the sweat from his hand on his pants seam to avoid any mishaps.

Inside the office, the two thugs were going through the keys again.

"Which ones are the safe keys?"

"The one with the cylindrical cross pattern... No one’s come in, why even check the safe..."

"Moer Kelin isn’t here. Don’t you want to take a stack of cash?" The same male voice that had said "paranoid" outside the door now whispered sneakily, "The money in that safe is all black money. There’s so much, even if a couple bundles go missing, Moer Kelin won’t notice."

The other was persuaded. "Makes sense. You open it quick, I’ll keep watch at the door."

Jian Ruochen listened to the footsteps and breathing.

If this man came to the door, he would inevitably discover Jian Ruochen hiding behind the sofa.

He retreated slightly, crouching low to the ground, every muscle taut, ready to spring into action.

Within his line of sight, a hand rested on the door handle.

The man suddenly frowned.

Had he closed the door earlier?

It didn’t seem like it. Why was the door closed?

The wind?

But there was no wind in the hallway.

As the man pondered, his peripheral vision caught a glimpse of Jian Ruochen’s light-colored eyes hidden under black tousled hair. Instantly, he was terrified, his face pale with shock.

He reached for his gun while trying to push the door open and shout a warning.

Not far away, the thug with his back turned, focused on opening the safe, remained oblivious, humming a tune as he dreamed of the unexpected wealth soon to be his.

In an instant.

Jian Ruochen launched himself over the sofa, climbing onto the thug’s back, clamping a hand tightly over his mouth and nose. With his other hand, he gripped the gun and struck upward hard against the man’s carotid artery twice.

The thug’s vision blurred. He tried to inhale, to cry out a warning, but the hand over his face gave him no chance. Then a sharp pain shot through the back of his neck.

He lost consciousness completely.

Jian Ruochen supporting the unconscious body, dragged it behind the sofa and gently laid it down, making almost no sound.

These two hadn’t drawn their guns yet. He couldn’t fire first and kill randomly.

He had already wasted ten minutes hiding. Dealing with this thug took another thirty seconds. He had to deal with the other thug and secure the evidence within nine and a half minutes!

Otherwise, he might run into the casino operator coming down from the rooftop.

Jian Ruochen drew a shallow breath, his eyes downcast and expressionless as he eased the office door—which had been left slightly ajar by the thug—fully shut again.

He locked his gaze onto the thug who was humming and bobbing his head.

His feet landed softly on the carpet.

Good thing he'd removed his shoes.

If he hadn’t, the soles might have rubbed against the carpet and made faint noises, alerting the thug.

But cotton socks made no sound on the carpet.

Jian Ruochen stood quietly behind the bobbing thug, patiently waiting for him to finish counting the keys and unlock the three locks of the safe. Then, suddenly, he reached out, clamped a hand tightly over the man’s mouth, and knocked him out using the same technique as earlier.

To prevent anyone from snatching their guns, the casino had its thugs’ firearms chained to their waists—they couldn't be quickly removed. There were no ropes in the office, and trying to tie someone up would waste too much time.

Eight minutes left.

The evidence was what mattered.

Now alone and cut off from intel, he had no idea how the shootout on the third floor had ended, or whether Guan Yingjun and the others were safe.

He also didn’t know the situation on the top floor—whether the victims had been rescued, or if the casino manager was about to return.

Jian Ruochen felt immense tension and the slow crawl of time.

Sweat soaked his back. Gun in one hand, he checked the documents on the desk with the other, then felt the computer case.

The old, bulky frosted plastic was still slightly warm, meaning it had been turned off not long ago.

A long rectangular box on the desk held a row of colorful 3.5-inch floppy disks—roughly twenty or thirty of them.

But each floppy disk could only hold less than 2MB of data. Who knew if that clunky old computer would get stuck on a progress bar during copying?

If someone showed up outside while the progress bar was stuck at 99%…

Just the thought was suffocating.

Copying wasn't an option. Better to just remove the hard drive—take the entire system in one go. Faster, safer, and it even saved the step of filtering through files.

After a moment’s thought, Jian Ruochen immediately cut the computer’s power, then removed the side panel of the tower.

He took a deep breath, still uneasy, and yanked out all the cables connected to the back of the tower in one go, sparing a glance at the time.

Fifteen of the twenty minutes had already passed.

Only 5 minutes left.

The pendulum of the old-fashioned wall clock in the office swung, the second hand ticking with a "tick-tock" sound.

Maybe it was psychological, but Jian Ruochen felt the clock getting louder and louder.

His breathing grew heavier; he could feel his body temperature rise instinctively. He clenched his jaw.

He had to hurry.

If he was discovered, the casino manager might decide he had nothing to lose and get into a full-blown shootout with the entire West Kowloon Major Crimes Unit officers on duty.

With so many people in the casino, that would undoubtedly lead to mass casualties among innocents.

It couldn’t come to that!

If he was caught, he had to protect his identity at all costs—under no circumstances could he let anyone realize he was a consultant for West Kowloon's Major Case Team A.

As he thought this, Jian Ruochen twisted together several hairpins he’d earlier removed, making an improvised flathead screwdriver. He inserted it into the screws of the tower’s side panel.

The hairpins were no proper screwdriver—every few turns they would slip out, and he’d have to steady himself and reposition them into the screw grooves.

Jian Ruochen stared at the four screws, his vision began to blur.

Sweat beads finally formed at his temples, rolling down his cheeks, pausing at his jawline for a moment before dropping onto the carpet, leaving small circular damp spots.

Four screws were too many. Modern ones only need two.

When he got back, he’d suggest to Uncle Luo that their desktop computer components should be secured with only two screws for easier removal.

Seventeen minutes in.

The side panel was off. Laying the tower horizontally, he could see the solid-state drive—about the size of a palm and roughly 1cm thick.

Breathe lightly, keep your hands steady.

Jian Ruochen held his breath, carefully unscrewed the remaining fasteners, removed the hard drive, then briskly tossed the screws under the desk. He didn’t have time to reconnect the cables. Clutching the hard drive, he stood up and turned toward the already-opened safe.

The safe was about three square meters in size, connected on one side to a hidden compartment like a small room, filled with stacks of British pound notes.

Jian Ruochen didn’t even glance at it, heading straight for a five-centimeter-thick stack of A4 documents in the corner.

He grabbed the stack, not bothering to see what was inside, slid the hard drive between the pages, hastily fastened it with a clip around the edges, lifted his shirt, and stuffed it against his stomach.

Thankfully, their strict training in the compound had taught them well—they used to hide comic books against their stomachs to fool their instructors. He was practiced at this.

Just then, his phone vibrated softly in his pocket.

Jian Ruochen pulled it out and glanced at the screen.

"Third floor clear."

Sender: Guan.

Two pieces of good news!

He wondered if any of them were injured.

Jian Ruochen breathed a slight sigh of relief, stepped over the two thugs lying unconscious on the floor, and placed his hand on the office doorknob.

Just as he pressed it down about a third of the way, he faintly heard chaotic, overlapping footsteps approaching outside.

One set in particular was especially heavy, almost as if deliberately signaling.

Immediately after, Chen Jincai’s voice came from outside the door.

He said loudly, "Mr. Moer Kelin, you’d better sign the agreement with the victims in front of us! Do it in the first-floor lobby, or we won't be satisfied!"

A warning!

Jian Ruochen slowly released the doorknob and took two steps back.

At the same time, the thug he’d knocked out and hidden behind the sofa, his fingers twitched slightly.

Jian Ruochen retreated to the window and looked outside. This was the seventh floor, and there were no footholds outside—a fall would mean certain death.

Wolves in front and tigers behind, with no retreat.

What now?

Jian Ruochen gritted his teeth, racking his brains for a solution, mentally mapping the casino's layout.

If the manager entered directly, no amount of acting could buy much time.

He had to find a way to lure the tiger away from the mountain.