Click,

The shell of the walkie-talkie, made of reinforced plastic, was crushed by the palm of the flesh, and Richard Sapa looked at the palm of his hand, which was punctured by the splinters and gushing blood, not knowing what he was thinking.

It was a study, with miniature milky Ionic pillars guarding a red-brick fireplace, tower-like red pine woods crackling, sparks splashing in the dust, and finally extinguishing the strange way.

Above the fireplace are lifelike taxidermy, from the Kodiak brown bear from Alaska, to the North American moose from Minnesota, to the jaguar of the Amazon Basin, all of which were the prey of his youthful travels around the world.

He bent down to let the huge weight press on his knees, and without using his iron tongs, he picked up a piece of wood at random and threw it into the fireplace, his pupils reflecting the enchanting and charming flame licking the chimney.

A twisted and crumpled serpentine thunderbolt streaked through the night, casting a gloomy glow through the half-concealed window, and the wind crept in, wetting the hand-woven Persian blanket on the wooden floor—only then did he remember that he had not closed the window.

The mistress who came out of the bedroom was wearing only a soft purple silk dressing gown, she put her hand on Richard's shoulder, and asked softly, "Honey, what happened?" ”

This woman was just a substitute for herself after the death of her wife, young blonde, intellectually silent, acting as a deflector when she was lonely and a nanny with children.

Richard's back trembled slightly, he didn't turn around, still staring at the self-burning fire, but pry his numb tongue, and said hoarsely, "You go and wake up the children and take them all to the secret room." ”

He didn't explain why he did this, but the other party didn't ask, just nodded meekly, and only the drums beat on the glass windows by the torrential rain remained.

“..... I know. ”

The mistress sniffled and kissed Richard the cheek before leaving.

The estate was built by the first generation of Mr. Sapa and has been passed down for more than 70 years, and Richard knows every brick and every tree as well as his own skin.

He walked to the window and opened the half-hidden glass window completely, the wind howling and blowing his robe, the moisture wetting the hair on his forehead, allowing the chill to soak his body.

Thunderbolts resounded endlessly, illuminating the manor as bright as day, as if it were a fantasy, and a thin figure in a raincoat walked through the torrential rain, gradually approaching step by step.

Leon came, with an axe and a bloody breath.

"So be it."

Richard closed the window coldly and descended to the living room, where Antonio, the manor's security adviser and his brother, was already waiting in the hall, surrounded by the only twenty or so adult men of the family with guns.

Antonio, a thin man who was calm and bland, threw the cigarette in his mouth to the ground, and said in a puff, "I've already called, and there are still more than seventy guys in the strongholds in Gotham City, because it will take a while for them to arrive." ”

There is no need to think about how dangerous it is to travel in such a brutal natural disaster, but nothing is a higher priority in the face of the possibility of the family overturning.

"There's no need, we can't stop him." Richard shook his head, "You all leave, go to the secret room, or go to the warehouse, and hide." ”

He slackly brought a chair, sat in the middle of the living room, took off the emerald ring on his finger, and handed it to his brother: "After I die, you will be the head of the family." ”

"Throw the ring on the ground, I won't ask for it." Antonio indifferently raised his eyelids and glanced at them, but he didn't move, but he still leaned on the wooden fence of the staircase and smoked to himself: "Our sons and nephews are all dying on this rainy night, and it is impossible to leave like this." ”

Richard swept the faces of the others, looked at the resolute and calm expressions of these young people, opened his mouth, and said bitterly: "It's useless, it's just a futile struggle." ”

Antonio straightened up and slung his submachine gun over his shoulder, "That man, what does he want." ”

"I don't know."

"We can buy him, a million, a million, even a hundred million, and he will always be fed."

Richard was silent, his eyes deep and long-term, as if they had crossed the manor.

"Antonio, do you remember D.B. Cooper?"

"The wanted man from 1971?"

"Yes." Richard nodded, "On Wednesday, November 24th, a man in a trench coat and a suitcase in Portland, Oregon boarded the NW305 plane of Northwest Airlines, and at three o'clock in the afternoon, after ordering a bourbon, he took out the bomb in his handbag, hijacked the entire plane, and demanded $200,000 in cash, as well as an umbrella bag to land on the plane. ”

Richard's voice told this well-known story in the United States without a trace of waves, "The police used a lot of manpower and material resources to get the 10,000 unnumbered 20 dollar bills that Cooper requested, and took pictures of these bills in a short time, wrote down the numbers, and at half past five in the afternoon, the plane landed at Seattle Seatac Airport. ”

Although Antonio didn't know why Richard told the story in great detail, he listened patiently out of respect for his brother.

"It was the same rainstorm as tonight, and Cooper got 36 passengers off the plane with a flight attendant, but still hijacked the four crew members, and after a short 15-minute refueling period, the plane took off again."

The windows of the hall were still blown by the wind and rain, and the thunder flashed by, providing a bleak backdrop to Richard's narrative.

"In the Louise River Valley, 40 kilometers west of Portland, D.B. Cooper parachuted, and the FBI and local police conducted a dragnet search and found nothing, and they even released some numbers for the $200,000 bill, hoping that the public would provide information."

Antonio picked up his brother's story: "Nine years later, in 1980, a kid dug up nearly 300 burnt $20 bills in the Columbia River Valley, and after checking the information, it was Cooper's money—he used the bills to make a bonfire, and to this day no one has found Cooper himself and the remaining dollars." For God's sake, what's the point of you telling this story?! ”

Richard looked up at the dome of the living room, "Wednesday, November 24, 1971, when you weren't yet able to walk, my father and I were about to fly to Seattle to attend to the local business after visiting a seriously ill aunt in Portland. ”

Antonio's eyes widened as he realized something.

"D.B. Cooper was sitting next to me, and I was only half a meter away from the most famous legendary robber in the history of the United States and the world," Richard let out a long sigh, "I have seen his eyes, and there is a cold and contempt for everything buried under his kind exterior, and there are people you are not destined to buy, and they see the world differently than we think it is." ”

Bang!

The door was kicked open by brute force, and Leon walked in in his rain boots, and the background board was a roaring thunder that danced and rage, and a raging howling rainstorm.

"Gentlemen, let me send you gently into this cool night."