Chapter 6: The Ten Great Thieves Kings

The next morning, at eight o’clock.

Madron, He Li, Gao Zicong, and Liu Yida, four officers from the Shek Tong uniformed police, were already stationed early in the Major Crimes Unit. When Lin Tiansheng arrived, he immediately stood up, saluted, and called out, “Sir Lin, Brother Sheng!”

“Good morning,” Lin Tiansheng smiled and nodded, surveying the four men. “Looking sharp. Come on, I’ll take you to get your guns.”

“Yes, sir!” Although all four were somewhat uneasy about transferring to the Major Crimes Unit, their expressions brightened at the mention of getting weapons. Out on duty, there was a clear distinction between having a gun and not having one.

Chen Sheng arrived carrying breakfast and greeted Lin Tiansheng with a smile, “Morning, Sir Lin.”

Everyone in the Major Crimes Unit knew Lin Tiansheng’s background, but most kept their distance—neither offending nor currying favor, maintaining a quiet watchfulness.

Among the four assistants, only Chen Sheng was somewhat enthusiastic, purely out of respect for Officer Pi.

When the five of them returned from the armory, Zhang Jinrong finally showed up, dressed in a sleek black leather jacket over a white knit sweater.

It was October, and the island’s cool breeze made layering typical. Yet Zhang’s polished calfskin jacket, motorcycle gloves, cleanly shaved face, and slicked-back hair set him apart from the others’ simple shirts, drawing many curious glances.

Lin Tiansheng introduced him to the four: “Senior Sergeant Zhang Jinrong, used to work with me in Wan Chai.”

“Sir Zhang!” The four promptly bowed and shook hands politely.

Drinking, gambling, womanizing, and fighting—the infamous “Four Vices” were well known to those familiar with Brother Sheng.

“Brother Sheng told me you guys are the ‘shrimp soldiers and crab generals’ transferred from Shek Tong. From now on, we work together and look out for each other,” Zhang said courteously as he removed his gloves, sitting down and glancing at their gun holsters. Madron and He Li didn’t take offense at the nickname; with the island’s tradition of nicknames, it often implied closeness. Given Zhang’s seniority, he had the right to assign such monikers, whether his words were accepted was another matter.

After the small talk, Zhang lowered his voice. “Boss, there’s word that someone who crossed the sea with Snake Boss Xiong is no ordinary character. Goes by ‘Li Xudong,’ known as Big Dong—a top ten most wanted criminal of the Big Circle Gang.”

Young officer Gao Zicong couldn’t help but exclaim, “The Li Xudong who robbed the Royal Watch Store and made off with thirteen million dollars’ worth of luxury watches?”

Since the 1940s, Swiss watches had become popular on the island. Many wealthy businessmen built their fortunes on secondhand luxury watches and repair shops.

Watches, gold, and jewelry were prized for their high value and easy liquidity, making them favorites among the provincial and Hong Kong underworld factions.

The well-known Royal Entertainment Group owner Yang Shoucheng had started in pawnbroking, gaining fortune by securing distribution rights for brands like Omega, Rolex, and Cartier. Later, he expanded into jewelry and film investments, rising as a new tycoon in Hong Kong.

In recent years, several districts had seen a spate of armed robberies targeting jewelry, gold, and watch stores. Among them, Li Xudong’s name stood out, carrying a ten-thousand-HK-dollar bounty on his head.

Lin Tiansheng could clearly smell the lingering alcohol on Zhang Jinrong but said nothing. The intelligence Zhang had gathered overnight—even intelligence the police hadn’t obtained—spoke volumes about his capability. He had truly picked the right man.

Judging by Pi Zhibang’s performance, it seemed unlikely he was setting Lin up; even the intelligence department probably didn’t know that Li Xudong had crossed the sea.

After all, following police reforms, the lines between lawful and unlawful had become sharply drawn.

Many non-classified underworld tidbits never reached police ears. Li Xudong crossing the sea was certainly a secret, accessible only to those with connections.

Every circle had its own rules.

Zhang’s old-school approach reassured underworld figures; his dual identity as a triad enforcer earned him some respect.

“That’s him. Snake Boss Xiong is his boss, handling fencing and escapes. But I don’t have the time or place of their landing,” Zhang said.

Lin Tiansheng replied, “I have that. The intelligence team may not understand the underworld, but they’re skilled at connecting the dots.”

Zhang chuckled, “Looks like the police reform didn’t just select dead weight.”

Madron voiced some concern, “Sir Lin, Li Xudong is one of the top ten kingpins. Should we request reinforcements from another unit?”

Lin Tiansheng remained calm, “I’ll write a report requesting long guns and bulletproof vests, but transferring more officers—impossible. Not that I won’t agree, but the higher-ups won’t.”

“They say it’s a manpower shortage. We’ll handle it ourselves. Don’t believe me? Go ask Officer Pi yourself.”

Madron glanced back at the dozen or so colleagues standing by, swallowed nervously, and held back his unease.

Zhang Jinrong pulled a square flask from his jacket, twisted off the cap, took a sip of whiskey, his eyes slightly glazed, and dismissed, “Top ten kingpins? Sounds scary, but they’re just gun carriers, henchmen doing the big boss’s dirty work.”

“It’s not about how much you rob; it’s about how imposing you are. Like with women—if you’re quick, you’ve got the spirit!”

“Quickness—that’s all there is.”

Lin Tiansheng placed a hand on the shoulders of two officers and smiled, “Don’t worry, Old Ma, Ah Cong, you’re the only troops I’ve got. If you all die, there’s no point sticking around the Major Crimes Unit.”

“Tonight’s operation is mine to arrange. If anyone dies, I’ll be the first.”

The four immediately saluted and obeyed, “Yes, sir!”

The “top ten kingpins” referred to the ten most heavily bountied criminals, with their crime totals reflecting their capabilities but not necessarily their combat strength.

Of course, underestimating them would be costly, but overestimating was just as dangerous. Li Xudong’s usual gang numbered six to eight, not an overwhelming advantage.

Even the Shek Tong officers had quasi-military training, whereas Li Xudong was merely a violent outlaw with no military experience. His recruits likely lacked veteran fighters.

After the briefing, Zhang smoked a cigarette and pulled Lin aside, whispering, “Brother Sheng, this info cost me 20,000 bucks—borrowed at usury, nine out of thirteen back, with a three per mille daily interest.”

Lin sighed deeply. “Got it. Charge it to my account.”

Building one’s own power base required money and funding sources; just drawing a salary meant remaining a mere employee. But Lin’s gaze shifted as his hand moved to Zhang’s jacket pocket, probing, “How much do you have left? Hand it over—I can use it.”

Zhang awkwardly replied, “None, none left.”

Lin pulled out a small stack of Hong Kong dollars and said, “Just this much?”

“Just this much,” Zhang sighed.

Lin counted out 3,600 HKD, handed a bill back to Zhang, and said, “Take this for food. Give Officer Pi the gun requisition report on the table. Tonight’s operation needs long guns.”

“Pipi Shrimp?” Zhang’s eyes widened.

“He’s our boss. Show some respect. I’m off to handle some matters. Be back this afternoon.” Lin pocketed the cash, left the police station, hailed a taxi, and said, “Driver, Sham Shui Po, Electric Street.”

With no time for training and no reinforcements available, the only way to quickly boost the Shek Tong ‘shrimp soldiers and crab generals’ combat power was through better equipment.

Since the criminals would arrive at night, night-combat gear was ideal. Asking the equipment department was out of the question.

With his military skills, finding parts on Electric Street to cobble together a red dot sight wouldn’t be too difficult.

After all, disposable gear didn’t require durability, precision, or endurance—just core components in stock. External parts could be rough.

Spending a little to achieve a lot, increasing the odds of success mattered more than appearances.

Does looking good fill your stomach?