Chapter 4: Incident at Pearl Tower

The words of the man in a suit were like a bomb thrown into the water, causing the crowd to stir once again. However, it was followed by a burst of gunfire, and the surroundings quieted down. It dawned on them that those armed individuals were not soldiers but rather, hijackers.

The man in the suit was pleased with the reactions below. He observed the expressions of the people in that moment—anger, fear, confusion, panic—giving him a sense of control.

"Let me introduce myself. I'm Hans. Please, everyone, remain calm. We're not here to kill, so everyone has a chance to leave alive. Don't do anything foolish," Hans said while gesturing with his index finger.

As Hans spoke, some hijackers began moving through the crowd with trash bins. Whenever they approached someone, that person obediently placed their phone in the bin. Even those who had initially hesitated complied after hearing Hans' final warning.

Once all phones were collected, the hijackers placed the bins on a table and proceeded to pour champagne into them. Soon, the liquid filled the bins, turning the phones into useless pieces of metal.

Simultaneously, several hijackers started clearing small rooms on both sides of the banquet hall. Many people hiding inside were pulled out. Even a couple who were oblivious to the situation and engrossed in their intimate activities were captured and forced out, stark naked.

Owen cursed his luck. Was this the purpose behind those snippets in his mind? Was someone trying to set him up?

As a police officer, his basic judgment skills were intact. He clearly assessed the situation outside; it was not a movie scene. Real hijackers had taken control of the building and its occupants.

Owen crouched by the door, secretly observing. He intended to pull out his phone and call for help when he realized it was left in his car. Simultaneously, he noticed a hijacker heading towards the restroom.

Oh, no!

A direct confrontation was out of the question. Armed only with a handgun while the hijackers had automatic weapons, it was a fight he couldn't win. He couldn't count on divine intervention twice; surviving yesterday's danger, he didn't want to tempt fate today.

Owen retreated into the restroom, his mind racing.

He couldn't become a hostage; there was a risk. Though not a celebrity, working in the jurisdiction of West Hollywood, he was well-known. If his identity as a cop was exposed, he could be silenced.

Escaping seemed the only option. However, assessing the surroundings, he furrowed his brows.

The ventilation ducts were high and too narrow to enter. Opening the partition wouldn't help; the hijackers would undoubtedly search each one.

Reluctantly, Owen opened the window. Night air rushed in. Glancing down, 19 stories seemed survivable, but the fall would likely leave him a mess.

Hearing no sounds from below, Owen sighed in relief. He wasn't checking for his footprints; he just considered whether the hijacker might glance out. Thankfully, he climbed above the window before being noticed.

The 20th floor. Owen, exhausted, finally entered through the window. In this unfamiliar environment with renovation chaos, he appeared disheveled, stained from the earlier climb.

He surveyed the area. To call for help, he needed a phone, which was unlikely on this floor. He faced two choices: go up or down.

After a brief consideration, Owen chose to go up. The hijackers had just taken control; the lower floors, especially the ground floor, would be heavily guarded. Compared to that, going up seemed relatively safer.

The elevator was out of the question. Owen decided to take the stairs.

In the fire escape on the 21st floor, Owen pressed his ear against the door, holding his breath. Silence prevailed. Gently opening it, he moved like a silent cat. The door closed noiselessly.

This floor was a massive office area, strangely empty as if everyone had left early. The lights were off. Owen refrained from turning them on, relying on the moonlight seeping through the windows. Soon, he found a landline.