With both hands clutching his head, Ronan walked at the back of the group, slowly moving forward. His seemingly lifeless eyes had already fixed on the two black men at the stairwell.
With his skills, it wouldn't be difficult to swiftly take down the two black men.
Once he got hold of a gun, things would become easier...
In the midst of the passengers, Elsa raised both her hands. Her thin western-style suit coat was unbuttoned, revealing her ample chest pushing against the light-colored shirt.
The taller bald black man standing at the stairwell kept his gaze fixed on Elsa. "Ribero, this girl looks good."
The other curly-haired one reminded, "Mario, don't mess around, let's focus on the job."
The bald black man held a handgun in one hand while the other hand incessantly rubbed his fingers. "I'm just touching a bit, won't delay the job."
Elsa walked over.
"Don't move!" Mario pressed his hand onto her shoulder. "If you want to stay alive, don't move!"
Elsa held her breath, her face filled with helplessness.
The journey had been smooth all the way, but problems arose just as they were nearing their destination.
These black men were all idiots, their minds full of holes. They weren't even professional as terrorists!
Mario's hand was about to descend when Elsa suddenly launched an attack. Her long leg struck between his legs, before Mario could let out a miserable scream. Her other foot kicked the curly-haired man's knee, then she leapt up, her right knee colliding with the curly-haired man's jaw.
The curly-haired man toppled backward.
Elsa used her body's rotation to her advantage, striking Mario's neck with her elbow. His scream of pain as he neared the exit was cut short.
Mario's head turned to the side; his cervical vertebrae might have broken.
The other black man, positioned at the corner of the stairs, turned at the sound.
Before he could raise his gun, Elsa leaped forward, her long leg slicing down directly.
With a thud, the black man fell onto the steel stairs. Elsa kicked him in the head, and his head turned to the left; he lay motionless.
Elsa moved with incredible speed, picked up the gun, and rushed downstairs. Gunshots rang out in quick succession, followed by the pained cries of the black uncles.
"Who are you? Don't move!" someone shouted in Spanish.
After a gunshot echoed, the ship suddenly fell silent.
Elsa shouted loudly, "How many people on the first floor?"
The captain answered, "Four people."
Three black men, one Latino, lay dead on the ship's deck.
Ronan immediately distanced himself from the black man with the broken neck and the gun that could be picked up at any moment.
"Ah! Ah!" a passenger screamed.
Some passengers still sighed in relief, "Safe, finally safe..."
Ronan descended the stairs and found Elsa instructing the captain and crew to collect all the guns to prevent any accidents.
Many people looked at Elsa with new concerns in their eyes.
Elsa explained simply, "Everyone, don't panic. I'm a British police officer here on vacation."
Gradually, the passengers calmed down. The captain used a satellite phone to inform the Colombian authorities, the Aruba police, and the officials on Bileina Island. Although they were closer to Colombia at this point, no one wanted to return to Colombian ports. They decided to continue toward Bileina Island.
According to the captain, Governor Garsa of Bileina Island was relatively fair in his dealings, and the discipline of his military and police forces was decent. They might not be as good as the Dutch side of Aruba, but they were much better than Colombia and Venezuela.
The ship continued its course toward Bileina Island. After going through all these events, all the passengers gathered on the first floor of the cabin. It seemed that safety felt more assured in numbers.
Ronan found a random place to sit, thinking that this woman was indeed not ordinary.
Was she really just here to bring her cousin's body back to the country?
After about an hour of sailing, a horn sounded from ahead, and a large island appeared on the sea. The island was covered in forests, and at its center was a conical mountain peak, likely an active volcano that hadn't erupted in many years.
On the east side of the island were beautiful white sandy beaches, most of which were enclosed. A relatively small-scale resort was being constructed there, complete with its own pier. It seemed capable of accommodating ships of over a thousand tons.
A sign beneath the resort displayed words like "French Obia Group."
Continuing forward a bit and skirting a stretch of coastal cliffs, they reached the port of Bileina Island.
The old-style three-pier port had dozens of soldiers and police officers standing in formation on one of the piers.
As soon as the ship docked, these people boarded immediately. The captain was familiar with the leading police officer, and after a brief negotiation, the soldiers and police started to inspect and question in detail.
Ronan cooperated fully, showing his passport and providing a detailed account of what he had seen and heard on the ship.
Among the passengers on this trip, there were still a dozen or so tourists who had come to play. After recording their statements, the police quickly allowed Ronan to disembark.
The only one facing trouble was Elsa. The Bileina Island police wanted to take her to the harbor authority.
As Ronan disembarked, he overheard some words about verifying Elsa's identity with the deceased's family and the British Consulate in Colombia.
Upon disembarking, he went to the port hall to complete the procedures. There was an experienced old man there who stamped his passport.
The elderly man with white hair and beard had a sharp gaze. He opened Ronan's passport and said, "Mexican? Your accent is odd."
Ronan replied, "I frequently travel between the United States and Mexico."
The old man asked cautiously, "I heard it's chaotic over there? Rampant drug problems?"
Ronan's expression turned serious, "I stand firmly against drugs."
Security checks for luggage and belongings were strict, and everything proceeded normally. Firearms couldn't be brought in.
Ronan had taken a flight in the middle of his journey; he had long disposed of the gun in Cancún.
The Swiss Army knife was just an ordinary item.
The old man stamped the passport, allowing him to pass through customs smoothly.
Ronan picked up his passport and was about to leave when the old man handed him a colorful brochure and recommended, "This hotel is quite good."
The advertisement reached right to the customs...
Ronan tucked the passport away and glanced at the brochure as he walked out. The brochure was in English, Dutch, and Spanish, and the general message was the same: come to Bileina Island for a vacation, and stay at the Sofia Hotel.
There was a detailed map indicating the route, and the hotel was very close to the port.
Since it was nearby, Ronan decided to go check it out.
Adjacent to the port were rows of houses packed closely together. Due to the island's nature, most of the houses were single-story and appeared rather old.
Stalls lined the sides of the streets, and the people were mostly of mixed Latin descent. Perhaps due to the intense sunlight of the island, their skin tended to be tanned.
Most people seemed leisurely, without the urgency of the city.
Not far ahead, there was a two-story building with "Sofia Hotel" written in three languages on its side.
Some of the tourists who had arrived this time headed toward the building.
A Ford Raptor came forward. Since the street was rather narrow and there were stalls on both sides, Ronan automatically moved to the side.
The pickup truck parked in front of a store. Two people chatted in French, with one of them switching to Spanish to negotiate with the shop owner, purchasing a lot of fruits.
As Ronan passed by the car, he overheard conversations about the resort, construction sites, and deliveries by ship at night.
It seemed that the people who had come over were from the Obia Group involved in developing the resort.
Information about Bileina Island collected by the CIA had already mentioned that Governor Garsa was collaborating with the French Obia Group to develop the island's tourism resources. The flagship projects included a beachfront resort and hot spring mineral water.
Walking and observing carefully, Ronan seemed like a genuinely curious tourist.
This was a coastal town of considerable size, likely the largest settlement on the island.
Looking past the low houses, he could see a three-story white stone building not far from the beach. Flags were flying from the rooftop, and soldiers armed with live ammunition patrolled on the roof.
It was probably Governor Garsa's residence.
A military green truck carrying soldiers approached from behind. Ronan stepped aside again. The truck wasn't moving fast, and the soldiers occasionally exchanged greetings with people on the roadside.
From their accents, they should all be locals.
Carrying his bag, Ronan arrived at the entrance of the Sofia Hotel, where a sixteen or seventeen-year-old girl greeted him, "Hello, welcome!" She introduced herself, "I'm Anna, the hotel owner's daughter. Are you here to check in?"
"I'm Martin, from Mexico," Ronan replied as he approached the reception counter.
After completing the simple procedures, Anna led the way up to the second floor. They walked all the way down the corridor to the end, where she used a key to open a room and said, indicating the location of the room, "You'll be staying here. It comes with a balcony, and you can enjoy the sea view in the morning and evening."
Ronan accepted the key she handed over, saying, "Thank you."
Being a young girl, Anna had a radiant smile and a warm demeanor. "If you need anything, just let me know. I'll be in the lobby on the first floor."
Ronan replied, "Alright."
Anna, of Latin descent, had short hair that reached her ears, and a cute doll-like face. When she smiled, it revealed two dimples. She waved at Ronan, "Goodbye."
Ronan nodded, "Goodbye."
Anna helped him close the door and then headed downstairs.
The rooms in the small building had limited amenities, and only those at the ends had balconies. After inspecting his room, Ronan went out to the balcony. A few dozen meters ahead, there was an endless expanse of ocean.
The two-story building wasn't very tall, so he could easily jump out of a window or climb up if necessary.
Ronan's purpose for coming here was to search for the giant color-changing lizard, not for a vacation.
After quickly taking a shower, he brought his valuable items downstairs. Anna was sitting alone in the lobby.
Ronan noticed tourist brochures on the shelves. He picked up one and asked, "How much does this cost?"
Anna smiled, her dimples showing, "It's free. Feel free to read it, just return it when you're done."
The brochure contained a detailed map of Bileina Island. Ronan carefully studied it and occasionally asked Anna a question or two.
Anna said, "If you have any questions, feel free to ask me. I'm well-liked and have many friends, so I know a lot of things."
Ronan noted down the details on the map and deliberately lowered his voice as he asked, "On the ship when I arrived, I heard someone talking about a beast attacking people on the island? There was also a British police officer on the ship, coming to take her sister's body back to their country."
"News travels fast. It's only been five days since it happened. It's already reached outside the island?" Anna knew quite a bit. "A few days ago, right after a typhoon passed, five students from New York University were killed in the jungle near the mineral water factory."
She furrowed her brow, "We're all puzzled. There are no ferocious beasts on the island, and even if there were, they couldn't come from outside."
Due to the fact that the discoverer had hidden cameras and later sold the footage to a CIA informant, the island had yet to figure out which type of beast had launched the attack.
Ronan inquired, "Where did it happen? I'm planning to go up the mountain and want to avoid it."
Anna leaned closer, opened the manual, and pointed at the map with her finger, saying, "Right here. They didn't venture deep into the island. They somehow ended up from the woods to the French mineral water factory area, and that's where they encountered the beast."
Kind-hearted, she reminded Ronan, "If you're going up the mountain, it's better to stick to the main roads and avoid the forest trails. Those paths are often used by people, so animals generally avoid them. Inside the forest, there are many poisonous snakes, spiders, and mosquitoes. Some bites can be quite troublesome."
Ronan nodded, "Thank you."
Anna smiled, "Tomorrow is New Year's. Let me wish you a happy New Year in advance."
Only then did Ronan recall that, amid his busy journey, the year 2003 was about to come to an end.
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