Chapter 15.1

No matter how anxious Mo Zimu felt, he could only meet up with Tommy and Tom during the exercise break.

The atmosphere on the playground today was unusually tense. Various groups huddled together, whispering amongst themselves, but Mo Zimu ignored them and went straight to his former cellmates.

Both Tommy and Tom looked visibly agitated. Hope had been within their grasp, only to now seem like it was slipping away. Tom’s expression was complex, while Tommy remained silent.

“I’ll figure out a way to come back,” Mo Zimu said quietly.

“But what about tonight?” Tom whispered, his voice trembling. “If we don’t leave tonight, the whole plan will fall apart. Even if we somehow survive, Adolf will figure out that the poisoned whiskey came from the kitchen. Hatch will tell him it was stolen from there. Then Adolf will realize only you could have gotten Ivan’s private stash of whiskey, and that it was me who planted it. Seven, if that happens, forget about escaping. I’m dead for sure!”

Mo Zimu lowered his head in silence.

Tommy’s deep voice broke through the tension, “Tom, calm down. This isn’t what Seven wants. If escaping were that easy, why has no one ever escaped from Mammon before?”

Tom shook his head, waving his hands frantically. “I know we couldn’t have gotten this far without Seven. But now that we’re here, we have no choice but to leave tonight!”

Mo Zimu’s gaze sharpened as he looked at Tom.

Tom’s face betrayed a hint of guilt as he said, “Seven, we’re not like you. You’ve got Ivan protecting you. He’ll be leaving soon, and he’ll take you with him. But for us, tonight is our only chance! If we miss it, we’re as good as dead. Adolf and Norton won’t have a hard time figuring out it was us.”

Tommy’s hand lashed out, slapping Tom across the face. “You bastard! If we leave, Seven will be completely exposed. Are you trying to get him killed?”

Mo Zimu’s face turned pale.

Blood trickled from the corner of Tom’s mouth, and he whispered, “I don’t want that either, but we have to think. What are we supposed to do now? Hatch has already been sent to the hospital, and the ship schedule has changed. If we don’t go, we’ll be exposed!”

Mo Zimu lowered his head briefly before speaking. “Let’s vote. If Jack wants to leave too, then Tommy, you go with them tonight.”

Tom, his swollen mouth trembling, looked at Jack with anticipation, while Tommy also fixed his gaze on him.

Jack had never been the center of attention like this since joining their cell. The intensity of their stares made him nervous, and it took him several tries before he managed to stammer, “I’ll stay with Seven…”

Tom exploded in anger. “You idiot! Everyone wants to stay with Seven, but that just means staying here to die!”

Jack shifted uncomfortably, his large body moving awkwardly. “Seven wouldn’t leave me behind. I trust him.”

Tom choked on his words, unable to respond.

Tommy declared, “Three against one. We stay together!”

Mo Zimu gave them a grateful look. “Alright, in that case, let’s focus on the immediate problem.”

“Seven!” Tommy interrupted suddenly.

All three pairs of eyes turned to him as he spoke softly, “You don’t need to do this.”

The others stared at him intently, and Tommy lowered his voice further.

“The Bonanno family is going through major changes. Ivan has earned the favor of their patriarchs, and Henry owes him a significant debt. I think he’s going to be released soon. That might be why he went to the trouble of moving you to A Block. He probably plans to take you with him.”

As soon as Tommy finished speaking, Tom blurted out, “Then what about us? What are we supposed to do?”

His agitation caused his voice to rise involuntarily.

Tommy immediately hushed him with a low voice, “That plan isn’t foolproof. Seven leaving with Ivan is the only truly foolproof option for him.”

Tom’s chest heaved with emotion, but he couldn’t argue back.

Mo Zimu spoke calmly, “I won’t leave you behind. If we’re going, we’re going together!” He raised his fist and declared,
“For freedom!”

Tom hesitated briefly before bumping his fist against Mo Zimu’s. “For freedom!”

Mo Zimu turned to Tommy, who sighed deeply before raising his fist. “If that’s your choice.” His fist lightly bumped against Mo Zimu’s.

Mo Zimu continued, “Alright, here’s the plan. Tom, you’ll go through the passage and figure out a way to retrieve that half bottle of whiskey. I’ll handle the ship schedule and tonight’s Hunter Night issue. Tommy and Jack, destroy anything in our cell related to the plan. Adolf will definitely conduct a major search.”

“Wait, what did you say? You want me to crawl into D Block to steal the whiskey?”

Tom’s eyes widened.

Mo Zimu smiled faintly. “Come on, we all know you’re the best thief in New York. Only you can get past the lock on Hatch’s cell. This task is yours. Good luck!”

Tom’s expression twisted awkwardly, but he surprisingly accepted the task without protest.

—

After assigning the tasks, Mo Zimu headed toward the library. He hadn’t mentioned it, but altering the ship schedule was far more likely to expose him than anything else.

If Norton realized the strange cargo ship had been tampered with, it wouldn’t take much for him to figure out that only Mo Zimu in Mammon had the skills to alter a shipping schedule on the other side.

He had set the arrival time of the ship for 6:00 p.m., which meant the departure time from the other side should be 2:00 p.m. It was only around 10:00 a.m. now, so he had just enough time to make the dispatcher on the other side think they’d made a mistake.

As he approached the library, he noticed guards stationed at the entrance. They glanced at him briefly but said nothing, allowing him to enter.

The usually deserted library was now crowded with people, most of them from A Block.

At the center of the commotion, Sticks stood on a computer desk, shouting loudly.

“Since the start of the last Hunter season, the number of deaths has multiplied exponentially—fivefold, tenfold, or even more! At this rate, it won’t be long before these damned aristocrats treat us like rats, drowning us one by one!”

Mo Zimu hadn’t expected the sinister and detestable Sticks to have such a knack for stirring people up. He glanced at the computer near Sticks’ feet, his brows furrowing slightly.

Sticks raised his voice even louder, overpowering the murmurs of the crowd. “If we’re all going to die anyway, why not take a chance? Maybe, just maybe, we’ll find a way to survive! It’s far better than sitting here waiting to die with a one-in-a-hundred chance!”

As soon as he finished speaking, another wave of commotion erupted among the crowd.

Mo Zimu frowned even more deeply.

Though he hadn’t seen Ivan, he was certain Sticks wouldn’t dare act recklessly on his own. But why would Ivan incite a prison riot, especially one so high-profile?

Mo Zimu instinctively felt that this wasn’t Ivan’s usual style.

“We don’t have any boats!” someone raised their hand and shouted. “Even if we escape Mammon, we’ll drown in the ocean!”

The voice was calm and rational, addressing a very real issue. The fervent crowd immediately fell silent.

Sticks glanced at the speaker, then sneered mockingly. “We’ll naturally find a way to arrange boats for everyone to leave. What you should worry about isn’t whether there are boats, but whether you have the guts for this, you coward!”

The prisoners erupted into laughter.

Mo Zimu noticed for the first time that the speaker was the leader of C Block, a man ironically nicknamed Pusbucket, Mammon’s most unworthy boss.

The mocking had turned Pusbucket’s face red as he stood there awkwardly, furious but not daring to retort.

Mo Zimu, however, felt that he had raised a valid point.

Where would Ivan get the boats from?

The Bonanno family would hardly risk antagonizing the United States over a group of prisoners. Without boats, Ivan’s plan would be meaningless.

Mo Zimu believed Ivan wouldn’t go to such great lengths to do something pointless.

Sticks continued his impassioned speech, and the prisoners’ eyes grew wilder with excitement. The combination of the threat of death and the yearning for freedom acted like a spark to gasoline, igniting their fervor.

Mo Zimu exhaled deeply. He understood that while some might channel their passion into something constructive, for most, that same drive would only lead them down a path to doom.

Lost in thought, his gaze landed on a familiar figure. He quickly made his way over.

“Kaspersky, got time for a trade?” Mo Zimu asked quietly.

Kaspersky’s aged eyes glanced at him. “Three questions you can’t ask. One, whether this is really Ivan’s plan. Two, whether there really are boats. Three, your chances of getting out alive.”

Mo Zimu chuckled softly and said, “Thanks, I already know the answers to those three.”

Kaspersky responded, “Then ask your question. But today I’m in a bad mood, so double the price for everything.”

Mo Zimu asked, “Is there a way to change the names of those already selected for Hunter Night?”

Kaspersky replied cryptically, “You already know the way. Why come to me for alternatives?”

Mo Zimu’s eyes flicked elsewhere briefly. “I don’t want to beg that person.”

Kaspersky paused before saying, “Buy a name from Adolf. One name, ten thousand dollars. But… it’s not available right now.”

Mo Zimu noted the use of “it” instead of “him” and, despite the tense situation, couldn’t help but smile. “Then what’s Berrick’s price?”

Kaspersky glanced at Mo Zimu and said, “If it were me, I wouldn’t trade with Berrick. In Mammon, most people are motivated by money. If Adolf takes your money, he won’t take your life. But Berrick is different. Nothing excites him more than seeing the look of despair when you lose both your life and your money.”

“So… he can change the list?”

“Adolf isn’t here… right?”

“Thank you,” Mo Zimu replied. “One more question. Would you rent me your pocket watch for a bit?”

Kaspersky glanced at him and said, “I don’t rent out my pocket watch.”

Mo Zimu smiled. “What if I trade you a pair of reading glasses for it?”

Kaspersky took a deep breath. “One dollar per minute.”

“Deal.”

Mo Zimu took the old-fashioned pocket watch, an IWC brand piece, though its outer cover was missing, giving it a slightly worn appearance. Otherwise, it would have long since been confiscated by Adolf.

He glanced at the time: 10:25 a.m.

Slipping the watch into his pocket, Mo Zimu turned and left the library. He didn’t want to waste any more time there.