The Retired Mercenary's Great Retaliation

I was a retired mercenary. A middle-aged man like me, without any ‘proper’ skills, could only work as a stockkeeper at a private company. On my first day at work, the warehouse lost an important item, and I was accused of stealing it. My new colleagues scoffed. "Hand over what you stole, you penniless loser! This warehouse hasn't lost anything for eight years. If you hand over the stolen item, we'll submit an appeal letter on your behalf when you get arrested by the police." I stepped forward to look at a mark left behind in the corner. "I can find what was stolen." The entire warehouse fell silent. When my boss arrived after hearing the news, he scrutinized me condescendingly. "If you can find the stolen item, I'll give you half of the company shares. If you fail, you'll have to pay with your life!" Chapter 1 The workshop was hot and stuffy, like a sealed can. The heat on the machines lingered, while the air was filled with the smell of machinery, oil, and rust. There was even the smell of burning from welding work. A gigantic fan turned slowly on the high ceiling, but it did nothing to take away the heat. At the end of the workshop, there was a half-opened roller shutter to a door leading to the warehouse, which was filled with rows of metal boxes containing spare parts. Some of the boxes had been pried open. The metal chains had fallen to the ground, and the seals on the boxes had been shredded into pieces. A core asset worth over three million was gone, and every person in the workshop had been summoned. Dozens of eyes fell onto me with looks of curiosity, suspicion, and even gloating. The boss, Tony Chapman, was in his forties and had a big belly. He walked out of the crowd with his gold-rimmed glasses to look me up and down. There were daggers in his eyes as he scrutinized my old worker's outfit, which had lost its color from being overwashed, and the oily canvas shoes I was wearing. His gaze paused at my hands, which were filled with calluses and small cuts. "You?" He scoffed at me, his tone full of sarcasm. "You're Jason Leigh, right? Human resources informed me that you're only a high school graduate. Do you really understand all this?" "I used to be a mercenary," I corrected him in a calm but clear voice. Tony was taken aback, but he quickly laughed out loud. His laugh was so loud that it echoed throughout the workshop. The people standing next to him laughed along. "What's a mercenary doing here as a stockkeeper? Who would believe you, Leigh?" "I'm not joking," I replied calmly to Tony, looking at him. "I can find the man who stole from the warehouse." I looked past Tony toward the entrance of the warehouse. There were several marks on the ground indicating something had been dragged away. Several faint footprints were found by the metal boxes that had been pried open, along with a metal net that had been bent under pressure. Tony eventually stopped laughing. The fat on his cheeks jiggled as the look in his eyes turned dark. "All right. Good for you." He clapped his hands. "I've checked the security footage and the door entry records. Even the police were here, but no one found anything." Tony approached me, and his short, thick fingers almost touched my nose. "You're just the new stockkeeper, yet you claim you can find the thief?" "Yes, I can." I did not back away. "Anyone who enters and exits this place will definitely leave a trace." There was silence in the workshop as Tony stared at me for a few seconds before sneering. "Fine." He suddenly waved his hand. "Let's make a bet." The crowd started to get excited as Tony spoke slowly. "A crucial spare part worth $3.6 million was lost. If you can find the thief in three days and get back the stolen item, I'll give you a reward of $1 million." Everyone inhaled sharply. $1 million was a lot of money for a stockkeeper. Tony's expression suddenly turned dark. "But if you can't find the thief and the item…" Chapter 2 Tony stared at me while saying the words slowly, "You'll have to pay for it." The workshop fell eerily silent. "You don't have to get so serious with him, Boss." A workshop supervisor quickly stepped forward to smooth things over. "Yeah, Mr. Chapman. He's just trying to show off." Tony ignored them as he stared right at me. "Do you dare take up the challenge?" The face of my wife, Vivian, flashed in my mind. Vivian was not in the best of health and required medication all year round. We did not have much savings due to her condition, and our daughter Samantha had just entered university, leaving us with insufficient funds to cover her tuition. Since retiring, I had not been able to find a stable job. It was not easy for me to finally get hired at this factory. Dignity was nothing to me if it meant I could make a living, but that did not mean I felt all right with being disrespected. "Yes, I do," I heard myself saying. A cold smile slowly appeared on Tony's face. "Good!" He yelled at his assistant, "Prepare a contract right now!" Several minutes later, a printed sheet was placed on Tony's desk, bearing the title ‘Lost Goods Retrieval Agreement’. The contents were simple. If I could find the thief and recover the stolen item within three days, the factory would reward me with $1 million. Otherwise, if I failed to uncover the truth or caused additional losses, I would need to compensate the factory for its $3.6 million loss. Tony lit his cigarette, and the smoke wafted slowly in the air. "If you can't afford the compensation, you can pay me back by working for me your entire life." Everyone crowded around while whispering about this. "Is he crazy?" "A stockkeeper trying to investigate a theft?" "He just sold himself to the factory." I picked up the pen and paused for a second right before inking the contract. I suddenly thought about how Vivian had held my hands, saying softly, "Don't overexert yourself, Jason," and how Samantha told me happily on the phone, "I was awarded the scholarship, Dad!" I lowered my head and slowly signed my name, Jason Leigh. After I was done signing, I looked up at Tony. "Boss, I need the security footage of the warehouse from last night, the door entry records, and three months' worth of expenses in advance right now." Tony was taken aback, but it took him only a second to laugh louder than before. "Hah! Hahahaha! You haven't even started work yet, and you're already demanding payment?" It sounded like Tony wanted to yell at me, but he held himself back and looked at me like I was good for nothing instead. "Fine, you can have it!" He waved his staff from the Finance Department over to get the money, and a wad of cash soon appeared. Tony flung the money hard on the warehouse table in front of everyone. "Here, take it. It's $10,000 in advance!" The cash fell everywhere from the impact, and a few pieces floated to the ground. Some of the money slipped under the oily crevices of the tool shelves. At that point, I could no longer hear anything around me. All I could hear was the blood rushing to my head. The humiliation was like a blunt knife slicing my heart, but I said nothing. I bent over while dozens of eyes watched me pick up the pieces of money one by one. I flattened the oil-stained cash slowly and stacked them properly before slipping them into the pocket of my coat, which was just over my chest. There was a young woman in front of the crowd who looked to be in her twenties. She was in a white dress and frowning slightly. She was Tony's daughter, Lynn Chapman. I did not look at anyone else as I headed right into the warehouse. It was where the metal boxes had been pried open the night before. I stood up straight before saying calmly, "From now onward…" I walked over to the pried-open metal box and circled it slowly, as if inspecting a familiar battlefield. The workers had dispersed to return to work, but many of them listened carefully to what I was doing, occasionally looking over at me. Chapter 3 Lynn did not leave. She stood at a distance with her arms crossed, looking at me with doubt and curiosity. "I need something," I said to her. Lynn raised an eyebrow. "What do you need? I've already instructed someone to bring you the warehouse keys." I shook my head. "I'm not talking about the keys. I want the entry records of the warehouse, a copy of the surveillance footage, and the door entry records." I paused before continuing, "I need records from the past three months." Lynn was taken aback while the warehouse supervisor, Wentworth, burst out laughing at me. "Do you really think you're a detective, Leigh? What's the point of investigating this? The thief must be long gone by now." I ignored him as I stared at the ground. Several drag marks could be seen right in front of the metal cupboard. Messy footprints were imprinted in the dust on the floor, but I could still tell they belonged to different people. I crouched and touched the ground gently with my finger. The dust was thick. That meant not many people came to this place. I turned to look at the side door of the warehouse. There was a small portion of the metal net that had been bent from being pressed, but the lock had not been pried apart. I stood up and said, "Someone came in through the side door last night, not the front door." Wentworth was taken aback, but quickly sneered. "Everyone knows that. The locks are in one piece, which means someone climbed inside here." I remained silent as I walked to the side door. Beneath the metal net was a concrete floor with a clear footprint. The bottom of the sole was thick, while the thread pattern of the sole was diagonal. I stared at it for a few seconds before standing up. "Only the warehouse's forklift driver wears shoes like this." There was instant silence as the expression on Wentworth's face changed. "What nonsense are you talking about?!" I ignored him and continued looking at the ground. The drag marks stretched all the way to the warehouse's corner, where a small emergency door was. The lock was in one piece, but there was a very faint scratch on the side of the door frame. It looked like a scratch made from a metal box being dragged out. I touched the scratch and found my fingers sticky with black oil. I turned to look at Lynn. "I want to see the security footage outside the warehouse." Lynn frowned. "Why?" I pointed at the marks on the ground. "The stolen item was moved out from here, but the thief did not enter from here." Lynn's expression started to turn solemn. "What do you mean?" I looked at the passage outside the side door and replied calmly, "Someone opened this door in advance, and it was someone from this warehouse." "Who could that be?" Lynn's tone no longer held any contempt for me and was filled with questions instead. I turned to look at her, and my gaze turned to Tony and the group of workers once more as they started to gather round. I told them what I had found. "This wasn't done by an outsider. This is an inside job." My words made the warehouse break out in a huge commotion. Lynn was taken aback. She quickly went to a nearby desk to pull out a copy of the records from a pile of documents. "But security checked everything yesterday. There wasn't any strange activity according to the door entry records." She passed me the records, which clearly stated that the warehouse door had not been opened during the night. I glanced at the words and smiled slightly. "They were checking the wrong records." Lynn was taken aback. "What do you mean?" I pointed at the side door. "The thief did not enter from the front door. The metal net on the side door was bent from being pressed, but the lock is intact. That means someone opened that door in advance and closed the door from inside the warehouse." With that, I pointed at the ground. "There are marks of something being dragged here. The boxes were dragged out from the inside, but the footprints are headed in only one direction." Chapter 4 "That means whoever moved the item knows this place well." The warehouse slowly turned silent, and Tony frowned. "That doesn't mean anything." I looked at the clear footprint on the ground. "Shoes with a sole like that are only worn by the warehouse's forklift driver." The crowd started whispering amongst themselves as Lynn looked solemn. "Are you sure?" I did not answer immediately, instead walking toward the metal cupboard. The cupboard lock had been pried apart, but the scratch marks were faint. I touched the scratch with my finger. The side of the metal was almost intact, and I stood up to announce, "The lock was pried open after the theft to make it look like it was an outside job." The warehouse was instantly silent as everyone stared at me. A freshly-hired stockkeeper had overturned the security team's investigation results, which had taken an entire day, in only a few glances. Tony looked shocked as he glanced back and forth between the ground and the pried-open cupboard door, while Lynn was stunned. The condescending look in her eye vanished when she looked at me. All that was left was shock. "This is all just talk," Tony broke the silence as his face fell. "Find the culprit if you claim this to be an inside job. All I care about are results." "All right." I did not say anything else as I went to the side door. A thin layer of dust could be seen on the ground outside the door. I crouched and slowly traced the mark on the ground with my finger. The drag marks led to a corner of the warehouse, where the forklifts were parked. I stood up and looked at the forklifts. Dust was stuck on the wheels, and I went over and lowered my head to look at them. The tire marks matched the marks on the ground. Everyone around me eventually quietened, and the people who were laughing at me stopped talking because none of them had noticed those marks before. I continued toward the forklifts and found a very faint oily handprint on the forklift door. I saw a new scratch on the side of the chair, and I reached out to touch it. The oil on it had not dried yet. Lynn could not hold back any longer as she asked me a question, but I did not answer her. All I did was look up at everyone in the warehouse and turn my gaze around until I stopped at one person. It was the forklift driver, Jonah. He was standing at the back of the crowd, looking a little pale. I said calmly, "You were the only one on night shift last night." "Oh my gosh! What you did…" Lynn's voice was trembling slightly as she spoke in a low voice. "Not many people could learn the truth from the investigative method, especially with the evidence you found." Such a method required considerable experience and observation, and one could easily reach the wrong conclusion if a single detail were overlooked. I did not look up and continued crouching on the ground as my finger slowly compared the footprint on the ground and the forklift tire threads. "This isn't theoretical to me," I spoke calmly, "When I was on assignment overseas twenty years ago, this was a basic requirement." I paused to wipe the sweat from my forehead before looking up at Lynn to continue with composure, "I worked security detail in the Middle East twenty years ago, and I was in charge of ensuring the safety of the warehouse and transporting goods and warehouse items." Memories of that time flooded my mind as I flashed back. I was in my twenties, wearing a bulletproof vest, standing outside a gigantic warehouse filled with essentials like supplies and provisions. The warehouse was surrounded by armed personnel. My responsibility was simple. The moment I received a mission, I had to find that person as quickly as possible. There was no advanced technology nor complex equipment to help me back then. I could only rely on the tracks on the ground to help me. They could be footprints, drag marks, or tire tracks. I needed to find out where they were headed. Chapter 5 The prints could also reveal a person's habits. Most of the time, it only took one footprint for me to locate a person. My captain had once patted me on the shoulder and said, "Remember, the ground will never lie to you." My flashback ended, and I stood up to look at the drag mark on the ground. "The person who took the item used a forklift, and he only drove it once." Lynn was taken aback. "What?" I pointed at the corner of the warehouse. "There is only one drag mark, which means whatever was taken was first dragged toward the forklift. After that, it was moved with the forklift." I looked at the forklift one more time. "If this were an outside job, the thief wouldn't have known where to take the forklift keys." The warehouse was silent as everyone stared at me. Even Lynn was surprised. She looked at me, a middle-aged man in a worn-down worker's uniform with hands full of calluses. It was difficult for her to imagine me as an ordinary stockkeeper. Lynn had no idea what to make of the contrast. “W-who exactly are you?" she could not help asking. There was respect in her tone. I smiled but did not answer. All I did was walk toward the forklift again to gently knock on the forklift door while glancing down at the tire. The dust was pressed flat to the ground, which meant the tires had moved. My footsteps and the clanging of metal were the only sounds that could be heard in the warehouse. The echoes were particularly loud and crisp in the warehouse's wide space. Everyone around me gradually stopped speaking as their expressions shifted from curious to solemn, and ultimately to one of indescribable surprise. They walked past this place every day, but none of them had ever noticed anything different. Three hours later, I had deduced the entire situation from every trace and mark I found in the warehouse. I compared several other drag marks on the ground once more. The route was clear to see. The metal cupboard, the forklift, and the side door. There was only one set of footprints throughout the entire process. "I'm done." I let out a long exhale as I stood up. The warehouse was quiet as everyone looked at me. Tony unconsciously clenched his fist as sweat covered his palms. He looked nervous and doubtful at the same time, while Lynn looked at me with a whole new perspective. She walked to the side door and took a deep breath while slowly clicking into the security footage showing the outside of the warehouse. Bzzt… The sound of a machine starting was heard from inside the warehouse. The footage from outside the side door lit up, and the path toward the warehouse gradually appeared on the screen. It was quiet at first. All that could be seen on the footage was the light outside the warehouse and the security guard passing by occasionally. Someone shouted, "Look! The lights are turned on!" Tony quickly went closer to look at the footage with an agitated expression. This was it! The thief would be caught the moment the cameras caught him. However, his hopes lasted less than ten seconds. Beep… Beep… A sharp alarm was suddenly heard from the main controls, and the screen jumped. The clear footage turned red with a warning, then disappeared. The system notification indicated that the footage data had been damaged. The hopes of everyone in the warehouse were dashed, and Tony's smile froze. "What happened? Why is the footage damaged?" That was when hurried footsteps were heard coming from the warehouse door. "Mr. Chapman! Mr. Chapman!" His assistant, Charlie, ran in breathlessly with a middle-aged man in a suit following behind. It was the security consultant hired by the company, Greg Walsh. The first thing Greg saw upon entering the warehouse was the crowd around the security footage. His face fell when he saw me standing by it. Chapter 6 "This is atrocious!" Greg yelled angrily because his authority had been challenged. "Mr. Chapman, didn't I tell you before that the warehouse investigation has to be conducted by professionals? How can you allow a stockkeeper to simply look into this?" He went quickly to the screens and glanced at the red warning with a disappointed look on his face. He slammed the table hard. "Damn it! The footage has been destroyed! It could have been salvaged, but everything is gone now because someone looked at it without thinking!" His words were a huge blow to everyone listening, and Tony's face fell. "What do you mean?" Greg pointed at the screen. "Someone tampered with the system and overwrote the footage. We won't be able to continue investigating via security footage anymore." Tony's expression turned darker with every word Greg said. Soon, his pale face turned red with anger as he suddenly turned to stare at me. He looked like he wanted to eat me alive. "James Leigh..." His voice was frighteningly low. The contract I signed, which demanded $3.6 million in compensation, felt heavy on my shoulders. Everyone in the warehouse started whispering again. Some were gleefully waiting for more drama, while others took pity on my situation. There were some who gloated over my situation as well. I looked right into Tony's murderous eyes and Greg's arrogant face, and I replied calmly, "He's wrong." The warehouse turned silent right away as I looked at the red screen and continued slowly, "The footage isn't damaged. This portion of the footage was deleted earlier by someone." Greg burst out laughing. "That's ridiculous. What a bunch of nonsense!" He pointed at me and said to everyone around, "Did you even hear what he said? What does a stockkeeper know about surveillance systems? Do you know that deleting security footage requires permission from a higher authority?" He turned to look at Tony while trying to provoke him. "You put too much trust in someone like him, Mr. Chapman. Now look where it's gotten you. The surveillance is gone, and we've lost all traces of any clues." Tony clenched his fists slowly as the veins on the back of his hands throbbed. He pointed at me as his voice trembled with anger. "Explain yourself, Leigh, or else…" He glanced at the contract and said coldly, "Or else you won't walk out of this warehouse in one piece." Intense pressure washed over me from every direction like a tidal wave. Tony's eyes glinted viciously at me, as if he could tear me apart the very next second. Greg stood to the side with a small smile on his face. What little respect the workers of the warehouse had just developed for me vanished in an instant. They turned back into an audience, awaiting more drama. However, I was particularly calm. I pointed at a warehouse record in the footage on the screen and said to Lynn, "Look here." She was taken aback but leaned closer to look. "Number 4711," I remained levelheaded and said it loud enough for everyone in the warehouse to hear. "It's not a normal warehouse record. The real serial number for damaged equipment or system mishandling is usually the same, but this is a completely different number. This serial number means that someone tampered with the system from the outside. "To put it simply, someone managed to bypass higher authority to modify the warehouse's security settings, which caused the system to go into auto lockdown," I said while turning to look at Greg. Chapter 7 "You're in charge of the warehouse's security system, Mr. Walsh. I believe you're well aware of what this number means." Greg's smile froze. There was panic in his eyes, but he quickly calmed down to deny everything. "That's complete nonsense!" He pointed at me and said to everyone else, "Are you sure you want to listen to him? What does a stockkeeper know about a system's records? Anyone would know how to make up these numbers. It's clear that the problem is with the equipment! Stop trying to stall for time with your nonsense!" "Are you sure?" I laughed coldly and turned to look at Lynn, who looked taken aback, while ignoring him. "Can you help me with something, Lynn?" My tone was calm. Lynn was surprised but nodded. "Can you get your laptop from your car and connect to the warehouse's main security camera via data cable?" "What are you trying to do?" Lynn looked cautious. "I'm trying to pull backend records from the system." "That's impossible!" Greg suddenly screamed. "Backend records can only be viewed with the highest authority’s permission! The only people who have the password are the technicians of this security system model. What does a stockkeeper like him know?!" Greg's reaction was so extreme that even Tony started to realize something was not right. His dark gaze moved between Greg and me. Lynn was hesitating. She looked at Greg's emotional outburst and then at my calm demeanor. She clenched her teeth in the end and said, "All right." Lynn turned to run out the door and quickly returned with a pink laptop. She swiftly set up the data cable as per my request. "Click on the terminal interface," I said, "and make sure the connection parameters are accurate." Lynn's fingers flew across the keyboard, and very soon, the black operating interface popped up. "Type in the password now." I took a deep breath and told her a string of numbers and symbols. After I was done with the last digit, Lynn's finger paused above the 'Enter' key. She looked up at me in shock. She knew this password well. The first half of the password was the warehouse system's code name, but the second half was her mentor's name. The numbers in the middle were the year her mentor had taken part in designing this system. It was also a hidden code her mentor had mentioned to her in private, which should not have been used as a password. However, she did not hesitate as she hit the 'Enter' key hard. A notification appeared instantly on the screen. She was able to access the system. A backend interface not seen before immediately appeared, full of data records. Greg turned ghostly pale. "Click on the last activity record," I said. Lynn nodded and clicked on the file. Every line of the record was displayed clearly, and I pointed at the last few records. "Look here. Someone logged into the warehouse system yesterday afternoon at 3.15 PM via a remote maintenance port. The login belongs to an administrator. That person turned off the alarm system in Warehouse 1 and temporarily opened up the back door of the loading dock. "This was when the item was stolen." Lynn immediately checked the origin of the login, and her head jerked up the next second. She glared at Greg. "This IP address belongs to the intranet of South City University." Greg was a visiting professor of South City University. Everyone in the warehouse immediately turned to look at him.