269: Chapter 269 Paris Horror

Chen Muyang suggested over the phone to send people to clear the area.

"Don't do anything reckless," Chen Fan spoke. "If we send people to clear the area, the French media will have more excuses to write nonsense. Give the phone to Nianyao."

Chen Muyang transferred the call.

The video call connected. Chen Nianyao's face appeared on the screen. Her eyes were red, and tears were streaming down her cheeks. The background was a guest room at the Four Seasons Hotel George V in Paris. Outside the window, reporters with long lenses and microphones were everywhere.

"Dad," Chen Nianyao cried out.

"What are you crying for?" Chen Fan looked at the screen. "Your father is here; the sky won't fall."

Su Wanqing walked over and sat next to Chen Fan. She looked at her daughter on the screen and reached out to touch the display.

"Mom," Chen Nianyao wiped her tears.

"What exactly happened?" Chen Fan asked.

Chen Nianyao explained the situation. The art exhibition opened today. The main exhibition hall had the highest level of security. There was a power outage for ten seconds. After the backup power came on, an oil painting worth five hundred million euros on the wall was gone.

The French police investigated for a long time but found no results. The sergeant leading the team said the surveillance had been hacked and that internal personnel were the most likely suspects. The police had blocked Chen Nianyao's entire team inside the hotel, refusing to let them leave.

Outside, reporters were everywhere, saying the Chinese people had stolen from themselves to commit insurance fraud.

"What is the police chief's name?" Chen Fan asked.

"Pierre," Chen Nianyao answered.

"Just stay in the hotel. Don't go downstairs and don't accept any interviews," Chen Fan instructed. "Eat well and sleep well. By tomorrow morning, the painting will be returned intact."

He hung up the phone.

Chen Fan dialed Chen Haoyu's number.

"Investigate the Paris black market," Chen Fan ordered. "Ordinary thieves wouldn't dare touch a masterpiece worth five hundred million euros. Those who do would have already found a buyer. Mobilize the European nodes of Pangu System's computing power to screen all abnormal large-scale capital flows in Paris over the past forty-eight hours."

"Do we need to notify the French government for cooperation?" Chen Haoyu asked over the phone.

"No need," Chen Fan replied. "The French police system is full of loopholes. Directly use Pangu System's computing power to hack into their city surveillance network and screen all suspicious vehicles around the time of the crime. Focus on those overseas funds moving through underground banks."

Inside the secret basement of Longwan No. 1.

Chen Haoyu stood before a giant display screen. The main servers of the Pangu Computing Center were running at full speed. On the screen, hundreds of millions of data streams flashed by frantically.

Within ten minutes, data from underground banks, offshore accounts, and cryptocurrency trading platforms across all of Europe were stripped bare.

The target was locked.

Five minutes later, Chen Haoyu sent a file to Chen Fan's phone.

The file contained only one address and one photo. An abandoned textile factory in the 13th arrondissement of Paris. The photo showed a man wearing a peaked cap, carrying a long, black combination briefcase into the factory building.

Chen Fan glanced at the photo. He did not call the police. The French police were too inefficient.

He scrolled through his phone's contacts and found a number.

The contact name was: Alexander.

This was the new Patriarch of the Knights Templar, the actual controller of the entire European underworld.

The call connected.

"Boss," Alexander greeted in fluent Chinese.

"Abandoned textile factory, 13th arrondissement, Paris," Chen Fan's tone was steady. "Someone stole a painting from my daughter's exhibition. I'm giving you two hours. Find the painting. Find out who they are. Throw the people and the painting at the entrance of the Paris Police Headquarters."

The sound of a sharp intake of breath came through the phone.

"Understood. I will handle it personally," Alexander replied.

He hung up the phone. Chen Fan placed his phone on the coffee table.

Paris, 13th Arrondissement. The night rain was heavy.

Over a dozen black Land Rover SUVs were parked outside the abandoned textile factory. All their headlights were off.

Car doors slid open. Over a hundred burly men in black raincoats rushed into the factory, holding heavy weapons equipped with silencers. The beams from tactical flashlights crisscrossed in the dark factory building.

In a partitioned room on the second floor of the factory, five thieves were counting cash. The long combination briefcase sat on the table.

The wooden door was kicked into pieces.

Before the lead thief could draw his gun, he was pinned to the ground by two large men. A gunstock smashed into the back of his head, knocking him out instantly. The remaining four were held at gunpoint by black muzzles and all raised their hands.

Alexander, wearing a bespoke suit, walked in through the rainwater. He didn't even look at the people on the ground, walking straight to the table. He fiddled with the combination lock and opened the case. The oil painting was intact.

"Take them to the basement," Alexander took out a handkerchief and wiped his hands. "I want to know who hired them. Get the results within ten minutes. If they don't talk, break their bones one by one."

Several burly men dragged the thieves away.

Ten minutes later, a subordinate walked over to report.

"Patriarch, we have the information," the subordinate handed over a confession.

Alexander scanned the confession, his facial muscles tightening.

"Load the painting into the car; we're going to the police station," Alexander ordered.

Paris Police Headquarters.

Chief Pierre was drinking coffee in his office. The phone on his desk rang incessantly. The media outside were still waiting for him to release the investigation progress regarding Chen Nianyao's team. He had no clue at all and could only shift the suspicion onto the Chinese to calm public opinion.

The screeching of brakes came from outside the main gate.

Several on-duty police officers ran out.

In the heavy rain, five people were tied up and thrown onto the steps. They were bruised and battered, with all their limbs broken. A black combination briefcase was placed next to them.

A black Land Rover was parked at the curb. The window rolled down, and Alexander looked at the police officers who had run out.

"The painting is in the case. These are the thieves," Alexander spoke. "Tell Pierre not to trouble Miss Chen anymore. Otherwise, tomorrow morning, I will have every garbage truck in Paris block the entrance to the Police Headquarters."

The window rolled up, and the SUV sped away.

Yunzhou, hotel suite.

Dawn had just broken. Chen Fan's phone vibrated.

Alexander was calling.

"Boss, the matter is settled," Alexander reported. "The painting has been returned. The French police have lifted the hotel lockdown. Miss Chen is safe."

"Did you interrogate them?" Chen Fan asked.

"I did," Alexander paused, his voice lowering. "Boss, something isn't right. These people aren't ordinary thieves."

Chen Fan didn't speak, waiting for him to continue.

"Stealing the painting was a diversion," Alexander's speaking pace quickened. "I had my men use some 'methods,' and the leader confessed. Their true purpose was to install miniature listening devices at the exhibition site."

"Eavesdropping on whom?" Chen Fan asked.

"Miss Chen," Alexander answered. "More accurately, it's the tablet computer she carries with her. It was specially made by the Huihuang Academy of Sciences."

Chen Fan's hand holding the water glass stopped in mid-air.

Chen Nianyao was a painter and knew nothing about technology. However, her tablet contained part of the basic data for the latest Room-Temperature Superconducting Materials developed by the Huihuang Academy of Sciences. This was a bait that Chen Fan had deliberately let Chen Nianyao carry with her to test data security.

"Who is the buyer?" Chen Fan placed the glass on the table.

"The buyer didn't show up," Alexander replied. "But we've traced the transfer account to its source. The funds came from North America. The methods were very professional, with layers of money laundering. Our intelligence network compared it, and it's a common tactic used by the commercial espionage department under the CIA."

A national-level intelligence agency had entered the fray.

Chen Fan leaned back against the sofa.

"Boss, should I send extra Shadow Guards to bring Miss Chen back to the country?" Alexander asked.

"No need," Chen Fan replied. "Give them the chance to listen."

The call ended. Chen Fan looked at the rising sun outside the window.

Someone was planning to steal the core technology of the Huihuang Group.

Su Wanqing walked over.

"What's wrong?" Su Wanqing asked.

"A mouse has entered the house," Chen Fan stood up and tossed his phone on the table. "Guess what happens if a mouse eats poison?"