"Don't jinx it! That's seriously terrifying, okay?"
Laila jumped at Dong's confident statement. In TV shows and movies, lines like that usually meant something was about to go wrong—and she had no intention of ending up back in Martin's hands.
"Jinx? What does that mean?" Roy asked, bewildered, and the others looked equally confused.
Laila twitched at the corner of her mouth. "Just… stop talking right now."
The rest of the men exchanged glances, baffled but not about to argue. She was a woman after all—and smart men knew better than to argue with one.
Five minutes passed in a flash. Even in tense silence, the wait didn't feel long.
Then came the sound of helicopter blades slicing through the night—at first distant, then steadily louder. The aircraft hadn't yet come into view, but its unmistakable roar approached from above.
"It's here," Dong was the first to stand.
Laila and the others followed suit, stepping aside to clear space in the open field.
Per the plan, the helicopter wasn't going to land—it would lower a rope to minimize the risk of an ambush. But from the looks of things, everyone was still busy dealing with the chaos below, and no one seemed to have noticed what was happening up here.
The downdraft from the rotor was fierce—strong enough that even trained soldiers needed practice to ascend or descend safely. For someone like Laila, boarding directly from the ground was a far safer option.
As the helicopter hovered overhead, Dong grabbed the rope first, climbing up to consult with the pilot about getting the aircraft closer to the ground to pick up Laila.
But just when everyone had started to relax—
Bang!
A gunshot cracked through the night—loud enough to cut through even the thundering roar of the helicopter.
A gunshot? From where?!
Before anyone could react, the helicopter suddenly veered upward, climbing rapidly. The reason became obvious: a bullet had struck the fuselage, leaving a fist-sized hole in the side. The damage was no joke.
"Martin!" Dong, still halfway up the rope, caught sight of the shooter under the glare of the helicopter's searchlight. His face turned pale.
Everything had been going so smoothly—how the hell did Martin show up now? And how did he know where to find them?
But there he stood—alone, it seemed. If it was just him, they might still have a chance to take him out.
Yet it was as if Martin could read their thoughts. With a sudden movement, he flung open his jacket, revealing a mess of explosives strapped across his chest.
"Come on! Kill me if you dare!" He laughed maniacally, eyes gleaming with madness. "One shot and we all go straight to hell! Isn't that exciting?"
Dong was still mid-air, but the mercenaries on the ground had a clear view—and their faces turned grim. They recognized the explosives immediately. If those went off, the entire mountain would be obliterated—slum and all.
We're talking total annihilation—a blast radius large enough to level a small city.
"This lunatic!"
Dong instinctively tried to leap down from the rope, but the pilot quickly stopped him.
"We can't get closer," the pilot warned. "If he hits the engine, this whole op is toast."
"Then what do we do?" Dong was getting anxious.
The pilot answered with steely calm, "You know the rules. We've got five minutes on-station. If the situation isn't resolved by then, we're pulling out. That's the plan."
"What?!" Dong was furious. "Five minutes? There's no way we can deal with that madman in five minutes!"
"A soldier must follow orders," the pilot replied flatly. "You know that as well as I do."
Dong did know. He was a soldier, too. But right now, it just felt too rigid. Even in ancient times, they said 'a general in the field need not follow every command.' Shouldn't they adjust to the situation? The five-minute rule had been based on concerns about ground-level chaos—but right now, it was just one man. Surely they could wait a little longer?
Unfortunately, the helicopter had been provided by the South African military. Their mission parameters were strict, and if they refused to risk the craft, there was nothing Dong could do. His only hope now was that someone on the ground could neutralize Martin before the clock ran out.
If he'd known things would turn out like this, he would've had Laila board first. Instead, he'd climbed up to negotiate with the pilot, and now the helicopter was too high. Even if he wanted to jump back down, he couldn't.
Below, Martin looked up at the hovering helicopter and sneered with malicious glee.
"Director Moran, I've treated you quite well, haven't I? Is this how you repay my generosity?"
To be fair, Martin hadn't been cruel to her. He gave her food, and shelter, and treated her kindly—short of putting her on a pedestal. Aside from barring her from returning to her film crew, he hadn't even kept a tight leash. He'd even presented her with a promising script and an up-and-coming screenwriter she was genuinely impressed by.
And Laila was touched by that—but she was still going to reject him.
"Well, it's a shame, but I have some bad news for you," she said, genuinely regretful. "Mr. Martin, the plan you had—about making money from movies? It's not going to work."
"…What did you say?" Martin's eyes widened in disbelief.
Laila shrugged. "You have a pretty big misunderstanding about how box office revenue works. The reason my films make so much money is because of distribution. To put it simply, I make a product, and someone else has to sell it. Mr. Martin, even if I made a movie for you, do you have any way to get it into theaters? If it only screens in South Africa, do you think it'll make those kinds of numbers?"
"No… No, that can't be right!" Martin's vision blurred with rage. "You're lying!"
"Think about it. You'll see I'm not. And even if you somehow managed to get the film released internationally, the revenue wouldn't all go to you. You'd have to share it with theaters and give a cut to distributors. The amount you'd pocket wouldn't be nearly as much as you imagined."
Of course, it would still be a huge sum—but Laila didn't feel like telling him that.
Martin nearly choked on his fury. Split the money with distributors and theaters?
Why the hell would they get a share?
He conveniently forgot that without incentives, no one would lift a finger for him.