On the other side of the city, Bakuto and Sowande arrived outside the New York Continental Hotel in their own transport buses.
The hotel doorman looked at the approaching vehicles, a flicker of recognition crossing his face as if recalling the previous time the hotel had been "deconsecrated." Before he could move, he was cut down by a burst of gunfire from the lead Hand operative.
Nearly a hundred fully armed Hand members poured out of the vehicles. Bakuto and Sowande gestured forward. Instantly, ten men pulled the pins on fragmentation grenades and lobbed them into the hotel lobby.
The grenades skittered across the polished marble floor. Charon, who was on duty at the front desk, spotted them and dove for cover, slamming his hand onto the service desk's emergency alarm system.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The explosions ripped through the lobby, sending shrapnel flying in every direction. Several assassins sitting in the executive lounge didn't even have time to react before they were shredded. Those lucky enough to be facing away or wearing high-grade ballistic vests survived the initial blast but were left dazed and reeling.
In all its years of operation, the Continental—aside from internal purges—had never been attacked by an outside force. It was the eternal neutral zone, the sanctuary. Tonight, that sanctuary was shattered.
Alarms blared throughout the building. The hotel's intercom system crackled to life on every floor: "The Continental Hotel is under attack at the main entrance. All guests may choose to evacuate or engage the hostiles."
"Repeating: The Continental Hotel is under attack by an unknown force. All guests may choose to evacuate or engage."
In the basement lounge, dozens of assassins enjoying a drink froze. A second later, guns were drawn and safeties clicked off. Some moved toward the stairs to reinforce the hotel, while others headed for the rear exits to evacuate.
Those attempting to leave through the back, however, met a grisly fate. The Hand had the building completely surrounded. As soon as the first wave of assassins stepped into the alley, they were ruthlessly gunned down by waiting Hand snipers and riflemen.
Inside, Bakuto and Sowande's men stormed in as the smoke cleared, systematically firing "insurance shots" into the fallen to ensure no one would survive to counter-attack. They killed anyone in their path—staff, guests, and assassins alike.
Bakuto and Sowande joined the fray personally. Both masters of K'un-Lun's internal energy, they moved like blurs. No ordinary assassin stood a chance; the killing efficiency of the Hand spiked the moment the two "Fingers" entered the building.
Charon, recovering from the blast, sprinted toward Winston's private suite. "Winston! It's bad. Someone is laying siege to the hotel!"
He found Winston already dressed, his expression grimly composed. "Tell our people to arm up. Full tactical response. We hold the line."
After dismissing Charon, Winston picked up his phone to call Shiranui Hayate for reinforcements. The line was busy. He tried the Shiranui Agency's main line—busy. Winston's heart sank as he set the phone down. He knew then that the situation was far worse than a simple territorial dispute.
He moved into the safe room and began monitoring the enemy through the CCTV feeds. Dozens of Continental security personnel, under Charon's direction, rushed to the armory to equip heavy armor and automatic weapons.
Meanwhile, the Bowery King—the lord of New York's beggars—found his own attempts to reach Hayate blocked. When he couldn't get through, he dialed Winston.
Winston answered immediately, hoping it was Hayate. "Bowery King, what is the status?"
"Winston, what the hell is happening? The streets around the Continental are locked down," the Bowery King growled. "Even the street where Elder Hayate is located is under a total blockade. My people can't get near it."
Winston's jaw tightened. "The Continental is under heavy assault by an unknown force. It's likely the Elder is facing the same. Since you swore fealty to him, do what you must."
The Bowery King's voice turned cold. "I understand." He hung up and immediately dialed John Wick. Since John had helped him reclaim the Bowery, the two had remained in close contact.
Because of the time difference in Moscow, John was wide awake. "John, it's a war," the King said. "The Elder and the Continental are both under attack. I'm moving my people in now. If you have any other contacts in New York, use them."
John Wick sat bolt upright in bed. "You're sure? The Elder was hit?"
"The streets are cordoned off and the phones are jammed," the King replied rapidly. "Winston confirmed the hotel is a war zone. I'm guessing the Elder's place is the same. I'm going in. Reach out to whoever you can."
John Wick knew the Bowery King was right. As an Adjudicator, he didn't just have his old personal connections; he held the authority of the High Table.
John didn't hesitate. He dialed the leader of the Belarusian Roma in New York. As a "Son of Belarus," Jardani Jovanovich could seek more than just sanctuary; as an Adjudicator, he could mobilize the entire Roma syndicate to go to war.