If I agreed to your request, I'd have to be senile.
Montgomery thought to himself.
It wasn't that Montgomery didn't trust Lake. On the contrary, he trusted Lake very much—at least when it came to solving cases. After all, Lake's case-solving rate was plain for all to see. Otherwise, he wouldn't have become the fastest-promoted member of the Major Crimes Division, nor the youngest leader of the three teams.
Kate Beckett, the leader of Team Two, was even a year older than Lake.
But...
The Textile Factory wasn't an ordinary textile factory. It had donated five million dollars during last month's World Trade Center incident and had even been received by the mayor and governor.
Moreover, the Textile Factory had ties to the New York Association for the Blind.
If anything went wrong and he stirred up a hornet's nest, provoking the Association for the Blind alone would be enough to put the NYPD in a passive position, let alone the mayor and governor.
So.
Montgomery rubbed his forehead and said to Lake, who was standing in front of him, "Give me evidence. Solid evidence. Don't just say you want me to transfer the Special Operations Team to you—even if you want the National Guard to support your operation, that's no problem at all. But you need evidence. Evidence that'll give me the confidence to confront the Association for the Blind, the mayor, and the governor the moment you make your move."
I knew it would be like this.
Listening to Montgomery's earnest warning, Lake sighed inwardly before turning and leaving Montgomery's office.
That evening.
Lake entered his study and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
I'm angry!
Who told the Textile Factory to provoke Lake?
As he'd said before, Lake had already made up his mind. Even though he knew the plot, he couldn't be bothered to get involved. You fight your fight, and I'll play my game.
After all...
He'd already obtained the Textile Factory's core skill, and he had no interest in that shabby cloth-weaving machine.
But who would have thought? Just as Lake was planning to stay out of it, the Textile Factory had opened fire.
When the tiger doesn't show its might, do you take it for a sick cat?
The Textile Factory had to be wiped out.
Thinking of that thrilling moment in the afternoon, Lake thought viciously that the Textile Factory had to be dealt with as soon as possible—at the very least, before that Wasteful Xiaobai destroyed it.
If Wasteful Xiaobai made the first move, wouldn't all the cash inside the Textile Factory explode along with it?
You want evidence?
I'll give you evidence!
Lake had made up his mind this time to lead men in surrounding and annihilating the Textile Factory.
Perfect.
His girlfriend Maureen hadn't come over today. She'd returned to her own apartment instead. After all, they were only dating. Although they occasionally ate and slept together at Starlight Tower, most of the time they still went back to their own homes.
That was easy to understand.
They both needed their own private space.
Having made up his mind.
Lake walked over to the study's bookcase and looked at the third book in the third row on the left: Language and Behavioral Arts.
He turned it.
With a crisp click.
The bookcase slid aside, revealing a safe hidden behind it.
He opened it.
Inside lay a black card, ten stacked gold coins, and something resembling a pocket watch.
These were the possessions Lake had as the Black King.
With the glasses on, Lake was Lake.
With the glasses off, Lake was the Black King, a lone assassin prowling through the darkness!
The Gold-rimmed Glasses were an item from the mystic side's item category. They hadn't come from a lottery. Rather, when Lake turned twenty-one, he'd won them through the coming-of-age lottery draw granted by his cheat.
Gold-rimmed Glasses: Item type, ungraded, rule-based. Ever wondered why no one suspects Superman when he puts on his glasses? Ever wondered why Conan can solve cases without restraint after putting on his glasses? Put these glasses on, and you can do the same.
If not for these glasses, Lake honestly wouldn't have chosen the NYPD as his part-time job.
The twenty gold coins in the safe were the payment Lake had received for carrying out assassination missions over the years.
Twenty gold coins could get him twenty stays at The Continental Hotel, hire the cleanup crew to dispose of twenty corpses, or buy forty glasses of fine liquor at The Continental Hotel's bar...
I really am poor!
Looking at the total value of the gold coins before him, Lake felt utterly miserable. If not for the money-devouring cheat, he dared guarantee that he'd already achieved financial freedom and owned a castle by now.
But...
Spending money can make you a god!
Thinking of the cheat's slogan, Lake felt a little less miserable. He grabbed the gold coins and the black card belonging to the Black King from the safe and slipped them into his pocket.
If every service at The Continental Hotel didn't require gold coins, Lake honestly would've exchanged the twenty coins for US dollars.
Thinking of the piles of gold coins in that Baba Yaga's basement, Lake began wondering, after leaving Starlight Tower, whether he should steal them and bring them home.
After all, that Baba Yaga had retired, and his wife was still around. As long as Lake didn't touch his wife, he felt there was a very good chance of success.
But when he remembered that his motto was black eats black, Lake abandoned the idea.
Black eating black relied on skill.
Stealing?
That sort of thing was utterly beneath him. Lake disdained to do it.
Ten minutes later.
When Lake emerged from an alley near Starlight Tower, he had already put away the Gold-rimmed Glasses. With both hands in his pockets, he walked toward The Continental Hotel on Pearl Street, just a short distance away, two blocks over.
He planned to buy a piece of evidence from The Assistance for four gold coins. As long as the Textile Factory brought him more than a million dollars in profits, Lake felt he'd make an absolute killing.
However...
When Lake stepped into The Continental Hotel, whose unremarkable exterior and lobby were no different from those of an ordinary hotel, he suddenly had a feeling that perhaps he wouldn't even need to spend those four gold coins.
No.
He'd have to spend one.
"Good evening, Black King."
"Good evening."
"Drinks."
Lake nodded and smiled at the black attendant behind the reception desk, then took a gold coin from his pocket and slid it over.
After accepting the coin, the black attendant nodded toward the server standing by the elevator leading down to the bar.
Lake walked over and entered the elevator.
That gold coin counted as the entrance fee. Drinks inside the hotel were charged separately.
What a racket.
But who could blame them? The Continental Hotel had practically established a monopoly over the assassin industry's entire chain. Monopoly first, then harvesting the profits—even The Continental Hotel had learned the capitalists' tricks.
Their hearts were truly black.
Ding!
The elevator opened.
The soft light music sounded somewhat out of place in the dimly lit bar. Moreover, the atmosphere tonight was even stranger than usual.
Several assassins with nothing to do that evening sat in their usual seats, but their eyes were all fixed on a man sitting in a booth not far away.
There was fear, admiration, and even pity in their gazes.
The Cross.
Carlos.
The man who had defected from The Assistance organization!
Before you continue