I'm Going to Take All Three

"Oh, what's that?"

"I'll take out The Assistance first—the organization that wants to steal your son."

"..."

The atmosphere in the booth grew quiet.

Hearing this, Carlos put away the smile on his face and looked at Lake, who was still smiling. His mind seemed to freeze for a moment as he replayed what Lake had just said.

Lake smiled. "How about this? I'll do it first. Once it's done, you can pay me for protecting your son's ordinary life. Deal?"

Carlos heard him clearly this time.

But.

Precisely because he had heard him clearly, Carlos looked straight at Lake, a trace of anger appearing on his face. "Are you here to mess with me?"

Lake's expression didn't change. "Do you think I don't sleep at night, come all the way here, just to mess with you?"

Carlos nodded. "So you're insane."

Lake shook his head. "I have a certificate from a hospital to prove otherwise. Of course, if you want me to do this, you'll first need to give me some information proving that The Assistance is the Textile Factory. Handwritten will do."

A former assassin who had defected was providing proof that The Assistance was the Textile Factory.

That counted as hard evidence, right?

If even that didn't count, Lake figured Inspector Montgomery and The Assistance must have some shady deal going on. He was already prepared to expose the rotten apple in the police department.

"Besides..."

Lake looked at Carlos. "The Continental Hotel never said assassins weren't allowed to kill another assassin organization."

Yes.

This was a loophole in plain sight.

Assassins couldn't betray their organizations, but assassins from different organizations could kill members of another assassin organization. It was just that nobody normally thought to operate that way.

Carlos frowned and stared expressionlessly at Lake in front of him.

Lake glanced at his watch. It was almost ten. He wondered whether his girlfriend had called him again. If she had and he hadn't answered, then went straight to Starlight Tower, he would have to come up with another excuse.

After a while.

Carlos pressed his lips together. "Fine. What kind of information do you want?"

Lake rubbed his chin. "Handwritten is fine. Write down how The Assistance uses the Textile Factory as cover for its shady dealings, and then include your personal information."

As he spoke.

Lake waved to the bartender. When the bartender came over, he said to Carlos, "Once you've written it, that'll be enough. If you don't believe me, you can keep an eye on the area around the NYPD at nine tomorrow morning. If you're worried it's an ambush, you can watch from a distance. After I'm done, we'll meet here again and make the next deal. Of course, what we're trading then will have to change."

Carlos asked, "Change to what?"

Lake smiled. "Your bounty!"

Carlos: "..."

Once Lake took down The Assistance, The Continental Hotel would intervene and issue a bounty on Carlos directly. The Continental Hotel didn't care about anything else. Carlos was an assassin who had betrayed his organization, after all. Even if the police department took down The Assistance, The Continental Hotel wouldn't let a traitorous assassin continue living comfortably.

So Carlos would still face a wanted bounty from The Continental Hotel—and it was worth two million. Lake had thought it over, and that was money he could make.

Wow.

I'm about to get rich in one shot.

Lake was already imagining the night his fortune would arrive.

Eleven at night.

Wearing his glasses, Lake returned to Starlight Tower.

He opened the door.

Sure enough.

Maureen, wearing glasses and sitting on the sofa while reading a psychology book, looked at Lake as he came in from outside. "Where did you go?"

Lake turned and closed the door. "I went to a bar with Bob to have a drink. He's leaving New York in a few days."

Bob Lee Swagger.

Lake's comrade from his time in the military. They had carried guns together, coughed together, and carried out two overseas combat missions together. Bob had enlisted before Lake, but had retired later than him.

Maureen took off her glasses, walked over to Lake, and took the suit jacket he had removed. She sniffed it, then asked, "The comrade you served with in the SEALs?"

Lake hummed in acknowledgment and walked over to the bar. Seeing his phone sitting there, he tapped it open and raised his eyebrows. "Twelve missed calls. I thought you weren't coming over today."

Maureen definitely had some kind of controlling streak.

Now that the honeymoon period is over...

Lake looked up at Maureen and chuckled inwardly.

Maureen rolled her eyes. "You got caught in a shootout today."

Lake said, "So? I don't need psychological counseling."

In free America, there was a shootout every day.

That was the main theme of the United States.

Maureen sat down on a barstool and watched Lake pour himself a glass of bourbon and down it in one gulp. "Why don't you tell me what happened today?"

Lake thought about it, then shook his head. "There's nothing to talk about. Justice prevailed over evil in the end."

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?"

"I heard you applied to Montgomery to search the Textile Factory?"

"Yeah."

Lake shrugged at his girlfriend, whose information network was exceptionally well-connected despite never going into the field. "What about it?"

Maureen frowned. "Without any evidence, you'd better not act on your own. That textile factory isn't only connected to the Disabled Persons' Federation. It's also connected to the mayor and the governor."

Apparently, the current mayor of New York City had defeated his opponent thanks to the Disabled Persons' Federation's bloc of votes. The reason was that Director Sloan of the Textile Factory had appeared at one of his fund-raising dinners.

Lake wanted to laugh. "God, you sound almost exactly like Montgomery."

Maureen's expression turned serious. "That's because Montgomery told me. He knows your personality, and Montgomery believes what you told him. But when dealing with an organization like this, you need to be twice as careful. The moment you act recklessly, the pressure from above will make you lose everything."

That was reality.

After all, this was a capitalist country. Money could buy everything, while power... couldn't beat money.

Lake snorted.

Lose everything.

Everything Lake had now had been built by his own hands from nothing. Sure, it was only a part-time job, but it was still something he had worked hard to earn. If anyone dared take it away, Lake would chop them up.

Maureen frowned. "Lake, I'm serious. You absolutely cannot act rashly over this."

Lake nodded and answered perfunctorily, "Okay."

Maureen emphasized again, "I'm being serious."

Maureen was Lake's girlfriend, so she knew his personality all too well. She naturally knew how dismissive that "okay" sounded. And even without the bonus of being his girlfriend, her professional training as a psychological therapist was enough to tell that Lake hadn't taken her words to heart.

Maureen sighed. "Do you know why an anonymous letter was enough to get you suspended pending investigation?"

P.S.: Bob—Bob Lee Swagger—is from Shooter!

Happy weekend, everyone!