Wow!
Wow!
Wow!
Three police cars and six armored vehicles roared out of NYPD headquarters, sirens blaring as they charged toward the castle-like Textile Factory near the New Jersey riverbank.
At eighty miles per hour!
Along the way, the convoy attracted countless curious onlookers from the streets of New York.
Including...
Carlos, who had arrived late because something had come up last night.
Carlos had a reason for being late. Last night, he had stayed at The Continental Hotel until the time his son got off work, then secretly followed him. He had received word that his son, Wesley, had been targeted by The Assistance.
Sure enough.
Fire Fox had come out to seduce his son.
Carlos had gotten into a gunfight with Fire Fox inside an affordable store in Queens, but his son had still believed Fire Fox was a good person because of her beauty. He had gotten into Fire Fox's car and driven off.
That was why Carlos was a little late today.
And now?
Carlos drove an utterly ordinary car behind them, watching the police cars ahead as they advanced. His face remained expressionless, and no one knew what he was thinking.
Could that man be planning to use the NYPD to fight The Assistance?
Carlos had guessed as much yesterday when he heard Lake tell him to keep watch at the station that morning. But he didn't really believe it—not that he doubted anything else. He simply didn't believe the NYPD would attack the Textile Factory.
A man knew his own household best.
Over the years, The Assistance had not only established a good working relationship with the disabled people's association through the Textile Factory, but Director Sloan had also thrown around enough money to infiltrate the mayor's campaign team.
By now, all the land around the castle belonged to The Assistance. That was their reward for helping the mayoral campaign succeed. Without a reward, who would spend real money supporting a mayoral campaign?
So...
Carlos found it hard to believe that, with such connections in place, the NYPD would attack the Textile Factory based on one so-called confession.
But now Carlos was confused.
Even so, Carlos didn't think much of the station's operation. Ultimately, the NYPD operated in the open. Even if they went to the Textile Factory, they couldn't possibly find any evidence proving that it belonged to a killer organization.
So what exactly was that man playing at?
Was he planning to gamble?
That was what Carlos thought.
Half an hour later.
Just as Lake led the SWAT convoy across the bridge to the castle and arrived at its gates, Director Sloan, who was discussing yesterday's explosion at David's apartment inside the Textile Factory, received a phone call.
After hanging up,
Sloan listened to the increasingly close sirens, narrowed his eyes, and said to the people in his office, "The NYPD is here. Get back to work."
Fire Fox and the others exchanged glances.
Butcher said in a deep voice, "What about that guy?"
Sloan frowned slightly. He remembered Wesley, who had come over that morning intending to join them and was now tied up, waiting for special training. He turned to Butcher and asked, "You haven't started training him yet, have you?"
Butcher shook his head.
Sloan said, "Take him to the storeroom first. We'll deal with the police outside before we talk about it."
Butcher nodded.
Outside the castle.
Lake got out of the car and looked up at the Textile Factory before him, which resembled a medieval castle. The place was practically an antique. It would be better to let Lake preserve it intact than have that useless Wasteful Xiaobai blow it up recklessly.
About five minutes later!
Clack-clack!
The castle's drawbridge slowly lowered.
A white-haired, bearded Director Sloan led a group of Textile Factory managers outside and walked straight toward Lake. "Welcome, welcome, Detective Edwin."
Lake narrowed his eyes slightly, his expression unchanged as he shook Sloan's hand. "Good afternoon, Mr. Sloan."
It wasn't strange that Sloan knew him. Half an hour had already passed, and during those five minutes, Sloan had probably obtained all of Lake's information.
But you're dead today.
I mean it.
After shaking hands, Lake gestured toward Joe beside him.
Joe understood and immediately showed Sloan the signed search warrant. "Mr. Sloan, we suspect that your Textile Factory has a direct connection to a certain killer organization. This is a search warrant."
Sloan looked shocked, as if he found it utterly unbelievable. "We're a killer organization? That must be a huge misunderstanding. Just look at them. Does the NYPD really think a group of people with physical disabilities could be killers?"
Lake couldn't be bothered to argue with him. "Mr. Sloan, are you saying you don't want us to go in and search?"
Sloan looked at Lake.
Their eyes met.
Sloan's heart suddenly stirred. He had been in the killer world for many years. Although he didn't understand how they had been exposed, he could see the intense killing intent in Lake's eyes.
There was no attempt to conceal it.
Yes.
Lake had made no attempt to hide it. The more obvious he was, the more likely The Assistance would take the desperate step of opening fire. Once the gunshots rang out, Lake could blow up the castle and face no trouble at all.
"Mr. Sloan?"
"..."
Sloan came to his senses, laughed, and gestured invitingly. "Of course. Our Textile Factory has always obeyed the law. Detective Edwin, search all you like. However, if you find nothing, Detective Edwin, you may be in some trouble."
Lake gave a soft laugh. "You don't need to worry about that, Mr. Sloan. Let me be clear: I spent an entire day obtaining this search warrant. I originally planned to come and pay you a visit yesterday afternoon, right after getting my stitches."
With that,
Lake waved his right hand at the police officers and tactical personnel already lined up behind him. "Search everything. Even take apart the faucets in the bathrooms and check whether anything is hidden inside."
The officers shouted in unison, "Yes, sir!"
Lake kept both hands in his pockets and looked at Sloan with a smile.
Sloan wore his own trademark smile.
Lake said, "Mr. Sloan, shall we go? Why don't you take us to your office?"
Sloan made no other move and simply gestured invitingly. "Please!"
Lake nodded at Joe beside him.
They entered the castle.
Swish!
Lake immediately looked up. His eyes went straight to a red-haired woman standing at the window of the Textile Factory security room on the second floor, watching them.
"Fire Fox!"
"...What?"
Lake looked at Sloan, who had stopped and turned toward him. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, but his gaze remained fixed on Fire Fox, who had already vanished from the second-floor window. He said mildly, "That woman just now should be the killer Fire Fox, shouldn't she, Mr. Sloan?"
Sloan's heart shook violently, but his expression remained unchanged. "Hahaha, Detective Edwin, you're joking. Most of the people here are disabled workers with physical impairments. Where would we have a killer?"
Lake chuckled and said meaningfully, "Is that so? Then, Mr. Sloan, are you saying that my informant was lying?"
Sloan: "..."
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