The gunfight was over.
One body after another was found and neatly lined up to the side. The wounded SWAT officers and police officers, along with the killers who were still alive, were taken to the hospital in one ambulance after another, sirens blaring.
The entire Textile Factory had been completely surrounded by the NYPD.
The scene was almost identical to the World Trade Center incident that had occurred the previous month.
Bang!
Bang!
Chief Burt and Inspector Montgomery stepped down from their respective vehicles. The first thing they saw was Lake sitting on the steps, his right arm in a sling and a bandage stuck to his forehead.
Jesus Christ.
The sheer number of bodies was staggering. How many people had died?
The two exchanged a glance, then walked toward Lake.
Joe was nearby. When he saw Lake chatting with SWAT team leader Jack, who had also received some simple bandaging, he gave Lake a slight nudge with his toe.
Lake came back to himself and looked at Joe.
Joe shifted his gaze toward the approaching chief and inspector.
Seeing this, Lake stood up and greeted Chief Burt and Inspector Montgomery. "Chief, Inspector!"
Burt looked around at the bullet casings and bloodstains covering the ground. "The arrest operation is over?"
Lake followed Burt's gaze, then gave a quiet grunt of acknowledgment.
I'm curious.
During the search earlier, he had already given them strict instructions to search every inch of the place. Yet they had not found a single gun. Once the battle began, however, the firepower of the Textile Factory had practically matched that of an entire company.
So where had these men hidden their weapons before?
Caroline from the Public Crisis Relations Department also came over from a short distance away. After greeting Chief Burt, she turned to Lake. "Lake, what exactly happened? What am I supposed to tell the reporters who are still arriving outside?"
Lake looked directly at his superior, Montgomery, then gestured with his eyes toward Carlos—the police department's public-facing representative, who had a head of blond hair, a sweet and pleasant appearance, and a great deal of goodwill among the public. He indicated that Caroline should go find Montgomery.
Caroline looked directly at Montgomery.
Since half an hour ago, no fewer than ten media outlets had gathered outside the cordon, and that number was still steadily increasing.
After all, one ambulance after another was impossible to hide.
Caroline's head was already aching from dealing with the mob of reporters earlier. She could not afford to be picky now. She only needed information. Whoever provided it did not matter, so long as it let her deal with those reporters who were acting like jackals.
Montgomery saw that both Lake and Caroline were looking at him. His expression immediately darkened, and he turned his gaze toward the highest-ranking officer present: NYPD Chief Burt.
Burt was slightly stunned, then said irritably to Lake, "It's your case. You handle it!"
Lake gave a faint smile, stood up, and walked aside with Caroline. He then briefly recounted the entire operation.
Caroline listened very seriously.
Half an hour later.
The New York Daily News was the first to finish writing its report, publishing the electronic article online ahead of everyone else.
"Shocking! The Textile Factory That Donated Five Million—Its True Face Is Actually..."
Inside the vehicle returning to the police station.
Lake used Joe's phone to read the headline posted online. He blinked. This over-the-top "shocking" style... how did the New York Daily News learn it?
And...
Lake blinked again as he looked at the electronic photograph of himself that had been published. He aimed the phone at Joe. "Do you think this photo looks especially badass?"
"Detective Lake Edwin, head of Major Crimes Division Three, leads the SWAT team in destroying a secret killer base."
I'm famous now.
As for why he was using Joe's phone to look at it, there was an explanation.
Lake's phone was an old-fashioned flip phone, not a smartphone. It was fine for making calls and sending text messages, but using it to access the internet was completely out of the question.
Lake did want a smartphone.
But who knew whether someone might install a back door or secretly tap it? In any case, until he drew some kind of electronic technology, Lake refused to use a smartphone for safety's sake.
Joe, who was driving carefully, glanced at Lake, who seemed to be admiring his own photograph. He did not answer that question. Instead, he asked in confusion, "Lake, I still don't understand. Why did they suddenly lash out?"
When Joe saw the mayor's vehicle enter the factory, she had already prepared herself to return with Lake and sit on the bench, or even be fired. Who would have expected such a sudden reversal?
Lake smiled and thought for a moment. "If someone killed your husband right in front of you, wouldn't you lash out?"
Joe rolled his eyes at Lake. "That's an inappropriate analogy."
Lake shrugged. "But it's the most fitting analogy, which is why Sloan had no choice."
Either they watched helplessly as Lake dismantled the Fate Textile Machine, bringing the Assistance's faith to an end, or they could take a gamble. Maybe they could kill him instead.
Unfortunately...
Lake had won.
Downstairs at the police station.
Lake had just stepped out of the vehicle when a fragrant breeze rushed toward him. The next moment, he saw his girlfriend, Maureen, running down the steps and throwing her arms around him.
Maureen looked at Lake's right arm, which was hanging in a sling, then blinked up at him.
Lake smiled. "Just a minor injury!"
Nearby, Joe lowered her head and curled her lip. What minor injury? He wasn't injured at all. Lake had put his arm in a sling because, in his words, everyone else had been injured. It would look strange if he came away without a scratch, and the final report would be difficult to write.
So...
Lake had put one arm in a sling.
Now that he thought about it, Lake somewhat regretted his decision. Not for any other reason than that he seemed to have chosen the wrong arm. He should have slung his less-used left arm instead of his dominant right.
As a result, one thing happened.
At dinner that evening, Lake could not even hold a fork steadily with his left hand.
His girlfriend, Maureen, laughed.
Lake fiddled with it twice, then sighed and seemed to give up on the meatball in his bowl. Today, at least, wasn't a vegetable day, but I still can't eat it.
Maureen, sitting across from him, shook her head and stood up.
When Maureen prepared to feed him, Lake refused at first. But after the meatball entered his mouth, Lake suddenly felt that putting his right arm in a sling might not have been such a bad thing after all.
If he had not had something to do that night, Lake felt that he might even have enjoyed an emperor-level experience.
Unfortunately, he still had business that evening.
He could not get at the money in the safe at the Textile Factory, but Lake felt that he should be able to collect the next two sums of money.
At the very least, he could collect Wasteful Xiaobai's protection fee.
What?
What if Carlos went back on his word? The Textile Factory was gone now, after all. Could Carlos take the money back after giving it to him?
Heh.
If that really happened, Lake could guarantee that he would make Carlos regret it terribly. Killing someone outside in broad daylight was easy for Lake. Killing someone in a detention cell at the police station would be even easier.
I bet he won't dare refuse to pay me!
That was money I earned through my labor!
Before you continue