The next day.
Lake woke up feeling refreshed.
It was another day full of energy.
The thought of bringing in 1.5 million today made Lake feel downright delighted. Even while eating breakfast, he wore a broad smile.
"Stop smiling."
"..."
Lake looked up at his girlfriend. She said, "Hurry up and eat. I need to finish getting ready and head back to the precinct."
Just as Lake had expected.
New York had been especially rowdy late last night. According to incomplete statistics, more than twenty emergency calls had come in during the night, and the frequency had been unusually high.
Manhattan.
Brooklyn.
Queens.
Even Long Island had received reports of shootouts. But strangely, when the patrol officers arrived, there were bloodstains on the ground but no bodies at all.
Some of the reported locations did not even have bloodstains.
It was bizarre.
No one at the NYPD could explain exactly what had happened, but all precinct personnel were still ordered to report to headquarters as soon as possible. Maureen was one of those who needed to get there immediately.
Lake did not.
He was on leave.
Medical leave, with an entire week of rest. After all, a detective with his gun hand—the right one—slinged up was basically no different from a long-distance runner losing his legs.
Lake said to Maureen, "It's fine. A housekeeper will be coming over later."
Seeing this, Maureen said, "Then I'm leaving first. Behave yourself at home. Remember, you're injured. You're a patient."
Lake nodded in response.
Stay home?
How could he? How was he supposed to collect his 1.5 million if he stayed home? After a night of intense gunfights, Lake felt that Carlos was probably nearing the end of his strength.
If he wasted time and another fellow professional finished Carlos off, Lake would not even know whom to cry to.
So...
Ten minutes after his girlfriend Maureen left, Lake went downstairs as well. On the way down, he asked Cassel—his downstairs neighbor, who had recently been unable to think of a plot for his new novel and had killed off his protagonist—to help open the door when the housekeeper arrived.
After leaving Starlight Tower,
at the corner,
Lake removed the Gold-rimmed Glasses, the rule item, then walked to the roadside and hailed a taxi. Once inside, he gave the driver the address where Carlos had arranged to meet him.
Hell Gate Bridge.
Block Twenty.
After getting out of the taxi, Lake looked toward a sewage treatment plant about a kilometer away. It stood beside the East River and had been bankrupt for some time.
That was the address Carlos and Lake had agreed on.
One million, here I come.
When Lake first got out of the taxi, he had wondered whether Carlos was trying to fool him. But as he walked toward the sewage treatment plant, that thought vanished.
There were quite a few assassins here.
As for how Lake recognized them, it could only be called professional instinct. It was like how a smoker could clearly identify fellow smokers in a crowd.
Lake entered the sewage treatment plant.
The first thing he saw was several assassins hiding around the area. All of them were instinctively looking toward the pitch-black factory building in the distance.
Bang!
A muffled shot rang out.
Lake watched as an assassin cautiously entered the factory. After another muffled sound, the man collapsed face-first onto the ground less than thirty feet inside the entrance.
A bullet had blown open his skull!
Overestimating himself!
Lake chuckled inwardly. He felt not the slightest sympathy for the dead assassin. There were more and more rookies entering the assassination business these days, and the overall quality of assassins was getting worse and worse.
Moreover...
The people who had come here for the bounty were all relatively mediocre assassins. In short, top-tier assassins who had achieved financial freedom and had no shortage of money would not come for a paltry 1.5 million.
And those who were top-tier but had not achieved financial freedom would be even less likely to come.
Carlos the Cross was on the same level as them, so they understood his strength very well. It was not worth it for 1.5 million, and a bounty of that amount was not enough to persuade top assassins to form a team and farm Carlos.
So...
Carlos had really held out for an entire night.
But it was over now.
Lake shook his head, raised his foot, and walked toward the factory, whose entrance already had three corpses lying before it.
Just then,
Bang!
A bullet fired from a suppressed sniper rifle flew straight toward Lake from behind, aimed directly at the back of his head.
Bang!
Pfft!
Lake drew his gun with his left hand and spun around, knocking the bullet away. He fired again, blasting the young assassin crouched atop the water tower. Then he looked coldly around with a faint smile.
"If you don't have the ability, don't come here to die. Is it worth it?"
With that said,
Lake could not be bothered to care what the assassins outside were thinking. He went straight into the factory.
Bang!
Bang!
Lake blew away a bullet fired from a tricky angle, the corners of his mouth lifting.
"I'm not going to be buried with you, Carlos."
Carlos was clutching his abdomen. His face was somewhat pale as he rose from behind a barrier inside the factory. He smiled.
"I had to see whether you were qualified to take my bounty."
Lake nodded. "Understood."
If he had been in Carlos's position, he would not have been willing to let someone weaker than himself take his life either. After all, it was the final stubbornness of a powerful man.
Standing at the factory entrance, Lake fired backward without even looking, blowing apart the thigh of an assassin who seemed to be preparing to enter and see whether he could pick up an easy kill. Then he looked at Carlos.
"You're injured?"
Carlos gave a strained laugh. "I ran into someone rather troublesome."
"Freelance assassin or organization assassin?"
"Organization."
"Black Caesar?"
"No."
"Arthur?"
"That guy only knows how to create accidents. He wouldn't go head-to-head with me."
"That's true. Then there aren't many possibilities left. Don't tell me it was one of the assassins from the assassin-production company?"
"Yes."
Lake let out a surprised "wow" and once again shot an undaunted assassin dead.
"That's a group of assassins who aren't afraid to die."
Carlos agreed. "When I killed him, I couldn't see the slightest trace of fear in his eyes."
Lake spoke as casually as if he were chatting about everyday matters. "I heard the assassins from that assassin-production company all look exactly alike. I strongly suspect they're clones."
Carlos said, "If you had cloning technology, would you raise those people to be assassins?"
Lake shook his head. "No."
With that,
Lake and Carlos both burst out laughing.
After a while,
Carlos took several heavy breaths and lifted his right hand away from his abdomen. Blood immediately began pouring from the wound. With a swish, Carlos stared straight at Lake, as if trying to see into his heart.
"Remember your promise, Black King."
Lake did not evade his gaze. He met Carlos's eyes directly.
"I'll keep my promise. As long as he doesn't bring disaster on himself, I guarantee he'll get to live an ordinary life."
Carlos nodded. He took a photograph of a woman from his clothes, gazed at it deeply, kissed it, and then closed his eyes.
"Do it."
Lake said, "All right. Rest easy!"
As soon as he finished speaking,
Bang!
PS: Black Caesar—from Polar!
PS: Arthur—from The Mechanic!
PS: Assassin-production company—from Hitman!
Before you continue