By afternoon, New York's public opinion scene had completely exploded.
Especially certain groups.
"Shocking: NYPD once again engages in violent law enforcement."
"Police savagely beat civilians for no reason."
"Two innocent civilians seriously injured; hospital once issued critical condition notices."
"Questions..."
When these shocking headlines were paired with photos of a black man and a white man lying down and howling in pain, the effect was exceptionally powerful.
Four in the afternoon.
A group of African Americans had already occupied a favorable position below the NYPD building. Even various support signs had been prepared, and the slogans were being shouted in unison.
When it came to this sort of thing, no race could compare with them.
African Americans might not work on time, and they might not even eat on time, but when it came to protests and marches, as long as there was the slightest spark, they would treat it like a nuclear bomb.
Clearly, the mastermind behind this had prepared everything long ago.
The African Americans almost filling the police plaza below the NYPD building shouted slogans accusing the NYPD of corruption and protecting murderers, demanding that they arrest Lake immediately.
Chief Burt had summoned a large group of police officials and was in the middle of a meeting.
"Ring, ring!"
"Hello."
"It's me."
"I know. I'm not planning to buy a fake sick-leave note anymore."
"I have inside information. A thousand dollars."
"...Fine."
"A lawyer just came to see those two."
"...Why are you helping me?"
"I don't like dark skin. It looks frightening at night."
"..."
Lake listened to the dead tone coming from the phone and blinked. Following those words, an image surfaced in his mind: in the pitch-black night, two rows of pearly white...
It really was frightening.
Lake rose from the bed, rubbed his brow, and walked into the bathroom.
Half an hour later.
When Lake walked out of the underground parking garage of Starlight Tower, he was still wearing the Gold-rimmed Glasses.
He looked up at the sky.
The sun was setting.
Sigh!
Lake had originally planned to sleep soundly until nightfall, then go to the hospital and send the black-and-white pair on their way. He had not expected his plans to be overtaken by events.
It seemed the person hiding behind the scenes was not even planning to give me a night to rest.
Lake clicked his tongue and shook his head.
Anyone could tell at a glance that the person hiding behind that black-and-white non-mainstream pair clearly intended to torment Lake to death without pause.
Was this person trying to cause my social death?
What grudge did he have against me?
Fortunately.
This person was not very smart.
Lake hailed a taxi and gave the driver the address of New Amsterdam Hospital, thinking this.
Think about it.
Rather than finding a lawyer to deal with Lake on behalf of this black-and-white pair, it would be better to simply find an assassin to quietly kill them. That way, not only could Lake be saddled with the crime of accidentally killing someone, but the mastermind could also remain completely hidden.
What a pity...
This guy's intelligence was lacking.
I'll go chop these two people up right now. Without any witnesses to report it, let's see what other tricks you have.
A cold glint flashed through Lake's eyes.
If he let me find out who was hiding behind this, Lake guaranteed that he would make that person wish he were dead and unable to die.
Soon.
They arrived at New Amsterdam Hospital.
At that moment, New Amsterdam Hospital was also surrounded by a large number of reporters and media outlets. Without a doubt, they were waiting for news from inside.
Preferably news that the black-and-white pair had died from their severe injuries.
New York's media loved nothing more than fearing that the world would not descend into chaos. The more chaotic this matter became, the more they could report. The more they reported, well, their bonuses and commissions would naturally be higher too.
He went straight ahead.
Lake, who had already removed his glasses, stood in the hospital's first-floor lobby and frowned as he looked at the two officers guarding the elevator.
They had meant well but made things worse.
These two officers had definitely been assigned by the NYPD. In short, the NYPD was the party that least wanted the black-and-white pair to die right now. Whether they intended to protect Lake or not, it was all the same.
If they did not die, everything could be discussed.
If they died, the mayor who had just taken office this month would probably have something to say.
What a pity...
They were doomed to die. That was my word.
Lake glanced at the officers on guard, then walked past the elevator and toward the first-floor restroom.
Did they think I couldn't go up just because they were guarding the elevator?
He was an assassin, after all. Forget a hospital—even a sealed room was no obstacle to him.
"Bang!"
"Who is it?"
"Thud!"
"..."
Lake kicked open the restroom door, knocked out the young doctor in a white coat who was preparing to take off his pants with a single chop, then turned around, closed the door, and began stripping off the man's clothes.
Two minutes later.
When Lake, dressed in the white coat, walked out of the restroom, he smiled faintly at a patient who was about to enter. He placed the sign reading "Under Maintenance" in front of the men's restroom entrance, indicating that the patient could use the women's restroom next door instead.
The patient pointed at the women's restroom behind him and looked at Lake, seemingly asking whether that was allowed.
Lake shrugged, looking as though he were asking why it would not be.
The patient nodded, clutched his stomach, and ran inside.
Three!
Two!
One!
"Ah!" A sharp female scream came from the women's restroom. The officers by the elevator exchanged glances, then brushed past Lake and headed toward the restroom.
Soon.
Lake entered the elevator.
The elevator went up.
Three minutes later.
Lake politely said, "Excuse me, let me through," and walked straight out of the elevator.
This floor was not the ICU.
The ICU was one floor above. It was not impossible to take the elevator directly there at this time, but getting inside would definitely be impossible.
There would certainly be NYPD officers inside as well. Stealing a white coat would at most allow him to impersonate a doctor and walk freely around the departments. Trying to enter the ICU with a white coat was simply wishful thinking.
That was something that only happened in movies.
Lake had stolen the white coat mainly because he did not want blood splattered on him when he killed people later.
After all, Lake looked rich, but was actually very poor. His house had been given to him, his car was a five-year-old used model, and the only thing he owned that was presentable was the bespoke suit he was wearing.
And he had only that one bespoke suit. Lake had a simple dream: when he could draw prizes as he pleased, he would fill his wardrobe with all kinds of custom-made suits.
He entered the staircase beside him, climbed one floor, and turned a corner. An access-controlled door leading to the ICU, reserved for medical staff, immediately came into view.
12138!
Wearing leather gloves, Lake directly entered the password he had purchased from The Continental Hotel with one gold coin before leaving Starlight Tower.
With a beep, the red light on the keypad instantly turned green.
He opened the door.
A nurse who had just passed by looked at Lake walking in through the small door and frowned. "Huh? Which department are you from? I don't—"
Lake pointed his pistol at the young nurse in front of him. Seeing the terror instantly spread across her face, he smiled and said, "It's fine. You can scream. If you scream, I guarantee I won't kill you."
The moment he finished speaking.
"Ah!!!!"
A high-pitched female voice rivaling that of a certain Russian male soprano instantly rang throughout the entire ICU floor. The young nurse dropped the documents in her hands, bent both arms, and shouted with all her strength:
"There's an assassin!!!!"
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