Sorry, I Was a Bit Loud Before

When Susan saw Old Harden looking at her so eagerly, she spread both hands. "Sorry, but we're still a reserve team right now, and we don't have much funding. Brian's hospital stay and checkup already cost quite a bit. If you can't give me a proper reason, I refuse to reimburse you."

She was just straightforward and not fond of beating around the bush. She wasn't stupid.

If she agreed to everything, managing people would be hard from then on.

Old Harden grew anxious. "This isn't my fault. There were armed guards there. I could only pretend to be a john to get them talking and ask out a few things."

Glenn, who already disliked him, gave a sneering laugh and said sarcastically, "You're right. The best way to open a woman's mouth is to make her squat down. And for that, you spent five hundred dollars."

"I—"

"Enough!" Brian cut off their bullshit. "Our most urgent task right now is to solve the case. Old Harden, tell us what you found. If it's useful, once the case bonus comes through, Team Leader Susan will reimburse you!"

"Fine." Old Harden gave up struggling.

"That apartment is controlled by a small gang called the Wild Dog Gang.

"Most of those women are addicts, or girls those gang members picked up.

"Before, they either worked out of motels or stood on street corners.

"After June this year, the Wild Dog Gang's new boss took over and changed the old way of doing things.

"Now they work with some food trucks and use delivery service to actively bring clients to their door. They're doing pretty well so far. I heard their boss even consulted a lawyer. He's a guy with brains."

"Are there a lot of women there?"

"What's the new boss called?"

"I'm not sure exactly how many women are there.

"The apartment has three floors.

"The first floor is the activity area for the gang underlings. At the time, I only saw seven or eight people, and they were all clearly carrying guns.

"The two floors above should be where the prostitutes live.

"With a two- or three-hundred-dollar boxed meal, you can only go to the second floor.

"Only with a five-hundred-dollar boxed meal can you go to the third floor.

"After you go up, "you can knock on any door you like.

"Whatever you want to do to the woman inside, "she'll cooperate."

Hearing this, Glenn mocked him. "So you went to the third floor?"

Old Harden ignored him and continued, "As for that new boss, his name is Ike. The gang people all call him Mad Dog Ike. I felt that when that prostitute mentioned the name, she seemed very afraid."

"Mad Dog Ike?"

Ivan and Glenn looked at each other, both seeming shocked.

Seeing their reaction, Brian asked, "You know that guy?"

Ivan nodded. "There's something wrong with his head. When he does things, he doesn't care about the consequences, and he's very stupid. Before, he bought a large amount of explosives and blasted open the security door of a small bank. In the end, the money he robbed wasn't even as much as what he spent buying the explosives. He was so angry he went to find the bank's director, wanting to ask why the bank didn't keep money there, and then he was arrested. I didn't expect him to have been released already."

"Bought explosives..."

Susan's eyes lit up. "Maybe this Ike knows Audrin. He also had a conflict with the deceased Kenneth, and he doesn't care about consequences when he acts. He really is highly suspicious!"

Ivan and the others nodded, also feeling that Ike was very suspicious.

Brian, however, was puzzled by another point.

How had a guy with something wrong in his head, impulsive in everything he did, thought of organizing prostitution through delivery service, and even specifically consulted a lawyer?

Could enlightenment in dire straits really be that amazing?

If they wanted to understand the details, just speculating in the precinct was useless.

Under Susan's lead, the group armed themselves fully, put on bulletproof vests, and called eight armed patrol officers. Acting together, they surrounded the apartment Old Harden had gone to earlier.

Old Harden even specially put on a black hood similar to what counterterrorism units wore, leaving only his eyes exposed.

He was a man who paid attention to the finer points.

In Old Harden's words, he had gone there that morning to patronize their business, then brought people to arrest them that afternoon.

That was bad for his reputation.

There were surveillance cameras outside the apartment.

Before they even knocked, a thin, brown-haired man with sunken eyes had already brought seven or eight people rushing into the stairwell, blocking the front door. "This is private property. Who are you people?"

As the guy spoke, his nose kept twitching, and his body was shivering.

Anyone with eyes could tell this guy had just gotten high.

"NW Sixth Squad. I'm the squad leader, Susan. Which one of you is Ike?" Susan had two big revolvers hanging at her waist and wasn't even wearing a bulletproof vest, yet she walked forward without the slightest stage fright.

It wasn't that she was unwilling to wear a bulletproof vest.

She had tried several times.

The result was that even the adjustable vests squeezed her so hard she could barely breathe.

"NW Department?"

The short man grinned. "Sorry, never heard of you. Also, we don't know this Ike you're talking about. Leave right now, or..."

Whether he was high out of his mind or just had a hole in his brain, he actually pulled out a handgun in front of Susan and the seven or eight LAPD officers behind her, trying to show off how intimidating he was.

The next moment—

Bang~

A special 11.18-millimeter round blew open the top of his skull and sent his entire body flying, smashing heavily onto the ground and scattering white-red stuff everywhere that might have been blood or brain matter.

Brian was standing close.

He could even see the stuff on the ground steaming.

Everyone froze.

She fired just like that?

Ivan and Glenn, the two veterans, felt a chill crawl up their necks.

So fast!

Just now, they hadn't even seen Squad Leader Susan's draw.

One shot, right through the head.

Susan's beautiful face was icy at that moment.

Expressionless, she slid the Smith & Wesson M29 revolver, over thirty centimeters long, back into the holster at her waist and said coldly, "The NW Department has the authority to directly arrest all suspects within Los Angeles County. But I suppose you don't need to know that anymore!"

"Fuck!"

"That bitch killed the boss's little brother..."

Several gang underlings who were also high didn't care that so many cops were standing outside. Like they'd lost their minds, they lifted their clothes and tried to draw their guns too.

Bang bang bang~

Gunshots cracked like firecrackers.

By the time the sound died down, the seven or eight gang underlings who had originally been standing in the apartment corridor—those who drew their guns or reached toward their waists—had all collapsed to the ground together, sleeping very peacefully.

Only one slow-reacting guy remained, eyes wide, as if he had been scared stupid.

Brian:

So this was the American Iaido Susan was talking about?

Thinking about how flippantly he had agreed to compete with Susan earlier, Brian felt his life enter a countdown.

This was too damn terrifying.

Even killing chickens wasn't that fast!

He looked back at his companions behind him.

Aside from Glenn and Ivan, who had reacted quickly and drawn their pistols, everyone else was standing there in a daze, blank and stunned, as if they still hadn't processed what had just happened.

Susan lowered her head and frowned at her holster, which had been shot through.

What she had just used was an extremely dangerous holster quick-draw shot, also known as the ultimate secret art of American Iaido.

It sounded scary.

In truth, it was simply rapid-firing without drawing the gun.

This method pushed rapid fire to the extreme. Its only drawback was that it was easy to shoot yourself in the foot.

But for Susan, the biggest drawback was that every time she used it, she had to replace her gun belt.

This was handmade deerskin.

She didn't have many left.

After reloading, Susan kicked the iron door, jolting the frightened crowd awake.

She pointed at the gang member who wasn't dead yet. "Ask him where that Ike is. Go in and arrest him. If you encounter resistance, shoot to kill!"

"Yes, Squad Leader!"

Ivan and Glenn, worship in their eyes, called over the eight patrol officers, drew their handguns, and rushed in.

Off to the side, Old Harden walked over to Susan somewhat bashfully. "Boss."

Susan glanced at him. "What is it?"

"Sorry. I used to talk a little too loudly."

"Mm. Watch it from now on."

Susan kneaded her slightly aching fingers and strode into the apartment.

Before this, her father had even said she was brainless and couldn't lead people.

What a joke.

Just look.

Now these crafty old hands were so obedient.

Watching Susan walk into the apartment without so much as changing expression, stepping over brain matter and blood plasma all over the floor, Brian swallowed.

Damn it.

Why did this woman feel so reassuring?

Maybe he should go after her after all.

Worst case, he could turn over a new leaf in the future!

Brian felt that even that uncle of his might not necessarily be able to beat Susan.

Those long, soft legs!

So damn reassuring!