Southern Los Angeles, a hospital ward.
Amidst the sickbeds in the center of the ward, lay a white male wrapped in nurous bandages, his face bruised and several teeth missing.
Beside the bed, Luo An sat in a chair with a slight smile, while Horst from the Monitoring Departnt stood with his arms crossed in front of his chest, leaning against the wall behind Luo An. Winslow and Chenier stood at the front of the bed.
Seeing the photos in Luo An’s hands, Ernest’s expression turned extrely ugly in an instant.
The few photos all featured n in prison garb, their appearance not so much ugly as having distinctive characteristics, unforgettable at a glance.
Ernest had been in conflicts that were difficult to resolve with these n during his previous stint in prison, but at that ti, another gang leader had protected Ernest, allowing him to be released smoothly.
Now, the gang leader protecting Ernest had also left the prison. Although Ernest was indeed quite agile, he couldn’t possibly be on guard for sneak attacks every mont against the many and powerful inmates.
Once back in that prison, how long Ernest could survive would absolutely beco a betting ga among the prison guards.
These photos were incidentally dug up by Mona while investigating Ernest’s identity information, and Luo An didn’t expect they would actually co in handy at this mont.
Pouring himself a glass of water, Luo An downed it in one go, then smiled at Ernest and said:
"It seems you are not ready to die."
"Bullshit."
Ernest glared at Luo An viciously. As an assassin, he didn’t have many conventional morals, but his own life was undoubtedly the most important thing to him. Alive, there was still hope; dead, there was nothing left.
"These old friends from prison, I believe you definitely rember them, and I’m sure they rember you too."
Luo An tossed the photos onto the bed, then leaned back against the chair with his legs crossed, laughing as he said:
"Tell , who is the mastermind behind the scenes that ordered you to kill.
Or, stay stubborn till the end and say nothing, then go back to that familiar prison and catch up with these old friends, have a chat."
Looking at the photos in front of him, Ernest glared at Luo An with fiery eyes, grinding his molar as he said:
"...You really are an excellent FBI."
"Thanks for the complint."
Luo An chuckled. Ernest used a bomb to kill Linden Osborne and his wife, and disemboweled their son.
He had also planted bombs to ambush the Special Investigation Team and SWAT in the past; if not for Luo An’s quick reaction, no one knows how many would have died in that operation.
For such a deeply evil person, Luo An directly discarded the idea of negotiating delicately and instead found it most effective to lay out the facts and make threats.
After a mont of silence, Ernest grabbed the photos, threw them all on the floor, and looking up at the ceiling, said:
"I would like to tell you who the mastermind behind the scenes is, but I don’t know; I’ve never seen the person."
Luo An’s expression remained unchanged, and he continued to press:
"Then tell us what you know."
Ernest described himself as a traditional assassin who had always made money by accepting jobs through traditional interdiaries.
Since he was sowhat short on cash after getting out of prison, Ernest found a broker who he was relatively familiar with and who had a good reputation in the industry, then took this job.
"Good."
Luo An nodded in satisfaction:
"What’s the na of this middleman?"
"I’ve always called him Vincent."
Ernest provided a na, but he didn’t know if it was real or fake; he’d never cared in the past.
Ernest then gave the contact details for the other party, the places where they t each ti, and other information such as the broker’s appearance.
It wasn’t long before Mona, Michelle, and Reesi arrived. With the appearance of the suspect in the sketch, Mona quickly found the person:
"Sean Hoffman, 39 years old, he runs a private detective agency called ’Guaranteed to et Your Demands’.
He is both the sole owner and the sole employee of the detective agency."
"That na... I think he should be working at an advertising firm."
Looking at the information found on Mona’s computer, Reesi comnted with a deadpan expression, while Luo An gestured grandly:
"Winslow, Reesi, Chenier, co with . Let’s go catch him!"
"Understood!" x3
Watching Luo An and his group briskly set off, Horst from the Monitoring Departnt had his eyelids twitch, his lips moved a few tis, but after a mont of thought, he held back from saying anything and quickly followed them.
————
Southeast Los Angeles, in a small villa community mainly composed of the middle class.
The SUV ca to a quick stop by the roadside, Luo An and Reesi swiftly approached Sean Hoffman’s villa’s front door, while Winslow and Chenier moved to the back door.
Both teams reached their designated positions, counted down three seconds, Luo An suddenly lifted his foot and kicked at the villa’s front door, Winslow imdiately followed suit, kicking towards the back door.
Thud—
Thud—
Two sounds of doors being kicked open echoed one after another, and Reesi and Chenier quickly burst into the villa, shouting loudly:
"FBI!"
"Sean Hoffman! Co out!"
The villa was not very large, but neither was it small, with many rooms, including a basent. Luo An and his team shouted while swiftly checking every room.
"First floor clear!"
"Basent clear!"
Reesi imdiately shouted:
"Discovery on the second floor!"
"What?"
"Target is deceased!"
Hearing Reesi’s shout, Winslow and Chenier hurriedly ran to the second-floor bedroom.
Inside the bedroom, a Caucasian man dressed in a shirt and casual, patterned boxer shorts had been shot in the middle of his forehead, lying dead on the bed with eyes wide open, staring straight at Reesi, Chenier, and Winslow who stood at the bedroom door.
"Fu-k."
The three of them holstered their guns, Chenier cursed under her breath, and Winslow went to look closely at the body, then looking up, he said:
"We’re a step too late. This guy has been dead for two to three days."
Reesi nodded and turned to ask:
"Where’s Luo An?"
"He’s in the basent."
Chenier, while dialing the number for the Trace Evidence Departnt, walked downstairs with Winslow and Reesi.
The trio walked into the basent following the stairway, inside they found a room with walls covered in photographs.
At that mont, Luo An was standing at a square desk in the center of the room, the light shining by his side, he continued sorting through items without lifting his head, asking:
"What did you find?"
"Sean Hoffman is dead."
Reesi briefly summarized the situation on the second floor, then casually tore off a photo from the wall, frowning at the beautiful woman pictured from behind, she said:
"It seems we’ve found a stalker."
"This is what private detectives do."
Chenier and Winslow stepped forward to help sort through the photos on the desk, Luo An continued:
"Moreover, Sean Hoffman was not just any private detective. These items on the desk show that he has handled many divorce cases and secretive clients; the hush money must have made him quite a fortune."
Contempt flashed in Reesi’s eyes, she put the photo back on the wall, questioning:
"Luo An, you don’t seem to be affected at all by the news of Sean Hoffman’s death?"
"I already guessed this was a possibility."
Before coming to this villa to apprehend soone, Luo An had contemplated the perspective of the assassin.
Killing Sean Hoffman and erasing traces of oneself was a cost-effective thod for the assassin.
Having packed a laptop, a pile of eavesdropping equipnt, and a large number of tapes, Luo An handed them to Reesi, explaining:
"Our trip wasn’t fruitless. Sean Hoffman has been a private detective and an assassin broker for many years, he definitely had his unique way of storing information.
The villa shows no signs of being searched, which suggests that this information is very likely still here in the room.
If we find and decrypt this information, we should be able to determine who the mastermind behind ordering Sean Hoffman to kill the Linden family is."
"Sounds like a very difficult and ti-consuming task."
Reesi sighed deeply, Winslow and Chenier exchanged glances, bracing themselves for the coming days of continuous overti.
Suddenly, from the entrance of the basent, Horst from the Monitoring Departnt called out:
"Group Leader Greenwood, there’s a call for you!"
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