North American Detective: I am Proficient in All Kinds of Gun Quick Draws Chapter 188 141 Level Up, Galloping on Horseback1

The fat woman was not a transvestite.

But she was even more revolting.

On her chest were scars the size of two adult human heads, aning she had cut off her own breasts to hide those two packages of explosives.

This would have required considerable ti, sustained planning, and sophisticated logistical support, possibly involving compromised registration systems.

Considering the ruthless socialite from before, also prepared for a suicide attack.

The way these people operated was strikingly similar to so extre terrorist organizations from Dean's previous life—organizations so powerless they could only resort to extremism.

Dean suspected their target wasn't the people on the plane, but New York.

This is undoubtedly a huge political asset.

Hijacking a plane is nothing.

But preventing a terrorist attack that could draw global attention? That's sothing else entirely.

The key is...

He's left four of them alive!

The co-pilot in the cockpit, the short young man whose hands had been crippled, and...

Dean abruptly turned his head, a smirk playing on his lips as he looked at the frail girl curled up in a ball, her eyes coldly fixed on his back.

When the girl's gaze t Dean's, her heart nearly stopped in terror.

She quickly looked away, lowered her head, and stamred, "Don't kill ! I didn't see you kill that fat woman! Don't kill to silence !"

Her act is surprisingly convincing.

Even the surrounding passengers—n and won, old and young, all with hands raised and faces etched with fear—couldn't help but glance over, a palpable sense of shared vulnerability among them.

The phrase "silence ," in particular, was disturbingly effective.

They had all witnessed Dean's brutal enforcent.

Here in the States, the public harbored a natural distrust of Federation personnel.

Dean had no doubt that if he killed this girl now, so 'hero' among the crowd might charge forward to attack him as a group.

Too bad fakes are still fakes.

Without a shred of pity, Dean kicked the girl in the temple, knocking her unconscious. He then clapped his hands. "Alright, you can all turn and look this way now."

Once everyone was looking, Dean first displayed the scars and the two explosive packages on the dead fat woman's chest, making the crowd turn pale. Then, he lifted the unconscious girl and retrieved a 'button' from the lining of her sleeve.

In front of everyone, Dean spoke into the 'button,' "Catherine, announce that this is a terrorist's walkie-talkie!"

He repeated it twice.

That's right! This girl is the one who was communicating with the co-pilot before he was knocked out!

Dean had made a point of morizing her voice.

Seconds later, Catherine's familiar voice ca over the PA system.

Only then did everyone realize that the seemingly frail girl in Dean's hands was actually a mber of this group of terrorists ard with guns and explosives...

The three remaining terrorists—two n and one woman—were expertly bound and gagged by Dean, then secured to the overhead luggage rack.

These three are more valuable alive.

After taking care of this, Dean called Charles, who was comforting his daughter, to one side.

Charles's gratitude towards this detective, who dealt out death without blinking, had transford into awe.

He politely and sowhat distantly took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, offered one to Dean, and said gratefully, "Detective Dean, we owe you a great deal for this. Otherwise..."

Dean raised a hand, cutting Charles off.

With the cigarette dangling from his lips, Dean toyed with his Glock 17. He tilted his head back slightly, his face half-hidden in the interplay of light and shadow, and his voice was low as he asked, "Mind telling what your objective is?"

"What?" Charles's pupils contracted sharply, though his face feigned confusion. "Detective Dean, I'm not sure I understand what you're asking."

CLICK.

Dean took out a lighter, lit his cigarette, and took a deep drag. Then, through a cloud of smoke, he said mildly, "As soone who never experienced a father's love, I don't want your daughter to lose her father either. I hope you can give a satisfactory answer before this cigarette is finished."

With that, he ignored Charles, took out his cellphone, and seeing he had a signal, called Anthony.

Anthony was always quick to answer. "Dean, there's a lot of electrical interference on your end. Are you inside so large electronic device?"

"Yes, ntor. I'm currently on a flight from Los Angeles to New York calling you. Here's the situation..."

Dean briefly explained what had happened to Anthony.

This matter might involve a terrorist organization, an extre one at that.

Taking all the credit for this himself would be too much; he'd choke on it.

Besides, if this terrorist organization could arrange for suicide operatives on a plane, they could just as easily wipe out his entire family. It's better to let the Federation handle this headache.

After listening to Dean's account, Anthony was silent for a long mont before speaking. "I think I know who they are. I suggest you hand over all the credit. Don't get involved in this."

"Is it that troubleso?"

"Yes. Have you heard of the Kingdom of Heaven Sect?"

"No, but it sounds like so kind of religious faith."

"More or less," Anthony said, his tone becoming grave. "They are a very fanatical people, and also quite fortunate—the land beneath their feet is rich in 'black gold.' Unfortunately, they lack the power to protect it, so it has beco a source of chaos. So of them accepted their fate and eventually found freedom and wealth. Others, unified by religious ideology, ford several small nations opposing the United States Federation. And the Kingdom of Heaven Sect is their state religion!"

Black gold?

Dean was stunned for a mont, then realized Anthony ant oil.