North American Detective: I am Proficient in All Kinds of Gun Quick Draws Chapter 333 - 213 Bait Out of Stock1

Hearing about eating fish, the corners of Dean’s mouth curled upward. It was a code between them, aning sothing was stirring in the Narcotics Division.

"Got it, I’m coming over now."

He hung up the phone.

Dean stood up and stretched. Looking at the curious Daisy, he chuckled. "A friend invited for grilled river fish. Want to co?"

"The kind with lots of bones?"

"Yes, lots of sharp bones. You have to be careful when you eat, but it’s delicious," Dean said offhandedly.

He wasn’t wrong. An internal criminal case within a division was indeed delicious.

Upon hearing this, Daisy looked hesitant. Cutlery wasn’t very effective for dealing with fish bones, so even though she was tempted by food, she couldn’t bring herself to like this particular dish.

Thus, she chose to decline.

In the precinct parking lot, Dean looked at his shining, freshly washed armored Humr and nodded with satisfaction.

Truth be told, Harry might seem unreliable, but he did his job well. Dean hoped Harry could find the ’flour’ source from that illegal workshop in the previous massacre case. If so, then he, as the BOSS, could level up again.

Eve and Dean had agreed to et at a coffee shop outside the Narcotics Division. When Dean arrived, Eve was flipping through a thick book.

Dean’s sharp eyes noticed a logo on the corner of the book incorporating a triangle, a fishtail, and a circle, with the letters "DEA" in the middle. That was the emblem of the United States Drug Enforcent Administration.

Hearing his approach, Eve looked up. Seeing Dean, she smiled. "Dean, I was a bit nervous, but seeing you instantly cald down."

"I’m honored you trust so much."

Dean sat down, glanced at the book in her hand, and asked casually, "Is that a DEA book?"

Eve held up the book, showing the cover, and nodded. "Yes. The Narcotics Division is pretty much my ceiling at the detective bureau. I’m planning to accumulate enough rits and then pull so strings to transfer to the DEA."

Hearing this, Dean fell into thought. The DEA functioned similarly to the serious cri and narcotics divisions. However, one was federal drug enforcent, while the other was like a small unit set up by local governnt, their levels of power entirely different. It was comparable to the difference between Dean’s Homicide Division and the FBI.

The Director of the United States Drug Enforcent Administration (DEA) required a presidential nomination and approval from the House of Representatives to take office. They wielded trendous authority. Not only did they have dedicated offices in major U.S. cities, but they could also intervene in international drug trafficking cases. For instance, in earlier years, there was even a blunder where the CIA was involved in drug trafficking, only to have one of its departnts busted by the DEA. The crucial point was that the CIA, despite being as ferocious as wolves and tigers abroad, didn’t dare utter a peep in protest.

Thus, there’s an inside joke within Arican law enforcent circles. xican drug lords might dare to defy the President and murder their own police for intimidation, but they wouldn’t dare touch a DEA mber. Because the DEA could genuinely take them down.

Furthermore, the Narcotics Division was essentially a departnt established by the governnts of so wealthy major U.S. cities to centralize power. Many other cities didn’t even have such a departnt. This put Eve and her colleagues in a sowhat awkward position. People always strive for better opportunities. It wasn’t hard to understand why Eve was considering a future transfer to the DEA.

"Not a bad idea, but I’m more interested in today’s ’little fish’," Dean tapped the table. "Tell the details."

Eve picked up her coffee cup, casually scanned their surroundings to ensure no one was approaching, then lowered her voice. "Today, between 12:00 PM and 12:30 PM, an armored delivery truck will leave the Narcotics Division’s warehouse and head to a contraband destruction plant in the suburbs. This is the only chance this year. I have a hunch the mole inside the Narcotics Division will make a move. Otherwise, as I slowly gain control here, they’ll lose their chance completely!"

"What do you want to do?" Dean asked seriously, pinching the foot that was playfully rubbing against his thigh near where his ’lance’ was.

This woman really wasn’t afraid of death. If not for the lure of Experience Points, Dean would have to give her a taste of what it’s like to go without ’at’ for half a month—an experience so jarring it would make a sow look like a peerless beauty.

Seeing his feigned seriousness, Eve covered her mouth and chuckled, then her expression turned serious. "I can’t participate in the escort, nor do I have the firepower for such risky actions. Therefore, Dean, I hope you can dispatch soone to discreetly follow them. If an accident occurs, they should take them down imdiately!"

"What if they’re in collusion with the destruction plant?" Dean countered.

Having the transport truck hijacked was a last resort. Previously, those moles had done just that. Only through collusion at both ends could they keep it a secret from everyone. It wasn’t until Eve took office and used her captain’s authority to review the files that she discovered sothing was amiss.

"Not this ti!" Eve shook the book in her hand. "I’ve requested DEA agents to be involved with overseeing the destruction plant. If they try that, it’ll just make things easier for ."

CLICK-CLACK.

Just then, the sound of high heels tapping on the floor grew closer. A woman, her face still retaining a touch of baby fat, wearing large sunglasses and holding a baby, approached the table next to theirs.

She first noticed Dean’s appearance, paused for a mont, then pulled down her sunglasses, revealing a pair of captivating eyes that shimred like a clear sky after rain. The woman completely ignored Eve, who was sitting opposite Dean. Her eyes sparkled with delight as she stared unwaveringly at Dean, seemingly pleasantly surprised to encounter such a handso man in an unassuming coffee shop.

Eve’s restless foot under the table stilled. She narrowed her phoenix eyes, turned her head as if sensing sothing, and t the woman’s covetous gaze. Her expression imdiately darkened. "Ma’am, the little baby in your arms is adorable. How many months old is he?"

This damn bitch, bringing a child to seduce n. Shaless!

Unexpectedly, the woman with the baby-fat face raised her eyebrows provocatively. She shifted the baby to her other arm, simultaneously revealing an ample bosom that dwarfed Eve’s flatter chest, and said in a saccharine voice, "This is my sister’s son. I love children, but unfortunately, I haven’t found a suitable partner to have one with. By the way, Auntie, you look quite mature. Your children must already be in school, right?"

Eve glanced at the woman’s prominent assets, then touched the fine lines that were beginning to show under her makeup at the corners of her eyes. She harrumphed, picked up her book, and prepared to signal Dean to leave. Then she noticed Dean looking at the woman with the child with considerable interest.

Eve felt even more aggrieved and saddened.

Sigh, no matter how outstanding a woman is, turning thirty is a definite handicap. In the eyes of these damn n, it could never compete with the endless supply of younger won.

She moved to block Dean’s view, her tone laced with mockery. "She’s a ’buy one, get one free’ deal, Dean. Not your type."

"That child really isn’t hers." Dean withdrew his gaze, a subtle smile playing on his lips. "Actually," he said, standing up, "I prefer mature won like you. We still have so ti before noon. Let’s find another spot for a proper chat."

Hearing this, Eve’s mood instantly brightened. She clenched her fists, determined to perform well this ti and let Dean appreciate the depth and charm of a mature woman!

Around twelve noon, outside the Narcotics Division, inside a battered second-hand car, Carlo was hunched over, intensely disassembling the Beretta M9 in his hands.

This was an Italian-made military pistol. It had decent performance and a 15-round magazine. However, due to its slightly lower power and 9mm caliber, it wasn’t very popular among the U.S. military. But this gun boasted high accuracy and an ergonomic feel.

For the new generation, it was a fine personal firearm, suited for close-quarters gunfights and sustained combat.

Dean liked the young man’s composed temperant. As the saying goes, the dogs that bite don’t bark. Their unit was well-rounded: Daisy handled logistics, Harry was responsible for intelligence and informants, and Dean led case investigations. However, they still lacked additional firepower support. This was why he had chosen to bring Carlo into his group. Today was a good opportunity to take him out, spill so blood, and test his ttle!

「Twelve o’clock sharp.」

An unremarkable box truck drove out from the side gate of the Narcotics Division. It had no markings. It looked very much like the ordinary trucks used by supermarkets to deliver frozen goods or by second-hand thrift stores for hauling rchandise.

Because there had never been any problems for years, the personnel involved in this kind of escort mission weren’t excessive.

According to Eve’s information, the personnel on the truck were arranged by the deputy head of the Narcotics Division. Team mbers served as the driver and co-driver. Fully ard individuals were inside the vehicle, and two additional plainclothes officers would follow covertly, just in case.

This ant that the Narcotics Division had five people involved in this escort. Their ard strength was significant but not exaggerated, a reasonable deploynt.

Spotting the target, Carlo reassembled his pistol and looked at Dean, who was fiddling with bullets. "Boss, should we follow?"

"Wait!"

Dean wasn’t worried about losing track of the truck before it left the Los Angeles city area. First, he needed to identify the plainclothes surveillance vehicle to prevent them from being detected, which might lead to unnecessary misunderstandings. The technical intelligence support for this was entrusted to Little Mike, out in the suburbs. Using police surveillance on the highways, Little Mike could easily help Dean track the truck’s route. He could also identify the covert plainclothes vehicles!

Make the most of every tool, and every person’s talent. After his previous request for equipnt, Dean had realized that leaving such a useful asset idle was practically a cri.

Ti ticked by. Carlo, already prid for a gunfight, began to grow restless. Maintaining a high state of tension for an extended period wasn’t easy. An excellent soldier needed to learn to regulate their own rhythm and state, or they could easily succumb to post-combat stress.

Carlo tugged at the collar of his heavy bulletproof vest, lit a cigarette, and took a few deep drags to calm his nerves slightly. Seeing Dean still calmly playing with the bullets in his hand, he couldn’t help but ask with admiration, "Boss, aren’t you nervous?"

Dean flicked a steel-core bullet and chuckled. "I’m fine."

Nervousness stems from a lack of confidence. The city isn’t a battlefield; there aren’t that many stray bullets or abundant cover, situations where it takes, on average, thousands of rounds to claim a single life.

With Dean’s marksmanship, physical fitness, and reflexes, as long as he had his guns, he was Death incarnate within fifty ters! He was, in a sense, infinitely approaching the pinnacle of human combat prowess in modern history, at least in terms of face-to-face gunfights, far surpassing any so-called ’King of Assassins.’

The two continued to wait for a while.

At 12:20 PM sharp, Dean’s phone finally rang!

The ssage was clear: High noon had arrived; the bait was out. It was ti for action!