North American Detective: I am Proficient in All Kinds of Gun Quick Draws Chapter 62 - 61 Anthony: Not Much That I Can Do1

Amodeo was detained in the custody room. The custody room was located two floors underground in this building and directly connected to the garage. It was guarded by specialized security, had an independent power supply, and was equipped with 24-hour comprehensive surveillance.

Outside the interrogation room, under the gaze of many FBI reserve trainees, Dean and his ntor Anthony headed toward the elevator. Only after the two had left did Cheston En, in the corner, heave a sigh of relief. After they returned this ti, these trainees could beco official agents. He had even thought of making trouble for Dean and his partner after becoming an official agent. But now, seeing the friendly rapport between Dean and Sir Anthony... This was clearly not a good choice.

...

In the elevator, Anthony began his lesson. "Dean, when you want to get rid of a criminal you never want to see again, and you don’t want to bring trouble upon yourself, the simplest thod is to send them to the right prison."

"Private prison?"

"Yes," Anthony nodded. "I own shares in quite a few private prisons. So criminals without backing can be easily dealt with there."

Upon saying this, a smug smile appeared on Anthony’s face. "I noted the potential in private prisons very early on. More than a decade ago, the governnt couldn’t support the imnse expenses for its prisons, so I used my connections to establish so of the earliest private facilities. Since each private prison also involves a local chief justice, their developnt has always been strong."

Arresting people, trials, sending them to prison, generating revenue, opening new prisons... Anthony’s one-stop service was comndably thorough. If anyone crossed him, Anthony could arrange everything for them, plain and simple.

Yet, Dean was sowhat disappointed. As good as this thod was, involving others always left room for loose ends. Even if that person was Anthony, it was no different. Dean trusted no one but himself.

"Is there another way?"

A pleased look crossed Anthony’s face. "You’re very cautious, and that’s good. Of course, there are other thods."

"If you want to handle it yourself, then I have so gadgets to recomnd." Anthony displayed the ring on his finger. "Inside it is a hair-sized syringe filled with a neurotoxic paralytic poison. A casual press on a prisoner’s neck is all it takes. He will suffer respiratory failure and die shortly after. With current technology, it would be very difficult to determine the cause of death."

"I have a dozen or so similar poisons here."

"But all this is trivial. Truly powerful people don’t need to go to such trouble. Dean, do you understand what I an?"

Dean nodded. "I understand!"

He had been limited by the perspective of his past life; he was thinking too small. When you held power, your target could choke on water, hang themselves from a pipe thirty centiters off the ground, or drown themselves in a washbasin... All these thods of death would seem perfectly reasonable. Taking action yourself would only add unnecessary complications.

The elevator doors opened. Anthony led Dean to the temporary cell where Amodeo was being held.

Hearing the noise, Amodeo, who had been exercising barehanded, looked up. Seeing the newcors, a look of joy appeared on his face. "Mr. Anthony, is there a result?"

After realizing there was no turning back, Amodeo had straightforwardly betrayed the Lucifer Ga Organization, spilling all the tasks they had assigned him.

Anthony didn’t even spare Amodeo a glance. He signaled the two FBI agents guarding him to leave the room, then turned to Dean and said, "If you understand, then go ahead."

Dean nodded, unlocked the cell from the outside, and stepped in.

Amodeo, sensing sothing was wrong, backed into a corner and assud a boxing defensive stance. "Mr. Anthony, this..."

The next mont, Dean kicked out. His foot whistled through the air and struck Amodeo’s leg joint squarely.

CRACK! A loud snap echoed. Before Amodeo could react, his right leg twisted and deford. The trendous force lifted him into the air and slamd him heavily onto the floor.

Before Amodeo could even scream in agony, Dean threw another punch at his head.

THUD. There was a muffled sound as Amodeo’s head, which he had just lifted, smacked heavily against the floor. Dark red blood spilled out. Amodeo’s forehead caved in. His eyes bulged, pupils dilated, and his lips twitched twice before freezing completely...

Threaten ? Dean’s mouth curled into a smirk. After checking Amodeo’s neck to confirm he was dead, Dean stood up, left the cell, and grinned at Anthony. "Well, old man, how was that?"

"Your strength and speed are impressive, but your technique is a bit rough, and your application of force isn’t quite right," Anthony gave a very candid assessnt.

He clapped his hands. The two FBI agents who had left earlier re-entered. Pointing to Amodeo’s motionless body in the cell, Anthony said, "He was doing a handstand, fell, and killed himself. Take care of it."

Faced with this absurd explanation, the two agents didn’t ask any questions. They deftly retrieved a large box from a corner of the cell, took out various tools and a body bag, and began to clean up.

Watching this familiar process, Dean, a forr Sweeper, couldn’t help but give a thumbs up. Professional!

This was the third lesson Anthony taught Dean: Power!

...

The two lackeys were left to handle the body. After making a phone call to his subordinates still in the interrogation room, Anthony took Dean to the police departnt’s café.

"Dean, Amodeo confessed so very important information, and I need to handle it. With so many trainees dead this ti, I also need to find a way to explain. For a short while, I won’t be able to be by your side to teach you. These are the things I excel at." As he spoke, Anthony placed a form in front of Dean. "My skillset isn’t exhaustive," he said, "but take a look and see what you want to learn first. I’ll make arrangents for you."

Dean picked up the form and examined it carefully. The list of skills alone was extensive: Mind Reading Technique, Scar Recognition, Tracking, Anti-tracking, Footprint analysis, Disguise, Special Pharmaceuticals, Battlefield Traps, Code Breaking, Rapid mory, Israel Krav Maga...

Dean was speechless.

Isn’t this a bit exaggerated? The key was to look at these skills. Dean faintly felt that the Akaz Academy Anthony spoke of didn’t sound like a very reputable place.

Anthony seed to guess what Dean was thinking and explained, "Akaz Academy was originally the na of an assassin organization. Later, it was co-opted by the royals for special agent training, so I know a little more."

Good heavens, just a "little" more.

Dean, still speechless, put down the list. "Many of the things on there probably require one-on-one instruction just to get started, right?"

"Yes. Under normal circumstances, you would follow and learn for several years. That’s also why we’re called the Akaz Academy Faction."

Anthony chuckled. "But since you don’t want to join the FBI, I can only co back to teach you after I’m done with my work. You can choose what you want to learn in the anti, and I’ll arrange for soone to teach you the basics."

The FBI was too complicated. Dean indeed didn’t want to get overly involved at this point.

He looked at the list indecisively, finally resting his finger on one item. "Old man, I’ll start with this one. We can talk about the rest when you’re done with your business."

When Anthony saw his choice, he took out a piece of paper. "I guessed you would pick this one. This is the person I’ve already contacted for you. Just call him when you’re ready to learn."

That impressive? Dean skeptically took the paper. Upon seeing its contents, he was finally convinced.

The note clearly read: Kapu, Israel Krav Maga expert, phone XXX.

This was exactly the skill Dean had chosen.

Anthony smiled. "Aren’t you asking a girl nad Laura to help you find a combat expert? Kapu is one of the elites in that field. He owes a favor and will instruct you diligently."

"Alright, I need to leave now." With that, Anthony stood up.

Dean quickly said, "Old man, about Bill—"

Anthony raised his hand, stopping Dean. He looked into Dean’s eyes seriously and said, "Dean, if you refuse to beco my apprentice, I will give you those docunts. But not now! I don’t want another of my apprentices to die at the hands of the Lucifer Ga Organization."

Dean was silent for a mont, then said sincerely, "Old man, be careful."

Anthony waved his hand and disappeared from Dean’s sight.