North American Detective: I am Proficient in All Kinds of Gun Quick Draws
Chapter 126 - 108: Post-Event Management, Action_2

Chapter 126: Chapter 108: Post-Event Management, Action_2

The leader was a brawny man, around thirty years old. He glanced at Dean and extended his hand. "Detective badge!"

Dean honestly handed it over.

Unless he was certain, he never directly courted trouble; at most, he’d throw a brick from behind or take a potshot from the shadows.

Unexpectedly, after looking at his detective badge, the brawny man’s stern face softened considerably. "So, you’re Dean. Let’s go and talk over there."

This sudden shift not only left Dean somewhat stunned but also baffled the two men behind their leader. This was the first time they had ever seen their boss speak so amiably.

The two men went to an open space.

Dean took out a cigarette and offered it. "Let me guess, you’re one of Instructor Anthony’s students?"

"You’re smart, Dean." The brawny man hesitantly accepted the cigarette, tucked it behind his ear, and extended his hand to Dean. "You can call me Amon. I’m currently with the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) and also serve as the Deputy Director of the NSA (National Security Agency)."

After Dean shook his hand, he voiced his confusion. "I thought staff from the Federation or the FBI would come. Why is the Department of Homeland Security involved?"

Amon’s face twisted into a stiff smile. "Because if the FBI were involved, they’d leave a record. But when we act, ordinary people can’t access our files, and after some time, the files will plausibly disappear. Enough about that, how has Teacher Anthony been lately?"

"Instructor Anthony has been suspended, but he’s in good spirits. He’s returned to the Commonwealth and probably won’t be back for a while."

The difference in address—Teacher versus Instructor—indicated their varying degrees of closeness to Anthony.

Therefore, Amon didn’t press further. He began to casually ask Dean about the details of the case.

There was nothing to hide.

Dean recounted the events truthfully and suggested that the man named Arthur was likely a key figure whom Amon could take away later.

"So, you didn’t get any useful information from Mrs. Haas?" Amon stared into Dean’s eyes, his gaze full of scrutiny.

Dean shook his head. "By the time I got in, she was smoking. I’d barely asked two questions before she vomited blood and died. These waters run too deep; I don’t want to invite trouble for myself."

Ever since learning micro-expression analysis, he could steadily control his expressions and tone, making it difficult for others to distinguish truth from deceit; his acting had also become increasingly natural.

Amon nodded. "A wise choice. Actually, with your talent, I think a special organization would suit you better. Staying in the detective agency is a waste; it will be like a fishbowl, a shackle limiting your growth."

Dean chuckled. "I’m still young. It won’t be too late to consider my development after I’ve learned all of Instructor Anthony’s skills."

Amon was taken aback. He then remembered that Dean, who appeared quite mature, would apparently only be turning twenty-two in a few days.

When their conversation ended, Amon gave Dean a business card, suggesting they keep in touch.

「 」

After signing the confidentiality agreement, Dean and the three other detectives, Hawk and his group of officers, and Holz and his team from the forensics department each received a full half-year’s salary as a bonus for their ’special contribution.’

Everyone left in high spirits. Getting paid without getting into trouble felt great.

After Dean and the others had left, Amon gave an order.

The elderly were loaded onto a bus. Then, someone doused the surroundings with a large amount of gasoline and set it ablaze. The flames billowed, painting the night sky fiery red.

Against the backdrop of the raging fire, a few staged photos were taken before the bus departed, forcibly taking the elderly to various nursing homes in Los Angeles for placement.

Once the flames had nearly obliterated all traces at the scene, the long-waiting firefighters joined the "battlefield" and extinguished the blaze.

「That midnight.」

An inconspicuous news story looped on television: "A sudden fire broke out at XX Nursing Home. Thanks to the fire department’s timely response and rescue efforts, the blaze has been extinguished. Currently, there are no casualties..."

Who watches the news at midnight anyway? Those who did see it would never know that beneath that brief line of text lay the unavenged souls of countless corpses, their grievances forever unheard.

「 」

「On the other side.」

After Dean and his crew returned to downtown Los Angeles, the group went straight to a strip club to celebrate.

Half a year’s salary, practically for free! Not celebrating would be unthinkable.

With Dean intentionally plying everyone with alcohol, the group, having had their fill of fun and thoroughly intoxicated, staggered to a nearby temporary hotel and booked over a dozen rooms to rest.

Deep in the quiet of the night, Dean slipped out of the hotel through a back alley. After climbing a wall, he entered an unremarkable house in the adjacent neighborhood.

This was a temporary safe house he had prepared for himself.

The term ’safe house’ sounds grandiose, but setting one up was actually quite simple: find a few willing homeless individuals, rent some properties under their names, pay the rent in cash, and then stock some water and food. That’s all there was to it.

Dean had prepared several such places near various strip clubs in the city. They were disposable, meant for single use and regularly replaced. Even if something went awry and a property owner sensed something was amiss, very few would dare to report it.

Weapons, on the other hand, were more troublesome.

Dean had only been in this world for about two months. He’d been busy solving cases and dealing with miscellaneous matters, so he still hadn’t established an underground network in this world.

Anbei would have been a good contact for that. But the guy had vanished after the big explosion at Lincoln Farm; it was unknown if he was dead or alive.

The weapons now before Dean had all been acquired at high cost; he had used coded language online to have parts shipped to him at exorbitant prices for self-assembly.

Among them was a CZ-805 semi-automatic rifle using 5.56mm bullets, equipped with a hundred-round drum magazine. Its total weight was less than 7.5 kilograms (under 16.5 pounds), which Dean could handle easily.

This was a rifle model not commonly seen in the United States, originating from the Czech Republic. Dean had easily obtained the assembly parts online. While the quality wasn’t top-notch, it was serviceable.

Some time ago, after realizing the limitations of pistols, he had been intensely practicing with rifles. Although the results in such a short period couldn’t be called spectacular, thanks to the gun sense developed from his Pistol Proficiency, his accuracy within a hundred meters was roughly on par with that of a veteran soldier.

Combined with his physical attributes and Speed, ordinary soldiers stood no chance against him.

Besides the CZ-805 and three full drum magazines, Dean had also prepared two Glock 19s, standard edition, each with a fifteen-round full magazine. Their stopping power was average, but they were reliable and, crucially, easy to acquire.

After changing into a cheap, gray sweatsuit and boots, Dean packed the weapons and a white gentleman’s mask into a backpack. He then got into the rickety, second-hand pickup truck parked outside and headed toward his target’s location.

The person behind Mrs. Haas was neither a prominent politician nor located in a dangerous place like Carmen Manor. It was merely a Catholic Archbishop.

He held a distinguished status and was widely connected, but his personal security was minimal. Therefore, Dean hadn’t bothered with a bulletproof vest.

In the current civilian market of the United States, such items were strictly regulated, much harder to obtain than guns, and acquiring them could easily lead to a sting operation.

Strictly speaking, armed with just his two handguns, Dean was confident enough to breach the poorly defended Archbishop’s residence; he might not even need to fire a shot.

As for bringing an additional semi-automatic rifle... That was entirely because, after the attack on Carmen Manor, Dean had developed a severe case of firepower inadequacy phobia. The feeling of being pinned down by a hail of bullets, unable to even lift his head, was truly awful.

He didn’t like being suppressed—by anyone but women, that is!

He just wondered how many Experience Points this venture would yield.

He was very much looking forward to finding out!