North American Detective: I am Proficient in All Kinds of Gun Quick Draws
Chapter 127 - 109 Wave of Fat!_1

Chapter 127: Chapter 109 Wave of Fat!_1

Catholicism is the largest religion in Los Angeles, wielding considerable influence in the surrounding areas. With many naïve believers come influence and money. Therefore, most Catholic priests live very prosperously; though ascetics exist, Archbishop Brownhagen was not among them.

Besides some major rituals and baptizing the children of the wealthy, most of the time Brownhagen resided in a small manor outside the city. This has actually become a rather bizarre sight in many major cities of the United States in recent years: the wealthy move out, while the poor congregate in the city center. Apartments have become the dwellings of the poor; villas and manors are the favorites of the rich. People in power use these stark material differences to divide everyone into various classes.

But this just made Dean’s operation more convenient. As the Archbishop of Catholicism in Los Angeles, Brownhagen’s information was widely leaked online. Even fervent believers would update his schedule daily, as if chasing a celebrity.

Who else should die if not this unlucky guy?

In fact, if Dean hadn’t wanted to keep a low profile, killing such a high-profile public figure wouldn’t have been difficult.

「Two o’clock in the morning.」

Silence enveloped everything.

Dean’s pickup truck also arrived near the small town housing Brownhagen’s manor. He had put on his mask much earlier. With two Glock 19s tucked at his waist, a CZ-805 strapped to his back, and various magazines secured to his leg, he moved stealthily through the woods, approaching the largest manor outside the town.

According to online data, Archbishop Brownhagen led a frugal life. He resided in a manor "built with the help of believers," grew his own vegetables, and had only two old companions who had been by his side for many years.

But Dean knew this was all nonsense. Brownhagen could squeeze at least twenty million US dollars a year from the very marrow of lonely elderly people. Such a man, if he didn’t indulge himself, would be failing his own beastly nature.

After walking in the dark for about ten minutes, the silhouette of a manor, cloaked in night, appeared before Dean. This place, though called a manor, looked more like a small farm. It was surrounded by fences, with fruits and vegetables cultivated within. However, what lay deeper inside was not widely known.

By the light of the moon, Dean noticed intermittent flashes of red and green light among the plants along the fence. These were laser sensors, nothing too sophisticated, serving only as an early warning system. But this also indicated the manor wasn’t as simple as online reports suggested.

After sprinkling some irritant powder on himself, Dean avoided the laser sensors, climbed over the fence into the farm, and moved stealthily towards the interior along a small path bordering the fields.

Faint snuffling and snoring sounds drifted from the darkened fields. Those must be sleeping dogs, he thought.

After passing this second line of defense, Dean cautiously advanced another five hundred meters and finally saw the true manor ahead. It was a spacious, two-story building that looked quite old. Under the moonlight, it appeared desolate and empty, resembling a classic haunted house from a horror movie.

Dean circled the building. After determining Brownhagen’s room by observing the windows and doors, he scaled the exterior projections and hauled himself up.

Standing outside the master bedroom window on the second floor, Dean peered inside. He could only make out a figure lying there but couldn’t confirm if it was Brownhagen.

But that’s not a major issue, he thought. Kill him, and if I get Experience Points, I’ll know it’s Brownhagen.

Dean reached into his pocket, pulled out a thin wire, inserted it into the gap in the window, and after jiggling it a few times, managed to open a small crack in the locked window. Then he drew a half-meter-long tube from his back. He took a needle, dipped its tip in metallic powder from a plastic box, loaded it into the tube, aimed at the figure on the bed, and activated the mechanism.

A cold glint flashed. The person on the bed reacted as if bitten by a mosquito, instinctively touching the spot where the needle struck before resuming their deep sleep.

Confident the needle had hit its mark, Dean waited patiently. This was, in fact, a Blowgun. In the past, it was mostly operated by blowing through the tube by mouth. But when DNA testing became available, the primitive mouth-blowing method was immediately retired. The Blowgun had also evolved with the times, now fitted with a simple mechanism capable of decent penetration within a ten-meter range. The powder was a mineral toxin. Mineral toxins are favored for assassinations due to their ease of storage, rapid action, simple extraction, stability, and cost-effectiveness.

After waiting for about a minute, the soundly sleeping person on the bed suddenly began to struggle violently. It was as if their whole body was convulsing, resembling an epileptic fit. After a few twitches, they collapsed heavily onto the bed.

Dead!

Dean’s expression under the mask darkened. No notification on the status panel! This isn’t Brownhagen!

Just as he was about to enter the room to search and clear it, the moment the person’s heart on the bed stopped, a piercing alarm—WEE-OO WEE-OO WEE-OO!—erupted from all over the manor.

Damn it! This person was also part of the manor’s security system!

Listening to the shrill alarm, yet noticing the eerie silence of the manor itself, a fierce glint flashed in Dean’s eyes. He kicked open the window on the other side, slung the CZ-805 with its hundred-round magazine off his back, and began searching for Brownhagen.

I’m not leaving empty-handed! Wiping out all these animals will still make this a perfect infiltration!

After all, in Dean’s eyes, Brownhagen and his lackeys were hardly human.

Of course, if he found nothing within twenty minutes, Dean would leave without hesitation. This place was remote. Aside from a few insignificant individuals in the nearby town, the nearest major police station was half an hour’s drive away.