Chapter 354: Chapter 352 US Custom to Clear the Magazine_1
New York, five in the morning.
Bruno, following orders from his superiors, arrived at Langley Air Force Base. He was there to welcome the team leader and Police Director of the Tokyo Dio special task force, and to jointly handle the Snake Stick Case that had occurred in the Brooklyn District.
He didn’t like delving too deeply into this case. Before contacting David, Bruno had thoroughly investigated all of David’s background information. He knew David’s typical activities, which organizations he was connected with, and then, based on those interests, assessed whether contact was worthwhile. The selection of David hadn’t been random; it was inevitable.Being chosen as the agent to liaise with the Tokyo visitors wasn’t accidental either; it was the result of his own hard work. He possessed exceptional individual ability, knew how to flatter his superiors, and had ambition—an ambition, however, that remained within the scope of what his superiors could control.
This was the image Bruno cultivated before his superiors, the very model of an excellent subordinate that all bosses appreciated. Whenever a difficult task arose, he was always the first to be considered for it. His six years of forbearance would culminate in a final, magnificent performance.Bruno didn’t want any mistakes at this critical juncture.He hoped the person arriving from Tokyo would be somewhat foolish, making it easier for him to stall until Project Inferno launched.It was an event destined to be recorded in history.
BOOM. A sonic boom resonated from the sky. He looked up; an F-15 was descending toward the airport.
This behemoth seemed somewhat clumsy in pictures.Only by standing before an F-15 could one truly appreciate the unique charm of the fighter jet. Photos made it appear cumbersome, but in reality, it boasted flowing, industrial curves.
Bruno stepped forward.
The F-15 touched down at the airport. The cockpit opened, and a tall figure leaped down, landing gracefully.
Even someone as stoic as Bruno couldn’t help but take a second glance. The woman before him possessed a beauty he had seldom encountered, and the scent of her perfume attested to her maturity and intellect.
She was clearly not the kind of fool he’d hoped for, Bruno lamented inwardly. "Hello, my name is Bruno Bondi. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Morimoto."
Morimoto Chiyoda removed the visor from her forehead, her gaze fixed on the tall Caucasian man before her—short hair, sharp facial features, his piercing eyes obscured by glasses.
A man of deep schemes, she thought, a smile touching her lips as she said, "A pleasure to work with you. I suppose being assigned to me means my superiors don’t hold me in very high regard."
"No, it’s simply that this matter is too peculiar. For confidentiality reasons, the higher-ups preferred not to involve too many people."
"Well, your explanation does make me feel a bit better."
Morimoto Chiyoda chuckled lightly, stuffed the visor into her pants pocket, and asked, "Shall we drive to the scene, or take a helicopter?"
With a smile, Bruno said, "Naturally, we’ll take a helicopter to New York."
New York, Brooklyn.
Previously, Morimoto Chiyoda’s impression of New York stemmed from movies, books, and things she’d read online from various people. In Japan, there were plenty of people who idolized the United States. For instance, the experience of having worked in the United States was something some people would boast about repeatedly. In their accounts, the United States was always a land of freedom and democracy, where even the air was supposedly sweet.
Morimoto Chiyoda, looking down from the helicopter, realized they weren’t entirely exaggerating, just presenting a very one-sided picture. Elegant restaurants, luxurious apartments, brightly lit offices, and atmospheric bars were part of New York. Homeless people in the subways, tents on the streets, crimes in dark alleys, and overflowing trash cans were also part of New York. Those people often spoke only of the former, effectively stripping the latter of its American identity, which was clearly unfair.
She looked out the window to see police cars chasing another vehicle, though she couldn’t make out its make. Morimoto Chiyoda’s knowledge of cars was limited to sports cars, which she found beautiful; she paid no attention to other types. The two sides were engaged in a fierce shootout, much like a movie scene—something that would almost never happen in Tokyo.
The United States is truly a martial nation,
Morimoto Chiyoda thought.Nearby, Bruno chuckled. "I hear Tokyo is a very peaceful city; gunfire is seldom heard."
"Peaceful? Well, that was in the past. Tokyo today can hardly be described as peaceful."
"Haha, true. Superpower Users... if my superiors hadn’t told me about them, I’d have thought someone was joking," Bruno said.
The pilot in front turned his head and shouted, "We’re here! Lowering our position so you can use the fast-ropes to descend."
"Okay."
Bruno opened the cabin door, and the roar of the propellers intensified. "Ladies first."
"Alright."
Morimoto Chiyoda was the first to use a fast-rope, descending to the area outside the apartment building.
Fully armed CIA agents stood guard at the entrance. They watched every person in the shadows or passing by with vigilant eyes. Anyone who so much as put their hands in their pockets would undoubtedly draw a hail of gunfire. Six bodies lying on the street testified to the intensity of their vigilance. Morimoto Chiyoda glanced over and noticed some victims weren’t holding anything; perhaps they were mere passersby who had been killed. Such intense vigilance ensured there were no curious onlookers anywhere near the scene.
Bruno descended after her and explained, "Miss Morimoto, I hope you can get used to the rules here. When you see a suspicious Black individual, don’t hesitate. Empty your magazine; that’s how you’ll save your life."
"Alright, I’ll try to get used to the rules here."
Morimoto Chiyoda shrugged, not mentioning that her own guiding principle in Tokyo was to open fire immediately at the first sign of trouble, regardless of skin color.
"Snake stick’s hideout is on the third floor."
Bruno briefed her as he led the way, guiding Morimoto Chiyoda up a stairwell littered with needles. They reached the third floor.
The strong scent of blood had mostly dissipated, but the stains on the floor hadn’t been cleaned. Chalk outlines marked the victims’ peculiar final poses. Only by cross-referencing with the photos Jack had sent could Morimoto Chiyoda piece together what the scene had been like. Some had their heads impaled by massive rocks; from others, a Chinese parasol tree grew straight out of their stomachs. The roughly six-meter stretch from the corridor to the room was a tableau of bizarre deaths.
Morimoto Chiyoda entered Snake stick’s room. Looking at the even more numerous death scenes in the living room, she could only imagine how bloody and chaotic it must have been.
"I remember one of the photos showed someone who looked like they’d been torn apart by sharp teeth."
"Yes. Our examination of the bodies revealed tiger blood on the fractured ribs. However, we found no trace of the tiger at the scene. The assailant likely took the animal, leaving only the stones, trees, and such," Bruno said, sharing the information he had.
Morimoto Chiyoda touched her chin, her expression puzzled. "During this period, has no one else reported any strange incidents?"
"Three or four hundred, easily. You know how incoherent people get when they’re high on drugs." Bruno shrugged. "We haven’t found anything related to this case from those calls. If I had to point to anything, it would be General Adel’s death."
Morimoto Chiyoda mused, "Do you think this case is related to Dio?"
"We’re not sure. That’s precisely why we invited an expert like you to make a judgment," Bruno replied with a smile, inwardly hoping she would conclude Dio was responsible.
Morimoto Chiyoda scanned the scene, then asked, "Have any follow-up reports been received? Or have the two missing gang members been found? I read in your earlier reports that there were no children found with Snake stick, nor were there any notifications of children being returned home. Under these circumstances, how did you determine they were a trafficking organization?"
Bruno answered truthfully, "The CIA learned about Snake stick’s operations through informants. As for the children, they typically abduct them—both girls and boys—from Venezuela. You know how locals there often rely on beauty pageants to change their fortunes. So, when someone suddenly shows interest in their children, posing as a company and promising to train them, many parents are deceived. It’s difficult to ascertain in such a short time if any children have actually returned home."
"I see. I can’t jump to any conclusions without more specific information," Morimoto Chiyoda said, refraining from voicing her immediate thoughts. Even though she desperately wanted to go home, she also knew that taking it easy didn’t mean doing a shoddy job. Her brand of ’slacking’ was predicated on not letting it affect the quality of her work.
Bruno disliked her meticulousness. However, swayed by her stunning looks, he suppressed the urge to kill her. "I’ll take you to your hotel to rest," he said.
"Alright."
Morimoto Chiyoda didn’t refuse. She knew she couldn’t do much without detailed information, so resting was the better option.
After arranging Morimoto Chiyoda’s hotel room, Bruno didn’t let the downtime go to waste. Being chosen as her partner afforded him more freedom. He went to the adjacent hotel room, headed straight for the bedroom, and retrieved a tablet from under the mattress. Bruno couldn’t wander off. CIA agents’ phones were equipped with trackers to ensure constant monitoring of operatives in the field. Bruno didn’t dare use this official phone to contact anyone.
He connected the tablet to the hotel’s Wi-Fi, logged into a Twitter account the KGB had prepared for him, and entered a group chat named ’Wednesday.’ Project Inferno was scheduled for execution this Wednesday. They knew The White House was set to issue directives to streamline the Pentagon Building’s staff on Thursday. Before the formal appointments were announced, they needed to leverage the authority of the officers slated for downsizing.
He entered the chat group and sent a message: "How are things?"
"Everything’s proceeding smoothly on my end."
"The person currently in charge of executing the plan is codenamed Pigeon."
Reading the intelligence provided by MI6, Bruno fell into thought. ’Pigeon’ was General Joseph, the four-star general overseeing this streamlining initiative. In terms of seniority, he was indeed suitable, but his methods were somewhat lacking compared to Adel’s. Bruno wasn’t worried.
"There’s a slight complication on my end."
Seeing the message from an avatar with a masked face, Bruno frowned slightly. This wasn’t an agent from another country, but a Republican Party congressman—an extremist, at that, Bruno realized. He was responsible for liaising with the officers at the Pentagon Building.
"What kind of complication?"
"Someone wants to join our plan, but he’s not on the roster. Should we accept him?"