"Can you tell me when you first encountered Kingsman?" William asked curiously, then smiled. "Never mind. Whether you've met Kingsman or not doesn't really matter today. But I like the nickname 'suit-clad thugs.' I think I'll make it a rule that not only field agents but also support staff must wear suits."
"You make the rules? You're only twenty. How could you possibly be in charge of an intelligence organization?" Clyde stared at him for a few seconds, then, realizing William had no reason to lie about such a thing, asked with a peculiar look, "Does being an English Grand Duke give you that much authority?"
"How we operate and allocate authority is our business, not yours," William replied bluntly. "The only reason I'm sharing this with you is to make it clear that whether you killed anyone or not has nothing to do with us. That's New York police business." With that, William tossed a few photos onto the table in front of Clyde. "Let's talk about this instead."
Clyde picked up the photos, frowning at the images of two men in black lying with their necks twisted at unnatural angles. "What's this?"
"People who came to kill you," William said with a smile.
Clyde quickly examined the photos again. When he noticed a faint tattoo of a leopard's head on one of the corpses' inner wrists, his expression changed, and he looked up at William with gratitude. "Thank you."
"So, you've had contact with these people or fought them before?" William asked calmly.
Clyde hesitated, glancing around nervously. Sensing his unease, William laughed. "Relax. You've worked with the US Department of Defense and the English intelligence agency. You should know that if we wanted to catch you, we wouldn't care who you are or what you've done. Second, I'm English. I have no reason to help New York police officers who have nothing to do with me.
"And if you don't cooperate, we'll just use our methods to get the truth out of you. For instance, I could hand over information about your companies in Panama to the C1A agents outside."
"Damn it," Clyde cursed under his breath. His current adversary was the New York police, and given his experience and skills, dealing with them wasn't a problem. But if intelligence agents and someone as wealthy and resourceful as William got involved, his contingencies might not hold up.
Reluctantly, Clyde admitted, "Yes, I've encountered them before. I came back to the US to start my revenge plan partly to evade their pursuit and partly because I feared waiting any longer would cost me my chance to get even."
"Who's after you, and why?" William seized the opportunity to ask the question he most wanted answered. Knowing who was behind Clyde's hunters would allow William to monitor them, making it easier to intercept the $4 billion Clyde had hidden.
Faced with the question, Clyde hesitated again, his mind racing. The fortune—$3.5 billion in bearer bonds and $500 million in electronic certificates—was small enough to fit in a backpack but massive in value.
Instead of answering directly, Clyde voiced his own doubts. "We've never met, and we have no ties. Why would you go out of your way to eliminate the people trying to kill me?"
"No ties? Oh, but we do, Clyde," William said, smiling as if he had been waiting for this question. "After the London attack, I issued a bounty in the underworld for Amir Barkawi and all his associates and relatives."
"What does that have to do with me?" Clyde asked, now visibly uneasy.
"Ties? Of course, there's a connection," William said, narrowing his eyes. "Do you remember about a month ago, when three men in a car you sabotaged drove off a cliff?"
Clyde's face darkened as he nodded. He remembered every person he had killed and every step of his plans with perfect clarity.
"Your handler paid you $1 million but took $3 million from me for the same job. So, tell me, don't we have a connection?" William said with a cold smile.
"Damn it. That bastard didn't tell me the target was one of Amir Barkawi's associates," Clyde cursed quietly. "Stealing my cut... He's got it coming."
As he recalled the widespread destruction caused by William's bounty, Clyde instinctively leaned back in his chair to put some distance between himself and William. Then, with a mixture of fear and realization, he asked, "So someone's targeting people who carried out your bounty jobs?"
"You're sharp, Clyde," William said. "But whether someone's retaliating against both me and those who took the bounties is still uncertain. What I can confirm is that you were the first to be attacked. Last night, another bounty hunter who completed one of my jobs was killed in South America. That's why I came straight to you."
"Damn it," Clyde muttered, now genuinely alarmed. He hadn't expected William's words to confirm his suspicions. If he was already being hunted by a French intelligence agency, the possibility of retaliation from other groups made his situation even more precarious.
"Are you sure about this?" Clyde asked, his voice tense.
William nodded gravely. "The hitman who died was a veteran with over twenty years of experience. He retired to Brazil with $6 million from one of my bounties, but last night, he was killed—cleanly, with his head severed. The method matches the revenge style of certain groups."
Of course, William smirked inwardly. That assassin in Brazil had indeed died last night, but it was William himself who had eliminated him. A quick teleportation from the US to Rio, where William had been vacationing, made the task trivial. His AI assistant, Sunday, had simply identified the target first.
"So, you'd better tell me—who are these two men? What does the leopard tattoo signify? And who's behind them?"
Still reeling from William's revelations, Clyde hesitated before answering. "I don't know who these men are, but I'm certain they're French. After completing your job in the desert, I visited several countries. It was in Paris that I encountered them for the first time."
"Paris?" William feigned contemplation. "Why Paris?"
"I don't know," Clyde replied, deliberately avoiding eye contact. To hide his satisfaction, he kept his head down, pretending to study the photos. After a moment, he asked, "Why didn't you capture these two for interrogation instead of killing them outright?"
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Fairy Tail: Igneel's Eldest Son (Chapter 256)
I Am Thalos, Odin's Older Brother (Chapter 336)
Reborn in America's Anti-Terror Unit (Chapter 542)
Solomon in Marvel (Chapter 924)
Becoming the Wealthiest Tycoon on the Planet (Chapter 1284)
Surgical Fruit in the American Comics Universe (Chapter 1289)
American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop (Chapter 1316)
American TV Writer (Chapter 1402)
I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld! (Chapter 570)
Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 660)
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