After whispering with Castle for a while, Beckett walked over with a pretense of seriousness and reported to Montgomery. She revealed that, aside from the five men claiming to be "CIA agents," her officers had brought in another suspect, who wasn't associated with the others. This suspect had already given a statement, confirming that today's incident wasn't necessarily an assassination attempt on Vice President Andrew but a premeditated hit on the African guest. Hearing this, Hughes, who was standing beside Montgomery, turned pale.
It wasn't until then that Hughes, who had followed the NYPD back to the 12th Precinct with Diana and Jones, realized the full extent of the situation. Not only had the NYPD apprehended the five "CIA agents" at the scene, but they had also found a sniper who was likely meant to be the scapegoat for the conspiracy.
Diana, upon hearing this, quickly ran a background check through the FBI's database and discovered that this supposed scapegoat was no pushover.
The sniper, Bob Lee Swagger, was a former Marine Gunnery Sergeant and one of the few people in the world capable of hitting a target from 1,500 meters away.
Damn! How much had the NYPD kept hidden from them? And how did they manage to capture the so-called "world's greatest sniper" without anyone getting hurt?
Hughes began to break into a cold sweat, realizing he had walked straight into a trap. It was too late to back out now. After all, he had been the one who insisted on taking the case from the NYPD, even going as far as involving the Department of Justice. His goal had been to wrest control of the investigation. But now, with the new information coming to light, the experienced Hughes could see that this was clearly a clash between two political forces.
Regret flooded him, but it was too late. He had already begged his superiors to pressure the Department of Justice into making the NYPD hand over the case and the five suspects. The call had been made, and the documents had already arrived at the NYPD. But those sneaky bastards hadn't told him about the key witness. It was clear that the NYPD intended to keep this crucial witness tightly in their grasp as their biggest bargaining chip.
Realizing he had stepped into a deep pit, Hughes couldn't help but notice that whenever something involved this strange 12th Precinct, things always seemed to go wrong in ways he couldn't predict. It was infuriating.
But there was no time for that now. Hughes could only hope that the five so-called "CIA agents" would spill enough information to help him salvage the situation. If not, the FBI was headed straight into a political minefield. How had he been so foolish as to willingly dive into this mess?
The NYPD were absolute bastards for withholding such critical information!
While the NYPD and FBI were locked in a battle of wits, Senator Charles Hawn, the mastermind behind the plot, was frantically pacing, and Colonel Johnson was at his wit's end. Meanwhile, Vice President Andrew, who was staying in a presidential suite in a New York hotel, was livid after being briefed on all the available information.
He wasn't a fool, and he had a team of advisors to analyze the situation for him. It didn't take long for him to reach a disturbing conclusion: although the assassination attempt wasn't meant to kill him, it was definitely aimed at him. The motive was unclear, but with the presidential race looming, Andrew was convinced this was the work of the Republican Party. He'd bet his life on it.
But the evidence was still incomplete, and piecing everything together would take time. Unfortunately, Andrew couldn't leave New York just yet, as he still needed to attend the fundraising dinner for his campaign. Offending his financial backers would jeopardize his candidacy.
Stuck between a rock and a hard place, Andrew raged in his suite.
His chief of staff finally delivered a crucial piece of information: not only had the NYPD caught five of the mastermind's men, but they had also found a key witness—a sniper who was meant to be the scapegoat. This witness was now being protected at the 12th Precinct, meaning that even if the five "CIA agents" refused to talk, the witness could directly expose the mastermind.
"You're telling me that this whole fiasco was part of the Republicans' strategy to undermine me? What exactly are they trying to do? If they really wanted to kill me, they wouldn't have used such a capable sniper as a fall guy. So, this assassination attempt was just meant to scare me? It can't be that simple. The Republicans must be plotting something bigger!" Andrew muttered to himself after receiving the chief of staff's intelligence briefing.
The chief of staff, who was standing nearby, felt like tearing his hair out. How could Andrew forget all his dirty secrets from the past? The Republicans didn't need much. If they dug up any of Andrew's past misdeeds, they could easily take him down. How could he not see that?
The situation couldn't be more obvious. The Republicans had already lost their political star, who had been arrested by the NYPD's youngest captain. It was clear what they were up to. They likely wanted to use this sharp and merciless detective to uncover damaging evidence against Andrew. If they leaked even a little bit of his dark past, it would be over for him.
The more the chief of staff thought about it, the more convinced he became. It wasn't impossible that the Republicans had engineered this case to both discredit Andrew and use the detective to turn the Democrats against each other. The scenario wasn't far-fetched at all.
Interrupting Andrew's musings, the chief of staff explained his theory, causing the vice president to break into a cold sweat. "So, what do we do now?" Andrew asked.
The chief of staff sighed in frustration. "We need to counter every move they make. We don't know exactly who's behind this, but our best bet is to get information from that scapegoat the NYPD is protecting. If we can find out who's pulling the strings, we'll be able to defend ourselves or even strike back."
Andrew wasn't stupid. He had only been hesitant due to his many skeletons in the closet. After the chief of staff's clear explanation, he immediately took action, sending someone to the NYPD to try to make contact with Bob Lee Swagger, the key witness who was currently chatting with Castle over coffee in the 12th Precinct.
Yes, Bob was sitting in the precinct's lounge, casually sipping coffee with Castle. While Bob was usually a man of few words, which made Castle feel like every top-tier marksman was cut from the same cloth, Castle was, after all, a chatterbox. Even with Hughes glaring daggers from outside, Castle paid no mind and continued his light-hearted conversation with Bob.
Meanwhile, Beckett, along with Diana and Jones, was trying to get Johnson's five men to talk. Unfortunately, they were met with complete silence.
But Beckett wasn't worried. Deputy Chief Montgomery had already instructed her to stall in the interrogation room. The men would be handed over to the FBI by the end of the day anyway. Aside from Bob Lee Swagger and his rifle, everything else—including evidence—could be handed over to the FBI after the NYPD made their own copies. Thanks to Beckett's stellar work, the NYPD had already extricated themselves from the political storm unscathed. What the FBI uncovered afterward? Well, that wasn't the NYPD's problem.
Hughes, however, was filled with regret. Why had he been so eager to take over this case? It was a complete disaster! One misstep, and the FBI would be dragged into a political quagmire from which they might never escape.
Clenching his jaw, Hughes silently vowed never to deal with the 12th Precinct again.
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