Chapter 87: Recruiting Arthur
On the rooftop of an office building in Los Angeles, two figures were running frantically, forcing Ron, who was observing through binoculars from the building next door, to whistle in appreciation.
To better observe the two assassins' movements, Ron had found an excellent vantage point in the opposite building and set up a high-powered spotting scope. From this angle, he could even vaguely see through the blinds as the cult leader, twice as wide as Hank, harassed his new female secretary.
"These two are pretty slick. How did that old cripple Harry produce such an agile son? Think he's actually his biological kid?"
"Boss, the intel says Harry's leg injury was from stepping on an IED in Afghanistan..." Hank was halfway through correcting the information when Ron waved his hand and cut him off.
"Do you know what kind of explosive Harry stepped on?"
"This... I really don't know."
"It was a bouncing betty, and his son was born after he came back stateside," Ron squinted: "So now you understand why his son didn't inherit squat when old Harry died?"
"I get it, Boss, but I don't understand. Why are you telling me this?" Hank asked with some confusion.
"Think about it—what's Harry's most valuable legacy? The house that got foreclosed by the bank? Or his dwindling checking account?" Ron said with an amused expression.
"Neither of those things. It's the assassination techniques that old Harry taught him. With those skills, he can make money anywhere he goes. And here's the kicker—Arthur is an orphan who was born right where old Harry was stationed during his tour of duty. You really think that's a coincidence?"
"Okay, even if Arthur is Harry's bastard son, how does that help us?"
"What do you think? I use this as leverage to recruit him. It's time to add a master with serious combat skills and special ops expertise to my task force."
After a series of infiltrations that Ron couldn't observe, the two assassins reappeared like phantoms in the cult leader's office. He had just shot up with heroin and was entering his most euphoric state.
At that moment, he truly felt like God was speaking to him.
But the assassin standing next to him was destined to introduce him to the Grim Reaper instead.
Hank's jaw dropped: "But he's obviously a hired killer!"
Ron patted Hank's shoulder reassuringly: "There's nothing unusual about recruiting killers. In our intelligence agencies, we do this all the time. You need to learn to be flexible.
Not just killers—even drug dealers, as long as they're valuable assets, they're eligible for recruitment. You don't really think that chicken restaurant mogul built his nationwide distribution network through legitimate business alone?"
"Isn't that how it works?"
"Of course not. I'd bet my pension there's CIA fingerprints all over that operation." Ron smirked: "Using narcotics for foreign operations is basically CIA 101. It's an open secret in the intelligence community.
Otherwise, do you think I can't spot the holes in those financial reports he gave us? Please—a nationwide drug distribution network with margins that thin? Who would buy that? If Colonel Sanders really only had that kind of capability, he might as well get a day job."
Although Hank had been deputy director of the DEA before, his clearance level was several grades below what the IRS commanded. These revelations were simply beyond his previous access level. His mouth hung open in shock.
Ron reached over and closed Hank's jaw, but with this bombshell information, Hank found that the idea of housing a killer wasn't so hard to swallow.
"So, Boss, what's our play?"
"I..." Ron had just started to speak when gunfire erupted from the building next door. The cult leader's security team had finally discovered Arthur and his partner's location and immediately engaged them.
Ron opened the large duffel bag at his feet, handed one of two sniper rifles to Hank, and shouldered the other himself.
"Try not to blow our cover. I'll find an opportunity to make contact later. You stay here and provide overwatch." After saying that, he set up the rifle and aimed at the opposite building.
Because in this brief time, the firefight in the opposite building had spread from inside to the rooftop. Arthur burst through the door and rolled across the ground, rolled to the edge of the roof, stepped onto a lower windowsill and concealed his entire body on the lower platform, while two armed bodyguards had already pursued him to the rooftop.
But Arthur didn't return fire.
"Ha, poor bastard's Winchester," Ron observed Arthur's predicament through his scope and couldn't help chuckling.
"Boss, I'm confused. Do you want to recruit him, or are you rooting for his demise?"
"Remember what I said earlier? If he can't handle this situation, he's not worth recruiting. Do you know how hard it is to get a presidential pardon from the FBI?"
The two brain-dead bodyguards who had chased onto the rooftop were searching methodically, giving Arthur the perfect opportunity to take them down one by one.
Arthur remained crouched below the rooftop, motionless, until one of the bodyguards approached. Suddenly, Arthur struck, popping up, grabbing the bodyguard's ankles and yanking him off the roof.
The bodyguard plummeted from the rooftop, thirty stories high, and instantly became street pizza.
"Now that's what I call decisive. I like it," Ron licked his lips. He was pleased with his potential new recruit, while Hank, remembering the meatball sub he'd had that morning, felt his stomach churn.
Ron slapped Hank on the shoulder. "Hey! Look! These two smart cookies actually figured out how to use that zipline to rappel down from the building. You should hit the gym more. If it were you, that cable wouldn't support your weight."
"If it were me, I wouldn't be in this mess. I would've eliminated them before they could corner me," Hank said defensively.
Meanwhile, the assassins on the other side were running into some trouble. Halfway down, a bodyguard finally spotted their escape plan and smashed through a window, firing wildly at the descending duo.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Several rounds came close to hitting both men.
"Hank, give them a hand," Ron ordered.
Hank had been tracking the bodyguard's position. At the command, he squeezed the trigger, and a lethal round screamed out of the barrel, striking the bodyguard right between the eyes.
The next moment, a bloody hole appeared in his forehead, and he tumbled out of the window like a rag doll.
Ron was very satisfied to see Arthur's surprised expression through his scope. "Perfect. Now I'll go introduce myself to our new friend."
(End of Chapter)
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