"Gurgle, gurgle, gurgle"
"Puff"
a puff of cold water poured over his head, Grayson Faber woke up from his coma, his eyes were confused, and there was a small piece of chive leaf stuck on his face.
Across from him, Jack had just finished talking to Alice, and seeing this scene, he couldn't help feeling nauseous and subconsciously stood a step away from him.
Ma Xidao put down the water cup, and with his arms thicker than an ordinary person's thighs, he crossed his chest and glared at Grayson Faber with a bad face, which instantly made him sober.
"I swear, I have nothing to do with Jessica's affairs, please."
"Then why did you run?" Clay sneered and handcuffed him.
Grayson Faber looked from Jack to Ma Xidao, who was watching closely beside him. He subconsciously shrank towards Jack and spoke in a voice as thin as a mosquito. "I panicked for a moment. You're the FBI. How could they come to me in Korea?
I mean, I saw the news before, and I know what happened to her. It's terrible."
"So, when was the last time you saw Jessica?" Clay continued to ask. Jack seemed to be fiddling with his phone casually, but in fact he was observing his expression.
"A few days ago, at a nightclub in Itaewon." Grayson Faber answered every question, appearing to be extremely cooperative.
"Yes, we checked the nightclub surveillance, and it seems that your attitude was not very friendly at the time." Clay reached out and lifted him up from the ground, sitting him in a chair.
"Of course. That bitch nearly cost me my job, and I went to question her about what she did to me."
Jack was almost amused by this guy. It wasn't like they hadn't already investigated before coming here. "Isn't it because you've been harassing her before now?"
"Oh, come on, a few phone calls count as harassment?" Grayson Faber looked up, startled by Ma Xidao's expressionless, cold glare. He quickly lowered his head.
Clay sneered, "Luckily you teach English, not math, or you'd be misleading. A few calls or hundreds? Think about it before you answer. I remind you again, lying to the FBI is still a felony, even in Korea." Seeing him lower his head and remain silent, Jack continued to pressure. "And you showed up downstairs at her place in the middle of the night. That's very similar to what you did to another girl in Tallahassee, Florida, right before you smashed her head in with the butt of your pistol.
Things escalated step by step, and we have every reason to suspect you are the murderer."
Grayson Faber Faber was so scared that he almost jumped out of his chair and argued loudly, "I swear to God, I have nothing to do with Jessica's death. I went straight home after leaving the nightclub that day.
I admit that I wanted to use the fact that she hooked up with rich Korean guys in the nightclub to blackmail her, but that woman didn't care at all, and the agency is used to it. I was really ready to give up.
There are plenty of young girls here. As long as you can speak fluent English, you can find a bar to buy a few drinks and take one home to spend the night with you. I've figured it out. There's no need to keep an eye on a bitch."
"You just let him go like that?" Ma Xidao, who was waiting outside, pretended to be surprised when he saw Jack and Clay walking out of the embassy.
Jack knew this big man was actually quite intelligent, so he deliberately probed, "You're also a criminal police officer, so you must have solved quite a few homicides. How big of a suspect do you think Grayson Faber is?"
"If this is really a serial murder case like you're talking about, that guy just now made me want to beat him up, but he's still a long way from being a psychopathic killer," Ma Xidao said frankly.
"He's been ruled out as a suspect for now." Jack showed him the investigative data Alice had just sent him on his phone. "We found out that he went to Thailand two weeks ago and stayed there for almost a week. So he wasn't in Korea when the first victim, Barbara Walker, was killed."
"So why are you sending him back?" Ma Xidao's gloomy expression brightened considerably. He had just assumed the Americans were up to their old tricks, sending suspected criminals back home ahead of time.
Jack, of course, knew what he was suspecting. It was no wonder Koreans were so sensitive. After all, this wasn't the first time US troops stationed in Korea had done this. Soldiers who raped, murdered, and murdered families in South Korea had previously escaped justice in this way.
"The agency revoked Grayson Faber's work visa after hearing about his criminal record. He'll be on a plane back to the US in two hours,"
Jack said, somewhat euphemistically. The main reason, in reality, was the FBI's on-site investigation, which had frightened the agency, Dawnland.
Thinking it was better to avoid further trouble, they found an excuse to cancel Grayson Faber's work visa. Jack and Clay simply handcuffed him and took him directly to the embassy.
Ma Xidao glanced at the sky, noting it was still some time before dark. "So what should we do next? I've sent two people to the Cleaning and Environmental Bureau to investigate, but we won't have any results until tomorrow at the earliest."
"Let's find a place to work out? Any recommendations for a good gym?" Jack suggested. It was still early for dinner, and Jubal and the others were still busy at the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency.
Clay's eyes lit up. "Preferably one with a boxing ring," he said, glancing at Ma Xidao with a sinister look.
"Ashiba, we've got to have a good meal tonight," Ma Xidao said nonchalantly.
"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"
A series of muffled thuds echoed in the ring. Ma Xidao and Clay's relentless blows made the surrounding group of protein powder-fueled gym rats pale, and some of the more irritated ones even instinctively clamped their legs together.
Although Clay was half a head taller than Ma Xidao, they were about the same weight, barely in the same weight class, though Clay's body fat percentage was significantly higher.
Unlike fitness requirements for body fat percentage, in boxing and other competitive martial arts, the higher the weight class, the more relaxed the requirements.
Ma Xidao's body fat percentage was around 15%, and he even had a slight beer belly. His abdominal muscles were not very prominent, but his movements were incredibly agile, reminding Jack of a certain nimble, overweight man active in the Hong Kong film industry.
Although the two were fighting in kickboxing, Ma Xidao primarily used boxing techniques. His style was somewhat similar to Tyson's "peekaboo" (hide and seek), focusing on getting in close and then delivering powerful blows, aiming for a single fatal blow.
Clay, taller and longer than Ma Xidao, and with similarly fast reflexes, should have had the advantage. However, once they clashed in the ring, he regretted his decision.
Even within kickboxing rules, it was just a sparring match, not a real fight. Although he tried hard to distance himself, hoping to finish his opponent at mid-range, Ma Xidao's agile footwork and frequent dives and dodges made him very uncomfortable.
Both men possessed a body built around fat, but Ma Xidao's muscular build was clearly more resilient. Occasionally, even with a punch, he could easily penetrate the inner circle, followed by a series of powerful punches that sent Clay reeling.
"Want a break?"
Referee Jack chuckled as Clay swung his arms furiously. Ma Xidao had just dodged sideways, then unleashed a barrage of left and right punches, followed by a diving, dodging blow, and then a powerful backhand followed by a left hook, nearly shattering Clay's defensive defense.
"No more fighting! I'm no match for him in the ring," Clay conceded with a resigned air. He knew, in fact, that his opponent's stamina was undoubtedly inferior to his own, and if they continued to roam, the outcome was uncertain.
But he had simply been a bit dazzled by Ma Xidao's attack. There was no conflict between them, nor was they out to fight to the death. After experiencing the other man's powerful punches, he was already satisfied.
"Ah, I haven't felt this tired in a while." Ma Xidao's body was slick with oil, his boxing shorts soaked with sweat. After biting open the straps of his gloves, he casually threw them away and sat down on the ground in an unpresentable manner.
(End of this chapter)