Honestly, Jack has taken down many major drug lords, but when it comes to simple drug trafficking cases, he's probably not as experienced as a criminal detective like Ma Xidao.
"If they truly have the production capacity, that would explain the overwhelming number of oxaline tablets over the past month. Finding them is simply a matter of attacking the production and distribution chain."
Ma Xidao prefers to resolve problems with his fists most of the time, but when it comes to using his brains, he's far superior to his useless colleagues.
"As for sales, I can ask through informants. Start with the small fish. Behind the small fish are the big fish, and behind the big fish are the sharks. That's not difficult, but the production chain is more complex.
With the economic downturn of recent years, abandoned industrial areas and warehouses are everywhere around Seoul. Perhaps we can investigate the source of the chemical raw materials. There are only so many raw materials that can be used to make oxaline, right?"
Jack nodded. The main component of oxaline is amphetamine, a class of chemicals known as easily-made DU chemicals. He was referring to precursors, raw materials, and chemical additives that could be used to manufacture narcotics.
He had considered this on the flight to Seoul, and his first assignment for Anna was to work with Justin to investigate the recent flow of suspicious chemical raw materials within South Korea.
One of them would hack into the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency's systems to gather relevant information, while the other would impersonate a purchasing representative from a prominent German pharmaceutical company to conduct a "field investigation."
The reason for conducting this secret investigation, concealed from the South Korean police, was not only the fear of alerting a traitor, but also the fear that going straight to the source would either yield nothing or expose Jang Mingjun's whereabouts.
If Jack could just kill the guy with a single shot,
he wouldn't bother with the complicated process of arrest and extradition. He'd have to be incredibly mad to even consider "martial ethics" for a terrorist and his organization capable of operating a suicide drone and detonating an IED on the streets of Manhattan.
Ma Xidao, true to his actions, sent his location the next morning and arranged to meet outside an internet cafe.
When Jack drove up, he saw this guy chewing a dough stick with his mouth full of oil, and holding a plastic bag in his hand.
"I remember you like to eat here, so I brought you some."
Jack didn't hesitate to take the still warm dough stick and soy milk and ate while walking, "Did you find anything?"
Ma Xidao pointed to the rooftop of the Internet cafe, "It's right up there, a small drug dealer with more than a dozen men. The transaction is done through the Internet. After the buyer places an order and pays, he uses a motorcycle to deliver the goods."
Jack looked him up and down and found that this guy didn't even carry a gun, let alone a bulletproof vest. He frowned and said, "I said the guy we are dealing with this time is not ordinary. Are you going to use your fists when the time comes?" "You're going to have to deal with a machine gun?"
Ma Xidao patted the Audi S6 Jack was driving, leaving a greasy slap mark on it. "Aren't you still there? You know how much trouble it is to write reports when we're shooting."
Jack didn't feel bad that it wasn't his car. He just sighed, opened the trunk, and tossed him a bulletproof vest. "Then at least put this on."
The two of them ate fried dough sticks and drank soy milk while the other awkwardly put on the bulletproof vest. After passing a row of motorcycles, they climbed up the iron ladder to the rooftop and headed straight for an illegal building surrounded by thin iron sheets.
Inside the iron fence were two container-style buildings, with a few broken sofas and folding tables in the middle. The floor was littered with cigarette butts, cans, and empty bottles.
But they seemed too late. By then, more than a dozen people were lying in disarray inside the iron fence. A shifty-looking boy in a red leather jacket was kneeling before two men, one tall and one short, clutching his ears and sobbing uncontrollably.
Hearing the sound of someone coming up the stairs, two men, one tall and one short, turned to look at Jack and Ma Xidao. The tall one was handsome and the short one was ugly, but they were all familiar faces.
"Brother Zhentai? Why are you here? When did your cyber investigation team start catching drug dealers?" Ma Xidao was surprised to see the short, ugly man.
Beside him, Jack recognized not only the unsightly one as the insignificant detective Jiang Zhentai, but also the handsome one, Lieutenant Colonel Lin Zheling from the north.
"Huh? Why are you two here? Why are you, the FBI, showing up again?"
Jiang Zhentai, clutching a bag of red pills, widened his eyes, as if surprised by the two men's unusual behavior.
"My friend from the north is on the same page," Jack said, smiling, extending his right hand to Lin Zheling. "Long time no see, Lieutenant Colonel Lin Zheling. Is your arm healed?"
Lin Zheling instinctively reached out to shake his hand, only to feel a greasy sensation. His eyes fell on the remaining half-eaten fried dough stick in Jack's left hand, and he clenched his fist.
"Thank you for your concern, Agent Tawole. It was just a minor bruise. We were here first today. Can you make way?" The words rang out between his teeth.
"Xidao's one of us, and so is Jack. What's there to give in to?"
Jiang Zhentai said, halfway through his sentence, as if he had suddenly discovered a new world. "Wait, how did you two know each other?"
"Brother, you don't want to know this," Lin Zheling said seriously.
"Do you really want to know?" Jack's expression was half-smile.
Although the New York bombing and prisoner robbery case two months ago had caused a sensation on the internet, the United States' control over the media was far superior to that of the country across the Pacific.
The entire incident was portrayed as a terrorist attack targeting the NYPD and a hatred of the police. There was no secret rendition, no escaped prisoners, and no country north of the peninsula.
Jiang Zhentai rubbed the back of his head, bewildered, completely confused, unable to understand how these two people in front of him, who theoretically should never have crossed paths, could call each other by name.
"Hey, forget about that for now." Ma Xidao could probably guess what was going on; after all, Jack hadn't been hiding anything from him.
Seeing that the atmosphere was a bit off, he took the bag of red pills from Jiang Zhentai and slapped the guy on the head, who was kneeling on the ground and inching backwards.
"Tell me where these things came from."
The slap almost popped the guy's eyeballs out, and he immediately fell to the ground and howled.
"This is the first time for us to do this. It's really the first time. We don't know anything. They said they left these things with us and asked us to help consign them."
"Huh?" Ma Xidao rolled up his sleeves and showed the guy his exaggerated biceps. "My hearing is not very good. Please repeat what you just said."
(End of this chapter)