The next morning, the most wanted criminal squad appeared in the underground parking lot on the second floor below ground level of a skyscraper in the Dallas CBD (a city's central business district) and accurately stopped a Rolls-Royce Cullinan.
"Who are you?"
Clay and Aubrey each pinned down the driver and the bodyguard who had emerged from the passenger seat. Jack leisurely slapped his ID against the rear window.
"Get out, Mr. Andrew Kane. We need to talk."
The old man in the car looked to be in his late sixties. While his hairline was precarious, he wasn't balding, and he was in excellent shape, not even a slender belly.
Dressed in a handmade black suit and meticulously gelled slicked-back hair, he certainly looked quite powerful.
However, after Jack's conversation with Catherine Vera last night, he now looked at the old man with only contempt and disgust.
"Is this how the FBI handles cases these days?" Perhaps because he looked so inexperienced, Andrew Kane didn't even bother looking at Jack after getting out of the car, instead addressing Jubal.
Jubal didn't even respond, even dropping half a body length to stand behind Jack.
"You know what happened to your daughter Megan, right? She must have contacted you and told you everything, because you're her true target of revenge."
Jack was deliberately vague, and judging by the other party's reaction, his judgment was clearly correct.
"I don't know what you're talking about, but I'm going to complain to your superiors. Your behavior is truly disrespectful!" The experienced and experienced Andrew Kane didn't even respond.
Jack sneered in response. "It's ironic that Megan still has the purity ring you gave her. What do you think of that?"
Seeing his pretentious demeanor falter slightly, Jack seized the opportunity. "I know you and your daughter probably have some kind of contact. Help us find Megan, and we can waive your obstruction of justice charges."
Andrew Kane snorted and pulled a business card from his inside pocket. "If you have any questions, please contact my lawyer. This very unpleasant conversation ends here."
—
"Track him?" Clay asked hurriedly, watching the Rolls-Royce Cullinan disappear at a somewhat hurried speed out the parking lot exit.
"No need," Jubal shook his head. "Remember Trent Raab, the man Jack saved? The suspect used his cell phone to call his apartment's landline."
"Huh?" Clay expressed confusion as to how this related to the previous scene.
Jiejie sighed and explained, "Trent Raab is truly a newbie. He used his own phone to contact Megan, and Megan clearly didn't realize it, so Alice already knew her location."
"So what are we doing?" Clay said, now even more confused. "Uh, what are we doing?"
Hannah glanced at Jack teasingly. "Some kindhearted person thinks our suspect's crime doesn't deserve the death penalty, but the problem is she faces at least three counts of murder.
So we could just arrest her, but someone insisted on staging an opera called 'King Lear.'"
While Jack felt Hannah's use of 'King Lear' wasn't quite right for the tragedy unfolding before him, he couldn't think of a more fitting metaphor.
A daughter, seeking revenge against her father, would torture herself and poison a wealthy man like him—a plot not even Shakespeare could have imagined.
—The
Chis Regent Hotel, a luxurious hotel with an ivory marble columned foyer. The group took the elevator to the 36th floor.
"Act according to plan."
As the elevator doors opened, Jack tapped his headset to test the call quality. After confirming it was fine, he signaled everyone to disperse.
"Be careful," Hannah, who stayed behind, anxiously checked his bulletproof vest.
Jack was speechless. "Megan's just an ordinary person."
While it's not uncommon for someone to survive a storm and drown in a gutter, it depends on the circumstances.
"But she's a beautiful woman, and the more beautiful a woman, the more dangerous she is," Hannah winked at Jack mischievously.
"Then there must be no one in this world with more experience dealing with such enemies than me." Jack discreetly patted her hip.
Jiejie, the last one to exit the elevator, noticed this and pouted, handing the box to Jack. "Alice has tested these cameras, and they're fine."
She was then given a light pinch, but she couldn't help but smile.
Watching everyone disappear down the hallway, Jack pulled out his room card and stood at the door of suite 3605.
With a mechanical sound, the door opened, and Jack's handsome, smiling face met the stunned Megan Kane's.
"It was so hard to find you, Megan. Care to have a drink with me?"
—
"Ah, don't do that." Jack raised his hand to stop Megan from reaching for her purse on the coffee table next to the sofa, then gently closed the door.
"As a smart girl, I thought a private visit was enough to show my sincerity."
Megan lazily slumped back on the sofa, wrapped only in the hotel bathrobe, her slightly damp blond hair draping casually over the armrest. Her tone was rather languid.
"Then congratulations on catching me, Mr. Liar."
The TV in front of her was still playing a talk show about the "parade shooting," which might be why she called Jack a liar.
The well-dressed guest on the show was chattering with the host about the background of the shooter, Micah Johnson. He talked about
his introverted and awkward personality, how he ranked last in his high school class, and how after joining the Army he was nearly discharged for stealing female soldiers' underwear.
"I don't make promises easily. After all, promises are also a kind of responsibility, which is overwhelming. But so far, I have never promised anyone something I can't do."
Jack turned off the TV, glanced at the two glasses of red wine that had been poured on the table, picked up the bottle beside him and poured himself another glass, and asked with a smile, "There shouldn't be any drugs in it, right?"
Tetramethylene disulfone tetramine is easily soluble in water and alcohol, colorless and odorless. Even Jack's superhuman perception cannot distinguish it in advance, and it would be very troublesome to really drink it.
Before vomiting and relying on his own metabolism to consume it, he can only rely on giving himself a healing spell from time to time to resist. This is the same as being locked in a gas chamber.
"Guess?" A trace of barely perceptible hatred flashed across Megan's eyes.
(End of this chapter)