At first, everyone present was still preoccupied with the fact that the true culprit behind the incident was a senator with a potential Vice Presidential title.
But soon, Cassel's expression suddenly changed after answering the phone, letting everyone know something was amiss.
"He said he's a friend of Montgomery," the great writer whispered to Jack, covering the receiver.
While signaling him to turn on the speakerphone, Jack activated the tracking app Alice had pre-installed on his tablet.
He had gathered everyone who might be in danger here, not only for its secrecy, but also because the security in and around the building rivaled that of the federal building where his New York office was located.
Not to mention the surveillance system, Alice had also installed backdoors into the nearby cell towers.
Simply put, all phones within a three-kilometer radius of the building were under FBI surveillance, allowing for real-time tracking if necessary.
The voice on the other end of the line seemed to belong to an elderly man with a distinct Manhattan accent.
New York is a large city, and people from specific boroughs often have slightly different accents. Older Manhattanites tend to have a slightly thicker tongue, with less pronounced rolled tongue consonants, and almost all "o" sounds pronounced as "aw."
The man claimed to be an old friend of Montgomery's, and had recently received a package from the police commissioner containing important documents.
Montgomery asked him to keep the documents as a deterrent to the person behind the incident, thereby protecting his family and Beckett's safety.
Because the package had only just arrived, the mysterious man was unable to prevent the shooting at the funeral that morning. However, before contacting Castle, he had already contacted the person behind the incident.
He assured Castle that the agreement Montgomery had previously reached with the man behind the incident, known to everyone as Senator Bracken, would continue. He promised Beckett that she would be safe, but only if she stopped investigating her mother's death.
As the call ended, everyone's expressions varied. Jack sighed silently. Although he couldn't recall how the original plot unfolded, he felt that this act of courting disaster was clearly unacceptable.
Checks and balances only occur when the power of two sides is relatively close, such as the Soviet Union and the United States during the Cold War.
Beckett, a mere NYPD detective, and even with the inclusion of Cassel, a writer, were mere ants in the eyes of a senator who was about to run for president and potentially vice president.
Putting aside the question of whether this evidence was sufficient to convict the perpetrators, even if it was irrefutable, the potential damage it would cause Senator Bracken would likely be minimal.
Just look at recent election years: ever since a former presidential couple went on a killing spree, there's always been a flood of negative information flying around. The result is always the perpetrators, insiders, and reporters who have been exposed, some shot eight times in the back, and some committing suicide, while the individuals exposed remain unscathed.
Judging from the series of events that have occurred so far, Robert Bracken might have inherited the true teachings of the Donkey Gang, with professional assassins being dispatched one after another, seemingly without end.
If Jack hadn't been certain that the other party was unaware of Frank and Cassel's true relationship, he might have mistaken the mercenaries who raided Frank's home as the congressman's handiwork.
"Although they used an anonymous phone, the location has been confirmed: a mansion in Greenwich, Connecticut. The owner is Michael Smith."
Jack entered the address into his phone's navigation system and looked at the others. "Who wants to go with me?"
-
Greenwich is located on the border of New York State, less than an hour's drive from Manhattan. It is known as the world's wealthiest town, home to the largest number of billionaires and multi-millionaires in the United States. It is said that no newly built mansion here has an interior area of less than 5,000 square meters.
According to the information they'd found, Michael Smith was a retired lawyer worth tens of millions, a man of considerable social standing. This might be another reason, besides his favor, why Montgomery felt comfortable entrusting him with the materials.
Jack was accompanied by Beckett and Castle. Frank disappeared again after obtaining the list Jack had found, leaving behind the wide-eyed Sarah Ross.
"Detective Beckett, Mr. Castle, and this unknown young gentleman, how did you find me?" Upon opening the door and seeing the three men, the 70-year-old, a gentleman with a refined demeanor, looked surprised.
He recognized Castle and Beckett immediately, having clearly done some research beforehand, at least remembering their appearance from their photos.
"Jack Tavolar, FBI," Jack introduced himself, glancing at the two slightly excited and nervous assistants behind him and offering them a faint smile.
"Aren't you going to invite us in, Mr. Smith?"
"Yes, come in, ladies and gentlemen," Mr. Smith sighed, but still stepped aside to usher the three into the house.
Although the old man looked somewhat advanced in years, he was remarkably well-maintained. Aside from a slight stoop, his limbs remained sturdy.
He led the three into the study and came to a pile of documents spread out before his desk. He gathered them all together, placed them in a thick manila envelope, and held it in his hand.
"You're here to ask for these, aren't you?"
Jack glanced at the table and saw, besides the discarded items, a number of newspaper clippings, both old and new, ranging from the earliest reports on Beckett's mother's murder to the news of Superintendent Montgomery's death in the line of duty.
"It looks like you've been following this for a long time, Mr. Smith," he asked tentatively.
"No, all of them were collected by Montgomery. Only the top one I cut out from yesterday's newspaper. I knew nothing about the whole thing until I received the package last night. So, are the FBI also interested in this case?"
After asking the three if they wanted a drink and being declined, the old man poured himself a glass of whiskey.
"No, I haven't known about this case much longer than you have, Mr. Smith," Jack replied.
"Do you mind if I see your ID?"
After receiving a positive response, the old man put on his reading glasses and carefully examined Jack's FBI ID in the light, his expression slightly disappointed.
"With all due respect, Agent Tawole, I don't think your involvement in this is a wise choice."
Was he feeling too low-ranking? Jack simply smiled and didn't elaborate.
(End of Chapter)