As expected, this case was unrelated to the earlier incident. The girl named Michiko had once worked as Deborah Gale's personal assistant.
According to Michiko, she had been fired after refusing Deborah's advances. However, Deborah seemed unable to let go. After Michiko found a new job at this Japanese restaurant, Deborah began to frequent the establishment, specifically requesting Michiko's service each time, making her life miserable.
It was clear that this "specialty" restaurant charged exorbitant prices not only for its so-called "rare" ingredients but also for the unique experience of dining on beautiful, human platters—a feature that provided its main competitive edge.
On the surface, it might seem that discarding one's modesty and lying still, nude, as a dining table could be a lucrative and relatively effortless job. But despite the cultural gloss Japan places on these practices, it remains a career rife with discomfort. While some customers might be there out of curiosity or genuine appreciation, many were merely lecherous patrons who often behaved poorly.
In theory, Michiko, willing to sacrifice her pride for this line of work, should have been able to tolerate this. Compared to street-based "physical labor," this job was less exhausting and far more lucrative. Unfortunately, Michiko was straight and could tolerate lecherous older men, but she was entirely repulsed by Deborah's predatory behavior. After enduring two months of unwanted advances, she finally snapped.
"So, she poisoned herself, knowing the risk of death?" Hannah asked, belatedly realizing what had happened as Stella put on gloves to examine Michiko's fingers and toes.
"Yes, she's a smart girl. In this line of work, perfumes and makeup are prohibited, even scented body washes. Their nail polishes are natural, made from ingredients like impatiens flower juice. I suspect she mixed TTX into it, allowing Deborah to unwittingly ingest a fatal dose. Michiko must have truly hated her."
Jack's comment prompted everyone to imagine the disturbing image of an older woman obsessively gnawing on Michiko's toes, causing them all to shudder.
"This might be the fastest case resolution of my career; most of the evidence hasn't even reached the lab," Mike Taylor remarked as he handcuffed Michiko and escorted her out, smiling at Jack.
Jack, holding a weighty lacquered bento box, modestly brushed it off as a coincidence, saying he'd just happened to be studying Japanese culture recently.
Behind them, Chef Katsui remained deeply bowed. If anyone could see his expression, they'd notice a look of profound relief, as if a curse had just been lifted.
"Please keep the FBI informed about further questioning," Jack reminded Mike before they parted ways. Although Michiko claimed she bought 50 milligrams of TTX for $1,000 on the dark web, the timing seemed too coincidental, and the supplier might be connected to the terrorist group they were investigating.
---
Back at the apartment, Jack set the ornate lacquered bento box on the table with a weighty thud. Hannah, already full from the earlier snacks, yawned and began to change into her pajamas, but Jack gently grabbed her arm, twirling her into his arms.
"Aren't you curious to see what we got tonight?"
"But I'm already full," she replied, her taste refined by Jack's own cooking. The sweets they'd tried were just a novelty to her, still a bit lacking compared to his creations.
"I'm not talking about food," Jack said, opening the box layer by layer. When he lifted the bottom compartment, a gleam of gold caught their eyes. Jack's eyebrows rose in surprise at the generous sight before him.
"Wow, why would they—" Even Hannah, usually unfazed by wealth, was dazzled by the sight of an entire layer of small gold bars neatly arranged at the bottom of the box.
"A hush fee, apparently. Clearly, they didn't want any of their secrets revealed," Jack explained. He had sensed something unusual when Chef Katsui handed him the box, but he hadn't expected this level of generosity. These gold bars were worth at least $200,000, a mere bribe from an industry that clearly thrived on substantial profits.
He didn't dwell on it much, viewing it as a lucky windfall. This restaurant, with its $500-a-slice sashimi, was undoubtedly swimming in money. Accepting this bribe felt justified, as it had no bearing on his FBI status.
That night, Jack faced an intense "interrogation." Hannah, curious about his knowledge of the specialty restaurant's secrets, peppered him with questions. Jack held his ground, deftly shifting the tables and leaving her breathless, pleading for mercy by the end.
Early the next morning, they arrived at the operations center, where Jubal had gathered some interesting intelligence from the CIA. Soon, they were off to Mount Sinai Hospital, eventually tracking down a grieving Ms. Sabatak by a lakeside near the hospital.
"My daughter just died, and now you FBI people are accusing her of being a terrorist?" The mother's tear-streaked face was filled with sorrow.
In moments like these, Jack usually stayed silent, letting Hannah, as a fellow woman, take the lead for smoother communication.
"I'm very sorry, Ms. Sabatak, but the evidence is clear. Still, from a certain perspective, your daughter was also a victim."
After calming her somewhat, Hannah continued, "You mentioned that Carolyn's rebellious phase was not only due to adolescence but also linked to your husband's sudden disappearance. He was a Chechen national, correct?"
Ms. Sabatak wore a look that said she had expected this line of questioning, turning her head away in visible reluctance.
"I understand how easy it is to misinterpret, but please know, we're only trying to piece together the whole story. You wouldn't want Carolyn to be unfairly judged after her death, would you?" Jack added, bending the truth with a sympathetic expression.
"Yes, Mohamed had his flaws, but he was not radical in that regard," Ms. Sabatak replied defensively.
Of course, Jack mused wryly. TNT was harmless—until it exploded.
------------------
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