"Yes, a new witness," Frank continued as if unaware of Lyle Greenie's astonishment. "Do you remember how Raimondo Salazar was captured?"
"Are you referring to his girlfriend, Sylvia?" Lyle's expression shifted slightly.
Frank nodded. "I just spoke with her personally and convinced her to testify against Raimondo Salazar. She's not as simple as she appears.
"I'd bet even Salazar himself doesn't know she successfully hid significant evidence related to Elmar Gang's drug trafficking. Agent Tavor has already placed her in the WPP (Witness Protection Program), and federal marshals will arrive tomorrow."
Frank's statement was a mix of truth and fabrication. The truth was that Jack had indeed placed Sylvia in the WPP, but only as part of a deal in exchange for her tipping off Salazar's whereabouts. The lie? Sylvia had never laid her hands on any drug trafficking evidence. Yet, no one—neither Lyle Greenie, who only communicated with Salazar through anonymous calls, nor George Lupino, Salazar's most trusted lieutenant—could verify this claim.
After all, Salazar had proven his twisted affection for Sylvia by risking his life to kill her supposed lover but sparing her entirely.
Before Lyle arrived, while Jack was contacting Sylvia, Frank had used his office phone to arrange Salazar's transfer to a maximum-security prison. For the next few days leading up to the court session, Salazar would be held in solitary confinement under constant surveillance by at least two guards. All his meals would be handled through strict procedures to cut off any outside communication.
This ensured that neither Lyle Greenie nor the Elmar Gang could verify Sylvia's claims with Salazar himself. Their only option would be to assume her story was true and focus their efforts on silencing her.
After a moment's hesitation, Lyle feigned reluctance. "This means abandoning the most straightforward case we have—the murder of David Telly. I'll need substantial assurance before weighing this decision."
"Of course, I understand your concerns," Frank replied sincerely. "That's why I invited Jack here. He'll take you to meet Sylvia shortly, so you can hear her testimony directly."
Frank stood, his tone genuine and heartfelt. "Lyle, I want to express my deepest gratitude. You've earned the friendship of the Reagan family, and I never let down those who've helped us."
Lyle glanced at Jack, who stood dutifully beside Frank like a loyal assistant. A flicker of unease crossed Lyle's mind. He resolved to contact Lupino later to stress the importance of not harming Danny's wife. The Reagan family clearly held more influence than he initially thought—Jack's deferential attitude toward Frank suggested a level of loyalty unusual for a federal agent.
The extent of Frank's connections was surprising. If Danny's wife were harmed, Lyle realized the Elmar Gang might face the combined wrath of the NYPD and FBI.
When a person buys into a lie, their imagination often fills in the gaps. Sitting in Jack's car, Lyle allowed himself to envision a bright future. The Reagan family's friendship was something even the current mayor couldn't claim. If he played his cards right, it could pave the way for his political ambitions.
Jack, meanwhile, silently observed Lyle, whose twitching face betrayed his struggle to suppress his glee. Frank's performance had been masterful, and Jack couldn't help but admire how the older man had effortlessly manipulated Lyle into swallowing the bait whole.
---
When they arrived at a small house in Long Island, Jack casually waved toward a car parked across the street—a shabby Chevrolet sedan—and remarked, "We've got people stationed across the street for her protection. She's been a pain, insisting we don't disrupt her daily life."
Lyle glanced at the car without betraying any reaction but made a mental note of it before following Jack into the house.
Sylvia, now dressed in casual home clothes, had shed her previously glamorous, fashionista appearance. This more subdued look lent her a youthful, girl-next-door charm. She greeted Jack and Lyle with a hint of nervousness, leading them into the living room before sitting back on the couch. She picked up the remote and turned off the TV.
"This is Special Prosecutor Lyle Greenie. He needs to verify your testimony," Jack said, introducing the two. He then seated himself across from them, saying nothing further.
Sylvia forced a stiff smile and curled her legs up on the couch, projecting a skittish and fearful demeanor. "What do you want to know?"
Jack internally gave her acting an 8 out of 10. Women are natural performers, especially when dealing with men.
Lyle, resuming his righteous prosecutor act, asked Sylvia detailed questions about what she knew. Her responses were vague, recounting bits of her relationship with Salazar before mentioning a small notebook he always carried.
"I couldn't understand what was written in it, but I knew it was important. He always took it with him when he went out and locked it in a safe when he got home. One time, when he was drunk, I managed to take pictures of its contents with my phone."
The notebook existed, but Sylvia had never dared to touch it. Her mix of truth and lies was enough to ensnare Lyle.
"I need to see that evidence," Lyle said firmly.
"You'll get it after you fulfill your promise—to give me a new identity and $20,000 a month for living expenses. Once I leave New York, I'll tell you where the photos are stored." Sylvia crossed her arms, exuding distrust.
"Federal marshals will arrive tomorrow morning. You'll be safe after that," Jack interjected, feigning frustration. "I even brought the prosecutor here. What more do you need?"
"Tomorrow morning," Sylvia insisted, refusing to relent. Her stubbornness prompted Jack to rise from the couch, visibly annoyed.
"Okay, okay, it's not a problem. Tomorrow morning, then," Lyle said, playing the peacemaker. He didn't dare press Sylvia to hand over the evidence immediately—once it was in his possession, it would become a liability.
---
Leaving the safe house, Jack vented his frustration by kicking over a flowerpot on the lawn. "That greedy little witch! She originally only asked for $5,000 a month. If it weren't for Commissioner Reagan—" He abruptly stopped, as if realizing he'd said something he shouldn't have. Glancing nervously at Lyle, he looked sheepish.
Lyle, smirking slightly, pretended not to notice. "I need to get back to my office to prepare the necessary documents. Would you mind driving me back, Agent Tavor?"
"Of course, Prosecutor," Jack replied smoothly, hiding his own satisfaction. The trap was set.
------------------
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Reborn in America's Anti-Terror Unit (Chapter 542)
Solomon in Marvel (Chapter 924)
Becoming the Wealthiest Tycoon on the Planet (Chapter 1284)
Surgical Fruit in the American Comics Universe (Chapter 1289)
American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop (Chapter 1316)
American TV Writer (Chapter 1402)
I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld! (Chapter 570)
Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 660)
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