As the young FBI agent forced himself to suppress his anger and roared away in his car, Lyle Greenie's previously cheerful face darkened instantly.
Hurrying back to his office, he gestured for his secretary, who had approached, to stay back. He then closed the office door behind him, locked it securely, and went to his desk. From a drawer, he retrieved a prepaid phone and forcefully pressed the power button.
Meanwhile, at the corner of the street beside the District Attorney's office, a Dodge Hellcat that had circled around parked at the roadside. Jack, who had just looked aggrieved, seemed like a completely different person now, shedding his reckless demeanor.
Parking behind an inconspicuous gray van, he stepped out and knocked rhythmically on the side door.
The door slid open, revealing a disheveled, stubbled Danny. The anxiety in Danny's eyes had visibly diminished, and Jack knew their plan had worked.
"How is it?"
"That scumbag fell for it."
Inside the van, which had been disguised as a regular vehicle, NYPD's Chief himself was hunched in the cramped space, wearing headphones and listening intently. Turning to see Jack enter, he gave a reassuring smile that put Jack at ease.
Frank removed the headphones, exhaling as if disgusted by the actions of some lowlifes. "The authorized wiretap data we've gathered is enough to persuade the Justice Department to launch a full investigation into Lyle Greenie. The rest is up to you."
"I'll bring Linda back safely," Danny said with a nod, his perpetually furrowed brows relaxing slightly.
---
"Here's the address. Across the street, there's an old brown Chevrolet with two FBI agents inside. You need to act fast. By tomorrow morning, the marshals will transfer her. Keep it quiet—don't make a scene.
And as for that detective's wife, make sure she's unharmed. After tomorrow afternoon's hearing, she must be returned safely. If not, you'll face the wrath of both the NYPD and the FBI."
Jack turned off the audio file he had just received and patted Danny on the shoulder. "See? Linda's going to be fine."
Though Danny still looked grim, the worry in his eyes had mostly given way to a fiery determination.
Switching back to an old, inconspicuous Ford Focus with an odd smell, they parked in a narrow alley near Sylvia's safe house. From their vantage point, they could see the safe house and the street across from it.
As night fell and the house lights came on, the thin curtains revealed the silhouette of a woman in the living room.
At the far end of the street, a large truck rumbled into view. Jack nudged Danny, who had dozed off in the driver's seat.
"Wake up. Something's off with that truck."
"Damn it, when did I fall asleep?" Danny rubbed his eyes, frustrated.
He had barely rested since witnessing David Telly's murder by Raymundo Salazar on the street. His wife's kidnapping had left him sleepless for two days and nights. Listening to the wiretap earlier had slightly eased his mind, causing him to unknowingly nod off for over an hour.
Not everyone could push through exhaustion like a superhuman. Even Jack, who was experienced in high-stakes missions, prioritized rest whenever possible.
"I bet that truck will pretend to break down midway, blocking the surveillance vehicle's view of the house," Jack speculated, already guessing the Elmar Gang's plan. They wouldn't dare openly shoot the police officers protecting Sylvia, so they had to create a diversion to take control.
Sure enough, the truck sputtered and groaned before coming to a complete stop. It conveniently broke down in a spot that perfectly blocked the surveillance vehicle's line of sight.
"All units, prepare for action. Our guests are here," Danny said into his radio, watching as a familiar Mercedes-Benz G-Class rounded the corner, speeding toward the safe house.
The two plainclothes officers in the surveillance car noticed something was wrong. They got out and flashed their badges, ordering the truck drivers to move. However, they were immediately held at gunpoint.
Meanwhile, the speeding Mercedes screeched to a halt on the lawn in front of the house. A white man jumped out—it was Lupino, Raymundo Salazar's most trusted lieutenant in the Elmar Gang.
"Target confirmed. Move!"
As Lupino sprinted forward and kicked open the door, Danny activated his siren and sped toward the scene. Six unmarked police cars with flashing lights emerged from hidden positions, surrounding the truck.
"Drop your weapons! On your knees!" Overwhelmed by the sight of numerous guns aimed at them, the gang members dropped their firearms and knelt without resistance.
Relieved to see his colleagues unharmed, Danny signaled for their arrest and headed toward the safe house.
Inside, Lupino, who had stormed in moments earlier, was now backing out with his hands raised, surrounded by a team of heavily armed ESU officers. Behind them was Danny's partner, Jackie. Though older, she had convincingly posed as Sylvia, her figure silhouetted behind the curtains.
"Boom!" Danny's fist landed squarely on Lupino's face, knocking him to the ground. He mounted Lupino, delivering punch after punch.
"Where's my wife?"
"Where is she?"
"Answer me!"
Through bloodied lips, Lupino grinned sinisterly. "I told you, you've got a beautiful wife, Detective Reagan."
"F you, you bastard!" Danny roared, reaching for his gun, but Jack grabbed his arm, and Jackie pulled him back.
"This one's ours," Jack said. "Take those two back to the station and keep this under wraps. Tell everyone you only caught two low-level thugs. Understood?"
Jack's words startled Jackie. Realizing something was off, Lupino tried to yell but was silenced by a swift kick from Jack.
---
Half an hour later, under a deserted bridge along 53rd Street, the Mercedes-Benz came to a halt. Jack opened the trunk and hauled the limp, beaten Lupino out like a ragdoll.
"I didn't think the Big Apple had places this desolate," Jack remarked.
Danny grunted, pulling a shovel and a gas canister from the trunk. "My grandfather told me about this place. Back in the '80s and '90s, some cops used it to 'handle' gangsters."
Jack smirked, unable to tell if it was a joke. Stories like that weren't unheard of, even today.
After removing the gag from Lupino's mouth, the gang member, who had been reduced to a squirming worm with dislocated limbs, screamed hoarsely.
"You're cops! You can't do this! Help! Help!"
His cries were drowned out by the sound of the Hudson River lapping at the shore.
"Clang!"
The shovel scraped against the gravel. By the time Lupino's voice was hoarse, a shallow grave about three feet deep had been dug.
"Sorry, I'm not going six feet deep. Three will have to do," Danny said, tossing the shovel aside and kicking Lupino into the pit. He emptied the gas canister over him.
"Last chance—where is my wife?" Danny lit a cigarette, crouching by the edge of the pit.
"You can't do this!" Lupino choked on the gasoline fumes. "Please, stop!"
"Fine. I'll ask your men instead," Danny said, flicking his cigarette toward the pit.
"She's at 2064 Fifth Avenue! Tied up in the basement. No guards, no harm done to her. I swear!" Lupino screamed.
------------------
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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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