[Chapter 570: The Hidden Hand]
Under the influence of Linton's Soul Induction, Sean Combs didn't resist at all and immediately spilled everything.
"I've been working for Kester Joseph, the FBI director of the New York field office. Last year alone, I brought him at least ten million dollars in profit. I also provided him with constant intelligence on New York's underground factions, helping him resolve all sorts of issues within the criminal underworld."
"The FBI director Kester? How exactly does he protect you?"
"I work for him, funneling huge sums of money. In return, no matter what I do in New York, the police can't touch me. Several times the NYPD caught me red-handed, but within a day, they'd let me go as if nothing happened."
"That's it? That kind of protection only holds in New York, right? What about other departments or outside New York?"
"Of course, he's not the only one. Powerful politicians from Washington and New York often come to my parties to indulge themselves, naturally forming alliances with me."
"Just by coming to your parties a few times, they become your allies and protect you? That sounds too good to be true."
"My parties aren't like others. At my events, they have access to pleasures they can't find elsewhere. Whether it's top-tier models, beautiful celebrities, young boys and girls, or handsome men. Straight, gay, white, Asian, black -- it's all available. Whether one-on-one or group encounters, I can satisfy every desire. Having enjoyed so much, they owe me. Besides, I secretly photograph everything during their indulgence. If I get into trouble, are they not afraid I'll expose them?"
Linton began to grasp why Diddy's parties had grown increasingly influential, outrageous, and reckless over time in his past life. He had never expected that in 1997, Puff Daddy's soirees were already that wild -- and that he had even secured a political shield through these events. No wonder he was so brazen as to set his sights on Linton himself.
Daniel turned pale. Thankfully, he had been cautious last night at the party and resisted temptation, avoiding any chaotic missteps. Otherwise, he shuddered to think about the consequences. Quickly, he assured Linton, "Boss, I've only been to his party once -- last night. I promise, nothing chaotic happened."
Sean scoffed, "You think you did well? That's just because it was your first time, and you were still cautious. We naturally won't overwhelm you with temptations then. But once you've been three times or more, I guarantee you'll be addicted to my parties."
"So all those repeated invitations you sent me were to drag me in deeper?"
"Of course. With all the top-tier resources you control, I want to ally with you to leverage your power. Unfortunately, you haven't given me the chance yet. And among the big shots I've befriended, several are very interested in you."
"Oh? Who exactly?"
"Kester Joseph, the FBI director of New York; Eric Gorelick, Deputy Attorney General; Maslow Lawrence, Deputy FBI Director at headquarters; and Roger Wayne, the senator representing a New York district."
Daniel listened, his heart pounding. Was this something he should even be involved in? The more he knew, the more dangerous it became. He quickly stood and said, "Boss, I should step aside now."
Linton's mind stirred. With the stature of these people, if they genuinely wanted to befriend him, shouldn't they have approached him through legitimate channels? If they resorted to such twisted, underhanded methods to drag him down, there must be some dirty secrets. Deciding these matters weren't for Daniel to get tangled in, he nodded, "Alright, you can leave."
"Sean, tell me -- what exactly do they want you to do to get close to me?"
"They want you to lose yourself in the pleasures at my parties -- ideally by capturing compromising photos that go beyond the pale."
"Beyond the pale? What do you mean?"
"Things like pedophilia, homosexuality, abuse, or even torturing their service targets to death to stimulate your desires."
"So, you're telling me they plan to blackmail me with those videos?"
"Probably."
"And the song change you requested at the concert -- was that their idea?"
"At the party last night, Kester mentioned it once."
"What exactly did he say?"
"He said, 'Sean, you've been trying to escalate the East and West Coast gang wars. Why not amp up the provocation against the West Coast at tomorrow's concert?'"
"So your song change was Kester's idea."
"Not entirely. What he said hit a nerve because I've been struggling to figure out how to keep expanding the East-West gang conflict."
Damn it, Kester -- a petty FBI New York director -- actually dared scheme against him. He realized he had been far too lenient before. The last time he dealt with Peter, the FBI head in Los Angeles, he'd only lightly reassigned him to a dead-end post.
These people assumed he only targeted gangsters but was too soft to touch officials with power. Now, they actually dared to plot against him.
Eric Gorelick, Deputy Attorney General; Maslow Lawrence, FBI Deputy Director; Senator Roger Wayne from New York -- all clearly allies of Kester. He wouldn't let this slide.
If they thought he was merciful and dared to provoke him, they would soon learn what ruthless brutality felt like. He'd also show others the price of crossing him.
And Sean Combs -- what a foolish, arrogant, pathetic fool. Wouldn't it be better if he just stuck to running his gang and acting as a political fixer? Instead, he never bothered investigating why the top ranks of the Los Angeles Bloods Gang had been slaughtered and obviously didn't understand who he was messing with.
It's simply a case of reaping what you sow, especially with such cruel schemes and violent methods. It might be better if he died early, sparing others -- particularly those young boys and girls and naive girls hoping to find influential friends through his parties -- from further harm.
But he couldn't let him die here so easily. The usual protocol: infuse a sliver of magical power to seep into his mind, setting him up for an explosive breakdown tomorrow night.
Also, he shouldn't die without experiencing suffering first -- daring to swagger in front of him without consequences was unacceptable.
Thinking this through, Linton withdrew the Soul Induction spell from Sean Combs. Before he could react, Linton unleashed a Mind Shock on him.
Sean Combs had just regained consciousness when an overwhelming icy mental pressure slammed over him, freezing him in place and silencing him. He felt an endless chill and suffocation, as if stripped naked and left to freeze in the Arctic.
This time, Linton deliberately amplified the mental blow, channeling about one percent of his spiritual power, sustaining it for three full minutes -- not like before, where he struck and released immediately.
Under the assault of Linton's Celestial Presence-level Mind Shock, Puff Daddy shuddered violently, slipping off the chair onto the carpet where he trembled uncontrollably, letting out involuntary growls. Soon, tears and snot flowed freely, then he lost control of his bowels and bladder.
Only then did Linton end the spell, checking the time -- it had only been two minutes. What a weakling. He wondered how this guy had ever managed to control those gangsters.
Since the Italian Mafia had been crushed, it seemed New York's underground had no real talent left. It was truly a case of "When the cat's away, the mice will play," so a nobody like Puff Daddy could rise and swagger as a gang leader.
By now, Sean Combs was fully awake but utterly broken mentally, barely caring about the stench of his own mess as he lay gasping on the floor.
Linton gave him a disgusted glance and said, "Sean, get out. I never want to see you again."
...
Feeling released, Sean Combs scrambled away, hastily taking the elevator down and running to the parking lot.
Throughout his path in the hotel, his foul smell sickened guests and staff alike. People covered their noses and avoided him as if he were a plague, utterly embarrassing him.
Some guests even complained to hotel management; after all, this was a five-star establishment -- how could someone smelling like excrement be allowed to roam around?
Only after he got into his car did Sean feel a flicker of warmth and safety. Snarling at his curious henchmen, he barked, "What are you all staring at? Start the car and get us home!"
...
Once Sean Combs left, Daniel returned to Linton's room. The windows were open, and Linton had cast a small whirlwind spell that quickly wiped away the lingering stench.
"Boss, for tomorrow night's concert, I suggest we just keep Sean Combs off the guest list."
"Cross his name out. He wouldn't dare show up anyway."
"Should we crack down on him and his gangsta rap record company in the future?"
"No need. There's a steady demand for gangsta rap among the lower-class black communities across America and even Europe. Cracking down would just hand that market over to other music companies."
"But Sean Combs's arrogance and, worse, the fact he dared scheme against you -- is it right to just let him slide?"
"Don't worry about it. He's done for." Linton said softly.
Daniel felt a chill and wisely remained silent, bowing out quickly before hearing anything else.
...
After Daniel left, Linton reviewed Sean Combs's words again and became convinced something was off about Kester.
"FBI New York director Kester -- fine. Let's start with you. I want to see who gave you the nerve to scheme against me."
With that thought, he expanded his spiritual awareness and scanned toward the FBI building in Manhattan.
The FBI New York office was located at 26 Federal Plaza in downtown Manhattan, less than ten kilometers in a straight line from the Hilton where Linton stayed.
With his spiritual awareness, Linton easily found the building and zoomed in on the director's office on the 22nd floor.
Locking onto a white man in his forties sitting behind the desk, Linton considered killing him on the spot -- it would be easy for him but he felt the man's power was still insufficient to take on such a move without inviting retaliation. There had to be someone else pulling strings. He needed to confront him face-to-face later.
Going directly to the FBI office was too risky -- surveillance cameras would capture him immediately. Not a good idea.
Checking the time, it was already 5 p.m. He'd wait until Kester left work tonight and visit him at home. His spiritual awareness covered a hundred kilometers, more than enough for all of New York.
To make locating Kester easier, since the city was huge and densely packed, he decided to place a spiritual marker.
He summoned his spirit sword, transforming it into a tiny one-centimeter embroidery needle, and infused it with a trace of his spiritual mark. The needle swiftly flew through the window and silently pierced a needle hole in Kester's office window on the 22nd floor.
It slipped inside and passed through Kester's hair, embedding the spiritual mark there, then returned the way it came.
...
With the concert tomorrow, all the members of Linton's entourage had arrived in New York to assist with singing or cheer him on -- except for Madonna, Catherine, and Charlize, who were busy handling Oscar publicity.
That night, Linton stayed at the Hilton, partying wildly with his harem.
Thankfully, the presidential suite was spacious enough not to hinder their "battles."
Not until 3 a.m. did Linton finally stop and release a sliver of magical power that lulled all the girls into sleep.
He then expanded his spiritual awareness and tracked the mark he'd planted that afternoon. To his surprise, Kester lived on Long Island. Even more shocking was that the man was cuddling two beautiful women in bed, clearly embezzling a lot of illicit wealth.
...
Linton appeared on the balcony of Kester's living room, descended quickly to the ground, and used Earth Movement Technique to move to Kester's location.
Inside the villa, he emerged from underground, cast a sleep spell on the two women, and then woke Kester.
Kester was startled awake in the middle of the night. Before he could reach for a gun by his bedside, Linton cast Soul Induction, stripping him of control.
"Kester, why are you scheming against me?"
"Because the health products company you run is too profitable. We want to get a slice of the pie and gradually take it over."
Sure enough, there's no love or hate without reason--greed drives everything. Linton probed further, "Who else is involved?"
"My superiors: FBI Deputy Director Maslow Lawrence, Deputy Attorney General Eric Gorelick, senior New York senator Roger Wayne, senior New Jersey senator Carol, and senior Illinois senator Cody."
"Just you all?"
"There's also Hoffman Martin, chairman of Johnson & Johnson Pharmaceuticals; Robert Gavin, chairman of AbbVie; and Gittens Cooper, owner of Pfizer."
*****
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