The Drug Smuggling Case
"The murder case is closed. Now it's time to discuss the drug smuggling."
Luke changed his tone, no longer quite so aggressive.
"As far as I know, you conducted a very detailed investigation into Charlie Wills's drug smuggling case. You had human evidence, material evidence, time, location, and a full sequence of events. Am I correct?"
Mike Gray's face was cold, like an ice sculpture. His assistant, seeing the unfavorable situation, had no choice but to speak up.
"Mr. Shaw, what are you implying?"
"You can't even tell? Of course, it means I don't trust you."
Luke spread his hands. "The Gotham incident wasn't long ago; no one has forgotten the role the FBI played in it. You guys are truly something. I could overlook taking bribes—it's a government agency, everyone does it, you'd feel out of place if you didn't.
But to think you'd actually fabricate a case! As a law enforcement agency, you used a fake case to exonerate a drug lord! Tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk!"
Luke shook his head, laughing. The mockery on his face was almost tangible.
"Truly worthy of being the nation's top investigative agency. Impressive, truly impressive."
The agents in the room had faces ashen with fury. Clarice and the others outside were equally dark. The Gotham incident severely damaged the FBI's image among citizens and became a professional stain no one wanted to mention. Now, their wound was openly exposed, and after a torrent of mockery, they were powerless to argue. They could only take the abuse, feeling a murderous frustration.
Luke continued his performance. "Look at me, starting to talk nonsense again. My deepest apologies. I take back what I said, after all, the FBI's heart isn't made of stone. If it shatters, I certainly can't afford to pay for it."
Everyone: "..."
Someone couldn't take it anymore and snapped, "Luke Shaw, this is the FBI Metropolis Field Office. It is not your place to act like a savage."
Luke merely glanced at the man and continued,
"Due to some past experiences, I personally hold a deep prejudice against the FBI, and my words have been quite offensive. Please don't take it amiss. However, words aside, business must be done."
"Charlie is a good person—an upright, kind, and law-abiding citizen. To prevent him from suffering an injustice, I specifically hired several private investigators to look into the drug smuggling case. And guess what? They actually found something."
"Lawyer March."
Osman March immediately stepped forward, opened his briefcase, and took out a pre-prepared laptop. He played a video for everyone to see.
Judging by the camera angle, the video source appeared to be a security camera in an underground parking garage. In the empty garage, a figure wearing a gray baseball cap emerged. He looked left and right to ensure no one was present, then went to the back of a silver-white Ferrari, opened the trunk, and placed a plastic bag containing white powder from his backpack inside. Having done that, he grabbed his backpack and quickly walked away.
The video ended there.
Luke took a piece of cessation gum, tossed it into his mouth, and chewed as he spoke,
"Mr. Gray, what is your opinion on this video?"
Mike Gray remained silent, his face so grim it looked like it was dripping water. This video should have been destroyed. Why did it end up in Luke Shaw's hands? What happened?
Is there an internal mole? Or some other reason?
He couldn't figure out the reason right away. His mood became increasingly irritable, and his thoughts began to race.
Proof of Innocence
Something was seriously wrong—everyone could see it.
The silver-white Ferrari in the video belonged to the suspect. The license plate and model were correct. This meant that if the video was genuine, the drug smuggling case was baseless, and Charlie Wills had been framed. If it was just framing, that would be one thing; they could simply apologize—it wouldn't be the first time.
But Charlie Wills had been tortured during interrogation. If this got out...
The few agents who knew the inside story exchanged glances, all sensing an impending disaster.
The cessation gum didn't taste good at all. It was bitter, sour, and had a strange flavor. Luke couldn't stand it and spat it onto the ground. This action caused the faces of those watching to darken further.
This guy is too arrogant! He's treating the FBI like dirt.
Luke smiled slightly and continued,
"If you feel that's not enough, Mr. Gray, no worries. We also have a witness."
He raised his hand to signal. Osman March nodded, made a phone call, and a moment later, two burly men walked in, flanking a thin, pale, dark-eyed white youth who was clearly a drug addict.
"Joe Locke. He's the guy in the baseball cap from the video. I spent a great deal of effort finding him in the sewers of Gotham City. On a side note, when I found him, he was being chased..."
Luke looked around, his meaning heavily implied.
"I wonder which scumbag was chasing him?"
Mike Gray's face was iron gray.
Luke glanced at him and continued, "Before coming here, I called the Metropolis Police Department. They'll be here shortly to take him into custody. If you are interested, Mr. Gray, you can question him first. But, please do not use private torture. His body is very weak and can't handle many punches. If you accidentally kill him, I won't be able to explain it."
These half-mocking, half-sarcastic words made everyone's blood boil. As FBI agents, when had they ever been humiliated like this?
Anger piled up bit by bit. Even a veteran like Mike Gray struggled to maintain his composure, yet he was forced to endure it.
Mike Gray took a deep breath, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Mr. Shaw, thank you for your assistance. We will thoroughly investigate the matter of Charlie Wills's drug smuggling. If the facts confirm he was framed, we will provide you and your company with a satisfactory explanation." He paused, then added,
"I guarantee that you will be notified immediately once the results are finalized."
Luke asked strangely, "Are you trying to see me out, sir?"
Mike Gray patiently held his temper, even using a respectful form of address. "Do you... have anything else?"
Luke cracked a smile, a silent grin that was as infuriating as possible.
"You are indeed the old fox I expected from a high position, sir. Seeing the situation turn sour, you thought you could escape with a mere verbal guarantee. Unfortunately, I'm a stickler for detail. I demand closure. How can I possibly leave until the matter is fully settled?"
With that, he pulled out his phone and sent a text message.
Soon, Charlie, Cindy, and the injury assessor Luke had hired all walked in.
The injury assessor presented his license and credentials to the agents. After confirming his identity, he read the injury report aloud under the complex gazes of the FBI agents.
After a detailed, multi-hundred-word report, the air settled into an uneasy silence.
Luke took the report and slammed it onto the table.
"An explanation, Mr. Gray."
"An explanation! What explanation!"
Mike Gray didn't even look at the report, sweeping it directly into the trash bin.
"What can one piece of paper prove?"
Luke clapped slowly. "You've finally shown your true colors, sir. I thought you would hold back indefinitely and let me continue my brazen teasing."
"This is better, though. Saves me the trouble."
Everyone: "..."
Is this young man insane? That's Chief Gray, an FBI high-level executive with absolute power—a man Congressmen treat with respect. How dare you provoke him like this? Aren't you afraid of retribution?
If he wanted to kill him, he has a thousand ways to do it.
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