Chapter 47: Head-on Confrontation? Do You Have a Tumor in Your Brain?
The sleazy words combined with the face caked in makeup immediately made David recall who this girl was.
Terri, a sex worker controlled by the Russian mob.
She was also the catalyst for the Punisher's mission to protect the vulnerable.
Speaking of which, Terri's ultimate fate would be the same as Sister Augustine's—discarded after becoming pregnant.
Or worse, after being used up and deemed worthless, she'd be sold off for pennies to desperate men who couldn't find wives.
And the source of all these tragedies were the scumbags who controlled these women.
Speaking of which, one of the seats at the High Table comes from the Russian Bratva.
So it goes without saying who's standing behind this massive network of exploitation.
David withdrew his gaze from the departing vehicle, pushed open the door, and looked toward the corner of Tom's Restaurant.
There, a bald black man in a black shirt was meticulously reading a book.
David's scrutinizing gaze immediately caused him to look up.
His eyes instantly flashed with a sharp, predatory intensity, enough to make most people uncomfortable.
If an average person met his gaze, they definitely wouldn't last more than three seconds before looking away.
But David acted as if he hadn't noticed anything, smiled at him, then walked directly to his table, pulled up a chair, and asked:
"This seat taken? Mind if I sit?"
The black man looked at David expressionlessly and said:
"It's free. Sit."
David sat down, pushed the metal silverware aside, and looked at the black man before him—Robert McCall.
He gestured toward the window where the girl had disappeared and said:
"You know her, right? Terri?"
McCall sensed something off. He frowned slightly and asked:
"Who exactly are you?"
David smiled slightly:
"I forgot to introduce myself. My name is David Wells. Officially, I'm an intern at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, basically doing grunt work.
But behind the scenes," David deliberately looked around, then lowered his voice, "I'm an undercover operative planted within the High Table by the 'Salvation' Alliance.
You've heard of the High Table, right?"
Hearing David's words, McCall instinctively glanced at the digital watch on his wrist, then at the neatly placed steak knife beside him.
Finally, he looked back at the seemingly frail young man before him.
He pondered for a moment before speaking:
"If you're mentally ill, I suggest you see a psychiatrist instead of harassing me."
Unexpectedly, David wasn't offended, but instead smiled:
"Mr. McCall, I am indeed ill, but not mentally—I have brain cancer."
McCall's pupils contracted, his breathing quickened slightly, and the hand holding his book suddenly tensed. He was already prepared to strike!
How did this stranger know his name?
This guy had investigated him!
Had his faked death been discovered?!
In an instant, countless possibilities flashed through McCall's mind.
He'd even mapped out how to use a power outage to eliminate someone without a trace in the darkened restaurant.
But David's next words made McCall abandon the perfect murder he'd just planned.
"Hey, don't rush to make a move. I know I probably wouldn't survive a second against you.
But we're really not enemies. I apologize—to find you, we had to investigate you first.
My team has access to the most powerful AI system in the world right now. As long as you've appeared on camera, you can't escape our detection.
So if we wanted to kill you, there'd be no need to choose the most dangerous method—a face-to-face meeting, right?"
McCall didn't answer. He simply closed his copy of The Old Man and the Sea and said calmly:
"If you've investigated me, then you know I'm retired."
David looked at McCall with a knowing smile:
"Really? What if that girl named Terri goes missing?"
Hearing this, McCall's eyes sharpened again:
"If you dare touch her—"
David interrupted before McCall could finish his threat:
"No, no, no, of course not me. I'm one of the good guys.
It's just that for underage girls like Terri under their control, death is probably the easiest escape.
So, back to my earlier question—you've heard of the High Table, right? That omnipresent shadow organization?"
McCall remained silent.
He naturally knew of the High Table's existence, and he knew their influence was vast with deep connections throughout the upper echelons of American power.
Even many members of Congress were on their payroll.
Not to mention law enforcement agencies across the country.
They'd been corrupted beyond recognition. The truly righteous cops could probably only fight them to a stalemate at best.
This disappointing, decadent reality was one of the reasons he'd decided to retire.
But he didn't understand what this young man meant by bringing up the High Table, so he remained silent.
Seeing McCall's silence, David continued:
"If you don't want young girls like Terri to fall into that life again...
You're welcome to join us. We need people with a sense of justice like you.
To deal with an organization like the High Table, relying on the law is nowhere near enough.
The law is just a friendly suggestion to them.
So what I want to do is... fight fire with fire!"
After hearing David's words, the first thought in McCall's mind was 'Is this guy insane?'
He figured the person before him saying he had brain cancer wasn't just talk.
Wanting to go head-to-head with the High Table? You really wouldn't have the nerve without a few tumors in your skull.
Anyone who knows anything about the High Table understands how vast their power is.
For a moment, McCall didn't know whether the guy calling himself David Wells was ignorantly fearless or just plain stupid.
Or perhaps he had nothing left to lose in this world, so he could go all in?
McCall could only continue his silence in the face of such a proposition.
He was tired of the bloodshed from his past. He just wanted a peaceful life... that's all.
Seeing McCall still silent, David showed no sign of discouragement. He knew McCall would join them eventually.
It was just a matter of time.
David placed Finch's business card on the table and slid it across:
"This is our contact information. If you need help, call the number and mention my name.
You'll get assistance you wouldn't expect."
After speaking, David said nothing more and turned to leave.
After David left, McCall picked up the business card, held it before him, contemplated for a few seconds, then casually tossed it into the trash can.
He didn't live that life anymore.
But David's appearance still raised an alarm. His location had been compromised.
After staying one more day and saying goodbye to Terri, he'd leave this city and disappear into anonymity again.
McCall, having gathered his things and preparing to leave, suddenly—as if by some strange compulsion—retrieved the business card from the trash and slipped it between the pages of his book.
Better to be prepared.
David, standing in the shadows at the street corner observing the restaurant, smiled when he saw this.
Some things in a person's nature never change.
Then David called Finch:
"I've had some interesting visions again. Interested in hearing about them?"
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