Inside an office at the Los Angeles Narcotics Bureau.
After using Deputy Director Kleiter's authority to query the internal network,
Stanfield finally confirmed that it was indeed the FBI that had rented the fourth-floor apartment and installed surveillance to monitor Michael's apartment.
He could only see some basic information from the internal network.
But for Stanfield, this was enough.
"Good, very good!"
"The FBI, is it!"
"Since you're making things difficult for me, don't blame me for coming after you."
Stanfield was already going a bit mad!
Over the years, he had risen from being one of Deputy Director Kleiter's black gloves at the Los Angeles Narcotics Bureau.
Step by step to his current position, although on the surface he was still just a Senior Agent within the Los Angeles Narcotics Bureau.
But by relying on the massive amounts of black gold earned from selling drugs, Stanfield had built a massive network of power and interests centered around himself.
As the core of this network, he enjoyed a vast amount of wealth and power that he shouldn't have possessed.
Because of this, Stanfield had long since lost himself.
As a Drug Enforcement Bureau agent, he not only knowingly broke the law but also committed all sorts of evil deeds.
Furthermore, Stanfield himself had developed a drug addiction.
By now, he had become completely inseparable from the drugs.
Not only did he have to take hits several times a day, but the dosage was also getting larger and larger.
Long-term drug use had not only severely corroded Stanfield's body and health,
but it had also caused problems with his mental state.
In his earlier years, Stanfield was cunning, insidious, and very capable.
Now, besides threats and intimidation, his favorite method to use was violence.
Simple and direct!
But if not handled well, the consequences could also be the most severe.
But now, Stanfield's reason had long been severely affected by drugs and bad news.
To the point where he didn't spend too much effort on the investigation.
After simply confirming that the ones monitoring Michael's apartment were indeed FBI people,
Stanfield, feeling that his majesty and interests were being provoked by the FBI, was instantly enraged.
He quickly pulled out a rarely used new phone and made a call.
Before long, the call was connected.
A man's voice with a heavy Mexican accent said, "I told you, don't contact me if there's nothing."
It was a very impatient voice, but there was also a hint of helplessness in the words.
Stanfield spun his office chair and placed both feet, clad in leather shoes, on the desk in front of him.
"Find a few men, make sure they're tight-lipped, and go do something for me."
He commanded the person on the other end in as calm a tone as possible, "After you help me do this well, your Mexican Gang can reduce the goods you hand over every month by ten percent for the next year."
The one Stanfield contacted was the boss of a Mexican Gang in Los Angeles.
As the secret big boss of the Los Angeles Narcotics Bureau, he, who was responsible for clearing out drugs, dealt with those drug lords quite often in his daily life.
And with Mexican immigrants spread throughout the United States, Mexico was also one of the world's largest drug-producing countries.
Therefore, various Mexican Gangs formed with Mexican immigrants as members brought drugs produced in their former home country,
treating them as 'welfare' and bringing them into the United States through various channels.
Stanfield had dealt with several Mexican Gangs in Los Angeles in the past, and almost all of them were selling drugs in secret.
As the secret big boss of the Drug Enforcement Bureau, Stanfield had done many things in secret over the past decade or so.
A lot of the drugs he currently had in his hands were from those who feared and were wary of his status,
or those who had no choice but to provide monthly tributes to Stanfield after being threatened or having their secrets caught by him in the past.
It was no exaggeration to say that his money was snatched directly from the hands of these drug lords.
Because of this, the relationship between Stanfield and those drug lords was naturally not very good.
Everyone was just enduring him for the time being out of fear of his status and strength.
On the other end of the phone, the man was silent for a while before answering, "Tell us briefly what needs to be done first."
Stanfield's feet kept swaying on the desk, and his voice gradually began to sound a bit airy.
"Find a few people and go to an apartment at the address I give you."
"Have your men eliminate the few people in a fourth-floor apartment for me."
"Then rob a few other families at random, kill or injure a few people, and then flee as quickly as possible."
"Keep the matter clean for me. If anyone finds out that I instructed you to do it, you should know the consequences."
The Mexican Gang boss on the other end of the phone breathed rapidly for a while before suppressing his anger.
"I understand. Give me the address of the apartment, and I'll have someone take care of it."
"But you also remember what you promised."
"Don't worry, I keep my word."
Quickly hanging up the phone, Stanfield thought for a moment and then took out another SIM card from his inner pocket.
Then he pried open the back shell of the phone, installed the SIM card, and dialed a number.
"It's me. Send a few people with some gasoline and explosives."
"Meet me at Michael's place in a while."
"That kid dared to swallow my, Stan's, goods. Since he doesn't want to live, I'll Grant him his wish."
After quickly hanging up the phone again, Stanfield, thinking he had arranged everything, leisurely picked up the headphones and Walkman sitting on the desk beside him.
After setting up his favorite music, he put on the headphones and listened leisurely and comfortably.
At the same time, near the FBI Los Angeles Field Office.
Outside a surveillance blind spot, having successfully shaken off the FBI Agent following him,
Hunter, who had dyed his hair and used makeup to hide his real face, had quietly arrived near the FBI Field Office.
After waiting patiently for a while, he finally saw a Black child passing by alone, looking to be about ten years old... Hunter's eyes lit up, and he immediately intentionally altered his voice to call out to the child, "Hey, boy, come here for a second."
Seeing the Black child look toward him, he pulled out a processed twenty us dollar bill.
"Boy, do me a small favor."
"Help me deliver this letter inside, just find anyone to give it to."
"Then, this twenty us dollar will be yours."
The Black child was indeed attracted by the money, and his eyes couldn't help but light up upon hearing this.
But after carefully sizing up Hunter, he shook his head and said, "That's the FBI Field Office over there. My parents don't let me go near it."
"Unless you give me a Grant."
On the us dollar bills, different portraits are printed.
On the one us dollar bill is printed the first President of the United States, George Washington;
On the two us dollar bill is printed the third President of the United States, Thomas Jefferson;
On the five us dollar bill is printed the eighteenth President of the United States, Abraham Lincoln;
On the ten us dollar bill is printed the first Secretary of the Treasury of the United States, Alexander Hamilton;
On the twenty us dollar bill is printed the seventh President of the United States, Andrew Jackson;
On the fifty us dollar bill is printed the eighteenth President of the United States, Ulysses S. Grant;
On the one hundred us dollar bill is printed the founding father and great scientist, Benjamin franklin.
In the United States, because citizens hold several credit cards on average,
most transactions are made using credit cards, and people only carry some one us dollar to twenty us dollar bills for change or small purchases.
The fifty us dollar and one hundred us dollar bills have a very low circulation rate within the United States.
Therefore, the fifty us dollar and one hundred us dollar bills are also often referred to as a 'Grant' and a 'franklin'.
Hunter had long been prepared, and he looked at the Black child with amusement upon hearing his request.
But he still took out a fifty us dollar bill that had also been processed and handed it to the other party.
"Greedy kid, no problem."
After the Black child took the fifty us dollar bill, he indeed kept his promise.
Taking the letter, he headed straight for the FBI Los Angeles Field Office. Hunter quickly moved to another position and briefly changed his makeup again.
But his eyes were always staring at the FBI Los Angeles Field Office over there.
Five or six minutes later, he saw two men in plain clothes come out of the FBI Los Angeles Field Office along with the Black child.
The three stood at the entrance of the Field Office, pointing at Hunter's previous location for a moment.
One of them led the child toward this way, while the other went back inside.
Seeing that his goal had been achieved, the smile on Hunter's face grew even wider.
He then quickened his pace and soon disappeared into the street...
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