Installing a tracker is one thing. Having a team follow the car is another.
But by the ti George and the other two departnt heads arrived, all they saw was the Hudson River shimring under the moonlight. An Audi R8, which the FBI had "borrowed" from a local dealership just an hour ago, was now a total loss.
"What happened?"
"Sir..." An FBI agent, pale as a sheet under Director Colin's gaze, stamred out the explanation.
It was simple: they were tailing him at a normal distance, the R8 suddenly accelerated to breakneck speeds, and they followed suit. Then, without warning, the R8 veered straight off the road and plunged into the depths of the Hudson River Valley.
Ten minutes later, a diver surfaced and shook his head at the three supervisors. "Found the car. No sign of the target or the missile."
Evidently, Holander had returned ho.
...
*Glug, glug!*
Back in his penthouse, Locke retracted his ntal avatar. He caught his falling phone mid-air with a smooth movent and headed toward the bar, continuing his conversation with Gwen. On the TV behind him, news helicopters were broadcasting the salvage operation in the river.
"What do you think?" Gwen asked over the line.
Locke blinked. "About what?"
"What I just said!" Gwen huffed. "Taking $250,000 from the insurance payout and giving it to the family of the officer who didn't make it. What's wrong with you tonight? You've zoned out like three tis."
Locke chuckled. "And I've told you three tis: that's your money. You don't need to ask my permission for what you do with it."
Indeed, the second officer shot that day hadn't survived. Locke hadn't felt the urge to save him. He had no excuse to intervene. He wasn't a saint, and while he'd used Gwen as a reason to save Jeff, he had no such connection to this stranger. He wasn't a hero; he couldn't save everyone.
In her bedroom, Gwen sighed, propping her phone against her shoulder while watching the live salvage broadcast on a tablet. "Are you watching the stream?"
Locke glanced at the screen. "Yeah. Glad to see the R8 in the river isn't mine. I actually just checked the garage to make sure mine was still there."
Gwen laughed at that, but her eyes remained fixed on her father, who looked visible on the riverbank through the long-range lens. "Dad looks... livid."
"George has always wanted to catch Peerless," Locke humd.
Being angry was fine. As long as he didn't have a stroke. Giving George a chase kept him sharp; for a detective like George, having no cases to solve was a fast track to old age.
'I really am too kind,' Locke thought.
While tonight's stunt was sensational, the embarrassnt was shared equally among the NYPD, FBI, and SHIELD. Moreover, despite the "assassin" escaping, no hostages were hard. That was a win in any playbook, even if George wanted the "perfect" ending.
But in this world, perfection is a myth. Regret is what makes life poetic.
"Anyway," Gwen said.
"Go ahead."
"Locke, do you think the killer was watching the broadcast?"
"Probably. You said the group chats were exploding. Everyone in the city was watching."
"True. I wonder if he's panicking right now."
"Who knows," Locke said. He didn't care if the killer was panicking. He only cared if the "impact" was big enough.
[Mission Influence Multiplier: 50x!]
Excellent. Now, as long as he caught and executed the killer, he'd walk away with a 50,000-point reward.
But Locke's eyes flickered. A single broadcast yielded a 50x multiplier. What if he did another one? If he hit the 100x cap, that would be a cool 100,000 points.
Gwen punched her pillow into a comfortable shape and leaned back. "Want to hear my criminal profile of the shooter?"
Locke sipped his bourbon. "Of course. I thought you said you didn't have enough data?"
"I said that because I wasn't sure if it was actually Peerless. If Peerless did it, the profile is completely different."
"Fair enough."
"As for Peerless... I admit I might be wrong, but I suspect he said those things on TV just to provoke the authorities."
"...Is that intuition?"
"Pretty much," Gwen laughed. "There's too little data on the real Peerless, so my profile of him is bound to be off. But the copycat? He's different."
"How so?"
"This copycat used the notification cards, and based on the first case with that couple, it was preditated. He's soone who appears aggressive on the outside but is deeply insecure on the inside."
"Intentionally leaving cards to mislead the police... yeah, that does scream insecurity," Locke agreed.
No legendary killer or world-class serial murderer would copy soone else's signature. Only a weak-willed copycat seeks shelter behind another person's shadow. A true "na" in the underworld fears no difficulty—much like Peerless, who chatted and laughed while surrounded by an army.
Gwen continued, "He hates the police. It's highly likely he's been a victim of police brutality, or he's recently spent ti in prison."
"That..."
"He killed two officers, Locke."
"Right..."
"If I were investigating," Gwen said, "I'd start with that first couple."
Locke walked to his study and pulled up his computer. "Why?"
"It's simple. Their deaths might have been the 'trigger.' The notification card was likely added after the fact. The police found the bodies a day later; he had plenty of ti to rethink it. Once he saw the police actually believed it was Peerless, he felt 'protected' by the na and finally let his inner beast out."
Locke pulled up the file on the couple's murder. He frowned. "But nothing was reported stolen from their ho."
Gwen shrugged. "Then I don't know. I'm not a pro; I'm just theorizing."
"Well, it's a good theory."
They talked for a bit longer until Gwen got sleepy. After a mutual "goodnight," the call ended. Locke checked the duration: three hours.
He noted down the need to top up his phone credit and turned back to the case files.
The couple wasn't anything special. Middle class, owned a cheap apartnt building slated for demolition. After George realized the card was a fake, he had checked the tenants—all of whom had alibis.
But... "Victim of police brutality, hates the law?"
Locke's eyebrows rose. He bypassed the New York City municipal database security and pulled up the records for that specific apartnt building.
Next second, Locke let out a low whistle.
While there were a couple of tenants who fit the stereotypical profile of "anti-police sentint," that wasn't what surprised him. It was the fact that almost every tenant in that building had a criminal record and had been recently released.
'The couple were saints,' Locke thought. In this country, having a record is a mark of Cain. Most jobs and housing are closed to "ex-cons." Society doesn't just judge you; it discards you.
Why wouldn't they hate the world?
*Ring, ring!*
Locke's eyes scanned the list of ex-con tenants until they landed on his satellite phone.
It was the King of the New York Underground, the Bowery King.
...
4:00 AM. Queens.
*Coo, coo!*
Dozens of pigeons fluttered their wings and took flight as an uninvited guest approached the space beneath the overpass. A holess man curled up in the shadows opened his bleary eyes and stared at Locke.
*Clink!*
Locke flipped a gold coin. It landed perfectly in front of the man. "Recognize ?"
The man looked at Locke—suit, sunglasses, and the aura of a predator. He swallowed hard, set his hidden handgun aside, and stood up. "This way, Mr. Peerless."
Tonight's live broadcast had boosted Locke's reputation in the underworld by several notches. There were plenty of flashy assassins, but one as bold as Locke? He was practically a pioneer.
Following the man through a series of abandoned sewers and winding tunnels, they arrived at a vast underground space that could have held a small army.
There was a desk, illuminated by a single light bulb powered by a tapped line from the surface. A large man with tanned skin sat behind the desk, puffing on a cigar.
Locke waved away the cloud of smoke. "King, if you want to play the part of the beggar king, you shouldn't smoke $300 Cuban cigars."
The Bowery King, showing off a row of grimy teeth, grinned. "Want one?"
Locke's gaze shifted to a holess man curled up in a corner, motionless. "Is that him? The witness?"
***
Close to 100 stones y'all, just 20 more
I'll drop a bonus like usual
Read 30 Chapters early on P-atreon/Redestro666
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