Chapter 121: The Death of John King

The sudden explosion startled Veronice and Lady Eloise, causing them both to jump.

In the next moment, Veronice’s face tightened as she urgently shouted into her phone, “Roan! What’s happening on your end?”

There was no answer. Looking down, Veronice saw that the other party had already hung up.

She redialed repeatedly, but no one picked up. Her expression darkened as she turned to the elderly lady beside her.

“Lady Eloise, don’t you owe me an explanation?”

At that moment, Lady Eloise’s expression soured as well; the situation seemed to have spiraled beyond their original plan.

After a brief pause, Lady Eloise was about to reply when Veronice pocketed her phone and strode toward the conference room door.

Veronice was eager to relay the news to Investigation Team Five and urged them to dispatch personnel to assess the scene immediately.

Reaching the door, she turned her back to Lady Eloise and said coldly, “Lady Eloise, I’m tired of your evasions. I will be reporting this matter. You’d better think carefully about how you’ll handle the federal prosecutor’s office later.”

With that, she flung open the conference room door and strode out.

Hearing her words and seeing her assign tasks to August in Investigation Team Five’s office, Lady Eloise’s anger flared; her face flushed red and pale in turns.

“Damn it!” she muttered under her breath before pulling out her phone and dialing a number.

At a time like this, clarifying the specifics of the explosion was paramount.

Moreover, Lady Eloise had other ideas—for example, having the CIA agent who had been lurking nearby capture the culprit before the FBI did.

If they could get their hands on the perpetrator, everything afterward would be easier to handle.

——

The scene shifts back to just before the explosion.

Lady Eloise’s sharp voice suddenly rang out over the phone. Roan showed no reaction, his face calm. Rider, sitting in the passenger seat inspecting his handgun, was startled enough to tremble.

But upon hearing Lady Eloise’s command, Roan and Rider exchanged a glance and smirked disdainfully.

Neither cared for the orders of that old CIA woman.

By now, the car had stopped across the street from the federal prosecutor’s office.

Just as Roan was preparing to respond with a few words, a deafening explosion erupted at the courthouse entrance across the street.

Boom—

“Shit!”

The sudden blast startled Roan, and Rider, equally shocked, cursed loudly before throwing open the car door and jumping out.

Outside the courthouse entrance, the small plaza was in chaos—bystanders scattered, screams of terror filled the air, and the cries of the wounded echoed relentlessly.

As Rider dashed from the SUV, Roan hung up and followed suit.

Seeing Rider about to run toward the courthouse entrance, Roan grabbed him by the arm and shouted, “Rider! Wait!”

Rider, caught mid-stride, nearly stumbled forward.

Regaining his balance, he looked at Roan in surprise, impressed by his strength.

“What’s wrong, Roan?”

But with the urgency of the situation, Rider assumed Roan was concerned about additional bombs nearby and said, “Don’t worry. Based on my SWAT experience, it’s unlikely there’s a second bomb here.”

Roan quickly checked his gear—body armor, stun grenades, smoke bombs, Glock 18 with extended magazines—all in order. He scanned the fleeing crowd and explained to Rider,

“The culprits behind this explosion are most likely Jacquel and Thomas. They’re probably still on site. We need to find and capture them quickly.”

This conclusion was drawn chiefly from the earlier car accident case.

After the accident, Thomas had posed as an ambulance driver to check whether Evander had died.

The bomb’s target was John King. Given Jacquel and Thomas’s vengeful resolve, they would almost certainly check to see if John King had survived the blast.

“What? … Okay!”

Rider paused briefly, then nodded decisively.

He carefully observed their surroundings and asked, “What’s the plan?”

“You take the left, I’ll cover the right. Search thoroughly.”

Without wasting time, Roan drew his Glock 18 and said swiftly,

“Jacquel is 36 years old, physically fit, with a buzz cut. Thomas is older, has a sharp voice, long hair streaked with white.”

“Got it!”

Spotting targets among the crowd was a fundamental skill for SWAT operatives.

Hearing the plan, Rider pulled out his Glock 18 as well and strode into the crowd to the left of the courthouse.

Fully armed, Roan plunged into the crowd on the courthouse’s right side, scanning every fleeing face as he hurried toward the elevated platform beside the building.

The courthouse faced a small plaza; to enter the main entrance, one had to cross the plaza and ascend a steep flight of stairs.

——

The explosion had occurred right at the courthouse entrance.

If the perpetrators wanted to check on John King’s status, they would have to come up to that platform.

Standing atop it, Roan could survey the entire scene more clearly.

Amid the stunned gazes of bystanders, Roan, fully armed and seemingly unfazed, reached the top of the stairs in seconds.

“FBI!”

He pulled out a golden badge from his pocket and showed it to a bald security guard collapsed on the ground at the entrance.

While inspecting the surroundings, Roan tore open the guard’s uniform to stop the bleeding and asked,

“Did you see the details of the explosion?”

The guard nodded, reporting that the blast came from a young boy’s backpack.

The boy had handed the backpack to his father, who asked what was inside and why it was so heavy.

A moment later, the explosion occurred; the father died instantly, and the boy’s fate was unknown.

The boy’s father was John King, a federal prosecutor.

After hearing the guard’s account, Roan licked his lips but said nothing.

Just as he prepared to ask more, a sudden volley of gunfire erupted from the courthouse’s left side.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang…

“Fu-k!”

Hearing the shots, Roan stuffed the cloth into the guard’s wound and dashed toward the left side of the courthouse.

There, Rider crouched beside a car, avoiding a hail of bullets fired from behind an SUV.

The enemy wielded a rifle and had long white-streaked hair.

Rider had only asked the man to halt moments ago, but the man immediately opened fire, confirming he was indeed Thomas.

With only a Glock 18 against a rifle, Rider dared not engage directly.

But recalling past battles with Roan, Rider smiled faintly and pulled a stun grenade from behind him.

Just as he prepared to throw it, Rider suddenly saw four stun grenades fly from above toward the enemy’s SUV.

Rider: “…”

Thomas: “???”

(End of chapter)