Chapter 128: Spitting a Mouthful of Old Blood on the Spot...

After hanging up the phone, Lacey took a deep breath, then glared fiercely at Terry, who stood before her with a smile. She said angrily, "Terry, right? One of Madam Heloise’s subordinates. I’ll make sure to remember today’s events."

Without waiting for Terry’s reply, Lacey holstered her pistol and hurried away. She had to move quickly; she wasn't professionally trained, and she was afraid she might lose her composure.

Watching Lacey’s retreating figure as she sprinted away, Terry chuckled, smacked his lips, and turned to walk into the apartment building. However, the moment the elevator doors closed, he thought of the direction Lacey had headed, and his expression changed drastically.

"Damn it, it couldn't be..."

As the realization hit him, his face turned so dark it looked like ink. He began frantically hammering the elevator buttons. A moment later, following the route Lacey had taken, he rushed to the building directly across the street. Just as he was wondering where to go, an ambulance suddenly pulled up beside him. Seeing this, Terry’s eyes lit up, and he quickly followed the nurses into the elevator.

When he reached the roof, he saw Roan and Lacey loading a heavily shackled Jaquel onto a stretcher.

Terry: "..."

Wiping away non-existent sweat from his forehead, Lacey’s eyes brightened when she saw Terry arrive. Mimicking Terry’s earlier demeanor, she cleared her throat, pointed to Mona—who was standing nearby clutching her laptop—and said with a smile, "You CIA agents are here for Mona, right? She’s right here. If you have any questions, you can ask her now."

Roan and Mona, who had just heard Lacey recount the situation, exchanged a look and turned their gaze toward Terry, both wearing faint smiles.

Seeing the expressions on Roan and Mona’s faces, Terry’s complexion slowly turned the color of liver. After a long silence, he finally managed to choke out one word:

"...F-ck!"

—

Far away, in a conference room within the Jacob Federal Building, Madam Heloise sat in a chair, watching Verinis, who was seated diagonally across from her. She was in a foul mood. Verinis, busy reviewing documents with a stoic expression, was equally dissatisfied with Madam Heloise.

It was already past office hours; under normal circumstances, Verinis would have returned home to rest. But because Madam Heloise had interrogated Demonti earlier, Verinis had been forced to turn her car around on the way home and rush back. Even so, the CIA agents had still administered an unknown substance to Demonti. If it hadn't been for Augustus’s quick reaction, there was no telling what kind of state Demonti would be in now.

As previously mentioned, the case was to be transferred to the CIA tomorrow. However, since Demonti was one of the perpetrators of the bombing at the Federal Prosecutor’s Office and had been captured by the FBI, he had to be brought to court by the FBI. That was a significant credit to claim. Before that could happen, Demonti absolutely could not die.

Madam Heloise felt both angry and helpless about this. One wrong step had led to a cascade of errors. Following her usual habits, she would have long ago used the CIA’s most extreme methods to make someone as stubborn as Demonti scream for mercy and spill everything. But because she had underestimated Roan Greenwood, she couldn't do that; instead, she had fallen into a very passive position: a CIA regional director now had to defer to a mere unit supervisor like Verinis!

Thinking of this, Madam Heloise’s fingernails dug deep into her palms. She wanted nothing more than to unleash every one of the CIA's "special" methods on Agent Roan. But the information she had gathered showed that Roan was not only intelligent, physically capable, observant, and strong, but he also had the backing of Verinis. This meant that the standard tactics used against others simply wouldn't work on him. To target Roan, she would need a specific plan tailored to his weaknesses. But right now, Madam Heloise was too desperate to capture Jaquel to spare any effort.

"However, reports indicate that the relationship between Roan Greenwood and Mona Evans seems quite close," she mused. A cold smile curled her lips. "It just so happens I sent people to find Mona Evans earlier. As long as I take her, then..."

Mona didn't have Verinis’s protection, and her father, Javari Evans, was currently abroad on a mission. A cold glint flashed in Madam Heloise’s eyes.

"Madam Heloise."

At that moment, Verinis finished processing the documents on the table, rubbed her sore shoulders, and tilted her head to ask coldly, "How much longer do you intend to investigate tonight?"

As long as these people didn't leave, Verinis couldn't go home. Her main concern was that they would use drugs during the next interrogation, leading to Demonti’s death. Verinis had decided that if they were going to continue interrogating him, she would be there to supervise. Another reason was that Augustus had called her earlier to say that Roan and Lacey had deduced Jaquel’s location and were on their way to arrest him. Even if they hadn't caught him yet, if they did, Verinis was determined to ensure that neither the suspect nor the credit would be snatched away by Madam Heloise. After all, the day wasn't over, and the case still belonged to the Fifth Investigation Unit.

"Madam Supervisor."

Hearing this, Madam Heloise glanced at her and said expressionlessly, "This building doesn't belong solely to the FBI. I will leave, you don't need to rush me."

While sending Terry to investigate leads at Mona’s home, Madam Heloise had also ordered her other subordinates to retrieve a more potent interrogation agent. If Terry failed to find a lead, Demonti remained a crucial breakthrough for catching Jaquel, and she had no intention of letting him go.

"Hmph."

Verinis let out a cold snort. Just as she was about to speak, both her and Madam Heloise’s phones rang simultaneously.

*Ring—*

The two women glanced at each other, stood up in unison, and walked to opposite corners of the room to answer. A few seconds later, a smile appeared on Verinis’s face, while Madam Heloise’s expression turned pitch black.

They had received calls from Roan and Terry, respectively. The message was the same: Jaquel had been caught.

"Very good, Roan."

Verinis turned to look at the old woman in the opposite corner of the room. She slowly dropped her smile, though her voice was noticeably louder: "You’ve worked hard today. Go home and get some rest once you’re finished. I’ll be holding a press conference tomorrow afternoon, and I want you to join me."

Hearing that Verinis was holding a press conference, Madam Heloise’s already gloomy face grew even darker. She abruptly hung up on Terry and turned back, shouting, "Supervisor, you..."

Before the old woman could finish, Verinis hung up her phone, walked toward the conference table, and said loudly, "Madam Heloise, don't forget to pay the one-million-dollar bounty on Jaquel."

With that, Verinis picked up her folder and walked out of the conference room with a faint smirk. After all, it was a major case involving the bombing of the Federal Prosecutor’s Office; holding a press conference was not unreasonable.

"You..."

Inside the room, faced with the prospect of having to pay that bounty to Roan, Madam Heloise’s face cycled through a variety of colors. The next second, she failed to catch her breath, her vision went black, and she collapsed backward.

In the aftermath, Madam Heloise was rushed to the hospital and successfully revived. However, due to her advanced age, the fall resulted in fractures in her arm and leg. Furthermore, the CIA needed someone to bear the brunt of public and political criticism regarding the bombing. Thus, while Madam Heloise lay in the hospital, absent and unable to defend herself, a "unanimous" vote was cast in her name, and she was honored with the task of taking the fall.

Upon hearing this, Madam Heloise coughed up blood on the spot and was rushed back into surgery. This time, she didn't win her "resurrection match"; she didn't make it out, but her black-and-white portrait was hung up shortly after.

Far away, inside the Chevrolet, Roan frowned after hanging up the phone:

"A press conference?"