Chapter 92: Good News and Bad News

Originally, Roan had planned to chase by car—after all, there was no way a person could outrun a vehicle. But when he saw the endless line of cars stuck behind a red light on the road, he abandoned the idea.

“FBI!” Roan sprinted forward at lightning speed, shouting loudly for the pedestrians to clear the way. At the sound of “FBI,” people instinctively moved aside, then turned to look in the direction of the voice, astonishment written on their faces. For many, it was the first time they’d ever seen a fully-armed FBI agent running so fast.

Most barely had time to react before Roan flashed past them like a gust of wind, leaving only his dark silhouette behind. Many didn’t even catch a glimpse of his face.

He paid no mind to the shouts of “Holy crap!” and “Jesus!” trailing in his wake. As Roan continued his breakneck pursuit, he gauged Freddy’s speed from the glimpse he’d caught of the man’s retreating figure.

A moment later, Roan decisively veered into a narrow alley, startling a couple seeking thrills there. In Freddy’s shocked gaze, Roan’s figure suddenly appeared right in front of him.

“Shit!” Freddy, startled by Roan’s sudden appearance, cursed loudly, quickly turning to dash toward the street on the other side.

At that moment, several kids were skateboarding nearby. Roan, instead of reaching for his gun, swiftly grabbed one of the skateboards and hurled it at Freddy with force.

The skateboard traced a perfect arc through the air and struck Freddy squarely on the back of his head.

Thud!

“Aaah—!” Hit hard, Freddy let out a wail, stumbled, and crashed heavily to the ground.

“Nice work, Roan!” Lacey arrived at a run, shouting her praise as she grabbed Freddy’s hands, pressed her knee into his back, and handcuffed him in one smooth motion.

“You…” The boy whose skateboard had been used stared at Roan in disbelief. Roan ruffled the boy’s hair and grinned. “Thank you for your skateboard.”

“No, thank you, Agent!” The boy beamed, patting Roan’s arm excitedly. “Now I finally have a reason for my dad to buy me a new one!”

Roan: “…”

—

Investigation Team 5’s office.

Entering the interrogation room with Lacey, Roan looked at Freddy—now handcuffed to a chair, silent since his arrival. Smiling, Roan handed him a cup of coffee and asked, “How’s your head, Mr. Freddy? Still hurt?”

Freddy shot Roan a venomous glare and took a sip of the coffee, but the bitter taste blossomed in his mouth, impossible to ignore.

“It’s bitter, isn’t it?” Roan, seeing Freddy’s contorted expression, opened the folder in his hands with a smile. “Here’s even more bitter news: the skateboard that took you down was broken in the process, so you’ll need to compensate the kid for it.”

Freddy’s face twitched; he barely kept his composure, taking a deep breath to suppress his annoyance. Roan, guessing his thoughts, spread his hands and continued with a grin, “The kid’s sensible. He didn’t pick an outrageously expensive board—just a twenty-thousand-dollar one. We’ll be deducting that amount from you later.”

“Fu-k you!” Freddy’s lips trembled; he could no longer hold back. “What kind of skateboard costs twenty grand? And besides, you’re the one who broke it! I’m the victim here!”

“Twenty thousand is nothing. You can afford it.” Roan shook his head with a laugh. Lacey, meanwhile, pulled a few photos from the folder and tossed them in front of Freddy, her tone turning serious. “What’s the story with all this money?”

The photos showed a hundred thousand dollars—money Lacey had found hidden beneath the floorboards under Freddy’s living room table when searching his home for clues. There was no record of this sum in any of Freddy’s bank accounts, and given how well it was concealed, its origins were clearly questionable.

Seeing the photos, Freddy’s expression changed. He leaned back in his chair, face gloomy and silent.

“Not talking?” Lacey’s expression hardened. Roan, seeing things weren’t that dire yet, quickly waved her off. Lacey tilted her head at Roan, her eyes questioning: What’s your plan?

Roan’s lips curled into a faint smile. He put away the photos, cleared his throat, fixed his gaze on Freddy’s face, and spoke to Lacey, “There’s no way this money was obtained legally. So, what illegal means could our Mr. Freddy have used to get a hundred grand?”

Lacey tilted her head, puzzled but silent. Freddy looked dismissive. Roan chuckled and went on, “It could only be drugs, kidnapping, contract killing, bank robbery, information trafficking…”

Freddy’s face didn’t flicker at any of these, especially not at ‘bank robbery’—Roan’s brow furrowed slightly. Still, he kept his eyes trained on Freddy, continuing slowly, “…gang activity, fraud, gambling, human trafficking, explosives, murder…”

Freddy maintained his composure until Roan mentioned explosives—then, for a split second, Freddy’s gaze darted right, betraying him.

“So it’s related to explosives!” Roan smiled.

Freddy’s face remained blank, but his suddenly uneven breathing and suppressed urge to shift position made Roan’s smile widen.

The money in the photos had been found by Lacey—Forensics hadn’t searched Freddy’s place yet. Roan calmly closed the folder and stood, saying to Freddy, “Okay, interrogation is over. Contact Forensics and have them search Freddy’s house immediately. If they find any bombs or traces of bomb-making materials…”

At this, Roan suddenly slammed the table—bang! The loud sound startled both Lacey and Freddy, who jerked his head up to look at Roan.

Roan’s smile was gone now, his gaze icy cold, his voice harsh. “During the course of law enforcement, Mr. Freddy not only fiercely resisted the FBI, but also refused to answer questions during interrogation. He’s been extremely stubborn and uncooperative. I’ll report all of this to the judge—and unless I’m mistaken, you’ll be spending the rest of your life in the federal government’s most ‘secure’ prison…”

Freddy’s expression changed instantly.

Just as Roan and Lacey were about to leave the interrogation room and close the door, Freddy finally broke. “I’ll answer your questions!” he shouted desperately.

Lacey smiled and was about to turn back, but Roan grabbed the door and, without so much as glancing at Freddy, slammed it shut.

Bang!

Over the faint shouts from inside, Lacey, now understanding, patted Roan’s arm with a laugh. “Roan, that trick of yours is ancient!”

“Doesn’t matter if it’s old—as long as it works!” Roan shrugged. Unless Freddy had been prepared to spend the rest of his life in prison before his arrest, he wouldn’t have the guts to gamble his fate on whether Roan was bluffing. Clearly, a mere hundred grand wasn’t worth risking his life for.

An hour later, Lacey and Mona emerged from the interrogation room. Lacey tossed Roan a folder, stretched, and said coolly, “Freddy isn’t the perpetrator behind the fifth and sixth bank robberies. During both incidents, he was busy discussing bomb-making with a group and had no time to commit the crimes. To prove his honesty, Freddy’s agreed to help us arrest those planning to manufacture explosives.”

“Okay.” Roan nodded, entering the bomb-makers’ information into the computer. Instantly, a wanted poster popped up on the screen.

Seeing the string of numbers beneath the fugitive’s photo, Roan smiled, calling out to the team, “Everyone! Bad news is, Freddy’s not our bank robber! Good news is, we’re about to score another big bonus this week!”

The agents of Team 5 all grinned broadly.

Just as Roan was about to continue, Mona tugged his sleeve and whispered in his ear, “Roan, we have a new development.”

(End of chapter)