Chapter 118 One Foolish Move After Another
Chapter 118 One Foolish Move After Another
It was 1 a.m. when the rain started to pour.
Arthur Kennedy left the newspaper office. Ever since that report about detonators was published, he knew Walker would definitely do something desperate.
Patrick's two nephews, Sean and Liam, followed Arthur closely.
They walked into an alley next to 42nd Street. It was a shortcut to the parking lot, piled with debris cleared from the fire scene, and filled with the pungent smell of rubber.
Arthur walked in the middle, with Sean and Liam behind him, maintaining a high level of vigilance.
When Arthur reached the middle of the alley, he suddenly stopped.
He grew up in the mining district of Scranton, where brawls between strike pickets and company thugs were commonplace.
Every man who survives to adulthood in a mine has an instinct for danger.
Not to mention the instincts enhanced by the "free fighting techniques" that the system later rewarded.
At that moment, this instinct made him sense a murderous aura.
In the shadows ahead, a black Ford sedan had stalled, blocking the exit.
Almost simultaneously, footsteps came from the alleyway behind them.
"Something's not right," Sean said in a low voice, gripping the short stick in his hand tighter.
The front door opened. Two men got out.
By the dim light of the streetlamp, Arthur recognized one of them, Danny Costello, the one Patrick had shown him in the photo.
He exposed the person's name and company in the newspaper, and now the person in question is coming to him.
Danny was wearing a heavy leather jacket and holding a silenced pistol. Beside him stood a short, stocky thug carrying an iron bar.
The person blocking the road behind is the driver of this car, who is holding a switchblade.
Danny raised his gun and coldly looked at the three people caught in the middle.
"Mr. Kennedy, your article was well written. It's a pity you won't have the chance to write another one."
Sean and Liam immediately stepped in front of Arthur.
"Don't move." Danny waved the gun.
"I know you two are big guys, but bullets are faster than fists."
Arthur stepped out from behind Sean.
"Did Walker send you?" Arthur asked, his calm tone startling Danny.
Danny gritted his teeth and said, "Dead men don't need to know their names. I only wanted to burn down the factory as a warning, but you were so ungrateful and insisted on checking that batch of detonators. You touched something you shouldn't have."
He raised the gun and aimed it at Arthur's chest.
At this distance, on this rainy night, Danny felt victory was assured. All he had to do was pull the trigger, take the money and ticket Walker had given him, and fly away.
But what he didn't know was that the man standing in front of him possessed more than just a pen.
The system's free-fighting techniques activated instantly in Arthur's mind. At this distance, the gunman's reaction time, muscle twitches, and blind spots all became calculable data.
"Let's do it!"
Arthur gave a low shout.
Just as Danny was about to pull the trigger, Arthur moved.
He lunged forward and to the side. The hard-shell lighter in his hand flew out like a bullet, striking Danny's wrist precisely.
Danny's pistol had already been fired, but it missed and hit the wall next to him.
This one-second opportunity is enough.
Arthur was already close to him. His left hand gripped Danny's gun-wielding wrist like an iron clamp, twisting it upwards with a sickening cracking sound. His right hand slashed hard across Danny's Adam's apple.
"Well!"
The gun in Danny's hand fell to the ground, and he clutched his throat and knelt down, unable to make a sound.
At the same time, Sean and Liam also made their move.
The fighting style of these two Irish dockworkers was nothing fancy, just raw and brutal.
Sean slammed the shorter man's stick into his shoulder, sending him stumbling, and then kicked him in the stomach. Liam, behind him, lunged at the driver with the knife, using his weight to pin him firmly in the puddle.
The battle ended in ten seconds.
Danny knelt on the ground, his wrists twisted at an angle, a bellows-like wheezing sound coming from his throat. The short man lay unconscious in the corner. The driver was pinned to the ground with his hands tied behind his back by Liam.
Arthur stood in the rain, straightening the slightly disheveled collar of his trench coat.
He walked up to Danny, picked up the silenced pistol that had fallen to the ground, ejected the magazine, and threw it into the nearby sewer.
"You just said I shouldn't have touched those detonators?"
Danny stared at him in horror. He never dreamed that this seemingly refined editor-in-chief could be more ruthless and precise than a professional killer when he took action.
Arthur crouched down and began searching his body.
These kinds of desperate criminals, once they've pulled off this big heist, will definitely run away immediately. If Walker doesn't want to cause any trouble later, he'll certainly prepare travel expenses for them.
Sure enough, Arthur found an envelope in the inside pocket of Danny's leather jacket.
The envelope was thick, and there was even a little bit of glue that hadn't completely dried on the seal.
Arthur pulled the envelope out.
By the light of the streetlamp, he saw the stamp on the envelope.
[Mayor's Office, City Hall]
Arthur looked at the words and his eyes turned cold.
Walker was truly out of his mind, and truly desperate.
He probably summoned Danny hastily tonight, gave him the money, and demanded that he take action tonight and then leave New York immediately.
Because of the tight schedule, or perhaps out of that arrogance of power, he even took the special envelope directly from his desk to put the cash in.
Arthur tore open the envelope.
There are two things inside.
The first thing is two train tickets to Chicago for tomorrow morning.
The second item was a thick stack of US dollars, all fifty denominations, brand new and consecutively numbered.
It's clearly prepared for exile.
Arthur closed the envelope, put it in his inner pocket, and sighed to himself:
How could New Yorkers elect such an idiot to power, and even get him re-elected?
Tonight's armed ambush, along with the two train tickets, the consecutive new banknotes, and the envelope from the city hall, directly constitutes irrefutable evidence of "attempted first-degree murder" and "hired murder."
Walker used public funds to hire a killer and even planned an escape route.
Arthur stood up and looked at Sean and Liam.
"Put these three people in the car."
Arthur pointed to the Ford: "Sean, you drive that one. Liam, you drive ours and follow behind."
"Boss, where to? The police station?" Sean asked.
Arthur shook his head: "No. The current police chief is Walker's dog. Sending this evidence there will render it worthless."
He gave an address.
49 East 65th Street.
""
That was Franklin Roosevelt's home in New York City.
To uproot Jimmy Walker, you'd need the sharpest axe.