Jimmy nodded, "Keep an eye out, and if you have any news about this person, notify us immediately. This is an extremely dangerous suspect. Did they leave you a card?"

The receptionist nodded, "I understand. Whoever you guys are asking about so frequently must be no ordinary person."

Jimmy took back the paper and left the hotel.

The information Nick provided did not contain the list of all the people Jimmy had inquired about. It seemed that Jimmy's inquiries had already included the nearby hotels. Jimmy initially thought Nick wasn't a field agent and might have missed something, but now it seemed the veteran intelligence officer was much more meticulous than he was. If that was the case, then there was basically no need to inquire at these hotels in the open, as Nick must have already swept through them.

Just to be sure, Jimmy checked with two more hotels and, sure enough, Nick had already visited all of them.

Jimmy returned to the street, looked around, and took out his phone to call Ruiz. When it came to having a wide network of contacts and investigating private matters, Ruiz was undoubtedly the best choice.

Ruiz: "Jimmy, what's up?"

Jimmy: "Yeah, I'm investigating a case. Do you have any reliable informants in the Fordham area of the Bronx?"

Ruiz: "I'll call you back later." And with that, he hung up. He didn't even ask Jimmy what it was about, which showed trust. Developing informants is a very difficult task, and if Ruiz was letting Jimmy contact his informant directly, he was essentially sharing his informant with Jimmy.

Jimmy put away his phone, took out a cigarette packet, lit one, and stood on the sidewalk waiting for the call. Soon enough, Ruiz sent over a phone number and a name. He didn't call again, evidently leaving Jimmy to handle it on his own.

Jimmy dialed the number, and a man's voice came through, sounding irritable, perhaps due to being woken up. "M*F*, who are you?"

Jimmy was unfazed: "Seventeen, someone asked me to contact you."

There was sudden silence on the other end; Jimmy heard some faint rustling noises, and then the person said, "Who are you?"

Jimmy: "Ruiz asked me to contact you. I need your help with something."

Seventeen: "Meet me at the coffee shop near Fordham University's main entrance in half an hour." And with that, he hung up.

It seemed Seventeen had taken the call in the bathroom; the sound of running water was audible, and his voice was deliberately kept low, as if there was someone else in the house he did not want overhearing. Ruiz's informant was rather skilled.

Jimmy checked the map, realizing he was some distance from the university entrance. He fetched his car and drove toward his destination.

Jimmy circled around the school gate, frowning. There were two coffee shops close to the main entrance, neither far from it, and he genuinely didn't know which one Seventeen had specified. He had no choice but to park his car and wait in it for the call.

After receiving the call, Jimmy walked into a coffee shop. A bald man in the corner gestured to him with a hooked finger. Jimmy headed over, feeling something was off; why was this man using a two-finger gesture?

Jimmy: "Seventeen?"

Seventeen nodded: "Your phone."

Jimmy placed the FBI's phone on the table. Seventeen dialed a number and put it to his ear. "It's me," was all Seventeen said. After the person on the other end finished speaking, he pushed the phone back across the table to Jimmy. Jimmy glanced at the call log; it was Ruiz's number.

Seventeen: "So, what's the deal?"

Jimmy: "Confirmed my identity?"

Seventeen: "Yeah, don't waste time. I can't stay out long."

Jimmy pulled out a printout and pushed it to him: "This person is a suspect in multiple taxi driver homicides. We've determined that he came to Fordham District based on surveillance, but after asking around, everyone says they haven't seen him. I'm hoping you can help look around the area for any clues."

Seventeen carefully examined the printout, nodding: "Map."

Jimmy brought out the map Nick had marked, "The red lines are where we have already investigated, but to no avail."

Seventeen: "Got it. That's it; I'm out of here. Coffee's on you."

Seventeen downed the coffee on the table in one go and got up to leave. Jimmy didn't follow him out. A waiter came over, and Jimmy ordered another coffee to continue resting there.

Seventeen was interesting; he dialed Ruiz's number on Jimmy's phone without looking it up in the contacts, which meant he had memorized Ruiz's number. Moreover, he barely glanced at the map before pushing it back. He was definitely very familiar with the area. He took the printout with him—indeed, Ruiz's people were reliable.

But Jimmy was still concerned about his gesture, beckoning with two fingers pointing up. Jimmy was all too familiar with it. Back at the FBI Academy, many instructors summoned people this way; Hughes and Peter from the Manhattan office also had this habit, their gestures all the same.

Seventeen might not be one of Ruiz's informants but rather an undercover agent of the bureau, possibly even a long-term one. His demeanor had become that of a gang member.

Quite interesting. Ruiz really did have an extensive network at his disposal. Jimmy envied him. It was unfortunate that Jimmy still didn't have the authority to recruit informants unless he paid out of his pocket.

After finishing his coffee, Jimmy got up and left the coffee shop, only to discover he had been issued a parking ticket. A white citation was wedged under his windshield wiper; this was the first time in years he had received a ticket ascribed to him. Upon checking the rear of his vehicle, he found a fire hydrant not far from his car's tail. He hadn't noticed it when parking; such an obstruction cost him dearly.

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