Jimmy didn't head home, but instead drove to the Anti-Terrorism Bureau. The command center was about half empty, with only 3 or 4 people on duty.

Jimmy: "Has the target appeared? Where is everyone else?"

Staff member: "No signals so far. We only picked up a signal once today. The others are resting; we're on shifts."

Jimmy nodded: "Alright, notify me as soon as there's news, no matter what time it is."

Staff member: "Understood. Good night."

Jimmy went back to his temporary office, brought in two chairs from outside to piece together, took off his suit and lied down to doze. The conditions here were even worse than his FBI office, where he had a sofa and even a fold-out bed, but here, he had to make do with chairs.

Early in the morning, his phone rang. Jimmy grabbed the phone from the desk and answered sleepily: "This is Jimmy."

"Jimmy, it's me, Jack. That unlucky guy you asked me to look after, he wants to see you." Jack had been the agent on the night shift the previous evening.

Jimmy woke up a bit: "You mean the guy in the detention room?"

Jack: "Yeah, when I went to let him go, he didn't just leave after finding out we were releasing him; instead, he asked to see you."

Jimmy: "Did he say why?"

Jack: "No, but he seems to be in good spirits."

Jimmy looked at the time, "I'll be there in half an hour, heading over now."

Jimmy was also curious why this guy wanted to see him. After all, setting him free instead of sending him to prison was already a privilege.

Jimmy got up, freshened up in the restroom, and drove back to the FBI office.

Jimmy opened the door to the detention room, where Oliver Cohen had already been uncuffed and was sitting at the table, lost in thought. Clearly, he hadn't completely turned into a derelict hobo; though there was no one watching, he hadn't let himself go completely, and his sitting posture, though slack, still retained a human shape.

Jimmy: "Cohen, you wanted to talk to me?" Jimmy said while walking over, sitting across the table, and placing the breakfast he had brought on the table.

Cohen probably hadn't slept much during the night and looked listless. When he saw the sandwich and coffee that Jimmy placed on the table, he swallowed hard.

Jimmy, realizing his expression, understood. Although the breakfast was his own, he didn't mind sharing; he pushed the sandwich toward Cohen, "I brought this for you. Eat first, then we'll talk."

Cohen nodded his thanks, picked up the sandwich, unwrapped it, and took a bite: "Thanks."

Jimmy had intended the coffee for himself, but seeing Cohen eat, he thought better of it and let him have it.

After finishing the sandwich and taking a sip of coffee, Oliver Cohen let out a long sigh before finally speaking: "You're very sharp, the fastest-reacting Asian I've ever encountered."

Jimmy gave a slight nod and remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

Cohen: "Thanks for letting me go. As a form of repayment, I've got a tip for you."

Jimmy's interest was piqued; he took out a notepad and pen from his pocket, ready to jot down notes.

Cohen: "Don't bother taking notes, it's not necessary. Behind Green's restaurant in Harlem, there's an underground gambling den. You may find it quite rewarding if you're interested."

Upon hearing 'underground gambling den,' Jimmy's interest waned. "How do you know this?"

Cohen: "I used to live nearby. I'm just giving you a tip, I don't know the specifics."

Jimmy: "Who exactly are you?"

Cohen: "Well, I was planning to rob a couple of street dealers. They take turns visiting the place every couple of days, most likely to pick up goods or drop off money. But I noticed the place was crowded and didn't make a move. I can't handle that many people alone, unless I took them all out. This tip means nothing to me now."

Jimmy pocketed his notepad and pen; this really wasn't worth noting down. He nodded, "I got it. Give me a number; I'll contact you if I need to confirm anything."

Cohen shook his head, "No need to contact me, I'm just passing along information."

Jimmy: "Alright, you can leave now. Goodbye, and no more robberies."

Jimmy stood and left the detention room; Cohen followed him out. At the elevator, Jimmy sent him downstairs and then returned to the detention room to pick up the trash and toss it into a bin outside.

Checking the time, Jimmy went to wait outside Ruiz's office. Regardless of whether the tip was useful, the rundown Harlem area was a pitfall, so it'd be best to leave that to the old workhorse, Ruiz, to handle.

Ruiz spotted Jimmy sitting outside as soon as he arrived for work, "Jimmy, good morning."

Jimmy followed him into Ruiz's office and recounted the situation as Cohen had described it the day before.

Ruiz: "This Cohen guy is interesting."

Jimmy: "How so?"

Ruiz: "We've known about the underground casino behind Green's restaurant, but we've left them be. Some parts of what Cohen said are true, but the rest is false information.

He claimed that street dealers go there to get their stash or pay up, which is definitely problematic. It's a private club run by old gang members, and while they do play cards and drink, using it as a hub for drug trading – we haven't had any such information here.

If Cohen doesn't bear a grudge against them, someone is probably trying to use us to hit at them, using us as a pawn."

Jimmy took out the notepad and tore off the bit of paper with Cohen's information, handing it to Ruiz: "Here's this for you. I've got other cases to work on. If you're interested, look into it; if not, just leave it. By the way, if this Cohen really set a trap for us, do you think we should find a chance to bring him back in?"

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