Jimmy returned to his office and first made a call to Nia. "Nia, are you and Chuck in charge of this case?"

Nia: "Of course not, what's up?"

Jimmy: "I just found some information on their gang and would like to have a talk with them. Are you interested in joining?"

With her phone covered, Nia spoke a few words to Chuck beside her. Jimmy could vaguely hear her talking but couldn't make out the specifics.

Nia: "No problem, let me know when and where."

Jimmy: "Wait for my call."

Jimmy didn't seek help making the contact; he directly dialed the phone number of Tulio Penelli, the boss of the Lenox Gang.

Penelli: "Who is this?"

Jimmy: "Good afternoon, Mr. Penelli. I'm FBI Special Agent Jimmy Yang. I'd like to meet and have a chat with you."

Penelli: "Sorry, I don't know you. Goodbye." And with that, he hung up the phone.

Wow, quite polite, even though he hung up on Jimmy.

Jimmy went downstairs, got in his car, and drove straight to the Upper West Side, into Harlem. Chuck's information was correct—the Lenox Gang members were indeed in Harlem. So the old cops' intelligence network was still great, or perhaps, with so many experiences under their belts, not much was a secret to them.

Arriving at Davis's Bar in Lenox, which was only open in the evening, and not throughout the day, Jimmy was in luck because it was afternoon, close to their opening time. There were people inside, organizing the bar.

Jimmy flashed his FBI badge and went past the security at the door. At the bar, he said to the bartender, who was cleaning the glasses, "Is your boss around?"

The bartender: "Sorry, he's not here yet. May I ask who you are?"

Jimmy showed his badge, "FBI Special Agent Jimmy Yang. Contact him; I'll wait here for him." Jimmy didn't sit at the bar; instead, he moved to a sofa booth nearby.

This bar was one of Lenox's legitimate fronts and one of their money-laundering channels. Jimmy's forthright visit naturally posed no fear of them acting rashly, all the more so because it was highly unlikely for them to stir trouble. For a small gang, a legitimate channel was precious, and the loss they'd suffer if something went awry would be tremendous.

Jimmy watched the bartender, who, after verifying Jimmy's location, left the bar and headed towards the back. Jimmy had noticed that there were people in the back earlier but hadn't been able to confirm any identities. The bartender spoke briefly to someone, who then paced back and forth a few times before making an appearance.

Indeed worthy of a front-facing manager, the person following the bartender out didn't look like a gang member at all. Due to the warm temperature inside the bar, he wasn't wearing a suit jacket but was dressed in a vest and suit pants, with polished Oxford shoes. With light brown hair and a height similar to Jimmy's, to call him suave would be no overstatement.

He came over to Jimmy and extended his right hand: "Francesco Davis, the owner of the bar."

Jimmy stood and shook his hand: "FBI Special Agent Jimmy Yang."

Davis: "Please, have a seat. May I ask what business you have with me, Agent Yang? I don't believe we've met."

Jimmy smiled: "No, we haven't met, Mr. Davis. I need to ask you a favor, though, to put me in touch with Mr. Penelli."

The professional smile faded from Davis's face. "I think you might be mistaken; we don't have anyone by the name of Penelli here."

Jimmy's smile was undeterred as he continued: "Mr. Davis, I'm already seated here. You don't think I just came up with any excuse to have a drink, do you?"

Davis ceased talking and just looked at Jimmy, who continued: "When you get in touch, please let me know." Jimmy took out a business card from his pocket, pushed it across the table towards Davis, and then stood up to leave.

Jimmy left the bar and drove off in his new car, surely noticed by the security guards, who would definitely record his car and temporary license plate. But all that didn't matter—leaving them time to investigate and discuss was part of the plan, since Jimmy hadn't disclosed why he was there, and they probably couldn't guess either.

This was the mob, not some place Jimmy could just storm into and shoot them all. Although they were not law-abiding citizens, that didn't give Jimmy the right to shoot at will.

Jimmy returned home, and in less than two hours since leaving the bar, his phone rang. "Agent Yang, this is Francesco Davis. Can you come to Davis's Bar at 9 PM tonight?"

Jimmy: "Okay, goodbye."

Jimmy informed Nia, and she and Chuck would arrive on time as well.

That evening, Jimmy reached the entrance of Davis's Bar, where he saw his car parked. Another vehicle that had been parked nearby started and drove over—Chuck and Nia got out and approached Jimmy.

Chuck: "Nice car, did you buy it recently?"

Jimmy nodded: "Bought it today."

Davis came out of the bar to greet Jimmy, "Welcome, Agent Yang, please come in."

Jimmy nodded and followed Davis into the bar, with Chuck and Nia trailing behind.

All bars seem to have such quiet little rooms—Jimmy followed Davis into one, where a white man in his fifties or older, bald, with noticeable wrinkles on his forehead and around his eyes, was present.

Davis held Chuck and Nia back, asking them to go have a drink, while Jimmy didn't mind. He took off his coat, hung it over the arm of the sofa, unbuttoned his suit, and sat down opposite the man.

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