Torsten handed Jimmy a piece of paper with a side profile photo of Bob on it. There was no personal information—just some cases related to the Azte cartel that they had uncovered.

Jimmy said, "Bob is on Elm Street, at the Negra restaurant. Sara's merchandise is in the kitchen of the Victoria Café. Are you going to make a move? Bob can provide the goods, but I need Tim Spark's location."

Contemplating, Torsten lightly tapped his thigh with his right hand. After a moment, he slowly shook his head, "Without direct evidence, even if we capture Bob, it would be useless. We need to find his warehouse or route. We have to catch him red-handed."

Jimmy replied, "Then you handle Sara's goods."

Torsten asked, "What about Sara?"

Jimmy answered, "She's probably looking for a ride home by now. She didn't bring her cell phone when she left."

A smile appeared on Torsten's face; Jimmy was still a cop after all. He hadn't lost his mind.

Torsten said, "The merchandise is not a big issue. I'll arrange for a surveillance team to watch it. As long as we catch him red-handed, we can arrange an arrest. Bob is more challenging. We can only look for a chance since we insufficient evidence to act now."

Jimmy remarked, "Got it. Then I'll take matters into my own hands."

Turning to Jimmy, Torsten said, "Just leave a person for me."

Jimmy nodded, having already memorized Bob's side profile, and was now ready to tail him.

Torsten got out of the car, and Jimmy drove off, heading straight for Elm Street. He had glanced over the map of Dallas when he was seconded to the Dallas office some time back and had studied it carefully in the hotel after arriving—remembering the small streets was not guaranteed, but the main ones were no problem.

After refueling the car and stocking up on water and drinks at the gas station, he headed straight for the Negra restaurant, where he sat in a corner and ate a Mexican-style lunch—a chicken fajita, a grilled meat dish, and a corn chowder. After finishing lunch, Jimmy sat a while longer in the restaurant, making sure Bob did not appear, before he returned to his car.

The Texan sun made the car stiflingly hot; Jimmy sat for a while before starting the car and driving a bit to find a coffee shop to sit and rest in the cool. Sitting next to the window, he could just see the front entrance of the Negra restaurant.

The restaurant had a back door, but with only Jimmy alone, he couldn't watch both sides, so he had to choose the front.

All afternoon, Jimmy walked around the restaurant area, thoroughly familiarizing himself with the surroundings.

In the evening, Bob came out of the restaurant, accompanied by two people. With the car waiting at the door and three subordinates, the situation was a bit complicated.

Jimmy followed their car from the restaurant to a bar. Bob went in with the two, while the driver left without parking in the nearby lot—interesting.

Jimmy parked in the parking lot and followed them into the bar. No, he couldn't follow any further today; the bar was too crowded. Although Bob arrived late, there was a curved sofa waiting just for him—this place must be his stronghold.

Jimmy approached the bar, ordered a Bourbon whisky, and rested in front of the bar, occasionally glancing at Bob's position. Occasionally, someone would sit down next to Bob, speak for a bit, but never stayed long.

After finishing his drink, Jimmy set down the glass, ready to leave, when he suddenly noticed that the person who sat next to Bob earlier hadn't left and had been there for a while. Ordering another drink, he decided to stay a bit longer.

When that person left, Jimmy got a clear view of his face and memorized it, keeping it as a backup. If there wasn't a direct opportunity to catch Bob, investigating this individual might yield some results.

After no one else approached Bob, Jimmy finished his drink, paid, and left the bar.

Sitting in his car, he kept an eye on the bar. It was past midnight when he saw Bob coming out—now with just one of the original two people. But Jimmy didn't see any car, and upon looking around, do not notice any other cars starting either.

After Bob exited and started walking along the sidewalk, Jimmy started his car and slowly drove off, maintaining a distance of a few tens of meters—not too far, but close enough not to be noticed.

Unfortunately, Jimmy's luck ran out. Before he could find out where Bob and his associate were heading, police lights suddenly flashed behind his car.

Fxxk! Jimmy signaled right and pulled over. The police car behind also stopped, and two patrol officers got out and approached.

"Hi, sir! Roll down your window. You were driving very slowly; is there a problem with your car?" One officer approached with a flashlight from behind the driver's side, shining it briefly on Jimmy's face, while the other officer checked inside the vehicle from the passenger side.

"FBI, don't be alarmed. I'm going to reach for my credentials now, okay?" Jimmy placed his hands on the steering wheel and turned to talk to the police officer beside him.

The officer nodded, "Are you carrying a weapon? Please, no sudden movements." His flashlight followed Jimmy's hands to his chest.

Jimmy pulled out his FBI credentials from his pocket and handed them to the officer, while the other officer already had his hand on his gun.

The officer examined the credentials and pressed his radio to contact the dispatch center to verify Jimmy's credential's validity. The police dispatch center couldn't possibly have Jimmy's information, but the FBI had a special verification system available to them. After authorization, they could check the credentials by entering information, which would only return a verification status, not provide the information.

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