Bob shook his head, "I can't tell you that."

Jimmy screwed the bottle cap back on and threw it back into the car. "Who's your superior? Where is he?"

Bob replied, "Brother, I can give you money, let me go, and it'll be good for all of us. If you're going to move in, I can cooperate with you guys to take over the territory around Chinatown. I'm very sincere."

Jimmy took out Bob's gun and fired a shot into the ground near Bob's thigh. The gunshot echoed in the warehouse, a large abandoned area where the sound of gunfire wasn't much of an issue. "Are you betting I won't shoot? Huh?"

Bob flinched, "Don't shoot! Please don't!"

Jimmy said, "I can spare your life, but you still have to give me the information I want. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone it was you who talked."

Bob shook his head, his upper body also swaying, "We're all working for the gang, you can't do this, I can't betray my brothers."

Jimmy asked again, "Who's your superior? Where? Tim Spark?"

Bob replied, "No, it's not him, I don't have contact with him. It's Mo Davis; he's in Houston."

Jimmy inquired, "Who did you meet with last night?"

A look of surprise flashed across Bob's face. Had he been followed yesterday? He hadn't noticed at all.

Jimmy repeated the question, and Bob said, "I met with a lot of people; I don't know who you're talking about."

Jimmy described, "Short-haired blonde middle-aged white man, around 180-185 cm."

Bob swallowed hard, realizing he truly had been targeted the previous day, "Danny Davis, Mo's brother."

Jimmy pressed, "Mo's location."

Bob answered, "A nightclub on Fanny Street in Midtown; he usually goes there, sometimes meets at the Anglican Church. That's all I know."

Jimmy responded appreciatively, "Very good, you're so cooperative, I almost feel bad about shooting at you. Last question, your transportation route."

Bob complied, "Transport trucks, every two weeks, pick-up point is at the logistics center. Alright, I've said everything; you can let me go now."

Jimmy waved a finger, "It's not time yet, you haven't paid up."

Bob agreed, "Okay, I'll pay you, just let me go."

Jimmy nodded, "Of course, but you still need to pay a little price. Don't worry, it won't kill you."

Bob thought he'd just take a little beating to put on a show; as long as he wasn't killed, it was no big deal. "There's a safe in the warehouse, 701226, that's the code."

Jimmy nodded, pulled out zip ties from his back pocket, and told Bob to put his legs together, binding his feet. "Wait here."

Jimmy picked up the spent bullet casing, got in the car, and left the warehouse. He drove to the road and called Torsten, arranging to meet outside, but before meeting, Jimmy decided to check out Bob's warehouse.

Luckily, the distance wasn't far. Jimmy reached the warehouse and used Heart Eye to confirm the space inside, making sure there was no surveillance before using Bob's keys from his pocket to try a few and successfully roll up the shutter door.

The warehouse was quite large, not one of those mini storage units. Once inside, Jimmy looked through a few wooden crates in the corner, then approached the corner where a standing safe was placed.

Jimmy inspected it and entered the code, successfully opening the safe. Bob was a shrewd guy; to survive, he had actually given the real code.

Jimmy looked through the safe's contents. It was a two-level safe, with a smaller upper section containing some jewelry and other such items. For the gang, those items were obviously ill-gotten. The bottom was filled with neatly stacked cash.

Jimmy didn't bother to count the money but stood up and looked around, finding only a few clothes since there were no bags. He simply took an article of clothing to wrap the money in, then closed the safe. He didn't take everything, leaving some behind for Torsten's crew to save face— their coffers needed topping up too.

Having inspected the opened crates nearby, one small crate contained several handguns and bullets. Jimmy thought about it and placed the clothing-wrapped money on top of the crate, carried it out of the warehouse, and put it in the trunk of his car.

This time, Jimmy had brought his service pistol and revolver, both registered. It was often inconvenient to carry them around. Although he didn't know whether the guns here had been used before or traced, they were at least preferable to his own.

He returned to the warehouse to double-check, making sure he hadn't left anything behind. Then he left the warehouse, closed the shutter door, and drove away.

Jimmy sat in a café, ordered a coffee, and passed the time with a newspaper. Shortly after, Torsten also came in, glancing around before sitting across from Jimmy.

Torsten asked, "So, how did it go, Jimmy, find anything useful?"

Jimmy nodded, "Get a coffee first, and we'll talk."

After Torsten ordered and the coffee was served, Jimmy began, "Bob's at the abandoned factory; you can pick him up later if you're planning on arresting him. I also got his storage and transportation routes. What's your plan?"

Torsten was genuinely stunned. It had only been a day, and Jimmy had already accomplished so much. Not only had he found Bob, but he had also obtained intelligence, including the storage and transportation routes?

Was it that Jimmy was too capable, or were they too incompetent? DEA and FBI, was the disparity really that large?

Without responding, Torsten just looked at Jimmy, scrutinizing him from all angles. Where exactly was the gap?

Feeling uneasy under his gaze, Jimmy asked, "What's up with you?"

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