After getting out of the car, the three gathered beside Ruiz's car, "This is one of the Red Dragon's hideouts, no location of their main base in the bureau's files."

Jimmy glanced around; it was only 8 o'clock now, and the bar wasn't particularly crowded, "Alright, here it is. You two should put on the bullet-proof vests."

Ruiz looked at Jimmy and shook his head, "It's just an investigation now, no need."

Jimmy: "No, a colleague just died in the line of duty today. It's necessary, put them on."

Ruiz looked at Taylor: "Taylor?"

Taylor nodded: "Let's all put them on. Jimmy, you should wear one too."

Jimmy took a deep breath, nodded, and the three of them each opened their car's equipment bags, took off their suits and put on the bullet-proof vests, hanging the FBI badges directly around their necks. Jimmy put on a little more; he also wore black disposable gloves.

With their gear on and weapons checked, they gathered together again, exchanged glances, and Ruiz headed into the bar first. The security guard at the bar's entrance had already noticed them when they congregated earlier and looked unsettled, quickly running into the bar before they got to him.

Ruiz called to the bartender, "I'm looking for Crippled William, have him come out."

The bartender looked at the three FBI agents in bullet-proof vests in front of him and showed no sign of resisting. He nodded and walked toward the back office.

Jimmy could see what was happening at the back; after the bartender said a few words to someone, he turned back, and the person originally sitting inside stood up, paced a few steps beside him. He bent down, opened a drawer in the desk, took a handgun and tucked it in his back waist, but stopped as he reached the office door, thought for a moment, then removed the gun and put it back in the drawer, tidied his clothes before heading to the bar.

A middle-aged white man came out from the back. He seemed to have trouble with his legs; one of his legs seemed to have been injured, and he walked a bit unsteadily. Smiling, he approached with both hands outstretched beforehand: "Welcome, agents. I'm Crippled William. Please, let's talk inside."

Ruiz did not reach out for a handshake, nor did he refuse the invitation, and the three followed Crippled William toward the office.

There were only two single sofas; Ruiz and Crippled William sat, with Jimmy and Taylor standing beside Ruiz.

Crippled William: "May I know your names?"

Ruiz: "Ruiz from the FBI Organized Crime Unit. Crippled William, where's your boss, Tiago?"

Crippled William: "He doesn't usually come here, Agent Ruiz, may I ask what's the matter?"

Ruiz: "Tell him to come over, now."

Crippled William turned to Jimmy and Taylor; both their right hands were near their holsters or directly on the gun grips, added with their bullet-proof vests, this clearly wasn't a conversation they wanted to have peacefully.

Crippled William: "I don't know where he is."

Ruiz looked at his watch: "Call him, I'll only wait for 10 minutes. Stop talking, the countdown starts now."

The smile on Crippled William's face disappeared. He got up and walked behind the desk, picked up the phone on the desk and dialed. From the look of his phone, it was definitely an unregistered phone since Jimmy often used this model—cheap, widely available, and inconspicuous. This cripple seemed like he had some smarts.

He whispered to the person on the other end about the situation, including the three agents, then hung up, "He'll be here soon."

Crippled William sat in his office chair, looking at the three of them, not getting any closer, nor did he arrange for drinks to be served; the four of them just sat or stood in silence in the room.

Crippled William occasionally looked at his watch, holding the phone in his hand. As time passed, the frequency with which he checked the watch noticeably increased.

Finally, the door was pushed open, and a curly-haired white man entered. Crippled William immediately stood up and called out "Boss" before walking over to them.

The newcomer reached out to shake Ruiz's hand, then sat on the single sofa opposite, "Tiago Hernandez."

Ruiz: "Kirk Ruizi. Do you know why we are here?"

Tiago: "Yeah, let me clarify first, it wasn't my people who did it."

Ruiz extended his hand to Taylor, and Taylor passed him the documents. He took out two printed photos and handed them to Tiago, "Do you know them?"

Tiago took the photos, looked at them, and shook his head, "No impression, not my people. I just contacted to confirm it, it wasn't done by us." He handed the photos to Crippled William beside him, "William, see if you recognize them?"

Crippled William glanced at them, "Don't recognize," then tried to hand them back to Ruiz.

Ruiz didn't take them, stood up and gave the files to Taylor, took out a business card, and handed it to Tiago saying: "You better tell the truth. I'll give you the night, find them and call me."

Tiago stood up: "I don't know them; this matter has nothing to do with us. You don't..." He couldn't finish, as Jimmy had already drawn a Python revolver and pointed it at his head.

Jimmy: "Find them if you don't want to end up like the cripple."

Ruiz tossed the business card on the small round table in front of the sofa, turned around and left; Jimmy backed up a couple of steps with his gun drawn, then finally holstered it and left the office.

Back in the bar lobby, several people had already left, possibly because the presence of three people dressed like them had drawn some attention, and a few had sneaked away during that time.

The three of them didn't linger, walked straight out of the bar, and got in the car to head to the next destination.

The Black Gang, as the name implies, they're not exactly good people, so of course their hideouts aren't that obvious. Ruiz's information was still quite decent; though it didn't include the main base, at least it noted the location of one of the restaurants.

This wasn't a big restaurant, just a roadside eatery type, with four tables upon entering, a bar counter inside, and a kitchen and a dressing room in the back.

However, Jimmy could see more; behind the kitchen, in a larger space, there were shadows of people moving, quite different from the emptiness at the front of the restaurant.

Ruiz led the way as usual, with the three entering the restaurant, where only one table had two people sitting.

The waiter saw someone coming in and was walking toward the door, only to stop suddenly. No way, three people in bullet-proof vests with FBI on them entering definitely carried some pressure.

Waiter: "Wel... Welcome."

Ruiz said to the waiter: "Get Brian and Anthony out here, now." After speaking, he sat by one of the tables, with Jimmy and Taylor sitting at another.

Jimmy said to the only table of customers: "Sorry, we're investigating a case, please leave for now. Waiter, this table is on me, check, please."

The two customers didn't say anything given the situation, although they had only eaten half, the atmosphere was clearly not suitable for dining, so they picked up their nearby bags and left the restaurant.

The waiter didn't dare to approach Jimmy for the bill now, instead, she turned and walked to the bar to say something to the woman inside. The woman at the bar looked at Jimmy and the others, then turned and headed into the back kitchen, opening a door to go inside. It was hard to identify anyone beyond that; with a dozen people inside, Jimmy couldn't tell who at the bar the woman went to speak with.

There seemed to be some commotion inside. Soon, a few guys entered the adjoining room from a side door; Jimmy watched through the wall as they came to the adjacent room's door, without stepping outside.

Behind the kitchen, five people came into the kitchen, but only two walked out, with the other three staying inside with the two chefs.

Of the two who came out, one was the woman from the front desk, who returned to the cashier position, and the other was a young black man, looking indistinct in age, yet certainly not old. "Who are you?"

Ruiz: "FBI, who are you?"

Black man; "Anthony, Anthony Brooks."

Ruiz: "Anthony, are Daquan Johnson and Malik Williams your people?"

Anthony paused, speaking very harshly, "I don't know them. You should leave; you've already affected the restaurant's business."

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