American comics: I am full of martial virtues and I love to be kind to others.

Kevin made a mistake today, but he also demonstrated his abilities and potential. He has a sharp analytical mind and a passion for learning, but lacks experience and some interpersonal skills. These are things that can be developed.

“Kevin,” Lynn said before leaving, “don’t dwell on today’s events. Everyone makes mistakes; the important thing is to learn from them. You learned how to communicate with victims today, which is a valuable experience.”

“Thank you, Lynn,” Kevin said. “I will remember every word you said.”

Lynn nodded, then picked up her coat and left the office.

Before the morning sun had fully penetrated the canyon of Manhattan's skyscrapers, Lynn was already sitting in a black van, observing the abandoned warehouse across the street through the one-way glass window.

This industrial area in Queens was unusually quiet at six in the morning. Rows of low-rise factory and warehouse buildings lined both sides of the road, most of them closed or abandoned, with only a few still barely operating. The air was thick with the smell of engine oil, rust, and damp concrete, and occasionally a truck would rumble past on the main road in the distance, kicking up a cloud of dust.

"Coffee?" Sarah poured a steaming cup of black coffee from her thermos and handed it to Lynn.

"Thank you." Lynn took the cup and took a sip. The coffee was hot, with a strong bitter taste, just what he needed.

They had been there for almost two hours. The van was parked in a small alley diagonally opposite the warehouse, a carefully chosen location—one that offered a clear view of the warehouse's main and side entrances without being too conspicuous to arouse suspicion.

“Nothing’s happened so far,” Sarah said, holding a small pair of binoculars and staring in the direction of the warehouse. “The two guards changed shifts, but nothing else has occurred.”

Lynn nodded and continued observing. The warehouse's exterior matched Tony's photos perfectly—gray concrete walls, a rusty tin roof, a heavy roller shutter door at the main entrance, and a smaller door next to it for people to enter and exit. Two men in dark jackets stood in the doorway, one smoking a cigarette, the other looking down at his phone.

“Did you notice?” Lynn said, “their positioning.”

Sarah lowered her binoculars and looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"Normal security guards would choose a position with the best possible view in all directions. But these two, one with his back to the alley to the south, and the other with his back to the open space to the east, weren't guarding against external threats; they were monitoring the main road approaching the warehouse."

"So they're more concerned with who comes in, rather than who might infiltrate from other directions?"

“That’s right,” Lynn said. “It means they know no one will come from other directions. Either they have other surveillance in those directions, or they’re confident those places are safe.”

Sarah frowned. "You mean, they might know we're spying on us?"

“Not necessarily,” Lynn said, “but we need to be careful. These people aren’t ordinary criminals; they’re organized and trained.”

They continued to wait.

At 7:15, a silver Toyota sedan drove up from the west road and stopped in front of the warehouse. Lynn immediately picked up her camera, adjusted the focus, and began taking pictures.

The car door opened, and a man in a gray suit stepped out. He was about fifty years old, with graying hair and gold-rimmed glasses, exuding the air of a professional manager. He exchanged a few brief words with the security guard at the door before walking into the warehouse.

"Do you know this person?" Sarah asked.

“I don’t know him,” Lynn said, “but he doesn’t look like an ordinary errand boy. The suit, the glasses, the way he walks. He’s either in management or here to discuss business.”

He continued taking photos, noting the license plate number of the Toyota sedan and the man's physical characteristics.

At 8:20, two more people walked out of the warehouse and got into a black SUV parked nearby. Lynn quickly noted their features—one was a short, stout middle-aged man, and the other was a tall, thin young man; both were dressed casually and did not have any obvious weapons.

After starting the SUV, it headed east.

"Follow them?" Sarah asked.

Lynn hesitated for a moment. “No, we'll continue monitoring the warehouse. Send another team to track that SUV.”

He picked up the walkie-talkie, contacted the support team waiting nearby, and gave brief instructions. A few minutes later, an inconspicuous gray sedan drove out of the parking lot in the distance and quietly followed the black SUV.

Time ticked by. The sun rose higher, and the shadows of the warehouse began to shrink. The surrounding industrial area also began to stir—a hardware processing plant that was still operating started its early shift, the clanging of metal echoing in the distance; a garbage truck slowly drove along the road, making a screeching sound; several workers in overalls rode by on bicycles, not even glancing at the van parked in the alley.

“Have you done this kind of surveillance work many times?” Sarah asked.

“Countless times,” Lynn said, “when I first joined the FBI, I spent most of my time doing this kind of thing. Staring at a location, waiting for something meaningful to happen.”

"Are you bored?"

“Sometimes,” Lynn admitted, “but it’s necessary. Real investigations aren’t like in the movies, chasing cars and shooting. Most of the time is spent waiting, observing, and gathering information. The actual action might only take up one percent of the time, but that one percent success depends on the ninety-nine percent of preparation that precedes it.”

Sarah nodded, lost in thought. "Sometimes I wonder, is what we're doing really meaningful? I mean, today we're here monitoring a warehouse, tomorrow we might be investigating another lead, and the day after that there's a new case—it's like a never-ending game."

“It’s true, there’s no end to the crime,” Lynn said. “Crime won’t stop, and neither will our work. But that doesn’t mean it’s meaningless. Every criminal caught protects a potential victim. Every case solved brings justice. We may never be able to eradicate crime, but we can make it pay the price.”

"It sounds like Sisyphus pushing the boulder."

“Perhaps,” Lynn said, “but Camus said we must imagine Sisyphus as happy.”

Sarah turned to look at him, a slight smile playing on her lips. "You still read Camus?"

“Occasionally,” Lynn said, “during long surveillance missions, I need to find something to do to pass the time.”

At 9:45, the walkie-talkie rang.

“Lynn, this is support team,” a voice came through the walkie-talkie. “The SUV we were tracking stopped in a residential area of ​​Brooklyn, and the two men went into an apartment building.”

"What address?"

The other party gave an address. Lynn quickly checked it in her mind—the location was exactly in the area Kevin had marked yesterday.

“Interesting,” he murmured.

“What?” Sarah asked.

“That address,” Lynn said, “is in the area Kevin analyzed where the intruder might be hiding.”

Sarah's eyes widened. "You mean, those two might be involved in the burglary?"

“Uncertain, but worth investigating,” Lynn said, picking up the walkie-talkie. “Continue monitoring that apartment building, but don’t alert them. Wait for further instructions.”

"receive."

Lynn put down the walkie-talkie and fell into deep thought. If those two men were indeed involved in the burglaries, what did that mean? What was the connection between the Brotherhood and a series of seemingly ordinary burglaries? Or was it just a coincidence?

“Maybe we should go over there and take a look,” Sarah said.

“No,” Lynn shook his head, “we can’t abandon two surveillance points at the same time. Let Kevin go over there to provide support; he knows that area better.”

He took out his phone and dialed Kevin's number.

The phone was answered after two rings. "Agent Lynn?" Kevin's voice came through the receiver, sounding energetic.

“Kevin, there’s new information,” Lynn briefly explained, “I need you to go to Brooklyn to support the surveillance team. That address is in the area you marked yesterday; you know that area better than anyone.”

“I’m leaving right away,” Kevin said excitedly. “What should I be aware of?”

"Keep your distance and don't reveal yourself. Observe the two men's activities and record any suspicious activity. If they leave the apartment, follow them, but don't get too close. Report any significant findings to me immediately."

"clear."

“And also, Kevin,” Lynn added, “this could be more dangerous than you think. If things get out of hand, don’t try to be a hero, retreat and wait for backup. Got it?”

“Understood, Agent Lynn. I’ll be careful.”

Lynn hung up the phone and continued monitoring the warehouse.

Around 10:30, the man in the gray suit who had entered the warehouse earlier came out, got into his Toyota, and drove away. Lynn took a picture of him leaving, then whispered to Sarah, "He was in there for over three hours. Whatever he came for, it couldn't have been a simple visit."

"Perhaps they're in a meeting? Discussing some plan?"

"Possibly."

About an hour later, Lynn noticed that the situation around the warehouse was beginning to change. The security guards at the gate had been replaced by a new group of three, instead of the previous two. One of them was clearly holding something bulging—it might be a gun.

“They’ve increased security,” Sarah noticed. “What’s going on?”

Just then, Lynn's phone rang. It was Kevin.

“Agent Lynn,” Kevin’s voice was urgent, “the two men left the apartment. They got into an SUV and are heading west.”

“Follow them,” Lynn said, “and keep a safe distance.”

"I'm following them. But...it looks like they're heading towards the warehouse you're monitoring."

Lynn frowned. "Are you sure?"

“Not 100% sure, but their route, etc.,” Kevin’s voice suddenly became tense. “They stopped. At a gas station. One of them got out, and he was making a phone call.”

"Can you hear what he's saying?"

"It was too far away, I couldn't hear him clearly. But his expression was very serious, as if he were reporting something."

Lynn thought quickly. If those two were talking to people at the warehouse, it meant they were indeed in contact. But more importantly, if they were coming this way...
“Kevin, listen to me,” he said, “stop following us. Find a safe place to wait, and don’t expose yourself.”

"But--"

“This is an order,” Lynn’s tone turned stern. “Those two may realize they’re being followed. If you continue, you could be in danger. After they leave, go back to that apartment building and see if you can find any other clues.”

Kevin was silent for a moment, then said, "Understood, Agent Lynn."

Lynn hung up the phone and looked at Sarah. "Things have gotten complicated."

"Do you think they've discovered us?"

"It might not be us, but they might sense something is wrong. The Brotherhood is very vigilant; any slight disturbance will put them on high alert."

He picked up his binoculars again to observe the warehouse. The three security guards at the gate seemed even more nervous than before, their eyes constantly scanning the surroundings, their hands always on their waists.

“Should we retreat?” Sarah asked.

Lynn considered for a moment. “No, let’s wait. If we retreat now, we might miss important intelligence. But we should be prepared to leave at any time if the situation worsens.”

They waited for about half an hour more.

At 12:15, a gray truck drove up from the north road and stopped in front of the warehouse. The truck had no markings and the windows were tinted dark, making it impossible to see inside.

The warehouse's roller shutter door slowly rose, and the truck drove straight in. The door immediately closed again.

“What are they transporting?” Sarah asked.

“I don’t know,” Lynn said, “but whatever it is, they obviously don’t want anyone to see it.”

They continued to observe. About twenty minutes later, the roller shutter door opened again, and the truck drove out. Lynn noticed that the truck's suspension height was slightly different when it left than when it entered—it felt lighter.

“They unloaded the goods,” he said. “Now there’s an extra batch in the warehouse.”

“Weapons? Drugs? Explosives?” Sarah listed various possibilities.

"Anything is possible. We need more information."

Just then, something unexpected happened.

The small door to the warehouse suddenly opened, and a person hurriedly walked out. He didn't go towards the security guard at the door, but instead walked quickly towards the back of the warehouse, as if he were running away from something.

Lynn recognized him immediately.

“Tony,” he said softly.

That man was Tony Martinez—the informant they'd met at the coffee shop yesterday. He was wearing different clothes than in the photo, a worn leather jacket and jeans, but his face was the same. (End of Chapter)