Law America, the Devil's Agent

Omir's anger and loss of composure surprised everyone.

This man, who was always elegant and composed, slowly sat down and waved his hand.

Everyone fled as if granted a pardon. Even though Quinil had a mark on his head, he didn't dare say anything and ran away as if fleeing.

The office door closed gently after the last assistant left.

Omir sat alone behind his desk, slowly relaxing his tense body.

He leaned back in his chair, his tie askew, and his bloodshot eyes were filled with dark circles.

Gradually, his breathing returned to normal.

He remained silent for a long time, then reached into the drawer under the table, picked up a Nokia old-fashioned phone, and dialed a number that wasn't saved as a contact.

It rang three times before the other end answered.

There were no pleasantries, no opening remarks.

"Your men messed everything up."

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone, then a deep, hoarse voice spoke:

"The team has grown larger, and the network has become deeper."

  

Some people want to use this network to their advantage and start their own businesses...

I can't control these things.

The Blood Hand Gang's line was something they themselves fostered.

You know what I do, and who I serve. I have absolutely no interest in these petty gains.

He paused, his voice now carrying a cold, warning tone:

"Fortunately, so far only the pharmaceutical business has been investigated. We absolutely cannot let these people investigate other aspects of the hospital."

"So what we need to do now is either cut off an arm to survive, or...?"

Omir didn't finish his sentence.

There was a longer silence on the other end. Then the voice spoke again:

"I looked up Link's background."

One night was enough for me to figure out who he was.

He has business ties with the Winthrop family, is a long-term partner of Anton Security, and has close ties with the White siblings of the Philadelphia DEA.

It's difficult to make any move on any of these three lines.

Needless to say, he may very well have personally participated in the operation to wipe out the Blood Hand Gang.

One person can mobilize the combined forces of gangs, private security companies, and federal agents to raze a territory to the ground in a single morning.

Such a person cannot be dealt with carelessly.

Omir paused for a moment, then began to speak in a more measured tone:

"Then...should I get to know him?"

"We can make contact. Let's see if he knows when to back down."

It wouldn't be a problem to push a few people involved in the drug smuggling line out to take the blame.

Lydia Wylant, Alan Morrison, Thomas Schell...

These can all be handed over.

As long as it doesn't affect my fundamental interests.

I concede this round.

"I'll arrange it."

"Go."

Omir hung up the phone, placed it on the table, and sat with his eyes closed for a long time.

When he opened his eyes again, the rage and loss of composure he had just displayed were gone, replaced by a cold, deep, suppressed calm.

He pressed the internal phone:

"Quinnil, come to me."

……

An unassuming Italian restaurant in Philadelphia's Old Town.

In a private room on the second floor, Link was sitting at the head of the long table, with half a glass of red wine and a barely touched tiramisu in front of him.

His suit jacket was draped over the back of the chair, and his tie was loose. His entire demeanor was completely different from the cold and sharp person he was at yesterday's press conference.

Benny sat to his right, a notebook in front of him containing all the key moments of today's press conference and follow-up tasks, absentmindedly poking at a piece of roasted vegetable with a fork.

Celine sat opposite him, the cold light from her phone screen reflecting on her face. She was browsing through the headlines of various media reports about the press conference, a smile she couldn't suppress playing on her lips.

Kona leaned back in the chair next to Link, holding a glass of white wine in her hand, a slightly tipsy and relaxed smile on her face.

"Yesterday's battle was brilliantly fought."

Link raised his glass:

Nathaniel Hawthorne's public image was completely reversed; Alan Morrison was arrested in public; Elena's indictment and Miles's federal investigation were launched simultaneously.

All three things were done in the same afternoon; O'Mill is probably still smashing things in his office right now.

He took a sip of red wine, his gaze sweeping over everyone at the table:

"Benny, the visual evidence you prepared before the press conference was perfectly timed."

Celine, there were no mistakes in media relations and on-site coordination. Kona—"

He looked at her, a slight smile playing on his lips:

"Without you, this press conference simply couldn't have taken place."

He took three envelopes from the inside pocket of his suit and pushed them in front of the three men one by one.

The envelope was unsealed, and inside were newly printed checks.

"This is what you deserve."

Benny opened the envelope, glanced down at the numbers on it, opened his mouth and closed it again, and finally just nodded vigorously.

Celine squinted happily, but she quickly lowered her head, pretending to tidy up the napkin in front of her.

Kona didn't open the envelope, but just held it between two fingers and shook it. Link smiled and then stuffed the envelope into his handbag.

"Next..."

Link put down his glass and placed his hands, crossed, on the table:

"The press conference was just the clarion call for the counterattack. The real battle will be fought in court."

The prosecution against Elena has been officially initiated, and Miles' federal investigation will subpoena Thomas Schellor and Lydia Wylant this week.

I need to go through the final draft of the counterclaim by tonight; O'Mill won't sit idly by—"

He didn't finish his sentence.

There was a knock on the door of the private room.

Benny got up to open the door, whispered a few words at the door, then turned around with an expression that was hard to tell whether it was doubt or wariness.

"Team leader, it looks like Quinil has arrived."

Kona put down her glass, her brows furrowing slightly.

Celine looked up.

Benny stepped aside to make way for the doorway.

"Let him come up."

Link picked up his glass and took a sip.

Shortly afterward, Quinil entered the private room.

He wasn't wearing the crisp, dark suit jacket he wore at yesterday's press conference.

Instead, he changed into a low-key and simple outfit, and his face no longer held the usual mocking composure and the arrogance of someone who considered himself superior.

Instead, a carefully crafted, perfectly appropriate, respectful smile was given.

"Good evening, Attorney Link."

He stopped half a table's distance from Link, not attempting to shake hands, but simply bowing slightly, adopting a very humble posture.

I apologize for interrupting your private gathering.

"Mr. O'Mill is very well-connected and has access to all sorts of information."

"Mr. Quinnil, please have a seat."

Lin Kechong raised his chin slightly in the empty chair opposite him, a smile on his face that was neither cold nor warm:

"Let's get straight to the point and not beat around the bush."

"Is there anything Attorney O'Mill would like you to convey?"

Quinil was taken aback, then chuckled awkwardly.

He didn't expect Link to be so direct.

He quickly took a dark gray envelope from his inner pocket, placed it on the table, and pushed it towards Link with two fingers.

"Mr. O'Mill asked me to convey his sincere greetings."

He expressed his deep admiration for Attorney Link's performance at the press conference.

He also expressed his hope that we could have some practical discussions regarding the follow-up handling of the Philadelphia General Hospital drug corruption case.

He paused slightly, carefully choosing his words:

"Mr. O'Mir's meaning is very clear!"

He wanted to know if Attorney Link was willing to reach a solution acceptable to both parties.

Link didn't look at the envelope.

He leaned back in his chair, picked up his wine glass, and looked at Quinnil through the rim, his smile deepening slightly.

"Is this acceptable to both sides? Or is it only acceptable to Mr. O'Mir? How many cards do you have left?"

Quinnil's smile froze for a moment, but he quickly recovered.

"Attorney Link, Mr. O'Mill asked me to emphasize that he is very sincere..."

"Stop!"

But before he could finish speaking, Link raised his hand, forcibly interrupting him.

"There's nothing to emphasize, and Attorney Omir shouldn't treat me like a fool."

"To surrender, you need to show some surrendering attitude, don't you think?"