Law America, the Devil's Agent

Chapter 79: Nobody or Famous?

Tomsky had not yet lowered his gun.

His beam of light passed over Link's shoulder, looked at the black man behind him, and then swept over the Turin Boys members who were bound hand and foot in the corridor—

Ultimately, the blame falls back on this Chinese-American man.

Although he could sense that these people in front of him were not there to cause him trouble.

But this only made him more vigilant.

Who are you?

Link tilted his head and gestured to the black man next to him who was wearing gold-rimmed glasses and carrying a briefcase.

"Munkra Nkube, head of the South African gang."

His gang and the Turin boy have always had some friction, and they've disliked each other for a long time.

His men happened to be in the vicinity tonight handling some business, and when they saw the Turin boy's men running out of the motel in a panic, they stopped by to check on the situation.

I never expected to witness this scene.

He took the cigarette from his lips, flicked off the ash, and then pointed to himself: "As for me, Link."

The lawyer at Curtis Law Firm is also Mr. Mankla's legal advisor.

It looks like this gentleman needs help.

You probably don't want to go to jail, right?

Tomsky was silent for a few seconds.

He glanced at Mankla's respectful demeanor before Link, then at Link's relaxed expression—

He then slowly lowered the gun and tucked it into his waistband.

"You don't seem like his advisor; he seems like your subordinate."

Link shrugged and smiled without saying a word.

Tomsky turned his head and exchanged a glance with Karina beside him.

She met his gaze to confirm.

Tomsky's jaw muscles tightened slightly, then he nodded.

"I need your help, Attorney Link."

[One criminal case has been detected. Accept?]

Link looked at the notification panel that appeared in his field of vision, and the smile on his lips deepened.

He snapped his fingers, took two pistols from his pocket, and handed one to Tomsky and the other to Karina.

"Well then, sir, let's begin to resolve this issue."

I have already processed the surveillance footage from this motel.

The situation is now quite simple:

The Turin boy's men followed you here, broke in with guns, and intended to commit murder.

You acted in legitimate self-defense when your lives were directly threatened.

The distribution of all ballistic marks, firearm fingerprints, and physical evidence in the room will perfectly match this version of the testimony.

He pointed to the Italian man on the ground, his chest still heaving, then to the men in the corridor whose hands and feet were bound: "As for them—"

Tonight, all of the Turin boys died in a gang shootout.

No one will refute your self-defense testimony because they have no chance to refute anything anymore.

A special prosecutor and police officer will handle this case afterwards. They will confirm that your actions were in self-defense, and you will not bear any criminal responsibility.

Tomsky remained silent for a long time, his eyes, reddened by both alcohol and adrenaline, fixed intently on Link's face.

He didn't touch the pistol on the table, but spoke in a low, steady voice: "Sir, I've never believed in free lunches."

Your lawyer's fees must be expensive; I think it will take me a long time to save up.

Tell me, what should I give in return?

Link smiled slightly and said nothing.

He simply turned around slowly and strolled into the empty room next door.

Tomsky glanced at Karina beside him and followed.

The curtains in the room were drawn tightly shut, and only a floor lamp was on, casting long shadows of the two people.

Link stopped at the window, turned around and looked at Tomsky, his gaze sweeping over his body from top to bottom, like an old soldier inspecting another old soldier's physique.

"You fled to America because you were disgusted by the fighting on the Russia-Ukraine front, weren't you?"

"Yes, sir. I served in the Russian military as a driver."

"Is he really the driver?"

Link tilted his head and asked in a puzzled tone, "Drivers don't have a body like yours."

Your unusually strong knees, the slight bend in your knees when standing, and your standard "pigeon-toed" gait are all typical aftereffects of skydiving.

Your posture is also very stiff. Whether you're on a bar stool or in the chair you're sitting in now, your back is always straight. This is the result of subconsciously tightening your core to protect your spine after long-term skydiving training.

Then the palm—”

He pointed to Tomsky's hand, the one that had just pressed the Italian's hand into the oak board on the table: "The calluses on your palms aren't from gripping the steering wheel; they're marks left from repeatedly pulling on the heavy parachute control straps."

"Is it VDV, Mr. Tomsky?"

Tomsky's breathing stopped the moment the word "VDV" was uttered.

He remained silent for a long time, then grinned: "You're not simple either. From the military, are you?"

"Don't bother asking about that. He's just an ordinary person."

Link shook his head: "I think it's a huge waste for an excellent Slavic VDV soldier to be stuck in an evil Catholic lair, becoming a mediocre, lazy drunkard and school bus driver."

Don't you think so?

You must have seen those disgusting scenes in churches, right?

When you drive those children to the church every Saturday and Sunday and then pick them up again, their eyes look different than before they got in the car.

You've been driving for so many years, you couldn't have missed it.

When faced with these things, does your pure Orthodox faith resist?

Or will they just casually observe and make a sarcastic remark like, "The Onsa people are really good at this?"

Tomsky let out a long sigh, a kind of emotion that had been suppressed for too long.

"What exactly do you want me to do?"

"To become a glorious reconnaissance soldier again, a heroic paratrooper."

His salary and the level of enjoyment he provides are far better than your current state of living a life of aimless drifting and decadence.

You've been searching for your past passions, haven't you?

You are not willing to be alone, bound tightly by the order and rules of America.

You yearn for a better future and better outcomes.

Tomsky did not refute, remained silent for a long time, and then nodded.

"Then work for me. Be part of my team."

Link took a check from his suit pocket and placed it on the table: "More importantly, I can provide you and your girlfriend with a stable and secure life."

You just need to cooperate with me and help me at specific times.

There may be some risks involved, but I am confident that I can absolutely guarantee your safety.

An unknown nobody or a household name?

Tomsky did not answer immediately.

He looked down at the number on the check, then looked up into the eyes of the Chinese man in front of him.

The face was young, but the eyes behind those glasses showed no trace of the restlessness that young people should have; instead, they held a calmness that had been honed through repeated trials.

"Accept it and become one of my men."

I'll handle this case for you tonight.

The money on the table is your first paycheck.

I will tell you what I need you to do later.

"9

"What if I refuse?"

Link smiled.

"I'll clean up your mess in this case too."

As for the lawyer's fees? You can pay them later.

I believe someone like you in America will always find a way to make money. No rush.

After saying that, he turned and walked towards the door, his leather shoes making a crisp and even sound on the floor.

One step. Two steps. Three steps.

"Mr. Link."

Link stopped and looked back at him.

Vasily Ivanovich Tomsky solemnly brought his toes together, placed the edge of his right palm against his temple, and gave a standard Russian military salute.

"Vasily Ivanovich Tomsky, formerly of the 76th Guards Air Assault Division, 234th Guards Airborne Regiment, Second Lieutenant Platoon Leader of the Reconnaissance Platoon, at your service."

Vasily – the king, the ace.

Good name.

I'll call you Ace, Lieutenant.

You are my ace.

"Yes." Tomsky lowered his hand, but his back remained straight.

"Put the money on the table and come out with me."

>