You're a US police officer, what are you thinking about going back to the East for?

On the other side, Leon, with one hand on the steering wheel of the Dodge Challenger, was not in a hurry to return to his dilapidated apartment.

He first drove around the industrial area several times, then suddenly cut into a one-way street. Relying on his LV4 superb driving skills, he completed a difficult lane change and sharp turn in the blink of an eye as the traffic lights changed.

It felt like playing a real-life version of Need for Speed, with the car images in the rearview mirror changing one after another.

Leon only breathed a slight sigh of relief when the lingering unease in his heart, the negative feedback from his "danger perception," completely disappeared.

"call……"

No one followed.

Or rather, no one can keep up with him now.

Even so, he did not immediately let his guard down.

This seemingly neurotic caution might seem crazy to outsiders, but to Lyon, it's the basic survival skill required to survive in a high-risk department like Seattle's ACU.

The former team leader of ACU, that unlucky guy whose name I can't recall, was blown to pieces in his own car.

Lyon had seen the photos from the scene in the archives; it looked like someone had stuffed a giant blender into a car.

Lyon doesn't want to be the next headline.

"Those 2000 points weren't wasted."

Anything produced by our system is guaranteed to be of high quality.

With a [Danger Perception] rating of 2000, it would absolutely not react to a few pieces of green paper with Franklin's name printed on them.

If Carlos was merely there to offer money as a show of loyalty, it would be at most a "social event" or a "money transaction," and could not possibly be considered dangerous.

Since it was triggered, it means that the gambler with the small mustache harbored genuine malice towards him, or that his behavior itself posed a threat.

Carlos is a problem, and a big problem at that.

"A test, perhaps..."

Leon sneered, took the roll of US dollars from the glove box, weighed it in his hand, and then casually tossed it back.

Carlos jogged over from the parking lot to deliver the money; it was actually a pretty clever move.

Maybe they wanted to see if the new team leader was just a fool who only knew how to collect money?

Perhaps he wanted to test Leon's counter-surveillance awareness and see if he could sneak up to his car without anyone noticing.

Lyon deliberately poked him, which was actually a reverse test.

"I have neurasthenia."

This half-true, half-false statement was enough to give Carlos, that clever man, something to ponder for a while.

Right now, Carlos is probably sitting in his office scratching his head, wondering whether Leon has truly discovered his problem or is simply a psychiatrist with PTSD.

Before the opponent figures out his hand, this paranoia is Lyon's best defense.

In reality, he could also pretend he knew nothing, take the money and leave, and then prepare to clean house.

But this is not a good choice. First, we don't know if Carlos has any companions or who is behind him. Second, we will really be treated as fools, and if we are treated as fools, the other party will definitely act even more recklessly.

Before squeezing out all his remaining value, keeping him around to catch bigger fish is clearly more cost-effective.

Now that they've given us money, we might as well accept it.

……

9 p.m., Seattle Industrial Zone.

This place is where blue-collar workers toil and drive forklifts during the day, but at night, even stray dogs don't want to stay there.

It's raining again. Although it's not as heavy as that crazy night before, this chilly drizzle is even more penetrating.

A dilapidated Ford E-350 van with the words "Bob Pipe Repair" printed on its side is parked in the shadows of a lifeless abandoned container yard.

Although the car looks like a wrecked vehicle from the outside, where three parts could fall off if you stepped on the gas, the interior is a completely different world.

Soundproofing cotton, privacy one-way glass, and electronic devices crammed everywhere.

"I say, is this what federal high technology looks like?"

Jacob huddled in a corner, pressing a folding chair so hard it creaked, wolfing down an oversized beef burrito, crumbs scattered all over the floor.

"This smell is too strong. Can you turn up the ventilation system? I feel like I'm smelling this big guy's athlete's foot."

Sitting opposite him was an FBI agent named Perkins, wearing a tactical jacket and headphones.

He was Hayes's so-called technical advisor and liaison.

He was looking at Jacob with disdain, protecting a device that looked like a silver briefcase.

"This is a portable Stingray base station simulator, it's big."

"It can capture the IMSI codes of all mobile phones within a one-kilometer radius. As long as someone turns on their phone, I can know who they are and who they have called. This thing is worth more than half a million US dollars."

"So please keep your food scraps away from it."

Lyon sat in the passenger seat, a bottle of soda in his hand, his eyes scanning the people in the car.

The core team is all here.

"Boss, I bet half of the cameras in this area are antiques from the last century, and the image quality is so blurry it's like my grandma's presbyopia."

Kevin was typing away on his keyboard, with six split-screen monitors in front of him displaying surveillance footage from several nearby blocks.

Mia sat next to Leon, a laptop on her lap, taking notes in real time on the information Kevin had selected. Although she had a "I want to go home" expression on her face, her hands were moving very quickly.

As for Carlos, who left Lyon with a grudge...

He was specially assigned to the driver's seat by Lyon.

Carlos performed very professionally, or rather, too professionally.

In addition to calculating patrol routes, he also noted down the characteristics of passing vehicles in a small notebook.

"Any movement from Harrison's side?" Leon turned to ask Kevin.

Because the area Hayes gave was so large, it covered almost half of the industrial zone's storage area.

So Lyon sent Harrison and the other muscular men out in pairs, driving unmarked civilian vehicles, to various intersections and high points to conduct visual observation, like casting a net.

"Not at the moment, boss."

Kevin, with a lollipop dangling from his mouth, mumbled something indistinctly.

"This awful weather is severely interfering with thermal imaging due to the rain. Plus, this area gets a lot of night-shift trucks coming and going, making the screening process even more difficult."

Time passed second by second.

The industrial area in the surveillance footage was eerily quiet.

Occasionally, a few trucks carrying timber would pass by, but they were all ruled out as suspects after being compared with Kevin's database.

"Squatting like this isn't a solution."

Lyon stood up and dusted off his trousers.

"Carlos, get moving. Stop being a road sign."

"Most of the warehouses in this area are empty. Let's circle around those three main suspected areas."

"Remember to turn off the hazard lights and drive as usual."

Carlos turned around, revealing his signature greasy smile.

"Alright, boss. When it comes to knowing the way, few in Seattle know it better than me. Buckle up."