Jimmy's house was cordoned off and surrounded by police. "Trupo is dead!"
After inspecting the scene, David found Richie and reported the results. "He was killed by a grenade. The pieces were scattered everywhere. He died a horrible death. It'd be harder to put him back together than a box of Legos. I doubt even his wife could recognize him."
Hearing the gloating tone in David's voice, Richie felt a little helpless. His colleague had always had a sharp tongue—especially when it came to corrupt cops like Trupo, who had bullied him in the past.
"I asked Jimmy," Richie said, looking puzzled. "He claims he doesn't know why it suddenly exploded."
"He's definitely involved," David said. "There's no denying he shot and killed a police officer. We found a gunshot wound on one of the officers. Once we extract the bullet and run ballistics, we'll know for sure."
David grew more excited as he spoke. "Richie, we've got Jimmy this time. He's not walking away from this. We can use it to pressure him."
Richie nodded silently. Even without the shooting, the bombing alone was enough to bury Jimmy.
Catching Jimmy Zee would be a solid outcome, but…
He turned and looked at the bodies of officers being carried out on stretchers.
"These drug dealers are completely unhinged," he said.
David shook his head. "It's not just the dealers. This city's been losing its mind for a long time. I don't have much faith left in it."
He still remembered that religious killer—more deranged than any trafficker.
Richie paused, suddenly recalling that in the early Batman comics, Gotham was modeled after New York, borrowing its atmosphere and geography. But in the real New York, was there a Batman?
There was only a single dove—a dove of peace—that liked to circle the skyline.
"This is your gun. Your fingerprints are all over it. And four police officers are dead because of you!"
Inside the hideout, Richie held up the evidence and angrily rebuked Jimmy Zee.
"You also shot and wounded a civilian who tried to help!"
The officers in the room were on edge. Some had nearly laughed earlier, but no one expected Richie to pivot and drive the charges home so forcefully.
Richie cast an indifferent glance around the room before continuing to berate Jimmy.
"Do you understand what this means?"
"Life without parole. That's enough time to bury you five hundred years over."
"You'll rot in prison for the rest of your life."
"And if New York still had the death penalty, you'd already be staring at a lethal injection."
The officers piled on with insults, their voices pressing down on Jimmy until he couldn't lift his head, his face growing darker by the second.
It wasn't until Richie added something else that Jimmy finally looked up.
"If you cooperate with us, we can speak to the judge. We can argue self-defense. Trupo entered your home without a warrant."
Jimmy Zee stared in astonishment.
"That… that would actually work?"
No wonder Frank had gone to such lengths cultivating relationships inside the department.
In that moment, Jimmy recalled the humiliation he had suffered before.
I'm Frank's cousin. But he treated me like dirt. Don't blame me for what I do next.
—Informant Jimmy Zee is now online.
The police finally confirmed that the intelligence about the incoming air shipment was accurate.
Richie and David once again felt the weight—and usefulness—of the information. They couldn't help but admire the mysterious source behind it.
The FBI had done impressive work.
According to Jimmy, Frank's planes operated on irregular schedules. No one knew when the next one would arrive. Only after the cargo landed would further instructions be given for pickup.
The operation was temporarily on hold. They would have to wait for the next shipment.
Richie's team wasn't worried. They had patience.
Luca had even more.
I've been years waiting in patients. I could wait a little longer.
—
Early July.
Luca brought Leon to the club and showed him the result of his efforts—ninety-nine pots of Silver Queen.
Leon stood frozen for a full six seconds, as if he were staring at ninety-nine alternate versions of himself sprouting from flowerpots.
"Luca… I can't possibly take care of this many Silver Queens," Leon said helplessly.
Luca thought the same thing.
But the [Silver Queen] skill required him to care for them personally. It didn't specify to what degree. If others assisted, would it still count?
Time for a controlled experiment.
He suspected that his level of involvement would directly affect the plant's ability to purify the mind.
"Jimmy!"
Luca called Jimmy and assembled a group of newly hired waitstaff.
Facing the mix of young and old employees, Luca pointed toward them and said to Leon:
"These employees are yours now. Please teach them how to cultivate Silver Queen. I'll be learning too. I'll pay tuition—five thousand per person."
Before Leon could reply, Jimmy eagerly chimed in, "Luca, I know some top-tier gardening experts. I can bring them in."
Luca shot him a look.
"Technique isn't the key. Leon is."
"In this world, the only gardening expert I recognize is Leon. No one else qualifies."
Jimmy immediately corrected himself. "Right. Most so-called experts just know how to shape plants. They don't truly care for them. Leon's experience is on another level."
After speaking, Jimmy strangely felt relieved.
For some reason, Luca's words sounded especially pleasant today. More reassuring than usual.
Leon was moved as well.
But he also understood—agreeing meant he would never fully leave this club. He might even end up labeled the head of security.
Luca smiled at the employees.
"Are you all so excited you forgot how to address your teacher?"
They snapped out of it, tore their eyes away from their boss's handsome face, and shouted in unison:
"Teacher!"
Leon: "…"
I don't remember officially agreeing yet.
He wasn't used to interacting with so many people. Faced with their enthusiasm, he could only maintain a cool exterior.
Fine. I'll be a strict teacher.
He did, after all, have extensive experience cultivating Silver Queen evergreens.
After the lively "teacher-student" ceremony, Luca handed Leon a membership card.
Number: SSR002.
"Leon, from now on this is your exclusive VIP card. Unique number. One of a kind. With it, you'll receive full access to every service here. If you ever need anything, come to me."
"Thank you… Dove."
[Bond: Friends]
Inside the club bar, Matilda guided Nancy around, proudly describing it as a high-end establishment frequented by gangsters and powerful figures from both politics and business.
"This is a high-end club," Matilda said smugly. "You biker gangs are small-time. But if you listen to me, maybe I'll let you hang out here someday. Just say the name Lucky Matilda."
Nancy found it amusing.
"Your brother personally invited me," she said with a smile. "He gave me his card. I don't need to use your name."
Matilda glanced at Nancy's long legs, slender waist, and generous figure—then looked down at herself.
Just wait. Give it time—don't underestimate someone just because they're young
"Look at this!" Matilda pulled out a sleek black card stamped with the SSR emblem.
Number: SSR001.
"I'm the first permanent member," she declared proudly. "Full access. Free services. Club protection. And it's tied to my identity—no one else can use it."
Nancy was genuinely impressed.
That kind of number usually went to someone powerful.
Seeing Nancy's surprise, Matilda felt triumphant. Luca always gave her the best first.
"Come on. The place is huge. Don't get lost."
After the tour, Nancy tried to find Luca, but Matilda grabbed her arm.
"Don't go yet."
"Matilda, I need to speak with your brother."
Matilda eyed the elegant Asian-American beauty in front of her. Ever since they met at Uncle Bill's supermarket, Nancy had always asked about Luca.
What are you plotting, huh?
"He's busy."
Then she added with a smirk, "Why do you always want to see my brother? Curious?"
Nancy laughed. "You know I'm with a biker gang. In the Bronx, the Lucchese family runs things. Small crews like ours have to look up to them. Of course I'm curious."
"Oh? Want to join the Mafia?"
"…Uh."
"The Mafia doesn't accept women," Matilda said mischievously. "Unless they're sisters or wives of made men. So… want my brother's private number?"
Nancy agreed quickly. "Sure. I'll treat you to dinner."
Matilda scoffed inwardly. Too many women in the Bronx had their eyes on Luca.
"Hold on," she said. "I have to ask him first. You know about the code of silence. I can't just give information away."
Nancy blinked.
Since when did you start applying Omertà?
Still, under the overwhelming presence of SSR001, Nancy was eventually dragged outside toward the biker hangout.
Just as they stepped out, a handsome blond man with curly hair approached.
Brian O'Connor flashed his usual bright, polite smile at the beautiful stranger—but she barely acknowledged him before walking past.
He didn't mind. He glanced at the SSR Club's photo in his hand and walked inside, heart pounding.
With my driving skills, getting a driver's job here shouldn't be a problem… right?
================================================================================
Support me on P Site/OrbisTranslate
for three dollars you could get 15 Advance Chapters
also, for anyone who asked me, Sunday is my day off
as always, Each 100 Power Stones = 2 Bonus Chapters