4
I raised my pistol and fired at the nearest mercenary.
Bang!
A single shot hit the mercenary in the thigh.
The mercenary fell to the ground, but the other five immediately scattered and opened fire on me from different angles.
I rolled behind a pillar, and the bullet hit the pillar, sending cement fragments flying.
Four bullets remain.
The mercenaries were closing in, and my cover was about to give way.
At that very moment—
The sound of police sirens could be heard in the distance.
Reinforcements from the Washington, D.C. Police Department have arrived.
More than a dozen police cars surrounded the FBI building, and a large number of police officers rushed in.
"Everyone drop your weapons!" the police shouted.
The mercenaries hesitated for a moment, then quickly retreated, rappelling down the window to escape.
I leaned against the pillar, panting heavily.
The wound on my right shoulder reopened, and blood seeped through the bandage.
I'm really hopeless...
A police officer approached: "Sir, you're injured. Do you need an ambulance?"
"No...no need..." I waved my hand, "I'm fine..."
But you are bleeding—
"I said I don't need it!" I pushed him away and staggered toward the underground parking lot.
Underground parking lot.
Ivy was sitting in the car waiting for me.
Seeing me, Ivy jumped out of the car and rushed over to support me: "Ethan!"
"I'm fine..."
"You're bleeding!"
"It's just that an old wound reopened..." I struggled to get into the back seat. "Hurry up, the police will check the security footage."
Ivy finally breathed a sigh of relief after driving ten kilometers.
"Ethan, what do we do now?" she asked. "The FBI has Marcus's people; we can't go back there."
"I know." I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes. "We need to find another way."
"Through what means?"
"The court," I said. "Sue Marcus directly."
"But we don't have a lawyer..."
"I know one." I took out my phone and dialed a number.
The phone rang five times before the other end answered.
"Hello, this is the Harris Law Firm..."
Two hours later, we were sitting in the conference room of Harris Law Firm.
Robert Harris is a 60-year-old lawyer with gray hair but sharp eyes. He specializes in government corruption cases and is well-known in the industry.
Harris, wearing his reading glasses, carefully examined the evidence we had brought.
"This evidence…" Harris put down the documents and took off his glasses, "does prove that Marcus Cross accepted bribes, but it's not enough."
"Not enough?" I frowned.
"The bank record only shows the transfer, without any remarks indicating its purpose," Harris said. "The court might consider it a legitimate business transaction."
What about the call recording?
"In the recording, Danny says Marcus betrayed you, but that's 'hearsay evidence,' which the court may not accept," Harris explained. "We need more direct evidence—like recordings of Marcus's conversations with the employer, the original logbook, or eyewitness accounts."
"Danny said he has a biochip inside him..." Ivy said.
"We'll have to dig it up first," Harris said. "But digging up a grave requires court approval, and our current evidence isn't enough to convince the judge."
I fell silent.
So you mean...
"I suggest you go to the district attorney's office first, submit this evidence, and request an investigation," Harris said. "If the attorney agrees to open a case, they will apply for a search warrant, freeze Marcus's assets, and investigate relevant personnel. Then we can apply to the court to exhume the grave; the success rate will be much higher."
How long will it take?
"If things go quickly, a week. If things go slowly..." Harris paused, "...a month."
"A month..." Ivy said disappointedly, "That's too long..."
"That's how legal procedures are," Harris said, shrugging. "There's nothing I can do about it."
I took a deep breath: "Then let's do it this way. Take us to the prosecutor's office."
Washington, D.C. Attorney's Office.
We waited in the waiting area for two hours before finally meeting the prosecutor in charge of the criminal case—Ms. Carole.
Carole was a middle-aged woman in her forties, dressed in a business suit, with a serious expression.
"Mr. Cross, Ms. Moore, Attorney Harris," Carroll gestured for us to sit down. "I heard you're going to file a complaint against former CIA officer Marcus Cross?"
"Yes," Harris said, handing over a folder. "This is the evidence we've collected."
Carol opened the folder and quickly flipped through it.
Five minutes later, she closed the folder.
"This evidence is valuable," Carroll said, "but as Attorney Harris pointed out, the chain of evidence isn't complete."
"Will you file a case?" I asked.
"I need 48 hours to review the evidence," Carroll said. "If the evidence is sufficient, I will submit it to a grand jury and request an indictment against Marcus Cross."
"48 hours..." I gritted my teeth, "Can it be faster? Marcus might destroy the remaining evidence!"
"Mr. Cross, I understand your anxiety," Carroll said calmly, "but the legal process cannot be altered because of your anxiety. We must ensure that every step is legal and compliant; otherwise, even if the prosecution succeeds, it could be overturned by the defense attorney."
"But--"
"48 hours, Mr. Cross," Carroll interrupted me. "That's the fastest I can do."
I took a deep breath and finally nodded: "Okay."
After leaving the prosecutor's office, we returned to the motel.
The 48-hour wait felt like torture.
On the first day, Ivy attempted to hack into the prosecutor's office system to check the case progress, but was blocked by the firewall.
The next day, on television news, Marcus appeared at a public event as a "philanthropist," dressed in a suit and with a polite smile.
I stared at the screen, my fists clenched.
"Ethan, stop watching." Ivy turned off the TV. "You'll get sick from getting so angry."
"I'm fine."
Forty-eight hours later, the prosecutor's office called.
I answered the phone: "Hello?"
"Mr. Cross," Carroll's voice came through, but her tone turned cold. "After review, we believe the evidence is insufficient and we will not proceed with the case."
My hand trembled, and I almost dropped my phone.
"What...what do you mean?"
"The evidence you've provided is all circumstantial and cannot directly prove Mr. Marcus's guilt," Carroll said. "Furthermore, the way you obtained the evidence constitutes trespassing on private property. If you continue this charade, we will consider prosecuting you."
"You…" I gritted my teeth, "You've been bribed?"
"Mr. Cross, please watch your words," Carroll's tone grew colder. "I am acting in accordance with the law. If you are dissatisfied, you may request a review."
I need to see you!
"I'm too busy, I don't have time."
The call ended.
My hand was trembling as I held the phone.
"What's wrong?" Ivy asked anxiously.
"The case will not be filed," I said in a low voice. "She said there is insufficient evidence."
"How is this possible?!" Ivy exclaimed, "The evidence clearly..."
"She's been bribed," I interrupted her. "Marcus must have pressured her."
"Then what do we do?"
"Go find her." I stood up. "I want to ask her face to face."
The prosecutor's office.
I pushed open the door to Carroll's office—
Then it froze.
Marcus was sitting on the sofa in his office, holding a coffee, looking at me with a cold smile.
Time seemed to stand still.
Carroll stood to the side, looking embarrassed.
Marcus slowly put down his coffee cup and stood up. "Ethan, long time no see."
I clenched my fists, and a sharp pain shot through the wound on my right shoulder, but I didn't care.
"You actually dared to come here," I said, enunciating each word clearly.
"Why wouldn't you dare?" Marcus walked up to me and patted my shoulder—right on my injured right shoulder.
I gasped in pain, but I didn't back down.
Marcus whispered, "Ethan, you think the law can punish me? You're naive."
"you……"
"Prosecutors, judges, juries…" Marcus laughed, "I have people in every corner of this city. Your little bit of evidence, I can make it disappear with a single phone call."
Carroll whispered to him, "Mr. Cross, please leave, or I'll call security."
I looked at Carol, then at Marcus, my fists clenched so tightly my knuckles turned white.
"Ethan," Marcus patted my face, "Let's go home. Stop struggling in vain."
I stared at him and remained silent for three seconds.
Then he turned and left.
As I walked out of the building, I leaned against the wall, panting heavily.
The law... is useless...
At that very moment—
My phone rang.
First call: Lawyer Harris.
"Ethan, I'm sorry, I can no longer represent you in your case," Harris said apologetically. "Someone is putting pressure on the firm..."
Second call: Landlord.
"Mr. Cross, you have to move out immediately," the landlord said. "Someone has offered three times the price to buy out the entire building's lease."
Thirdly: Bank.
"Your account has been frozen on suspicion of money laundering. Please cooperate with the investigation."
Fourth call: Unknown number.
I answered it.
Marcus's voice came through: "Ethan, how does it feel? This is the price of going against me."
I didn't say anything.
"Your lawyer resigned, your residence was repossessed, and your accounts were frozen," Marcus laughed. "Next, you'll find that no media outlets want to report your story, no one wants to help you, and no one believes you."
"You'll regret this," I whispered.
"Regret?" Marcus laughed. "Ethan, you're the one who should regret it. You thought you could escape this by hiding for three years? No, I've been looking for you. Now that you've shown yourself, I'll show you what despair is."
"Marcus—"
"Oh, right, there's one more thing," Marcus's tone suddenly turned cold, "Ivy, I've caught her ."
My pupils suddenly contracted.
"You dare..."
"What do you mean I wouldn't dare?" Marcus laughed. "Ethan, if you don't come to the abandoned mine within 24 hours, she 'll be in for a world of hurt."
"You bastard—"
"Abandoned mine, 24 hours," Marcus said. "No exceptions."
The call ended.
