In the FBI Behavioral Analysis Department, the atmosphere was a little dull.
Old Jack certainly knew how difficult Makoto Sakaki was.
The other party anticipated that the FBI would organize a capture operation and did not land as planned, but instead went to the chaotic Bronx.
Fortunately, the place where he landed was a residential area, and there were surveillance cameras on the corners of the street...
"Can you deduce his next plan?"
"...How did you find him?"
"Surveillance video."
Lecter looked away from the document:
"Since there is surveillance video, why don't you continue to track him?"
"Just now..."
Old Jack sighed:
"The surveillance cameras on the streets of New York City are no longer sending back images..."
"The Transportation Agency was attacked by hackers."
“The system is completely paralyzed.”
"He has helpers?"
Lecter frowned:
"What kind of hacker could disable all the surveillance cameras in New York?"
"have no idea..."
Old Jack was deeply troubled by this question and could not answer it.
The Transportation Bureau was hacked an hour ago. Almost instantly, all computers went black, could not start, and had no response.
Old Jack and the FBI agents present were helpless. It couldn't be said that they knew nothing about computers, but they had no idea about them at all.
It's like God stretched out his dry fingers and moved the scales that represent balance.
Who is protecting Sakaki Makoto in secret?
"I want to deduce his next move..."
Lecter lowered his eyes, his gaze blurred, the water in his eyes seemed as calm as Lake Baikal:
“It’s not difficult.”
"But Director Jack, I have something that I am very confused about."
"What is the purpose of the transnational criminal organization that Makoto Sakaki belongs to?"
"Riot? Antisocial? Religious?"
"This matter is a top secret within the FBI, and I can't find out with my authority..."
Old Jack said:
"The higher-ups only gave me one order."
"Capture Sakaki Makoto and bring him back to headquarters."
"I see..."
Dr. Lecter, with great interest in his heart, glanced at his watch:
"9:45 p.m."
"Director Jack, if the files you provided are correct..."
"I infer that he came to New York to look for a person or an object."
"If he was looking for someone, why did he buy a gun?"
Old Jack said doubtfully:
"Remington M870, USP, is he going to kill someone?"
"Maybe it's just for self-defense."
Lecter tapped the file:
"The fact that he bought a gun shows that he is very alert, and that he landed in the Bronx shows that he is cautious and confident in his own abilities..."
"People like him should never be treated with the same thinking as ordinary people."
"He's going to Manhattan."
Will, who was sitting on the chair, suddenly spoke:
"On the Boeing 747-400D he was on, there was only one female star named Chris Wynyard."
"And that female star often goes to Broadway and Wall Street and comes into contact with financial oligarchs..."
“She must have bought an apartment near Broadway and Wall Street so she could move around more easily.”
"There's a high probability that Sakaki Makoto will go to her apartment."
Lecter laughed, and Old Jack laughed too.
Yes, the FBI may not be able to arrest popular actress Chrissie Wynyard on its own.
But there would be no problem in sending someone to secretly monitor her apartment.
"I'm going back to rest..."
After taking the last sip of tea, Will stood up.
He was tired, looked pale, and often had hallucinations.
Watching him staggering, a ripple finally appeared in Lecter's calm eyes.
"I will gather all my manpower and investigate the Manhattan area right now!"
He came and left in a hurry. Old Jack took the folder and quickly left the Behavior Analysis Department.
At this time...
Lecter walked over to the mirror and adjusted his suit.
He looked at his other self in the mirror with an indifferent expression.
I don't know how long it took...
Lecter picked up his briefcase and strode out, muttering:
"Your taste..."
“It must be delicious.”
..........................
10:20 p.m., Wall Street, New York.
The black clouds surged like a herd of horses, coming in a mighty force.
The moonlight was obscured by dark clouds, and a luxuriously decorated apartment on the 33rd floor of a building south of Wall Street fell into darkness.
By the floor-to-ceiling window of the apartment, Vermouth stood barefoot on the carpet, her black women's suit half-open. She was holding a glass of red wine, shaking the clear red wine, her sharp eyes looking through the cup, straight at the ground.
Her soft silver hair falls down like a waterfall, and coupled with her proud figure, she is imposing and is no less impressive than her on the screen, and even better.
The sparse rain fell from the sky, hitting the window eaves, and then fell to her feet because of the indifference of the window eaves.
The reckless raindrops failed to change her expression at all. She was once again dominating Wall Street and should have been the most influential and the center of attention, but now she was reduced to waiting in the room.
What is supposed to come will never come.
Someone who shouldn't have come has come.
Shadows of the streets were reflected in his light green eyes. The rising water vapor in the rain shrouded this sinful city in fog. Black cars were parked under the apartment building, and the FBI agents in the cars stretched their necks, staring at everyone who passed by.
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