He still has to thank us in the sequel to Chapter 43.
"What's going on?!"
In a corner of the dock, the command center was also caught off guard by this unexpected turn of events.
Unexpected sounds came one after another from the headsets connected to the traders.
By the time the word "CIA" reached everyone's ears through the earpiece, the Japanese police present had essentially fixed their attention on the FBI.
What's going on? Are these guys hiding something from them?
James's face was also clouded with worry, his lips trembled and he couldn't speak for a moment, so he turned to the corner of the command room to make a phone call.
It doesn't look like acting.
"Kitagawa-kun replied," Kazami Yuya, one of the people in charge, remained calm until this point: "No one was injured. The organization's people chased after them, and he and the others are heading towards the cargo ship."
The command center staff shifted their attention back to the police officer, awaiting his next words:
Kazami Yuya hesitated, which was unusual for him: "He said, um... mission over."
"Everyone retreat."
Is the mission over?
The FBI and police had already obtained the information they wanted long ago, and they probably even discussed how to divide the spoils.
All they need now is to make a clean getaway without implicating the undercover agents.
Right now, the CIA, seemingly out of nowhere, has pulled off a stroke of genius, pushing everything to the optimal solution.
But if Matsuda Jinpei knew that Kazami Yu had also reported the same thing to his superior, he would definitely berate him for talking nonsense.
That's not what he actually said at all!
The blonde woman sped off on her motorcycle, taking a group of organization members with her.
Even as Kitagawa Ryusei emerged from behind the car, he still had the mind to take pictures of his jacket.
The CIA's surprise lasted less than a moment. He bent down, picked up the gloves that Vermouth had thrown down, and stuffed them into his pocket. Under Matsuda Jinpei's puzzled gaze, his voice returned to calm: "Take them back and see if we can verify their fingerprints."
What do we do next?
After a few days, these FBI agents had gotten used to following the young man's instructions, and now they seemed to have found their leader, so they asked him questions without thinking.
"What do you mean, what do we do?" Kitagawa Ryusei patted one of the men on the shoulder, his voice laced with no hesitation: "From now on, we're the CIA, got it?"
"Give these guys a big gift and cover your 'comrades' escape."
Amidst the bewildered gazes of everyone, he concluded, "Everyone, retreat!"
The FBI agents and police officers present stared at each other blankly, as if the young man had just spoken in some extraterrestrial language that had broken away from the human language system.
Matsuda Jinpei didn't even bother adjusting his sunglasses, shocked by how smoothly this guy's identity had changed: "Huh??"
There was no time for them to react. Kitagawa Ryusei finished speaking, grabbed his gun, ducked into the car, and called out, "Get in, drive in the direction they left!"
...Thank him, CIA.
Kitagawa Ryusei remained completely expressionless on the bus.
To prevent the organization from noticing anything amiss beforehand, the FBI and the police department limited the number of people involved in this mission to a minimum.
It's highly unlikely that the information leaked into the hands of the CIA personnel was due to problems on either side.
That means it can only be the Black Organization.
—The possibility that there is a CIA mole within the organization is increasing infinitely.
Compared to suddenly appearing at the docks to carry out a bombing, this intelligence agency sending an undercover agent to a transnational criminal team is far more convincing.
But this move also exposed their undercover agents.
Unless the people making the deal and the people sabotaging the deal are in cahoots.
The "Mafia" operation was nothing more than a CIA-directed and self-acted drama.
"Didn't the FBI and CIA communicate with each other?"
After fastening his seatbelt, Matsuda Jinpei turned around and asked Kitagawa Ryusei what was on his mind.
That's an interesting question. Even the FBI agent in the black suit didn't know how to answer: "Well... cough, they're up ahead!"
There were firelight and motorcycle headlights near the abandoned warehouses and containers, far from human habitation.
Vermouth and Rye are already embroiled in a battle with the CIA.
The explosion must have alerted the dock police, and now neither side cares whether the guns are equipped with silencers.
While trying to run, it was also like a hungry wolf that had been provoked, determined to tear a piece of flesh from the bold thief.
The black sedan sped past like a ghost on the side of the road, unnoticed by anyone.
Kitagawa Ryusei lowered the car window, placed the gun on the window, and fired a series of bullets without blinking.
—Bang bang bang!
It wasn't aimed at at all, but there was no doubt that it was directed at Vermouth and her companion.
The bullets and guns were provided by the FBI, so there was no need to worry about causing trouble for the National Police Agency and Rei Furuya.
Kitagawa Ryusei calmly rolled up the car window amidst the shocked gazes of Vermouth and Rae.
He casually pressed down on Matsuda Jinpei's curly hair, dodging the bullets Vermouth fired in retaliation after she realized what was happening.
Along with the buzzing in my head, there was also that batch of genuine CIA agents.
Could it be that the enemy is fighting amongst themselves at this crucial moment?
The brainstorming in their minds didn't stop the group from retreating.
Taking this opportunity, they finally shook off the two who were chasing them.
Compared to their grand arrival, the three cars left silently, passing by police cars that responded with unusual speed after hearing the explosion.
Kitagawa Ryusei only turned around with satisfaction after all the images in the rearview mirror had disappeared and he was certain that the CIA could not be completely wiped clean.
If I remember correctly, the initial batch of gems had already reached the hands of the police, and the deposit numbers given to the organization were also recorded.
As expected, the organization not only lost everything this time, but also faces the risk of being investigated by the police for its money laundering operations.
The young man in the back seat pressed his earpiece: "Report to command center, mission successfully completed."
He was now eagerly anticipating the expressions on those people's faces when they discovered that the Mafia group they had been working with had been completely eradicated by the FBI two weeks prior.
...
After receiving orders to deal with the traces of the organization following the accident, Bourbon finally arrived at the scene after cleaning up the mess in the warehouse.
Vermouth's face was now contorted with rage; a murderous aura crept across her beautiful features, making her resemble a Medusa capable of chilling the soul and turning people to stone.
"They're all a bunch of lunatics. Did the CIA even consider that this is in Japan?"
Despite the low price, he remained unfazed and used the opportunity to deliver a double entendre, subtly criticizing others.
However, Shuichi Akai remained calm and composed, holding his rifle without even changing his expression.
Since things had already spiraled out of control, the long-haired man said in a deep voice, "We've been tricked."
Having been excluded from the plan by Ray throughout, Bourbon now had every reason to be puzzled: "What?"
Shuichi Akai did not answer, but instead turned his gaze to Vermouth, who looked furious at being deceived.
Before she could speak, Vermouth's phone started playing a strange nursery rhyme.
In an instant, her face turned even uglier than if the deal had failed. She glanced at the three people around her, then left without looking back.
Almost at the same time, Whiskey also received a text message.
Scotland picked up his phone and looked down to check; unsurprisingly, the sender was Gin.
The text message contained only three characters.
Come back!
...
Everything returned to calm, or rather, no one intended to cause any trouble in the first place.
The events of that night, along with the explosion, were suppressed.
As expected, Kitagawa Ryusei enjoyed a long period of rest after the mission was completed.
To allow him to lay low for a while, the police department reluctantly granted him annual leave.
Kitagawa Ryusei immediately took Soi-ko home from the cat shelter, but the little guy started throwing a tantrum as soon as they met.
I don't know who taught it, but the little Siamese doesn't scratch people or run around. It just stays in people's arms and occasionally lets out a pitiful cry.
Listening to its pitiful whimpers all the way, people passing by would always glance at Kitagawa Ryusei.
There was clearly a reason for what happened, but my conscience felt like it was being scratched by a cat's claws.
It's worth noting that Kitagawa Ryusei never felt guilty when he deceived the Black Organization.
Finally, Kitagawa Ryusei couldn't take it anymore and stretched out two fingers to pinch the cat's mouth, forcing it to shut up.
"Stop yelling."
The cat blinked innocently and even tilted its head.
Faced with a fluffy, dark-skinned face, Kitagawa Ryusei's tough stance lasted less than three seconds before crumbling under the gaze of those round, innocent almond-shaped eyes:
"I was wrong, I'll open the can for you when we get back..."
The Siamese cub couldn't understand his words, but its animal instincts allowed it to accurately perceive the man's attitude. Satisfied, it stretched out its paw, performing a literal "taking advantage of someone's kindness."
A soft, barbed tongue rubs against a person's face.
Kitagawa Ryusei tried to hold back, but couldn't—
Question: Both of my cats are showing signs of becoming like dogs. As a cat lover, how should I deal with this?
But in the end, he could only compromise: "...Never mind, let's go home."
Can't you just throw it away?
*
The organization suffered heavy losses this time; not only did the business deal fall through, but the smuggling network was also completely shut down.
What enraged the BOSS even more was the failure of the first transaction to enter the Americas, which severely damaged the organization's reputation in the underworld.
The only consolation was that the ospreys were too heavy to be delivered to the trading site in time, and only one truckload of gems was destroyed; otherwise, the cleanup would have been dozens of times more difficult.
But not long after, the organization discovered that the Japanese police had begun investigating their money laundering operations, and as they pulled out the first thing, several other sizable businesses were also implicated.
The entire organization was suddenly under immense pressure. From the cadres and codenamed members to the lower-level members, everyone was filled with anxiety and was extremely cautious when going on missions, fearing that they might make even the slightest mistake.
Everyone involved in this mission was right in the eye of the storm.
Vermouth disappeared without a trace that same day, and the whiskey team was temporarily separated, with each member assigned a different partner and placed under observation.
Thanks to Leigh's tireless obstruction that night, Vermouth testified that Scotland and Bourbon had no contact with the CIA-disguised traders and were under minimal surveillance.
Another thing is that Bourbon received news that Rum was going back to his country.
The police officers really wanted to take a serious stance and deal with the situation, but then they thought that Gin was always wandering around Japan, and Vermouth, whose identity had been discovered, was still occasionally appearing on the screen. With Rum back, there was nothing they could do for the time being.
Having a lot of debt is not a burden.
Neither side took any action, which kept the Tokyo area relatively quiet, creating a false impression of peace and prosperity.
...
As the days go by, it feels like they're not really happening; temperature changes are just a matter of putting on or taking off an extra layer of clothing.
Only the gossip circulating can bring a bit of vitality to the police station, where the atmosphere of working overtime is intense.
Including but not limited to, Inspector Kitagawa of the Planning Division being diagnosed with a relationship by a female police officer in the Investigation Division, whose partner is suspected to be a blonde bombshell from a tennis club; Poirot Cafe's sandwich and coffee sales breaking records again, with the Metropolitan Police Department and the National Police Agency contributing significantly; or someone seeing the lights still on in Kazami-kun's office at 10 p.m., with the ghost of the Zero Group leader seemingly floating by inside.
—This last piece of inside information kept the Special Investigations Team excited for a week, and they played detective games tirelessly at the police headquarters.
Kitagawa Ryusei wasn't interested in the leader of Group Zero. After get off work, he would sling his tennis racket over his shoulder and leave early amidst the winking and smirking of a group of people who thought they were being discreet.
This is also one of the origins of the rumors, his recent leisure activities.
Although I don't see the legendary "blonde bombshell" eight out of ten times.
The wind chimes hanging outside the club door made a crisp sound when they were touched.
The receptionist looked up, her eyes lighting up when she saw who it was, and said warmly, "Mr. Kitagawa, are you still booking the indoor area? There are still seats available in the outdoor area today."
"Good day, Miss Hayakawa."
Kitagawa Ryusei greeted him with a polite smile, then gently declined, saying, "Thank you, but it's alright."
People are attracted to good looks, and receptionists are no exception. They always want to have more contact with people whose appearance is pleasing to the eye.
The receptionist was trying hard to find topics of conversation as usual, and then she had a sudden inspiration: "Coach Amuro is coming to the club today... It's been two weeks since he last came, hasn't it?"
"Is that so?" Kitagawa Ryusei raised an eyebrow, his hand, which had been taking the locker key, paused in mid-air. The polite, faint smile he always wore when facing unfamiliar women suddenly became more lively. "Thank you."
The two weren't too far apart. The girl at the front desk blushed at the smile and responded somewhat flusteredly, "Eh? No, you're welcome."
Just then, the wind chimes at the door rang again. Her eyes darted around quickly, and then lit up again: "Coach Amuro is here!"
Almost at the same moment the words were spoken, Kitagawa Ryusei turned around.
The two people, who hadn't seen each other for a long time, met eyes precisely.
The blond youth was wearing a light blue athletic short-sleeved shirt and carrying a tennis racket. He looked like a recent college graduate, and even from this distance, you could almost smell the sun-dried scent on his clothes.
He entered the room without saying a word, but instead found a comfortable spot to lean back with his elbows crossed.
It was a bright, sunny smile, but only the person being looked at could see the intense heat in his eyes, like the summer sun, weaving a net to capture the prey that couldn't escape his sight.
"You seem to be having a good chat, Ryusei-kun."
Every time their eyes met, it was a clash, and Kitagawa Ryusei was not to be outdone; every glance from him left much to the imagination.
"I won't agree to anything until I learn how to slice the ball today, Coach."
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