14: Chapter 14 Mad Dog and Bone

Money can make the devil turn the mill, but in America, money can make the mill turn the devil.

Chen Mo was in no rush to return to the precinct; he first went to a tactical supply store located on the edge of Hell's Kitchen.

It wasn't the kind of ordinary shop that sold to survivalists, but an underground store that catered specifically to private investigators and bounty hunters.

"I need a set of high-frequency listening equipment, the kind that can penetrate two layers of concrete walls, and two micro GPS trackers, magnetic ones."

Chen Mo slapped a stack of freshly withdrawn Franklins onto the counter.

The shopkeeper was a One-Eyed Dragon; he didn't ask any questions, took the money, and tossed out a black waterproof box.

Next, Chen Mo went to a used car dealership and spent five thousand dollars on a paint-chipped gray Ford sedan.

This kind of car was more common than rats on the streets of New York; once thrown into a pile of cars, no one would be able to recognize it.

After finishing all this, he sat in his newly purchased car and connected to the precinct's intranet.

Although the [Intern Police Officer] permissions were low, they were sufficient for accessing some non-confidential past case files.

He entered three keywords into the search box: Falcone Family, hostile forces, and turf war.

Soon, a name popped up.

Anthony Richie, nicknamed "Mad Dog Tony."

He was a small-time boss who controlled the southern part of Brooklyn and was a mortal enemy of Marcus, the master behind Murphy.

The two had engaged in many gunfights over the last few years to fight for the "powder" business in the Red Hook District.

Most importantly, according to the case file records, this "Mad Dog" Tony wasn't very bright; he was impulsive and irritable, but extremely greedy.

"You're the one."

Chen Mo closed his laptop and started the car.

Night fell, and the rain poured down.

A rainy night in New York always carried a sense of filth that could never be washed away.

Chen Mo parked the car in the back alley of a strip club; this was "Mad Dog" Tony's territory.

He didn't get out of the car, but instead put on the silicone mask he had just bought—it was one he had grabbed at a Halloween store, and after some minor adjustments, it looked like a burned freak.

He took out a burner phone and dialed the number he had found on the dark web.

"Who is it?" A loud sound of heavy metal music and a rough male voice came from the other end of the line.

"A bringer of fortune." Chen Mo activated his voice changer, his voice sounding like fingernails scratching across a chalkboard.

"Marcus has a shipment of payment funds to transfer tonight, two hundred thousand in cash."

"Go fuck yourself, do you think I'm an idiot?" Tony cursed, "Who are you? A cop?"

"Who I am is not important; what matters is that the cash transport vehicle will pass through the intersection of 4th Avenue and 39th Street tonight at eleven o'clock. It's a Ford Transit disguised as a laundry delivery truck, license plate number NY-7782."

Chen Mo paused and threw out the most lethal bait.

"The route that vehicle is taking is only known to Detective Murphy, who is in charge of this area. If Murphy didn't want to kill Marcus, how would this information have leaked?"

There was silence on the other end of the line.

Chen Mo knew the fish had taken the bait.

This intelligence was not baseless.

It was a piece of fragmented information he had scavenged from an unidentified male corpse in the morgue—it was a driver for Marcus who had died of a heart attack, but his brain had retained the route map for tonight.

And Murphy, as the protector of this area, indeed knew this alternative route.

The logic was a closed loop.

"If I go and don't see the car, I'll dig three feet into the ground to find you," Tony said viciously.

"You will see it. Good luck, Mad Dog."

Chen Mo hung up the phone, pulled out the SIM card, snapped it in half, and threw it into the sewer.

Eleven o'clock sharp.

Chen Mo parked the car on high ground two blocks away, holding binoculars, waiting quietly in the curtain of rain.

Ten minutes later, a white van with "Clean Laundry" printed on it appeared in his field of vision right on time.

Almost at the same time, two black SUVs rushed out of a side alley like two predatory beasts, slamming hard into the side of the van.

Bang!

The violent sound of the collision was covered by the thunder.

Immediately following was intense gunfire, with muzzle flashes flickering in the rainy night like some kind of cruel fireworks.

Mad Dog's men had made their move.

The battle ended quickly; Marcus's driver and guards clearly hadn't expected an ambush on such a top-secret route.

Chen Mo watched the group of men in black drag two heavy canvas bags out of the van and then quickly retreat.

He lowered his binoculars, the corners of his mouth curling into a cold smirk.

Marcus had lost two hundred thousand; he would definitely go crazy.

And this route was only known to him and Murphy.

Now the route had leaked, and the goods had been stolen.

In Marcus's suspicious mind, this was ironclad proof that Murphy, his "house dog," had bitten back.

Before, he had only suspected that Murphy had swallowed one hundred thousand; now, it was a concrete betrayal.

This crisis of trust would evolve into a war.

Chen Mo started the car, the windshield wipers scraping against the glass with a creaking sound.

He hummed a nameless tune and drove into the rainy night.

Early the next morning, an explosive piece of news caused an uproar at the 127th Precinct.

Detective Murphy's Dodge Challenger had exploded in his own garage.

Although Murphy had escaped unscathed because he was sleeping on the second floor, the massive explosion had shattered the windows of the entire block.

When Chen Mo walked into the precinct lobby, he saw everyone huddled together, whispering.

"I heard it was gang retaliation..."

"Shh, keep it down. People from Internal Affairs are already on their way."

"Murphy is done for this time; I heard they even found this at the scene..."

Chen Mo pushed through the crowd and arrived at his desk.

He picked up his cup and poured a cup of hot water; amidst the rising steam, he looked toward Murphy's empty office.

The door was ajar, and inside it was a mess, with documents scattered all over the floor.

"Good morning, everyone." Chen Mo greeted his colleague next to him with a smile.

No one paid him any mind; everyone was trembling in this oppressive atmosphere.

But this was exactly what Chen Mo wanted.

Only when the water was muddy could he, the Corpse Collector, catch the real big fish.