26: Chapter 26 Greed is the best camouflage

The red text on the screen branded itself onto his retinas like a hot iron.

[Risk Level: B-]

Chen Mo stared at the blinking cursor, his fingers hovering above the keyboard. They didn't tremble, though his fingertips turned slightly white from the excessive force.

Sweat trickled down his spine, cold and clammy. The CIA's Domestic Operations Division—these hyenas had a keener sense of smell than sharks.

He had been targeted by them simply because of a few overly perfect operations.

"Too clean," Chen Mo muttered to himself.

In this melting pot, a blank sheet of paper is more conspicuous than a black one.

A newly hired detective with god-like marksmanship, precise investment skills, and the ability to take down two superiors—all of this was too smooth logically, so smooth it felt like a carefully scripted drama.

He took a deep breath, his ten fingers flying across the keyboard again, moving so fast they were just a blur.

If he didn't turn this page, never mind becoming an emperor behind the scenes; when he woke up tomorrow morning, there might be two agents in black suits standing by his bedside, inviting him for tea.

[Hacking Mastery] running at full capacity.

He began to forge data.

First, the stock profits.

He planted a large number of browsing traces for gambling websites and high-risk speculative forums, packaging that precise bottom-fishing as the desperate gamble of a cornered gambler.

Next was his marksmanship. He left a deeply hidden instructor's note in the police academy's server.

"This student is extremely emotional; his shooting performance fluctuates wildly under pressure. Psychological evaluation recommended."

Turning ability into luck, and calmness into neurosis.

After finishing all this, he stared at the surveillance logs on the screen.

Not enough. The most important link was still missing.

The CIA isn't afraid of you having ability; they are afraid of you having no weaknesses.

The next morning, in the jurisdiction of the 109th Precinct in Queens, in the back alley of a strip club that hadn't opened yet.

Chen Mo leaned against a graffiti-covered wall, with a pile of smelly garbage bags at his feet.

He lit a cigarette; the acrid smell of nicotine diluted the stench of urine in the alley.

A black lincoln pulled up slowly at the entrance of the alley.

The car window rolled down a crack, and a thick kraft paper envelope was handed out.

"This is the 'sanitation fee' for this quarter, Officer Chen."

An oily voice came from inside, "Thank Chief Sullivan for me. Also, this is for your trouble."

Chen Mo didn't take it immediately.

His fingers holding the cigarette paused in the air for two seconds, his eyes scanning the surroundings—especially the traffic surveillance camera facing the alley entrance.

He even deliberately adjusted his position so that the camera could clearly capture his profile and the thickness of the envelope.

"You're too kind, Boss Harry."

Chen Mo threw the cigarette butt on the ground, crushed it hard with his shoe, and then grabbed the envelope.

He didn't put it straight into his pocket. Instead, right in front of that car window crack, he used his thumb to pry open the envelope and peeked inside.

In that instant, the coldness on his face vanished, replaced by an undisguised, almost sleazy greed.

The angle of his upturned mouth and the wrinkles squeezed out at the corners of his eyes all portrayed a dirty cop who couldn't walk away once he saw greenbacks.

"This street really does need a good cleaning." He patted the envelope and shoved it into his jacket's inner pocket with an eager and rough motion.

The lincoln drove away.

Chen Mo stood where he was and lit another cigarette.

In the evening, back at his apartment.

He hacked into that hidden server again.

The document in the folder had been updated.

[Target: Robert Chen]

[Status: Observation Paused]

[Risk Level: D+]

[Note: Confirmed typical bribery behavior today.

Greedy personality, short-sighted. Previous high-efficiency operations were highly likely due to luck or informant intelligence.

No political inclination, easy to control. Recommendation: Lift priority monitoring, keep as potential peripheral resource reserve.]

Chen Mo closed the document and deleted the last traces of his intrusion.

He leaned back in his chair, looked at the ceiling, and let out a short, cold laugh.

You want a greedy dog? Then I'll give you a greedy dog.

As long as you provide enough bones, even a dog will tear out its master's throat.

His phone suddenly vibrated.

It was an encrypted number.

"Hello?" Chen Mo's voice was languid, carrying a hint of the pleasure of someone who had just finished counting money.

"Officer Chen?" A voice-altered electronic sound came through the receiver, "I heard you've been quite flush with cash lately, and very generous too."

"Who are you?" Chen Mo straightened up, his tone vigilant yet tinged with a hint of anticipation, "If you're selling insurance, I suggest you hang up now."

"No, I'm here to talk business. A big business deal."

The other party paused, "It's about Miss Ava Rockefeller. Someone is offering 500,000 to buy her whereabouts for tonight."

Chen Mo narrowed his eyes.

500,000—for a money-grubbing cop, that was a huge sum of money that couldn't be refused.

"500,000..." He deliberately dragged out the tail of his sentence, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down—the sound of greedy swallowing. "Cash?"

"Old bills, non-sequential. As long as you bring her to a certain location."

Chen Mo grinned at the air, his smile cold and grim, but his tone became incredibly sycophantic: "Send me the location. Also, I want to see the money first."