45: Chapter 45 The Fox's Tail? Chen Mo's Counterattack

Brooklyn Heights, safe house.

The rain outside was still falling, hitting the bulletproof glass without making a sound.

Chen Mo sat in a leather sofa, swirling half a glass of bourbon whiskey in his hand.

On the wall opposite him, dense streams of surveillance data were projected.

"Your 'old friend' misses you."

George sat in front of a modified server, his fingers clattering against the keyboard as he spoke without turning his head.

"The FBI pulled your personnel file three times this morning. They even checked your credit card statements from the past two weeks."

Chen Mo took a sip of the liquor; the spicy liquid slid down his throat, keeping him sharp.

"Jessica Vance?"

"Who else could it be besides that crazy bitch?" George pulled up a window displaying a tracking path.

"Even though she used the bureau's public account, she couldn't hide her operational habits. She checked your attendance records, especially the timeline on the night of the explosion."

Chen Mo set down his glass and walked to the screen.

The screen displayed the backend logs of the FBI's internal system.

For Chen Mo, who possessed [Hacking Mastery], the FBI's firewall, while thick, was not impenetrable—especially when you knew where the backdoors were.

"She suspects the file is fake," Chen Mo said calmly.

"A woman's intuition is sometimes more accurate than a polygraph."

George turned around, a hint of mockery on his wrinkled face.

"What are you planning to do? Kill her? Make her suffer 'social death'?"

"No." Chen Mo looked at the photo of Jessica on the screen; those sharp eyes seemed to be examining him through the display.

"Killing her would only attract more hyenas. She is a fuse right now; if you cut it, the bomb will explode immediately."

"Then what are you going to do?"

"She thinks I don't look like a greedy dirty cop, and that my perfection is a disguise."

A playful curve appeared at the corner of Chen Mo's mouth. "Then let her see what she wants to see."

Chen Mo took a pair of plain glasses from his system space and put them on. His temperament instantly shifted slightly, losing some of its sharpness and gaining a bit of worldliness.

"Help me connect to the 127th Precinct's intranet. I need to modify a patrol report."

Chen Mo tapped the air with his fingers. "Also, send a message to a few of my informants in Queens. Tell them I'm looking for a batch of missing 'Russian goods'."

George paused for a moment, then grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth.

"You want to shift the blame to the Russian mob? Those Ivans are notorious for their short tempers."

"The explosion was handled too cleanly; that in itself is a flaw," Chen Mo analyzed calmly.

"Jessica needs a reasonable explanation. If the explosion happened because I accidentally got involved in the Russians' arms deal, and I destroyed the evidence to save my own life... wouldn't that make everything much more reasonable?"

"It fits your persona of being 'greedy and cowardly'." George gave a thumbs up. "What about the CIA?"

"They only believe in data." A stream of data flashed in Chen Mo's eyes. "I'll give them some data."

...

The next day, at the temporary office of the 127th Precinct.

Jessica Vance, with dark circles under her eyes, sat at a borrowed desk, staring at new clues on her computer screen, her brow furrowed.

Just half an hour ago, her informant sent a message: There were rumors that on the night of the explosion, someone saw vehicles belonging to the Russian Hatchet Gang near the pier.

"Russians?" Jessica bit on her pen. "This group does have the channels to get thermite, but what's the motive?"

Just then, a deliberately hushed argument came from the pantry nearby.

"Listen! I don't care what those Russians say, that shipment is not in my hands!"

Jessica looked up abruptly. It was Robert Chen's voice.

She quickly picked up her cup, pretended to go get coffee, and quietly approached the pantry.

Through the crack in the door, she saw Chen Mo holding a phone, looking flustered, with fine beads of sweat visible on his forehead.

He was talking on the phone while neurotically looking around.

"...I know the rules! Damn it, the fire that night was too big, I didn't get anything... Don't threaten me! If I leak what I saw that night, we're all finished!"

Chen Mo hung up the phone and leaned against the wall as if exhausted, his trembling hand taking a cigarette from his pocket, which he managed to light only after several attempts.

"Damn it... damn it..." He cursed in a low voice, his eyes filled with fear and regret.

Jessica stood outside the door, her heart pounding violently.

Russians, the fire that night, the missing shipment, the terrified detective.

All the puzzle pieces seemed to fit together perfectly at this moment.

So that was it.

Jessica took a deep breath and quietly retreated to her seat.

There was no "hidden super agent," nor was there any "mysterious organization."

The truth was often laughably mundane—a greedy little cop tried to double-cross the Russians to steal a shipment of arms, but he messed up and caused that explosion.

And his performance at the banquet was just an over-defensive reaction from a guilty conscience.

"Robert Chen..." Jessica watched Chen Mo walk out of the pantry, regaining his feigned composure. A sense of disappointment welled up in her heart, but at the same time, she felt relieved.

She picked up her phone and sent a message to her supervisor: [Clue updated. Focus on investigating the connection between the Russian Hatchet Gang and the 127th Precinct explosion. Target Robert Chen confirmed as a key witness; suggest maintaining surveillance, no contact for now.]

On the other side of the ocean, safe house.

Chen Mo watched the system prompt pop up on his retina: [Detected a decrease in external threat level.]

He pushed up his glasses and said silently to the air:

"Pleasure doing business with you, Agent Jessica."