Starting from South America, speeding through the world

Chapter 239 Go talk to the boss.

Five o'clock in the morning.

Suburbs of San Pablo.

The sun had not yet fully risen, and the ridgeline shimmered with white light.

A row of black and white patrol cars were parked along the gravel road, and the police tape stretched from the garage to the lawn behind the house.

The entire luxurious villa stands alone in the jungle.

Agent Daryl Moran tucked his sunglasses back into his collar and glanced at the registration form.

Ten people died, seven men and three women.

Eight bodies were found in the dining room, and two more in the master bedroom's bathroom.

All of them died from gunshot wounds, with no obvious signs of struggle.

"Is there an initial timeframe for the crime?" he asked the forensic doctor, turning to him.

Between 2 a.m. and 4 a.m.

The other person was wearing a mask and spoke in a muffled voice: "This is how body temperature and intestinal residue are displayed."

Daryl nodded without saying anything more.

He stepped across the threshold, his footsteps echoing in the empty room.

The scene has been basically photographed, with signs and bloodstains side by side, and numbers pasted on every corner.

This house doesn't look like a normal residence.

The entryway connects to the open-plan living room, and four safes that had been violently pried open are piled up in the corner.

Inside were a small amount of cash and several copies of documents bearing the company's registered name—all using offshore addresses in Seychelles and Belize.

In the main dining room, bottles of wine, powder, electronic scales, and disinfectant wipes were piled haphazardly on the tables.

Five naked corpses were tied to chairs.

The knots were tied skillfully, clearly conforming to the pattern of "controlled interrogation".

A woman and a man were lying on top of each other, their faces up, with different expressions: pain, terror, or even more unrecognizable.

On the opposite side of the room, the on-site commander brought in the police dog unit.

There were vehicle tracks on the backyard path, extending into the bushes to the east.

Daryl listened to the report while flipping through the map.

There are no cameras here.

"The only neighbor lived two kilometers away, and no one heard the gunshots."

He paused for a few seconds before slowly saying, "This is neither revenge killing nor robbery."

He then walked to the wall and pointed to the fallen empty wine bottle.

“Some people live here, some are brought here, some are interrogated, and finally they are eliminated.”

“This is a typical ‘outpost’.”

After saying this, he glanced at the door and asked, "Where is the person who called the police?"

The young police officer next to him quickly replied, "He's outside. He was a little out of control just now and refused to cooperate with the investigation, but he's much better now."

Daryl followed him out of the villa.

Outside the main gate, a dark-skinned young Chinese man dressed in a car mechanic's uniform stood against the wall, arms crossed, looking wary.

"Was it him who called the police?" Daryl asked.

“That’s the guy.” The young officer waved to the man. “He said he was ‘coming to deliver the car keys,’ but he threw up as soon as he walked in.”

Daryl walked over and showed his identification.

Do you know anyone here?

The man hesitated for a moment: "I have the phone number of one of their friends."

“I usually help with car repairs and deliveries, but I don’t usually go inside this place.”

"I came today because the boss needed the car."

"Who's the boss?"

“Call him Jimmy,” he said. “Jimmy Lin.”

Daryl frowned: "You've seen him before?"

"We would wait for him to come out and get his things from a distance."

How long have you been working together?

"It's been a few years. I don't know what he does. I'm just a car mechanic."

Who does he usually associate with?

This time, the other party remained silent.

Daryl looked at him and said calmly, "Listen, I'm not going to force you to sign a statement here, nor am I going to make any false accusations."

"But you need to understand, we are dealing with a multi-person murder case. If you continue to play dumb and are found guilty as an accomplice by the jury, no one will take the blame for you."

Upon hearing this, the man remained silent for a moment, then finally said in a low voice:

“There were several Chinese business owners, dressed very well. There were also a few Mexicans, whose names I don’t know.”

"Where's your contact information?"

“They’re all micro* and BBM,” he paused for a moment, then explained, “You probably won’t find them.”

Daryl didn't say anything more, only handing over a business card: "If we need to contact you during the investigation, don't disappear."

The young officer added from the side:

"Please show me your identification; we need to register you."

"After that, someone will ask you to give a statement."

The other person hesitated for a moment, but still took out his driver's license from his wallet.

"Are you still living at this address?" Daryl asked.

"They moved away."

"Then write something new, something clearer."

The man seemed to be dawdling, as if waiting for something. He reluctantly wrote two words on the paper and then immediately crossed them out.

Just as Daryl was about to urge him on, the police station radio crackled to life:
"310, command center calling."

“310 is here.” Daryl took a couple of steps back. “Speak.”

"I just received a call from the state attorney general's office saying that federal officials will be involved in the case."

He frowned: "What organization?"

"FBI Financial Crimes Unit."

"It was said to be for the purpose of 'integrating relevant economic data and background materials from the international sector'."

Daryl remained silent.

He knew that it wasn't integration, it was takeover.

The person on the other end of the radio was still explaining the compliance of the procedures, but everyone's attention had already been drawn to the SUV that was approaching from a distance.

A dozen seconds later, the cars came to a steady stop.

The federal agents quickly got out of the car.

Without exchanging pleasantries or waiting, he took the authorization letter and headed straight for the villa.

The middle-aged man who was leading the group approached with a smile on his face.

“Detective Moran, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He extended his hand. “I’m Cohen, from the San Francisco office, in charge of tracking the foreign funds portion of this case.”

Daryl reluctantly touched his hand.

"About how bad?" he asked.

“This area is currently entirely under our control.” Cohen’s tone was apologetic, but his words were anything but polite.

“We will take over witness coordination and complete the subsequent background checks through the federal database.”

"Do you have court authorization?" Daryl asked.

Cohen's smile remained unchanged as he pulled a thin letter from his briefcase, a few pages long, with his signature at the end.

“This involves interstate financial activities, so it falls under our jurisdiction.”

"The state attorney general also signed the coordination order."

"Interstate?" Daryl didn't take the paper. "The case can be classified before the victim's identity has even been verified?"

“We have some financial leads,” Cohen said gently, “including several names in FinCEN and OFAC records that we can cross-reference.”

After he finished speaking, he glanced at the exterior wall of the villa.

"As for the gentleman who called the police, since he has expressed his willingness to cooperate, our people will take him back to make a statement."

Daryl's gaze followed suit.

The dark-skinned Chinese youth remained standing in place, hands in his pockets. When the two men looked over, he nodded stiffly.

“He was a witness,” Daryl insisted.

“He is also one of our witnesses,” Cohen politely corrected.

While they were talking, two federal agents approached and gestured for the young man to leave with them.

The man didn't resist; he simply lowered his head and got into the back seat of the SUV.

However, just before the car door was about to close, he suddenly peeked at Daryl.

The next second—

He revealed a smile.

(End of this chapter)