America: Starting with Daily Intelligence-Chapter 296 - 177: Old Jack in Zhao’an

"..."

Jason glanced at the pile of rocks and felt stumped.

Swallowing hard, he said, "Boss, could there be a dead body hidden underneath? Dumped by someone else? Digging it up wouldn’t be very polite, would it?"

"Just dig if I tell you to. Otherwise, how are we going to complete the preliminary task." Allen Zhang urged, "I’m going to check inside. I hope you have this sorted out by the time I come back!"

"If Sieg were here, he would have started digging the moment our eyes met without me having to say so much! By now, he’d be halfway done."

The General Sect Leader criticized.

"Alright then!"

Jason’s spirits instantly lifted; he spat on his hands twice and, despite his reservations, started digging.

Meanwhile, Allen Zhang turned and entered the cabin, pushing the half-open door, and a musty smell hit him. The interior was in shambles, with a desk lamp and walls covered in moss, and the wooden planks were rotten.

He moved a moldy sofa to find the entrance to the cellar. Opening the floor, the hinges let out a chilling screech, followed by a foul odor wafting out.

Allen Zhang put on a mask, took out a flashlight to illuminate his surroundings, and went down the wooden staircase. Soon, he arrived at the cellar, filled with some wooden barrels and boxes, as well as iron hooks for hanging cured meats.

Allen Zhang also noticed a pull chain on the wall and gave it a tug; there was no response from the light, no water, no electricity. Even the generator inside was out of use.

After searching around, he finally spotted a human-shaped corpse in a corner. Perhaps due to the damp environment, it hadn’t turned to bones but was mummified.

Shining his flashlight on it, he could vaguely make out the sleeve patch on the clothes as belonging to the CIA. The body was in a sorry state, with a shattered skull and bound tightly; there were also twisted marks on its arms and thighs.

Allen Zhang sighed at ruffian Jack’s ruthlessness and took out his phone to capture photos from various angles. He then put on gloves and searched the body, finding a stuck-together ID card in the chest pocket. Barely able to open it, the writing was blurred, but one could faintly make out a headshot and CIA credentials.

After taking photos, Allen Zhang could no longer stand the atmosphere in the cellar—a chilly vibe like that from a horror film, quite creepy, and the smell was also unbearable.

He turned around to leave the cellar and moved the sofa back into place to seal the entrance.

Stepping outside, he discarded his gloves and mask into the small wood and finally breathed in some fresh air.

Jason, huffing and puffing, was nearly done digging the hole when suddenly his shovel struck something solid. He quickly bent down to clear the area and extracted a bundled package, revealing a pistol within an iron box upon opening it.

"Boss! We’ve got something!" Jason promptly called over the General Sect Leader, "There’s a gun here!"

Allen Zhang walked over and eyed it, still a Colt Python Revolver. Taking out his phone, he snapped a picture and nodded in satisfaction, "Well done, bury it back. Remember to restore the surroundings to how they were."

"Eh?" Upon hearing this, Jason was dumbfounded.

Are you just screwing with me?

But since the General Sect Leader had spoken, Jason, without another word, set about his task, huffing and puffing once more. Allen Zhang also sent the pictures to Blitz.

Allen Zhang: Found the murder weapon and evidence from ruffian Jack’s crime. There’s also a CIA investigator’s body in the cellar. This old guy hits hard.

Blitz: What’s your plan? Use these photos to blackmail him? Or report directly to the CIA?

Allen Zhang: No need to report to the CIA, these are matters from many years ago, and it’s thankless work. This investigator was playing both sides; if he wasn’t greedy, he wouldn’t have died. But if that guy doesn’t cooperate with us, send everything directly to the CIA. Let the officials arrest him; he won’t be seeing daylight for the rest of his life.

Blitz: Ok! What should I do?

Allen Zhang: Arrange a meeting with Jack. See if we can resolve this peacefully. Set it up at the abandoned gas station in the suburbs. Jason and I will head there right away.

Blitz: Okay.

Blitz then anonymously relayed the information to ruffian Jack.

Old Jack was playing cards at the Sunkist Bar, calm and collected, but his composure soon shifted upon receiving a message. Pulling out his phone, his expression darkened.

Anonymous message: Ruffian Jack? Heard you’re getting back to work? On a big deal too? Wondering if you’d like your past indiscretions to become public knowledge. I reckon the CIA would be quite interested in these pictures. If you want to clear these images completely, come talk in the suburbs. We’ll only wait for you for half an hour!

Filled with both shock and anger, Old Jack’s face turned grim as he contemplated the sudden exposure of his secrets and the urge to eliminate the person who discovered them!

But then he thought better of it; the other party had the upper hand with leverage and anonymous origins and even knew about his new plan, indicating a terrifyingly extensive intelligence network not to mess with.

After pondering for a moment, he decided to keep the appointment.

Old Jack glanced at his cards—a rare good hand disrupted by great trouble, leaving no desire to continue.

He set the cards facedown, downed his Brandy in one gulp, and got up, slapping his pants as he left.

"Are you done playing, sir?" Mary hurriedly asked upon seeing him leave.

"I’ve had my fill," Old Jack said without turning back, waving his hand as he departed.