Chapter 948: The Aftermath of Giving Fake Intelligence
In fact, 20 of the 30 people on Wade’s list were nonsense.
For example, Kincaid, who was a retired man, was on the list, which proved how unreliable it was.
Luke had asked the old man over a secret communication channel yesterday, and it turned out that there were at least eight “legendary” hitmen on Wade’s list.
To be precise, they had all left legends behind in the hitmen circle, but it wasn’t that they had gone missing for years, but that they had either retired or died.
One of them, John Wick, was an acquaintance whom Kincaid had mentioned to Luke last time. He had retired a few years ago to get married.
Like Kincaid, it was impossible for him to accept a mission.
What was even more ridiculous was that there were a few familiar faces on the list.
Redback Spider Rebecca, Mr. X, Firefox and Cross were all famous a.s.sa.s.sins from the Fraternity.
Who knew how Wade knew their names, but he also put them on the list.
Of course, Luke knew that they wouldn’t come looking to kill him, since cutting ties and internal conflict were the main themes for the Fraternity this year.
Mr. X had been killed by Luke himself. Could he turn into a ghost and come after Luke?
Since Wade’s ridiculous behavior was too outrageous, Luke smiled and gave him a black mark.
Thankfully, Wade had a lot of strengths, or Luke wouldn’t have minded getting rid of someone who gave fake intelligence.
In his life, he had never been afraid of informants who asked for high prices. What he hated most were liars who gave fake intelligence.
So, his original plan to pick off the hitman sightseeing group which had gathered in New York on his own turned into a double V plan the night before.
In any case, Luke was rich. He didn’t think that a mercenary who wanted money desperately would be able to resist the temptation of 2.5 million.
The two-fold 2.5 million was very suitable for a cheap person like Wade[1].
Of course, he didn’t plan to get Wade killed.
A cheap mouth didn’t deserve death.
Fine, it was because Luke rarely had dealings with Wade, or he would’ve thought that it was better to kill off someone with such a foul mouth.
Unsurprisingly, Wade would suffer a lot tonight.
But it wouldn’t be that easy for him to die from severe injuries.
Looking at Little Snail constantly revising the action plan on the virtual screen, Luke took a sip of his tea. “I hope there aren’t too many smart people.”
If there were too many smart people in the hitman group, his experience and credit points would be greatly reduced tonight, which would undoubtedly waste his preparations and plans of the past few days.
Looking at the three million points he needed for the next level-up, Luke felt that he had to work hard.
Well, Wade and Weasel, those two wretched friends, had to work harder!
…
At that moment in Harlem, Weasel was looking at the people who were entering his bar one after another in bewilderment, and his hair stood on end.
Although his shabby bar was open for business at noon, most people would choose to appear after five.
But not long after opening the door at noon today, there were strangers in the neighborhood.
As time pa.s.sed, more and more strangers appeared in his bar.
The bar, which usually could accommodate more than 30 people, was crammed with 60 people before half-past six in the evening.
The strange thing was that all these people had come alone and had no intention of talking to anyone else.
Also, these people only asked for water or juice. Occasionally, they would ask for alcohol, but they didn’t touch it. Most of them just sat there and played with their phones.
Weasel wasn’t unhappy if that was all they did.
It wasn’t the peak period for him to start selling fake alcohol, so it didn’t matter if they didn’t order a second round.
But looking at more than 30 “familiar” faces among the strangers, Weasel felt that something must’ve happened — yes, all 30 of them were in the files which he had given to Luke.
Were they all here to settle scores with him? But they wouldn’t go so far as to gather all together!
But why weren’t they doing anything? Weasel’s heart pounded and his legs shook, but he didn’t dare move. He could only stay at the bar.
n.o.body asked for drinks or talked. The bar was as quiet as a cemetery.
Several regular customers in the bar sensed the strange atmosphere and quickly got up to leave.
As gangsters, they were much more sensitive to danger than ordinary people, and had long sensed that these strangers weren’t easy to deal with.
Whether Weasel died or not had nothing to do with them; it was good enough as long as they didn’t send themselves to their deaths.
Just as Weasel was frozen stiff and sweating, his phone rang.
The originally quiet bar suddenly became so silent that you could hear a pin drop. Everyone’s gazes fell on him.
Weasel’s hair stood on end and he didn’t dare move at all. Holding a cloth in one hand, he stood there in a daze.
His phone rang, but he didn’t dare pick it up.
He noticed that many people looked disappointed.
Suddenly, his phone rang again.
This time, everyone in the bar looked away.
Weasel still didn’t dare move.
“Hurry up and answer the d.a.m.n phone. Put it on speaker, or you’ll die,” someone said with suppressed anger in his voice.
Stunned for a moment, Weasel looked at everyone else who was still silent, before he finally took out his phone and answered it, and pressed the speaker b.u.t.ton.
“V will appear at Swamp Park in the southwest corner of Staten Island at half past six in the evening. Remember to transfer 500,000 to the account I gave you,” a woman swiftly said before she hung up.
Weasel: “Huh?”
A text notification rang out.
At the sound, the bar suddenly came to life.
Everybody got up and hurried to the door.
Weasel stared blankly at everything, his mind in a mess. What the h.e.l.l was going on?
Until a woman stretched out her hand to him. “Give me your phone.”
Weasel subconsciously handed the phone over.
The woman frowned. “Put it down.”
Weasel quickly did as he was told.
The woman took out a tissue and picked up the phone with a disgusted expression. She opened the text message and took a photo with her t.i.tanium phone, before she dropped Weasel’s Nokia brick and left.
Ten seconds later, Weasel finally looked away from the door. Looking at the bar that was as empty as a real haunted house, he shuddered. “Did I run into a ghost? What’s going on?”
…
Looking at the drone feed, Luke smiled. With this many, his gains today wouldn’t be small.
Selina said, “Apart from the 65 people in the bar, there were seven more people outside. They should be partners with some of the hitmen.”
“Got it. I’ll be careful.” Luke chuckled. “Besides, I have the ‘strongest’ teammate tonight! I trust him.”
[1] The joke is that ‘205’ in Mandarin means ‘idiot’