Empire of Shadows

Pang Da staggered to his feet, falling several times in the process. He felt like there was something wrong with his balance system.

Even though he was standing, his senses told him that the world was spinning!

He instinctively tried to adjust his balance, but ended up falling to the ground.

He looked back at the house that had become a ruin, watching his colleagues trapped under the rubble, their mouths opening and closing in pain, but he couldn't hear a single sound.

Wang Defa, what happened?

His mind was blank. The massive explosion had left him in a daze.

Even the scene in front of him was somewhat blurred.

Suddenly, he felt a force from behind him push him forward. He almost fell to the ground. When he turned around, he saw many of his fellow agents rushing from other places towards the ruins, using their hands to move things out and throw them away.

He stood in the crowd, his eyes sometimes confused, sometimes clear.

After a while, about a few minutes, he gradually came to his senses, and the lost sound returned to his ears.

"Quick, save people…"

"Help…"

"Someone help me!"

"Does anyone have a tourniquet?"

Four people simultaneously dug a bloody corpse out of the ruins, then laid it aside and continued digging.

No one knew how many people were in the house at the time, nor did anyone know how many had survived. They only knew that they had to get these people out from under the rubble as soon as possible.

Pang Da also joined the rescue team. He now understood what Lance meant by "don't get too close."

At the same time, a palpitation, a tremor from the depths of his soul, arose!

If he… had been closer, would that mean he would also be buried under the rubble?

"I found Weber!"

Pang Da stood up and immediately put down his work, walking towards the voice. Many people had already gathered there. He pushed through the crowd to the innermost part, and he did indeed see Weber.

But it wasn't the complete Weber, only his upper body, and a mutilated upper body at that.

Pang Da's mind buzzed. Although he knew the answer before he came, he was still shocked.

He turned his head and looked at the dark wilderness around him, a chilling unease rising from the soles of his feet.

In the city, Dale was on the phone with his friend, a capable friend.

"…It's not that I don't want to help you, Dale. We've known each other for many years. You know what kind of person I am."

"If there's anything I can do to help you, I will."

"Your repeated poor performance has disappointed everyone. Not transferring you elsewhere is already the best we can do."

Dale felt a throbbing pain in his head as he listened to these words. "I know, so I'm not asking you to do anything for me now, just to keep me safe."

"I'm not planning to go back to Gold State anymore. I'm going to buy a house here and bring my family over…"

Dale's mood clearly became much lower when he said these words. If he could, he wouldn't want to accept his fate.

But he really hadn't done well.

He had also been considering some things lately. When he didn't plan to return to Gold State, it meant that his bottom line was in danger.

Make a fortune, then retire, had become his subconscious thought. He knew he had this thought, but he was trying his best to deny it, or to ignore it as much as possible.

At the same time, he also knew very well that one day he would clearly recognize this problem and take that step.

Many people have committed job-related crimes, and it's really not a big deal.

The friend on the other end of the phone coughed. Dale heard something wrong. "You called me, not just to say a few unimportant words, it can't be that simple. Is there something you want to say?"

"Tell me!"

He emphasized his tone a little. His friend was silent for a few seconds before saying, "Goldenport City is a rapidly developing and important city, whether it's its role internationally or its geographical location in the Federation, so someone is very interested in your position."

Dale didn't think there was anything wrong with the first half of the sentence, so it led to the final turning point almost catching him off guard.

"You said, someone is interested in my position, who?"

"We're good friends, so I'm willing to tell you the truth… several people."

"Damn it!"

"You fucking called me tonight just to tell me that someone wants to kick me out of this position?"

"Fuck, fuck brothers!"

Dale burst out with a sharp cry in his office.

The friend on the other end of the phone waited for a while, until his emotions stabilized a little before continuing, "The Alcohol Prohibition Committee recently received a report, which mentioned the problem of smuggled alcohol in Licarai State."

"Twenty-three percent of the Federation's smuggled alcohol enters the Federation from Licarai State. The long coastline has become the favorite place for smugglers."

"And it's too close to Asia Blue."

"You know what I mean."

Dale had been in Gold State for quite some time, so of course he understood the meaning behind these words.

It wasn't to say that a large amount of smuggled alcohol came in through this channel, making the Prohibition Law very embarrassing.

But rather that there were huge profits behind this!

Profit is the truth of the world's rotation. With profit, there is desire, there is demand.

Someone has taken a fancy to the benefits here, and he doesn't have the ability to keep his power, so someone wants to move him away.

Like moving a chess piece on a chessboard, pinching his head and throwing it aside.

If he can cooperate, there is a high probability that he can continue to stay on the chessboard, but if he does not cooperate, then he will be thrown into the chess box.

"One of them is from your local area, someone from the State Alcohol Prohibition Committee, don't tell anyone I said it."

"That… Weber, his uncle is lobbying."

Dale cursed again. After cursing a few times, he became very decadent again, because he had no resistance in this matter.

The Tobacco, Alcohol, and Hazardous Materials Administration, from its creation, has been a vertical department, directly responsible to the members of the Congressional Alcohol Prohibition Committee.

The purpose of doing this is to prevent the Hazardous Materials Administration from being suppressed by local governments, after all, local economic policies and protection strategies may conflict with some law enforcement content.

This also means that the upper echelons of the Hazardous Materials Administration have absolute control over them. Weber's uncle doesn't even need to win over the bigwigs in Congress, he just needs to propose "The director of the Goldenport City Hazardous Materials Administration needs to be replaced", and if no one objects, then he can start operating.

Dale grabbed his collar and tore it hard. He felt an invisible noose around his neck, and it was gradually tightening.

"Is there any way to prevent all of this from happening?"

There was no sound in the receiver. Obviously, his departure seemed to be a foregone conclusion.

He cursed a few more times, and suddenly there was the sound of footsteps outside, and then the office door was kicked open.

His face was full of anger, not because someone kicked open the office door, but because someone coveted his position and power.

Now he needed a way to vent.

He glared at the person, then said to the phone, "I'll call you later."

Then he hung up the phone, and then glared fiercely at the agent who broke into the door, "You're so old, hasn't your mother taught you how to knock on the door?"

This is actually a very nasty way of expressing it, which is equivalent to greeting a person's mother.

Fortunately, this person didn't care about these things at this time. He was panting heavily, his face full of horror, "Something big happened, Director Dale!"

Dale looked at his face for two or three seconds, and his expression gradually became serious, "You better be able to say something that makes me think it's really a big deal!"

"Senior Agent Weber is dead…"

"A total of eleven people died, and more than a dozen were seriously injured, many were slightly injured, I don't know…"

Dale's head now seemed to be blown up by a bomb. In this moment, there was only one sound left in the whole world.

A high-pitched, constant "嘤" sound kept ringing, and the whole world began to spin. He held the edge of the table tightly with both hands, forcing himself not to fall.

After about ten seconds, he came back to his senses, his stiff eyeballs moved, and his eyes became slightly more agile.

"What happened?"

The subordinate told the whole story, including that they didn't find anyone after arriving at the farm, but found whiskey worth four to five hundred thousand.

Then they searched the entire farm and found some account books and a locked iron box in a room.

Senior Agent Weber opened the iron box in front of everyone. Who would have thought that there would be a bundle of bombs inside.

And the bomb's lasso was stuck to the top of the iron box.

He was blown to death on the spot!

Several pieces are still missing.

The people around him and the iron box were all blown to death. In addition to the bombs, there was also a triangular iron material in the iron box. Any bone would be penetrated and shattered in front of it.

Dale leaned heavily on the chair, his face full of exhaustion, "Call back all the agents who are off work and let them participate in the rescue work, and then…"

He hesitated for a moment, maybe a few seconds, "Call the police."

What he's thinking about now is how to extract himself from this matter. Calling the police is a very appropriate move, and it also shows that Director Dale is indeed not a mediocre politician.

Using a third-party law enforcement agency to collect evidence and investigate can minimize his possible suspicion and responsibility in this matter, but it will also make the Hazardous Materials Management Bureau the focus of public opinion again, and a negative focus!

He could already imagine the strange expressions on the faces of those old men in Congress when they saw the news—

That Dale, who was abandoned by them, has created another big news?

He was a little desperate now, and even felt that he couldn't even achieve a safe retirement!

The news spread quickly in King's Port City, after all, it was rare to see a large number of police cars and ambulances rushing out of the city.

Whether it's a hospital or a police station, they're full of holes like sieves, and soon phone calls brought the news to the ears of the upper class.

The Hazardous Materials Management Bureau encountered a trap/ambush while investigating a case, and dozens of people died.

Charlie also confirmed this situation from the side. Hunter also went to the scene to personally handle the case, which Charlie requested.

Although he is just a tool at the bottom, a politician, his contact with the Bay Area over the years has made him vaguely understand Director Dale's meaning. He wants to become independent, so this is an opportunity to win over both sides.

Regardless of whether Director Dale can secure his position in the Hazardous Materials Management Bureau after this incident, even if he can't, he is not without value.

His network of contacts, those phone numbers he knows, might come in handy someday.

The scene was already very lively at this time. The large lights that were pulled out everywhere illuminated the farm's buildings as bright as day.

The police also formed a "search team" to search for anyone hiding in the weeds. From time to time, a flare flying into the sky made the wilderness briefly as bright as day.

Hunter used a screwdriver to pry a triangular fragment from the wall. Just holding it gently in his hand, he felt a slight tingling sensation when its tip touched his skin. It was very sharp!

There were many such fragments on the wall. Whether it was wood, cement, or any other structure, it would be pierced and embedded by it.

"The design of this bomb is very professional.", Hunter put the fragment in a matchbox and then put it in his pocket.

Such professional fragments are definitely not made casually. He needs to investigate to see who made it, or if anyone knows any information about it.

The tragic scene made him feel a chill down his spine, especially when he heard that this abandoned farm might be related to the Lance family, he felt a strong sense of unease.

There were many traces and indirect evidence at the scene, but there was no direct evidence at all.

Dealing with Lance with only indirect evidence is definitely not enough. There must be heavy, strong evidence to send him to prison.

As for killing him?

Hunter had considered it, but gave up because it was not realistic.

If he couldn't mobilize a large number of law enforcement personnel or gunmen, he wouldn't be able to do it. If he were to solve Lance, he could only go through legal channels.

At the same time, he, including Director Dale and Charlie, realized one thing, that is, there is a mole of Lance in the Hazardous Materials Management Bureau.

And this mole is qualified to know about this, and it is even possible that this is a trap, a setup, around Weber!

All the Hazardous Materials Management Bureau agents who participated in the operation that night did not go home. They all went to the police station, including Panda.

He was still a little frightened, constantly smoking, but this also fits his psychological state.

"…Is there anything else to add?", a police officer stopped the pen in his hand. He looked at Panda. There were more than a dozen cigarette butts at Panda's feet.

He doesn't necessarily take every puff of every cigarette. Sometimes he only takes the first and last puffs, and sometimes he takes a few more.

The existence of cigarettes has become a psychological dependence for him. People who have suffered a major setback do have such needs.

Panda shook his head, "No more."

He had just recounted what happened that night, in great detail. He didn't hide anything, because he believed that others would also speak in great detail.

The police officer nodded, turned the page over, and prepared to write, "Can we talk about Weber?"

Panda looked up at him, "About what?"

"Does he have anyone in the Hazardous Materials Management Bureau who he has a particularly bad relationship with?"

Panda's pupils contracted slightly. He lowered his head and avoided the other person's gaze by smoking, "I don't quite understand what you mean."

The police officer didn't mind being more explicit. This is also a method of observation and interrogation, "We suspect that someone created this trap targeting Weber."

"So we want to ask, is there anyone who has a bad relationship with him?"

Panda could already feel his scalp and the skin on his body starting to itch, followed by a feeling of sweating.

He could clearly feel the sweat secreting from his pores. His brain was spinning frantically. He needed to protect himself!

He had never concentrated so much before. His thoughts were spinning wildly in his head like lightning, rotating his brains at supersonic speed.

If there wasn't a membrane outside his brain, his brains might have been thrown out!

He licked his lips, "I don't know… maybe I'm one?"

"You?", the police officer's expression changed slightly. He stared at Panda.

Panda did not avoid it, and met his gaze.

He had also interrogated others. He knew very well that some subtle differences and changes in expression during interrogation would lead to speculation and questioning.

If he was so frank just now, and now he is evasive, and even dare not look at this police officer, his suspicion will be infinitely magnified.

At the same time, he did not avoid the fact that he and Weber were at odds, because everyone knew that if he avoided this question, it would only show that he was guilty.

So he was very frank.

He nodded and said, "Yes, originally… the Hazardous Materials Management Bureau planned to promote me, but Weber was parachuted in from the State Liquor Control Committee, taking my promotion spot."

The police officer showed an "I see" expression, with some sympathy in his eyes. A guy who used connections, of course not in the physical sense.

"So you don't like him?", the police officer asked.

Panda shook his head and said, "He probably doesn't like me. He always embarrasses me. I'm considering a job transfer."

"After all, he is my immediate boss, and he also has people in the State Liquor Control Committee. I am no match for him."

"But this afternoon, he suddenly called me to his office, intending to reconcile with me, and even said that he would promote me to senior agent."

"He hoped that I could better support his work, and then these things happened at night."

The police officer recorded these truthfully, and drew several circles on Panda's name, "You mean, he told you in a subtle way that he might be promoted to director?"