York glanced at the scene behind Officer Baker and asked,
"Why do you say that?"
Hearing this, Officer Baker looked up at the crowd opposite, where a group of young men were watching. He shrugged and said,
"A Vance gang member died in there—one shot to the right hand, one to the chest, and one to the forehead. Such precise marksmanship means the killer came prepared and is likely targeting the Vance gang."
Upon hearing this, York inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. Although he didn't know what the shot to the right hand was about, the shots to the chest and forehead were exactly what Old Brown had told him about: the Mozambique Drill.
Its key is to quickly fire two shots into the enemy's torso to temporarily halt their movement, and then a headshot to quickly subdue the enemy and control the danger. In gaming terms, it's about causing the enemy to stagger, then delivering a fatal critical hit.
"It seems Old Brown must have caught one alone. An Old Man's identity still has a certain deceptive quality."
Just as he thought this, Officer Baker's next words rang out.
"Although the Vance gang is small, their boss is backed by the Grizzly Gang in New York. Its members are as united as the Grizzly Gang.
Today, they lost a member, so they will definitely go all out to track down the killer. Do you think things will get chaotic if these two clash?"
Grizzly Gang? Hearing that gang name again, York' eyes darkened.
Officer Baker kept talking, completely oblivious to the change in York' expression. He continued,
"So, it's definitely going to be very chaotic here soon. Although they most likely won't do anything to the Father, Father, you'd best still be careful.
Brains ruined by drugs won't care about your identity…"
As Officer Baker spoke, he tapped his temple with his finger, the sarcasm evident and very real.
York smiled and nodded, saying,
"I will, Officer Baker. Thank you for your advice."
Officer Baker, however, said earnestly, "You're welcome, Father. I wouldn't want to see my wife without a place to pray. This is the only day I can relax and rest…"
York' mouth twitched. Just as he was about to say something, someone behind Officer Baker called him.
"Baker!! Baker!!"
York simply stopped what he was about to say.
"My boss is calling me, Father. I'll go first." Officer Baker looked back, then walked away, but not forgetting to offer his advice one more time as he left.
"Father, remember it's best not to pass through here recently."
"I will."
"…"
Watching Officer Baker walk inside, York' expression remained unchanged. He glanced at the crowd to the right of the car, and like Officer Baker, he also saw that group of young men.
The difference, however, was that he saw a few people he had met with Old Brown that day.
"It's actually people from the Grizzly Gang…"
York shook his head, shifted gears, and stepped on the accelerator, driving towards Old Brown's home. Compared to before, his mood was actually more relaxed.
Old Brown was, after all, a soldier, an Old Man who had served until retirement.
With this thought, York quickly drove to the bottom of Old Brown's building.
The security here was generally much better than in the previous area.
Unexpectedly, the lights were not on inside Old Brown's house.
Despite this, York still chose to get out of the car, walk to the door, and press the doorbell beside it.
The sound of the doorbell rang, but there was no response inside.
"Where has Old Brown gone again! He didn't run off to stake out again, did he?"
Pressing it again still yielded no response. York, left with no choice, could only return to his car, take out paper and pen, leave a message in an envelope, and then forcefully shove it into the gap under the door.
He could only do this much. Without any information now, trying to find Old Brown would be like grasping at straws.
York glanced at the house, then re-entered his car and slowly drove away.
Regarding the Grizzly Gang and Old Brown, he decided to start investigating this so-called Vance gang today, just to be safe.
Vroom!
The black Ford Raptor, illuminated by its headlights dispelling the darkness, drove further and further away.
However, what York didn't know was that Old Brown, whom he was looking for, had quietly arrived in a small alley opposite a bar. He stood with his hands in his pockets, his gaze fixed on the bar's entrance.
In the Old Man's eyes, there weren't many people outside the bar at this moment.
After some time, he took out his old watch and looked at it. The time had already reached 11:13 PM.
"Hoo…"
The Old Man stretched his body slightly, stopping when his breathing began to quicken.
Just then, a young man, even thinner than Willie had been, emerged from the bar entrance and swayed off to the right.
"Target sighted. Name: Beard. He's the one in charge of drug deals." Old Brown hunched his shoulders, recalling details as he followed.
Those scumbags yelling and shouting in the sewers had actually exposed a lot of information early on.
Names, including their status.
The person named Beard, about ten meters ahead, had the highest status, because the scumbags' attitude towards him clearly indicated a superior-subordinate relationship.
Crucially, this guy was responsible for every transaction.
Using his inconspicuous identity as an Old Man, he had been tailing this guy for a long time. Now he had finally caught him alone, but his goal wasn't to kill. Instead, while eliminating this guy, he also wanted to cut off the scumbags' source of income.
Based on common sense, a small drug-dealing gang must have a place for stocking or shipping goods.
Thinking this, Old Brown looked at Beard, who was swaying ahead, completely oblivious to him, and his expression became resolute. This time, he was prepared to die.
And so, a young man swayed along in front, and an Old Man slowly followed behind.
The two bypassed the more bustling streets and finally arrived in a more secluded, deserted area, littered with trash.
Old Brown kept a distant watch on his target, glancing at the surroundings. From his past experience, he knew their destination was probably close.
Indeed, just as he thought, the target suddenly turned into an alleyway.
Old Brown gripped the pistol handle hidden in his pocket and quickly followed.
Just as he reached the alley wall, he saw the target enter a low-rise building on the right. He moved so fast that the door was already closed before Old Brown could even step out.
"It must be here."
Looking at the single-story building, Old Brown gasped a few times to suppress the tightness in his chest, then slowly walked into the alley.
As he got closer, Old Brown pursed his lips, thought of something, took out the P365 pistol from his pocket, gently tossed it to the base of the wall on the right side of the alley, and then walked towards the tightly shut iron door of the low-rise building.
Even as he reached the door, Old Brown instinctively took a deep breath, then reached out and knocked on the iron door, standing silently in place.
A few seconds later, there was movement inside. Old Brown heard several clicking sounds from behind the iron door. Immediately after, a small gap appeared in the iron door, revealing a person's face.
It was Beard, who had just entered. He looked wary, frowning as he stared at Old Brown, seemingly already aware that an Old Man was standing at the door.
"Old Man, what do you want?"