Mid-air.
Baker, who was suspended in mid-air with a bamboo dragonfly on his head, patted the small flames on his shoulders and looked down at the large and small vehicles burning at the intersection with a somewhat uncomfortable expression.
He just said that today was his lucky day.
result……
He was slapped in the face directly.
Baker glanced at the New York police car roaring over not far away, shook his head, changed back to his original appearance in the air, and flew directly towards 820 Fifth Avenue, which was only two blocks away.
Which of my enemies is this?
Baker took off the bamboo dragonfly, took off his suit jacket that was a little burnt on the outside, loosened his tie, and thought as he walked towards the wine cabinet and bar.
Definitely not from the Intercontinental Hotel.
The reason why Baker came back two days late was to see how the InterContinental Hotel would react after learning that the killers they sent and the assassins on Tiber Island had been wiped out.
Two days was enough time for them to respond.
In this way, Baker can determine based on the reaction of the InterContinental Hotel whether we can still have the same tacit understanding in the future as we do now.
Baker also thought about it, but he overreacted on Amazon.
This is bad.
The killer can take orders from anyone. Even the president will put out bounties from time to time, let alone Baker.
As long as the five high tables at the Intercontinental Hotel didn't leave in person, Baker wouldn't even bother to come to the door, and then directly kill them.
His current goal is the two remaining ego gems. The others can be put aside for the time being in front of the ego gems.
But Baker never expected that.
The first person to entertain him when he returned to New York was one of his former enemies, or someone else.
Why?
InterContinental Hotel's methods are not so despicable.
The taxi driver was obviously a refugee who had fled to the Federation from Iraq in the past few years.
I originally thought that I could come to the Federation and live the life of the free country and the ideal country that the Federation boasts of. But I didn’t expect that there would be a lot of work and little money. I even didn’t dare to go to the hospital even when I was sick, and I had to be wary of immigrants. Department's pursuit.
"Undertaker?"
"Milton Babbitt."
Baker sipped the bourbon in his glass and named a person.
Undertaker Milton Babbitt, a member of the criminal world, is a killer. However, he never kills people himself. Instead, he will divide part of the bounty he gets and give it to a person who has no hope in life or continues to use it. Ordinary people with money, let these ordinary people kill special targets, and then commit suicide themselves.
He's a weirdo among killers.
However, it is precisely because of this that the deaths of those targets have never been suspected by the New York Police Department or other police departments as killer acts, but are attributed to general revenge killings.
The driver just said that.
Don't blame him, his daughter is sick and needs a lot of money in urgent need. Such a person is very suitable for the tool chosen by the mourner.
Half an hour later.
Gwen's computer store.
"Crack!"
"What is this? Faisal ibn Abdul? What for?"
"Help me check his identity."
Baker threw the wallet he obtained from the driver to Gwen, thought for a while and said, "Look for his family's bank records. A large sum of money has been entered in the recent period."
Mourners pay first.
But it will not be paid to the tool person who wants to commit suicide, but will be paid to the person designated by the tool person in the receiving bank.
After a while, Gwen said: "No."
Baker frowned: "What?"
Could it be that the Undertaker has also learned to embezzle the bounty of the tool man? You are a tool man yourself, and you still embezzle the bounty of the tool man you contracted. Has your conscience been eaten by a dog?
Gwen pushed up her glasses on the bridge of her nose: "But I found out that he has an 18-year-old daughter who is hospitalized at Saint Nicholas Hospital in New York and is waiting for a heart transplant. It's strange that her handling fee is paid by a...wait a minute... …Hey, a shell company?”
Beck nodded.
That's right.
The Undertaker's handiwork, that's right.
After Baker confirmed that he had not wronged the wrong person, he turned to Gwen and said, "Milton Babbitt, can you find out his information?"
"Where are you from?"
"have no idea."
"perhaps?"
"New York?"
"..."
Gwen glanced at Baker, then shook her head, and her fingers quickly moved on the keyboard. Soon, the data archives of the New York Police Department, the Department of Motor Vehicles, the FBI... and the Coast Patrol were directly erased. Wen entered easily.
Four p.m.
Baker found the Undertaker he was looking for.
"Hello!" Baker sat on the sofa in the mourner's home, crossed his right leg, and greeted the middle-aged bald and bellyless mourner who opened the door with a smile.
The mourner's expression changed.
Turn around.
"boom!"
"Boom!"
"ah!"
Because his right calf was hit directly, his face hit the door frame. The mourner, whose nostrils were bleeding instantly, fell to the ground and screamed loudly.
Baker stood up.
"boom!"
"Call for one second, one bullet."
"ah!"
"boom!"
"..."
Baker's marksmanship was outstanding, and he could use bullets to create an effect similar to a thousand cuts. Even if the target was pierced by fifty bullet holes, as long as Baker didn't want him to die, the target would not die.
The mourner gasped and gritted his teeth: "What do you want?"
Baker walked up to the mourner: "Name."
"I have no idea!"
"boom!"
"Ah...I really don't know..."
"boom!"
Baker's face was expressionless: "Name."
have no idea?
Are you kidding me? Even the person who issued the bounty doesn't know. Are you still a killer, or are you also a killer doing justice for God?
Cold sweat broke out on the mourner's forehead: "I have traced it and found that the account he used to remit the money was from an overseas bank."
Baker shook his head, raised his hand, and with a bang, gave the mourner another bullet.
Is there really a killer who keeps secrets about his employer these days?
The Undertaker twitched on the ground like a carp, and the prosthetic eye in his right eye socket was so wide that it fell out.
Baker asked again: "Name."
The mourner was about to cry. He was in pain and crying: "If you don't believe me, go and see for yourself in the vault. When I was halfway through the investigation, the person from yesterday called me again and said that you would be coming out of the New York Airport today."
Baker raised his eyebrows: "The password to the vault."
The Undertaker looked at Baker with a mixture of snot, tears and nosebleeds: "You promise..."
"boom!"
"Boom!"
Baker looked at the mourner whose head was in close contact with the floor, and shook his head speechlessly. Why do some people still need to ask questions when they know it is a stupid question?
What's guaranteed?
Promise not to kill you?
Please.
Don't you have a bit of backbone? When you sent someone to assassinate me, why didn't you think of this?
Think I can't find you?
…
