Chapter 510: The Dust Settles, Great Harvest, Returning to New York

Chapter 510 -330: The Dust Settles, Great Harvest, Returning to New York

“All of you are the same. All of you,” he repeated.

“Also, the Attorney General said,” he began, after enjoying the expression on the drug dealer’s face for a moment, “that to make an example of you, you’re all being sent to the most notorious prison in the entire federation. Let’s hope that after a year, at least a third of you one-hundred-plus bastards are still alive.”

“Fuck you!” the drug dealer roared in pain. “Do you have any idea who we are? We’re Kuchilo’s men! I’ll kill your whole family! I’ll grab your wife and turn her into the lowest—”

“Kuchilo is already dead,” the police officer said with a smile, shifting his weight. The movement made the drug dealer cry out in pain again. “You guys are finished. The organization protecting you has been uprooted. If I were you, I’d be more concerned about my own fate.”

“You’ll spend the rest of your pathetic lives in the cruelest prison without your arms and legs,” he said, getting up from the hospital bed. “I, for one, hope you last a long time in there.”

After leaving the hospital room, the federal soldiers in the hallway nodded at them.

The police officer and the doctor walked side-by-side down the hall, passing room after room filled with patients in the same condition, all still unconscious.

“I’d like to ask you something,” the police officer said, looking at the notebook in his hand. “Is it possible to have a mass hallucination after taking a large quantity of drugs?”

“Mass hallucination?” The doctor thought for a moment. “Strictly speaking, ‘mass hallucination’ isn’t a widely recognized medical diagnosis. However, if a group of people ingests a large amount of the same hallucinogenic drug at the same time, it’s certainly possible for them to experience similar hallucinatory content under similar environmental stimuli.”

“So you’re saying it’s possible?”

“Theoretically… I suppose it’s possible,” the doctor said, choosing his words carefully.

“Understood.” The police officer nodded.

He tucked the notebook into his pocket.

‘Theoretically possible is good enough.’

‘To be honest, while I’m curious about the details of this case, I’m just too busy to deal with it.’

Over 60% of the officers at the Monterey Police Department had been taken away by the federal government and the DEA for their connections to Kuchilo. The rest of them were so overworked they wished one person could do the work of five. The whole station was in complete chaos.

He himself had seven or eight backlogged cases that were still open.

And this case was baffling in itself—the surveillance system at the warehouse had its power cut, the security footage hard drive from the manor was missing, and while they had collected plenty of shell casings, they all came from the drug dealers’ own weapons.

No third-party DNA, no footprints, no fingerprints.

He was leaning toward the theory of a top-tier international team of at least eight assassins, perhaps hired by the Jalisco Group.

And there must have been a mole within the Sinaloa Group. After a long period of investigation and observation, this team of assassins coordinated with the insider to pull off something like this.

‘That’ll do.’

The police officer walked out the main entrance of the inpatient department, stood on the steps for a moment, and lit a cigarette.

If he were to actually believe the drug dealer’s story, that they were wiped out in one fell swoop by an invisible Batman—

‘Come on, man. This is the real world, not some comic book or cartoon. What is this, Gotham City?’

‘Besides, can Batman even turn invisible in the comics? Is he bulletproof? Does he kill people?’

‘If I put this crap in my case report, my superiors will definitely drag me in for a piss test, thinking I’m high too.’

‘It’s better to just assume this bunch got high, started fighting amongst themselves, and then a team of assassins hired by the Jalisco Group took advantage of the chaos.’

‘Anyway, Kuchilo is dead, the DEA has taken credit, the federal government has taken credit, and anyone connected to Kuchilo has either been caught or has fled. We cops who’ve had to put up with their crap have finally seen the light at the end of the tunnel.’

‘A happy ending for everyone.’

‘As for what the real truth is…’

He blew out a puff of smoke.

‘Who cares?’

…

「Xalapa, Veracruz, Mexico.」

This city was completely different from Monterey.

There was no dry dust or smell of diesel. Instead, there was damp mountain fog and the delicate fragrance of coffee blossoms.

Xalapa was nestled in the mountains of Veracruz, at a much higher altitude than Monterey. The temperature in the mornings and evenings was cool enough to require a jacket.

In a small alley in the south of the city, two-story residential buildings stood packed together. Their pale blue and canary yellow outer walls were slightly faded. Electrical wires crisscrossed from the rooftops, looking like a web spun by a drunken spider.

In a small yellow house at the end of the alley lived Raphael’s aunt, and, having moved in temporarily, Raphael’s mother.

Raphael’s mother had been living here for five or six days.

Her daily routine was always the same: she would wake with a start before dawn, lie in bed listening to the news on the radio, and strain her ears to catch every word related to Monterey.

Every time she heard “Monterey,” her heart would leap into her throat. Only after the announcer finished speaking, if the word wasn’t followed by “death” or “killed in the line of duty,” would she slowly let out a breath of relief.

She didn’t dare to call Raphael.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to; she was dying to. But she didn’t dare.

What if he was in the middle of something dangerous? What if the call distracted him?

This morning, she woke up again before the sky had lightened.

She had gotten less than three hours of sleep the day before. The radio news hadn’t started yet, but she had already thrown on a jacket and gone to sit on the front steps.

The alley was quiet, with only the occasional dog bark or rooster crow in the distance.

The morning fog drifted down from the mountains, shrouding the houses on both sides of the alley.