The Detective Agency had learned earlier, when they went to the bridge in the middle of the night to “consult the gods,” that Richmond was now a dividing point for “inland and ocean shipping” in Virginia.
Whether goods had crossed the ocean from the Old Continent or traveled along the East Coast of America, they all had to “transfer from large to small ships” or “switch from water to land transport” upon reaching here.
Conversely, a considerable portion of local goods, such as tobacco, also departed from here.
With “goods distribution” and “people and horses consuming,” “meat” was moved back and forth here, and those involved naturally got some “grease” from it.
Richmond, almost from top to bottom, could be said to be a beneficiary in this matter. City Hall received taxes, merchants had room to operate, and ordinary people, from clerks in various trade companies to employees in various commercial shops, and even the so-called “lowest level” temporary manual laborers, at least seemed to have “opportunities everywhere.”
On the list provided by Father Tyrrell, the “mastermind” behind the reporter’s case lived in the cargo distribution area known as the Dock Area.
Richmond’s Dock Area was built along the Saint James River and divided by different types of goods and transfer channels. Although called an “area,” it was actually a very large expanse, with docks and warehouses, and many people lived nearby.
If you spread out a map, the Dock Area was actually a bit larger than the narrow sense of “Richmond City proper.” To say it occupied “half the city” of Richmond was actually a bit modest—but locals generally did not consider this “downtown.” Earning a living here did not necessarily count as “working in Richmond,” high-paying jobs excepted.
In such a large area, it was theoretically difficult to find someone, and the address given by Father Tyrrell was only precise to the “street,” which was in the category of “useless navigation” in the city.
After the carriage reached the approximate location, Sanders asked passersby several times with the name but did not get any results.
And the Dock Area was not as regulated as the city, with streets sometimes wide and sometimes narrow, even possibly turning into alleys, making it difficult even to confirm where a “street” began and ended.
Wayne had already planned to get out of the carriage and knock on people’s doors when he noticed that “Soften” seemed to be hesitating to speak, so he turned and asked, “Have you heard of this person?”
“Soften” carefully chose his words, as if worried Wayne would lose face:
“Boss, you are outsiders, so you might not be familiar with local matters. This ‘James Damody,’ everyone usually calls him ‘Jimmy,’ he’s the leader of a small gang. Asking like this usually won’t get you anywhere… Passersby, whether informed or not, will likely say they ‘don’t know’ to avoid getting involved…”
So he was a famous person, no wonder Father Tyrrell wasn’t worried the Detective Agency wouldn’t find the place…
Wayne was a little curious, “Is he a big shot?”
“Uh…”
“Soften” seemed unsure how to describe it specifically, “Overly rampant gangs will be wiped out in Richmond. However, the Dock Area has too many mixed personnel, and the police actually find it very difficult to manage, so as long as they don’t cross the line, all parties will allow some ‘small gangs’ to exist.
“Jimmy’s group is relatively young, and it’s said he has army experience. His reputation comes entirely from his ruthless methods, but the scale isn’t large. He shouldn’t be considered a ‘big shot’ to you…”
Understood, a street-level gang.
But Father Tyrrell really should have added a note on the list. For each case, he only gave a name. Those who didn’t know might think the person was a “lone wolf.”
It’s hard to tell who is more formidable between him and “Gray Wolf” Freddy…
And according to Father Tyrrell’s style, some cases might involve “a whole string of people” behind them…
Wayne was concise, “Do you know where their stronghold is? Approximately how many people? Are there any Extraordinary Persons?”
“They should all be ordinary people… Just a few, probably fewer than ten.”
“Soften,” after all, came from the local intelligence organization, probably at the upper end of the “food chain” in this regard. “How about you wait in the carriage for a moment, and Peng Zhang and I… Peng Zhang and I will go bring the person back?”
Wayne assessed the aura of the two, “Try not to hurt anyone, and don’t stir up unnecessary trouble.”
“Soften” nodded, “Mr. Doug told us the rules: normally, no retaliation unless resisted.”
“Then go. The carriage will follow at a distance where we can see you.”
…
Facts proved that Wayne had still underestimated the true value of the local intelligence organization.
“Soften” and Peng Zhang were caught together by Inessa when they set fire to the Detective Agency’s temporary stronghold, giving Wayne the overall impression of being “incompetent and cowardly,” and also part of an “outsourced team.”
However, upon a little thought, and thinking back further, Mr. Moliere, who came from Frank, had all his bodyguards killed in the attack, and not a single drop of blood was visible on the scene. That incident should also have been the work of the local intelligence organization.
They were like “leopards knowing to behave when encountering lions and tigers,” not “truly vegetarian”…
“Soften” and Peng Zhang walked along the street for a while, reaching a house not deep in an alley where people were sitting outside smoking, chatting, and reading newspapers—feeling like unprofessional “lookouts,” such a scene was quite reasonable.
Then they spoke a few words to someone, were led inside by a person, and a few minutes later, two “bang bang” gunshots rang out, then it became quiet again. Peng Zhang quickly poked his head out of a second-floor window, indicating the operation was smooth, seemingly worried Wayne might misjudge the situation.
After bringing the person back, before Wayne could even ask, “Soften” immediately explained:
“Boss, we didn’t use weapons; they were the ones who fired earlier. According to what we know, when gunshots occur at a gang stronghold, patrolling officers normally won’t investigate thoroughly, so it shouldn’t cause trouble for the Detective Agency.”
Wayne nodded, his gaze fixed on the person who had been brought back.
The style of this arrest was actually not quite right. The person’s entire upper body was bound into coils, his hair was a bird’s nest, his face was bruised, nosebleed wasn’t wiped clean, and his originally seemingly well-fitting formal wear was now fixed into a messy state by ropes.
After motioning for the two to get into the carriage, “Soften” and Peng Zhang skillfully flanked the captive, sandwiching him in the middle.
Wayne sat on the opposite seat in the carriage, extended his hand, and slightly tidied the other person’s collar, his expression kind:
“Are you James Damody?”
I didn’t expect I’d actually have the chance to “act like a good person” like a crime boss, it felt a bit thrilling…
The other person’s first reaction after hearing this was similar to those upright characters in movies and TV shows, seemingly wanting to spout obscenities, or perhaps spit—Wayne had already prepared where to dodge.
But after “Soften” stared at him with wide eyes, the other person quickly caved, “Yes, I am. May I ask who you are, sir? Did my people do something wrong that affected you? I will teach them a lesson when I get back.”
Wayne pulled a prepared old newspaper from the side and folded half a page to the top:
“Take a look at this news. Do you still remember the content inside?”
The other person’s gaze quickly scanned the paper, soon freezing on a particular line.
Wayne glanced over; it was where the victim’s name was written.
