American Detective: Starting as a Rookie Cop in an American TV Show

Chapter 1400: CIA Agent Caught in the Act
Jack picked up the shovel from the dead man's hand and handed it to Fusco, then threw the cell phone and a flashlight that he had retrieved from the car outside to him.

He smiled and said, "Keep up the good work, Detective Fusco. I have high hopes for you."

Detective Doudou looked around with a shovel in his hand, his expression stunned, "You're not coming with me?"

Jack checked the time. "I should still be able to join in the fun. Finch didn't delete the surveillance video of the hallway where you were taken away by the Internal Affairs Department at the headquarters. Contact Simmons Patrick as soon as possible to help you. This evidence should be enough for HR to believe and accept you."

Detective "Doudou" opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, an FBI agent disappeared into the night.

"No, are you really going to leave me alone in this damn place?" He shouted tentatively, but the only response was the cawing of two crows.

Shining the flashlight on the corpse with a big hole on the ground, Detective "Dou Dou" shuddered subconsciously, and a chill inexplicably surged from his heart.
-
A rapid cell phone ring rang in the warehouse. Vargas stopped pacing and took out his cell phone. When he saw the words "unknown number" displayed on it, he showed a look of relief.

"Yes. Are you sure? Okay, I got it. Don't worry, I'll take care of it. See you in the morning."

"Everyone, assemble!" After hanging up the phone, Vargas pulled out a pistol from his waist with a murderous expression on his face.

"Boss, what do you say?" Cahill was the first to step forward.

To be honest, he was a little confused now. Reese's previous actions made him feel some kind of goodwill, but the undercover detective racked his brains but couldn't figure out why he stopped himself from sending messages out.

The incident happened suddenly. Except for the "brother-in-law" who has now become a corpse on the sofa, the others searched each other at Vargas' request after handing over their mobile phones.

Therefore, Cahill was very sure that Reese did not have any eavesdropping devices on him and did not hide a second cell phone. So if he was an undercover agent from another federal law enforcement agency, how did he stay in touch with his companions?

The others also came over. Reese looked around at where they were standing before slowly walking to Cahill.

Although he had great confidence in Jack, he was already accustomed to considering the worst possible outcome first. In the current prisoner's dilemma, his task was to prioritize protecting Cahill's life.

Vargas' smuggling gang consists of only six people, including himself. Excluding his "brother-in-law" who died on the sofa due to excessive blood loss, the current situation is two against three.

Vargas had taken away everyone's guns, leaving only the pistol he kept in his own hand. In this situation, he might as well fight to the death.

Deliberately keeping a certain distance from the others, Vargas glanced at Cahor with a smug look on his face, "Haven't you always been curious about the identity of 'LOS'? I told you that he is a collaborator with a strong background.

One of our guys was undercover in the NYPD, and the 'LOS' guys got his undercover file, so I now know his name, too."

Cahill was shocked. He was sure that Reese was definitely not an undercover agent of the NYPD. He was most likely from some other federal department. Who else could the NYPD undercover agent that Vargas mentioned be?

His own files were exposed? Is there really a mole inside the NYPD, was it the police gang called "HR" who did it?

These questions and feelings of despair surged into his mind, and Cahill forced a smile. "So who is the undercover?"

As he stared in astonishment, Vargas pointed his gun at the confused blond man with a beard, "What do you think, Morrison, or should I call you Officer Ethan Hunt?"

"What? I'm not!" Morrison was horrified. Before he could understand what was happening, Reese rushed towards him with a roar. The bearded blond man was caught off guard and had no power to fight back. He was knocked down in an instant and then strangled to unconsciousness.

Vargas's expression became much more relaxed. He patted Cahill, who was still in a daze, and took the initiative to hand over his pistol. "I know you hate the cops the most. Do you want to do it?"

Cahill was still a little dizzy and didn't understand what was going on. Although it was unlikely, if Morris was also an undercover agent, didn't that mean that half of the six-member team were undercover?

Subconsciously shaking his head, Cahill tried to "save" his "undercover" colleague, "Shouldn't we interrogate him first? See how much he knows?"

Vargas responded by pulling the trigger. After a gunshot, a bloody hole appeared on Morrison's forehead.

"There's no time. Who knows if his reinforcements are on the way? Get rid of these two bodies and leave for Montauk immediately. 'LOS' is waiting for us in the junkyard there."
-
It was already daybreak and a raging fire broke out on the dock not far from the warehouse.

A few minutes ago, the remaining four members of the gang stuffed the two bodies into the trunk of a car, poured gasoline on them and set them on fire to destroy the evidence as requested by Vargas.

The two then got into a car and drove away from the warehouse dock in Brooklyn with more than 200 kilograms of cocaine.

Cahill, who was sitting in the passenger seat, glanced at the rearview mirror, then turned to look at Reese who was driving, "Who are you? FBI or DEA?"

"Similar relevant departments." Reese's mouth twitched.

"What exactly happened just now? Is Morrison really an undercover agent as well?" The cold sweat on Cahill's back has not dried yet. He was just one step away from becoming a charred corpse that would be difficult to identify.

"No, he is your scapegoat. There is a mole in the NYPD. My people stole your file and inserted a fake one in it. So Morrison is Morrison, just an unlucky bad guy."

Hearing what Reese said, Cahill breathed a sigh of relief, "That's good, I thought..."

Then he seemed to suddenly think of something, "We have to stop halfway and find a chance to contact my contact. They don't know the specific transaction location yet."

Reese shook his head and said, "No need, everything has been arranged. Your contact, Detective Bourne, should be heading there with your NYPD ESU SWAT team. There should also be people from the FBI, but there is a small problem."

"What's the problem?" Kahol, who had just breathed a sigh of relief, subconsciously tensed up again when he heard this.

Reese's tone was a little hesitant, "The outcome of this matter may not make you 100% satisfied."
-
"Why, you want to arrest me?"

Seeing a group of NYPD officers surrounding him, the man who had just been trembling behind the bulletproof car seemed to suddenly regain his courage. He stood up and brushed off the dust on his Armani suit.

Just now, an ongoing drug deal was interrupted by an ambushed NYPD-ESU team. Vargas and his last "loyal" subordinate tried to resist but were shot dead on the spot.

The two thugs brought by the man in a suit with the alias "LOS" thought a gunfight had occurred and raised their guns subconsciously, but were shot down one by one by Reese and Cahill. The case seemed to be over.

But it is clear that this “LOS” does not think so. Facing Cahill who pointed the gun at him, he even dared to threaten, “Do you know who you are against?
I will be out of the police station in 12 hours at most, and then you will be in trouble."

(End of this chapter)