Shadow Empire

Chapter 1137 Rumors, Shaken Trust, and Death

Such warnings posed no threat to Roland. As the director of the FBI, he actually hoped these people would come to him.

It was already past ten o'clock. Although I was still very sleepy after being woken up, I couldn't fall asleep no matter what I did while lying in bed.

He sat there, smoked a cigarette, coughed a few times, and then changed his clothes and got up.

There's still a lot to do today.

He first went to check on Bob, who and some of his confidants were being well taken care of, and everything that might threaten their lives had been confiscated.

Roland wouldn't allow them to die before their value was completely exploited.

While overseeing the handling of these cases, he sat in his office gradually pondering the phone call he had made that morning, and seemed to have found some "key points".

He frowned, and soon someone came to his office with a look of surprise and uncertainty on their face.

"What's wrong?" he asked, sitting there.

The person who walked in was a senior detective supervisor, who was also his confidant.

The manager entered the office, closed the door, and sat down across from the desk. "I heard some rumors while I was working," he said.

Roland's attention was still focused on the phone call he received that morning, and he hadn't reacted yet.

If this were just a very ordinary or insignificant rumor, then there would be no doubt that his subordinates wouldn't have come specifically to talk about it. "What rumor?"

The supervisor took a deep breath. "The locals are saying that Bob has confessed to a lot of things, including his collusion with government officials."

“They also said…” He paused, observing Director Roland’s expression, “They also said that the mastermind behind this is Mr. Potter, who wants to use this evidence, this incriminating material, to force more people to support him.”

“They say you’re Mr. Potter’s dog, and biting people isn’t your purpose, it’s Mr. Potter’s purpose.”

Upon hearing this, Director Roland finally reacted. He stood up abruptly and cursed, "Fuck!" His eyes widened as he stared at the supervisor sitting opposite him, his chest heaving violently!
He knew all too well the harm these rumors, or rather, these gossips, could cause to him and to Mr. Potter!
Although he doesn't consider himself Mr. Potter's dog, he does need to rely on Mr. Potter at this stage to gain a foothold in federal politics.

If Mr. Porter wins the election, he will have the privileges granted by the Presidential Office, including the ability to face Congress directly until he leaves office.

In this process, eight years is enough time for him to learn the privacy and secrets of many people in Congress and even the upper echelons of federal politics. After the new president takes office, he can turn the tables and rely on Congress. Not to mention confronting the presidential office, he can at least maintain the independence of the FBI!
He wants to stay in this position for a long time, and perhaps one day he will have the opportunity to become the president of the Union.

Becoming the FBI director with independent powers alone cannot change this dark world.

Only by becoming the president of the federal government can the sun shine on the earth again!

No matter how grand his future plans may be, they all begin with small beginnings.

If his relationship with Mr. Potter becomes strained, to the point that Mr. Potter feels he is not doing anything to his election or his future work, then he will soon be purged.

He hasn't established himself yet; he doesn't have the right to say "no" to those truly important people!

He paced back and forth, his face turning extremely pale. If this matter wasn't handled properly, it could become a political disaster, a disaster that would be his!

"Could you check where this news came from?" he asked, pausing to look at his supervisor.

The supervisor made two "uh" sounds, sounding a little nervous, because Director Roland's behavior was a bit unusual at this moment. "I asked, and our local detective said that it was just some locals spreading the rumor. He just treated it as a normal rumor and didn't investigate it in depth."

"Fuck!" Director Roland cursed again. "This is a lack of work attitude and a lack of sensitivity to responsibility. How could such a big thing be let off so easily?"

"Immediately send someone to investigate, find out the truth, and see if we can find the source."

"Now!"

At this point, Director Roland already had some vague guesses in his mind. If spreading this rumor would benefit anyone the most, then without a doubt, it would benefit the Socialist Party.

As someone who considered himself intelligent, he knew very well that if he fell out with Mr. Porter and the Liberal Party and lost their trust, he would lose all his support.

Those Socialists, like Lance and the Cleveland senator behind him, could easily take him down.

He must stabilize his base of support.

He immediately sat back down, picked up the phone, and dialed Mr. Potter's number.

The call was connected, but it wasn't Mr. Potter who answered; it was his staff who said that Mr. Potter had gone to the restroom.

As for when they will return, nobody knows; it may take some time.

This made Director Roland dare not leave; he had to report the matter to Mr. Potter immediately, at least to avoid any unpleasant misunderstandings between them.

At the same time, two people dressed as FBI agents walked in through the door. In the past few days, many FBI agents from other regions had come to the Old City precinct, so the management of personnel was very chaotic.

As long as they are wearing uniforms and have identification, the security agents will not question them too much. After all, they are all from New Gold City and other places, so it is normal that they do not know each other.

This is actually a very rare opportunity to learn from each other, get to know each other, and build connections.

Two agents who looked just like real agents swaggered into the FBI precinct.

They soon arrived at the floor where Bob was being held and saw Bob imprisoned in a room with a window in the door.

However, there was an agent guarding the door, so it seemed that without Chief Roland's permission, it was impossible to get in.

Undeterred, one of them went to look for other opportunities to enter the room, while the other headed towards the tea room.

There were quite a few people in the tea room. Out of ten people, only one or two knew each other, while the rest were strangers. This made them behave very politely and courteously.

The tall, disguised agent also followed the rules and started queuing in front of the coffee machine, carrying a tray and two cups.

While everyone was chatting in line, he was also chatting with others, saying where he was from and what his name was. It was just simple mutual understanding, making it difficult to reveal any flaws.

After waiting a few minutes, the tall, disguised agent arrived. He ordered two cups of coffee and two sandwiches.

"You haven't had breakfast yet?" the staff member responsible for providing food and coffee asked curiously, as it was almost noon.

He understands that people need coffee; there's been a lot going on these past few days, and everyone's work is quite demanding, so a cup of coffee is necessary to perk them up.

But isn't it a bit too late to eat a sandwich at this time?

"Or is this your lunch?"

"Do you need me to give you two more cans of luncheon meat?"

The Union produced a large quantity of canned goods during the war, and many factories still had stockpiles after the war. However, given that these factories had signed contracts with Congress, these canned goods were distributed as federal government welfare.

In short, it's better to give it to someone who doesn't need it than to cancel this part of the order.

How can you eat something and then spit it out?
The tall, disguised agent smiled and declined, "Have something to eat first, then we'll go out for lunch. Anyway... thank you."

He took the coffee to the fire escape, and when no one was around, he put some powder into two cups of coffee and stirred them.

These compound poisons have no pungent smell or color, and are completely undetectable when dissolved in coffee.

Lance's original plan was to find an opportunity for the bearded director to kill Bob, but now that he has been captured by the FBI, the bearded director has virtually no chance of taking action himself.

He chatted briefly with the bearded chief. The chief wasn't so fixated on taking revenge himself anymore; after all, he had gained so much and had started a new life. Lance heard that he had been hanging out with some very young girls these past few days. Girls around eighteen, nineteen, or twenty years old had become frequent visitors to his place, perhaps trying to vent his grief over losing his family. People were quite understanding of this.

Since the bearded chief wasn't insisting on taking matters into his own hands, Lance decided to kill Bob to make the rumor even harder to end.

Bob kept quiet, and with no way to prove anything, only Director Roland knew what he and Director Roland had said.

This is like having a pile of shit in your pants. No matter if you say it's shit or just peanut butter, no one will believe you because people only believe what they see. So, it's fucking shit.

Once the rumors start to spread, people will no longer believe Director Roland, and he has no way to prove his innocence, because any attempt to prove it will be questioned.

This is a dead end.

Now that they've taken action, and Senator Cleveland has also decided to do so, Lance certainly wants to make the whole plan look perfect.

A tall, disguised agent carrying poisoned coffee and food arrived outside Bob's cell. "They said they'd be coming to interrogate Bob later, and asked me to bring in some food and drinks first. This might take a long time."

The guard glanced at the tall, disguised detective, then at the coffee and food.

He reached out and touched it; the coffee was hot, almost scalding. He then checked the food and sandwiches, finding nothing amiss. His expression softened considerably. "The coffee here is quite good. I must say, they've put their money where they can get it right!"

He smiled slightly. "You can take the things in, but don't talk to that guy, not a single word. I'll be watching you, so don't make things difficult for me!"

The tall, disguised agent had excellent composure; he smiled and nodded, "I know the rules!"

"Good to know!" The guard stepped aside, revealing the door lock behind him. He then took out the key, opened the door, and stood in the doorway.

The tall, disguised agent carried the tray inside without saying a word and placed it on the table.

Bob didn't sleep well at all that night either. Fear and anxiety made him wake up after only a short time. No one had been in contact with him without Director Roland's orders, let alone given him breakfast.

It is very uncomfortable for a person with stable lifestyle habits to suddenly have a bad night's sleep, wake up early, and not have breakfast.

Upon seeing the coffee and food, his expression changed.

After all, he wanted to live, and for that he was willing to cooperate with the FBI, to cooperate with anyone, and to say what interested them.

The tall, disguised agent simply put down the tray and left, without making any unnecessary movements.

The guard at the gate said after he left, "They'll come back and continue chatting with you. If I were you, I'd fill my stomach first!"

With that, he turned and closed the door, waiting for Director Roland to arrive.

The agent who delivered the food had disappeared.

In the room, Bob ate his sandwich in big bites. His strong will to survive overcame everything else in his mind. He choked a little while eating, so he picked up his coffee and drank it in big gulps.

The feeling of the food and water gradually filling his stomach gave him a sense of security called "being full," but then he began to feel a little uncomfortable.

My throat felt like it was being gripped by an invisible hand, completely locked up.

I couldn't breathe properly; I could only manage to inhale a tiny bit of air into my lungs with great effort.

He tried to stand up and call for help, but at that moment he didn't know whether he was poisoned or something else had happened. In such a short time, he had no strength left in his body.

He slumped onto the table, trying to do something, but he couldn't do anything, and gradually lost consciousness.

From the moment he finished drinking the coffee to falling into a coma and then dying, the whole process took only three or four minutes.

The guard outside glanced inside again after a while. He saw Bob slumped over the table, but didn't pay any more attention and turned back to chat with his colleagues.

He didn't think it was abnormal to eat, drink, and sleep for a while after a good meal.

Meanwhile, Director Roland had already contacted Mr. Potter. Mr. Potter wiped his hands as he returned to his desk, looking at the receiver on the desk with some surprise at his staff.

"It's Roland on the phone."

Mr. Potter sat back down in his chair, straightened his trousers, and only felt relieved after glancing around the zipper to make sure there was no lipstick stain.

He picked up the phone. "This is Potter. What happened?"

"Thank goodness, Mr. Potter, you finally answered the phone!"

Hearing Director Roland's slightly anxious voice, Mr. Potter felt something was amiss. "Has something bad happened?"

“You could say that!” Director Roland said without any concealment, recounting what had happened yesterday and what he had just learned.

After listening to his full account of the whole incident, Mr. Potter thought for a moment and then said, "I believe what you are saying is true. This may be some kind of conspiracy by our enemies to make us distrust each other."

“Roland, I trust you, but these rumors are really troublesome. I have a suggestion.”

Director Roland naturally wouldn't object to his suggestion. "Go ahead," he said.

"Put Bob in a car under the supervision of several people and bring him to New Gold City. We'll arrange for people to interrogate and guard him, and involve some... people who might be involved in the rumors, to make sure they understand exactly what the rumors are false and what their purpose is."

In reality, this still reflects a degree of distrust, but it's phrased in a very pleasant way. After all, they are politicians, and they can always make something that isn't exactly respectable sound noble.

At this moment, Director Roland had no time to analyze whether these demands had any deeper meaning. Yesterday, he valued having Bob under his control, and now he desperately wanted to get this hot potato away from him.

"I'll arrange it right away!"

This was something he had to face. His face was somewhat gloomy because the rumors weren't all false. He had indeed managed to extract a lot of crucial information, such as the Perez family's connections with those big shots and how much profit needed to be transferred out each year to maintain these relationships.

How it was transferred, through what means, and through whose account it went, he has already obtained a portion of what he wanted.

If Bob talks nonsense during the confrontation, he might be in a very passive position, so before that, he must talk to Bob and tell him not to fucking talk nonsense.

This matter was so important that he didn't have time to deal with other work. He hung up the phone and headed straight for the interrogation room.

When he arrived at the interrogation room door, he glanced at the guard and said, "Open the door."

Before the guard opened the door, he saw Bob lying on the table in the room, "sleeping," with a tray in front of him containing two cups and a sandwich.

"You sent him the food?" Director Roland's tone was clearly displeased. His orders were that no one was allowed to contact Bob without his knowledge, and it was obvious that someone had gone in without his knowledge, which was why the food and cups were inside.

The guard opening the door paused for a moment, "Someone just said it was you who sent over some food and coffee, saying you wanted to continue interrogating Bob..."

Director Roland's expression changed drastically. He pushed aside the guard, quickly opened the door, rushed to Bob's side, grabbed his hair, and made him lift his head.

However, what he saw was a rosy-cheeked Bob with his eyes closed and a little white foam at the corner of his mouth, who looked perfectly normal.

The moment his finger touched Bob's carotid artery, he immediately turned to the guard and shouted, "Everyone stay where you are! No one is to leave!"

"Then, you fucking go and find the guy who delivered the food!"

"immediately!"

(End of this chapter)