Chapter 424

"Mayor White was shot; the assassin fired at his head and threw him down from above the atrium."

In the banquet hall, everyone was herded by agents to the walls and lined up, while Benjamin stood in the center of the hall, reporting Mayor White's cause of death in a slightly cold tone.

He stated many obvious facts, so everyone's faces showed impatience—but an even worse piece of news was still waiting for them.

"I've just received orders from above: to prevent another large-scale spy assassination like the last one, I must ensure the safety of all key figures along the East Coast."

"From now on, no one is allowed to leave the mayor's residence; agents will soon assign you to different guest rooms for rest..."

The crowd erupted in uproar, but just as they were about to loudly condemn Benjamin for his audacity, his next words doused them like a bucket of ice water.

"I imagine everyone has heard the recent uproar over the Philby corpse case. You may think those commentators who claim a larger conspiracy behind it are just rambling—but I can tell you, they're not."

"Kim Philby, a Soviet spy embedded within British MI6 and holding a high-ranking position, left behind a list of key Soviet operatives embedded in Euro-American intelligence networks before his death. We call it the 'Philby List.'"

"According to reliable sources, Philby handed this list to a mysterious agent with whom he maintained a single, isolated line of contact. After years of investigation, various clues have all pointed toward the East Coast of the United States."

The heated discussion in the room gradually fell silent. Everyone knew that at this moment, anyone could become a target once this issue was involved—no matter how much wealth, status, or prestige they possessed.

Benjamin's gaze swept across the room; his stare carried immense pressure, and no one dared meet his eyes. He continued:

"In recent years, the frequent spy murders across major East Coast cities were no coincidence. Federal authorities have confirmed the existence of a mysterious spy network here—and the person who organized and built this network is very likely the same mysterious agent who obtained the Philby List back then."

"Here, I must regretfully inform you..." Benjamin's voice grew colder, his tone sinking lower, like reading a death notice: "After years of investigation, that mysterious agent is very likely holding a high-ranking position—meaning he is very likely one of you."

"I'm sorry, everyone, but I must say: you are all suspects. Therefore, you must stay and cooperate with the investigation."

"So you're just going to lock us up and interrogate us?" Bruce crossed his arms coldly. "Do you have any idea I have two parties to attend tomorrow night, and I'm supposed to watch a game the day after?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Wayne, but this is a direct order from above. I cannot disobey." Benjamin spoke to Bruce with relative politeness—or rather, he harbored caution toward true behemoths like the Luthor Group and Wayne Group.

Even though he knew deep down that Bruce Wayne was unlikely to be a spy—compared to the idea of the Wayne heir being a spy, the notion that the President himself was a spy would seem more plausible.

Bruce appeared furious, and his attitude stirred restlessness in others. They all knew that neither the CIA nor the FBI had any real leverage over the Wayne Group—if Bruce stood up and resisted, perhaps they wouldn't be locked up here at all.

At that moment, Lionel stepped forward, still wearing his smile, and said: "Everyone, calm down. Mayor White has just been killed—we don't even know if a spy was behind it..."

"We're all gathered here, with agents present. A spy wouldn't dare commit another murder so soon. But if everyone disperses, taking their own vehicles home, who knows if the killer won't target someone alone?"

"Everyone here has achieved your current status and reputation through great effort. If careless actions cause all of it to vanish, it won't just be a tragedy for you—it will be a loss for the East Coast cities and the entire Federation."

Lionel strode to the center of the hall, then turned to Benjamin and said: "I assume this agent in charge will guarantee us that our privacy won't be violated, and that you'll do your utmost to protect our safety, correct?"

Benjamin crossed his arms. "I've already said this isn't forced interrogation—it's merely a temporary lockdown during an emergency. The mayor's residence has ample supplies. Once we've confirmed all external investigation results after tonight, you'll be free to leave."

Hearing it was only for one night, many softened their stance. Lionel then asked Benjamin again: "We won't be locked in our rooms, right? As long as we don't leave the mayor's residence, we're free to go anywhere, correct?"

Benjamin didn't answer, only nodded, then grumbled: "You'd better not wander around. If there really is a spy among you, and he targets someone alone, we can't guard every single one of you."

"You mean that spy will still attack us???"

"Then what are we supposed to do?? If he bursts into my room and shoots me, how am I supposed to escape??"

"Aren't you the FBI? I pay so much in taxes every year—why aren't you responsible for protecting our safety?!"

Bruce interrupted their questions and complaints. He waved his hand impatiently, turned, and headed for the stairs. "Waiter, bring me some wine. A night without alcohol is utterly miserable..."

After speaking, he wrapped his arm around Selina's waist and walked upstairs; Selina smiled and leaned her face close to his, as if teasing him.

Everyone around him was already used to his absurd behavior and remarks. Everyone knew young Wayne was a reckless playboy.

Xiaoshuting

Besides, Bruce is only nineteen. You can't expect a nineteen-year-old kid to be paranoid and cautious. Those restless people, seeing Bruce's "live for today" attitude, sighed inwardly—both envious and jealous.

After Bruce left, many others followed him upstairs. These people mostly had no powerful backing; they knew they couldn't resist the agents, so they resigned themselves to going upstairs and sleeping.

When most people had gone upstairs, Xie Dun also ascended with the crowd. A female agent guided him. On the way to his room, she kept trying to strike up conversation.

"I assume you've assigned each person a separate agent to cozy up and extract information. What do you want to ask?" Xie Dun said bluntly to the female agent.

"You can call me Kela. You don't seem to dislike agents much. Have you ever worked with us before?"

"Of course. Several cases I've been involved in included FBI agents in the investigation. I've collaborated with them before."

The woman named Kela's expression seemed slightly uneasy. She said: "Yes, sometimes we handle difficult homicide cases."

"Honestly, your colleagues are far less thorough when investigating. They don't circle the corpse—they just hold a clipboard and ask random questions. They're only useful when applying for search warrants or conducting forced searches."

Kela pursed her lips. "That's dictated by our operational nature."

"But that doesn't hide the fact that your investigative skills are terrible—low efficiency, excessive bureaucracy, and some of you even have bad habits, wasting time..."

Kela gave half-hearted responses. She listened as Xie Dun ranted all the way about FBI agents, yet never found a chance to interject.

When opening the guest room door, Xie Dun stepped inside—but didn't close it. He turned to Kela and said: "Miss Kela, it's clear you haven't been with the CIA long..."

"I... what? I'm with the FBI!"

"Really? If you were truly an FBI agent, when I said 'your investigative skills are shit,' you'd have already pulled your gun and pointed it at my head."

Kela glared at Xie Dun. Xie Dun smiled. "You've never experienced the advantage of having law enforcement authority within U. S. territory—you haven't learned their arrogance."

"Regardless, thank you for escorting me here. If you have any questions or problems, feel free to come find me. But for now—good night."

The door slammed shut with a bang. Kela stared at the door for a long moment. Just as she turned to leave, the door creaked open again. She turned back to see Xie Dun sticking a note on the door: "Do Not Disturb."

"I was just being polite. Don't misunderstand," Xie Dun said, then closed the door again.

On the other side, in Bruce's room, the two who had just been laughing and chatting paused for an instant after entering, then began searching the room with perfect coordination.

"The sheets are high quality—enough to reach down to the first floor," Selina said, pulling the sheets from under the pillows and bedding.

Bruce took a razor from the ensuite bathroom. "I can dismantle a part to pick the lock. After all, breaking out the main door would be too obvious."

He walked to the window and looked down. "They've placed the more dangerous individuals on higher floors—including Professor Xie Dun. Perhaps they think we're not a threat, so they only put us on the fourth floor..."

Selina twisted the sheets into a rope. "We need to retrieve our gear. But when you come back, don't wear the suit—it'll be too obvious."

"I know that. I don't plan to turn this place into an arena. On the contrary, I want to see what they're really after." Bruce narrowed his eyes, watching the agents patrolling the courtyard.

After a while, Selina finished and joined him on the balcony. She glanced around the patrol routes, frowning. "What agency are these agents from? I feel they're worse than Gotham's gangs."

"Look—there's a blind spot by the flowerbed. If I climb the pine tree and jump down, they won't notice a thing."

"And there—those two turn too close together. I could just sprint right past them..."

Selina frowned in disgust. "Even the minor gang bosses in the East Side wouldn't set up patrol routes this full of holes. Otherwise, I'd have robbed their estates clean long ago."

Bruce sighed helplessly. He was about to speak when Selina turned back. "Plan changed. They're too amateur. You don't need to go out—I'll get your gear for you."

Bruce opened his mouth. He'd never before heard someone say they'd handle everything for him in an operation. Selina waved her hand carelessly. Bruce paused, then said: "Alright, the helicopter key is..."

Selina turned back, smiled sweetly at Bruce, flicked her right hand, and a key with a ring appeared between her fingertips. She said:

"It's right here... along with your heart."