Chapter 4500: Blackest Night (36)

The snow is changing under the red and blue lights, and the police car is like a meteor under the moonlight, leaving a long trace in the snow, slowly stopping beside a black car. Two police officers got out of the car and came to the side of the black car. The car window was rolled down, and Schiller turned to look at them.

"Commissioner Gordon said your car broke down, so he asked us to pick you up."

Schiller opened the car door and got out. He got into the police car and said: "Send me to Moson Street."

"What?"

Twenty minutes later, the dark block was lit up by police lights. The man in the black suit got out of the car, opened his umbrella, and walked into a crime scene that had been cordoned off. The surveillance camera at the street corner lit up for a moment, and then went out.

The traces of Jerita's death still lingered in this room, like a ghost that refused to leave. Bloodstains on the sofa, footprints at the door, fingerprints on the glass cup. He was indeed here to help himself, Schiller thought, he found the key.

The phone suddenly received a message, the sender's name was "Moriarty". Brainiac hadn't taken any action yet, Schiller said, "No need to track, it was sent by someone he manipulated."

"I'm waiting for you on the cliff." Only this short sentence.

Schiller left the house, got back into the police car, and said: "Send me to the Cliff Restaurant."

In less than half an hour, the sea, which looked even more gloomy in the night, appeared outside the railing of the pedestrian walkway that quickly swept backward. There was no one on the beach. The canopy, lounge chairs, and bar counter only had blurred outlines.

Schiller got out of the car and walked into the Cliff Restaurant from the east entrance. The restaurant was quiet, and one could hear a pin

"Nice to see you, Professor," a childish voice rang out. "The game has begun; let's cheer together."

*Zzzzt—*

"Shiler, I found... *Zzzzt— Zzzzt—*"

The world fell into silence once more. The image on the screen changed, finally settling on a painting with a religious theme.

Shiler tapped the ground lightly with his umbrella, so softly there was almost no sound. With a "bang," the door leading to the dining room reception area opened. Inside, it remained pitch black, like an abyss waiting to devour someone.

Shiler stared fixedly behind the door until a sound came from within. He lifted his foot and walked in; there was still no light, but a strangely shaped machine sat on the table.

Shiler walked up to the machine. Suddenly, a bright light flashed outside the window, flickering on and off with great regularity, as if someone were transmitting a signal. The range of the light spread further and further; even the lighthouse on the island across the sea began to flicker incessantly.

"Quiet, Mrs. Brainiac, don't disturb my thinking," Shiler said softly. But clearly, no one could hear him.

The next second, Shiler reached out and touched the machine.

When he regained his senses, he found himself standing on the roof of a building. The cold wind howled, the night was deep, and the searchlights of helicopters were so blinding he couldn't open his eyes. The moment all the lights focused on him, countless gun barrels, like black holes, aimed at him.

"Don't move! Drop your weapon! Put your hands up!"

"Shiler Rodriguez, you poisoned the Mo Sen district; there are over 50 victims. We are arresting you immediately. Please do not make any futile resistance, otherwise we have the right to shoot you..."

Shiler didn't look at them, only lifted his head to look at the sky. The thick, dark clouds were impenetrable, and the heart of the city was silent, just like that night many years ago.

Shiler took a step back and stood on the edge of the building. Under the interplay of police lights and searchlights, he turned his head to look at the ground thirty stories below. Police cars had already blocked the place completely.

"What are you doing?!" a policeman shouted at him. "Don't think about committing suicide to escape punishment! Get down from there right now!"

Shiler turned his head back, seemingly having seriously considered this sentence, and looking at him, said: "Handcuffs."

The policeman crouched slightly, raised his gun, and slowly approached him: "Put the umbrella down!"

Shiler threw away the umbrella in his hand. The policeman walked over, put handcuffs on him, and then led him into the helicopter.

"What crime did I commit?" Shiler asked.

No one answered him. Everyone was silent. They went all the way back to the police station, and Shiler was taken to the interrogation room. A familiar face appeared before him.

"I am James Gordon, you can call me Commissioner Gordon," he said. "What is your take on the Mo Sen district poisoning case? Sir?"

"You think I did it," Shiler used an affirmative tone.

"We found the chemicals you used at your residence, exactly the same as those detected on the corpses. There is more than one eyewitness who claims to have seen you at the crime scene. Students have also reported that you were manufacturing drugs in the laboratory, and we indeed found the same chemicals in the lab you used. We will charge you with terrorism, first-degree murder, and other crimes..."

"Only you would do this," Shiler said.

"What?" Gordon narrowed his eyes.

"I won't be going to court."

"That's not up to you."

"It's not up to you either," Shiler said, looking at Gordon. "Your evidence collection is very thorough, but the informant in the police station will deliver these things to their master overnight. I won't be staying here for long."

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"Only you care about the dozens of people who were killed," Shiler said. "The rest can only glimpse the powerful strength they have long yearned for through death."

With a "bang," the door to the interrogation room opened, and Shiler's handcuffs were unlocked. A grim-faced detective looked at him and said: "You'd better not try any tricks, Mr. Rodriguez. It's impossible for you to go back to teach at Cat Getan University. If you can't show your value, you know the consequences."

Shiler said nothing. Those gray eyes, in the dim light of the police station corridor, were like snow falling on coal ash.

In the brightly lit, magnificent mansion reception room, a tall man sat on the sofa with his legs crossed. Seeing Shiler walk in, those sinister eyes sized him up and down, then said: "Long heard of your name, Professor Rodriguez."

"Kill Carmine Falcone," Shiler said, "otherwise, he will kill you."

The glow of the cigar flared brightly, and those scarred hands pressed the cigar forcefully into the tabletop. His eyes stared fixedly at Shiler: "What did you say?"

"Or let me go see Falcone," Shiler continued, "this is the only way to save you from death."

"Rodriguez..."

"Do you know Hugo Strange?" Shiler suddenly changed the subject.

"You mean that professor who is currently in the limelight?"

"So that's how it is," Shiler said. "Your lover is having an affair with your subordinate. Next week they will forge evidence of your betrayal of the Godfather, and then leave from Pier 7 controlled by the Lawrence family."

"How do you know?" The man narrowed his eyes.

"Those 50 people wouldn't just stand there and let me kill them," Shiler said, looking away. "You brought me here, aren't you expecting me to have such talent?"

"You only just produced some chemicals. I want the formula. Or was that just your smoke screen?"

"The effect isn't that good."

"How many people can it kill?"

"Perhaps twenty thousand."

"What?!"

"Those 50 people weren't killed with chemicals. Once the thing I made is deployed on a large scale, it's enough to destroy half the city. So I advise you to kill Falcone first, so he won't be able to stop you from destroying Cat Getan."

"Bullshit destroying Cat Getan. I have a business to run, damn it." He stood up and walked in front of Shiler, his fierce nature exposed: "What kind of tricks are you playing?"

"You know better than I do. In Cat Getan, killing silently is more important than killing more people. Forget about the chemicals."

"Is what you said about my lover true?"

"No. It's just that you can tie them up, bring them to the Godfather, and bring me along while you're at it."

The man's pupils contracted sharply. Shiler looked into his eyes without flinching and said: "Solving the lover who won't let you go, the subordinate you're dissatisfied with, the Godfather's accountability, and me, all at once. It's a good deal, isn't it?"

Walking into the classically decorated room again, Shiler lifted his eyes slightly to look at the carvings on the ceiling panels, then his gaze fell back, meeting the Godfather's eyes directly.

"Rodriguez?"

Shiler didn't answer, just stood there, even looking a bit distracted. Then, as if he had suddenly come to his senses, he looked at the Godfather and said: "Hand me over to the FBI, you'll at least have three years of peace."

The Godfather's hand paused. He wasn't angry, nor did he question him, just said: "Do you think they will let you go?"

Shiler shook his head: "I'm just letting you go."

"People often say that I am different from everyone they have met. For most people, that's just because their experience is shallow and they have seen too few people. But you are different, Carmine Falcone, trust that intuition of yours that is currently calling the police. I am not a knife used to cut butter."

The Godfather stared at him silently for a long time, then said: "Three years is too short."

"It is indeed too short. The person you want to wait for, Hugo Strange, will never give it to you," Shiler shook his head gently and said, "but I have to leave, because if I stay here, you won't even be able to maintain three years."

Shiler stood in front of the FBI car, the wind blowing his coat hem, making it flap. He looked back at the Godfather standing by the window, then got into the car and left this dark city.

Interrogation rooms, offices, crime scenes, the Capitol, the White House, airports, and finally the Pacific Ocean.

When Shiler regained his senses, he was standing in the dining room again. He looked up at the empty window and said softly: "How does it feel to be sentenced to 231 years?"

With a "bang," another door opened. Shiler turned back and saw the door to the opposite booth standing open, pitch black inside.

He walked in again. A machine was also placed on the table. He stared at it for a while, then reached out and touched it again.

With a "clatter," the sound of shackles hitting the ground, not very crisp, came through. Shiler looked at the prison uniform on his body, then looked at the prison guard walking in front of him.

"How long was I sentenced for?" he asked.

"231 years, sir. Sir, even in Blackgate Penitentiary, that's one of the highest," the prison guard said without looking back.

"Then how many years would one get for smuggling contraband into the prison?"

The prison guard stopped, turned back to look at Shiler: "Are you threatening me?"

"You want to reach out with your fist right now, show me who's boss here, and let me know that no news gets out. But I'm not trying to report you. The warden is too greedy, the suppliers are too difficult to deal with, and the buyers don't show any sympathy for your hard work. If I could help you get rid of one of them, who would you choose?"

The prison guard narrowed his eyes.

"You can get rid of them?"

"How long was I sentenced for?"

With a "squelch," a toothbrush was plunged straight into a throat. The fat figure in the suit slowly fell down, and it was his own hands that were holding the murder weapon. The tall prison guard stood stiffly to the side.

"How many years will this add to my sentence?" Shiler asked.

The prison guard opened his mouth and said slowly: "Someone will come to bail you out of prison tomorrow, sir."