Chapter 655

"In the past decade, no such horrific incident has ever occurred; nations in South America must deeply reflect on their failures and negligence in regional public security and public safety, and the chaos in maritime trade across the Americas is closely related to repeated U. S. Congressional interference in the internal affairs of other South American countries…" — Soviet News Agency.

"The devil of hell has returned to earth; Mexican drug traffickers have lost all reason; the Mexican government's inaction and the current president's incompetent rule are the fundamental causes of this tragedy. The U. S. Congress and the public express deep regret; the president has ordered the Pacific Fleet to expand its patrol range and increase patrol frequency to ensure the safety of every American citizen within territorial waters…" — Los Angeles Times.

"Breaking news! Breaking news! A village massacre has occurred in Sinaloa State, Mexico! The Guadalajara drug cartel has claimed responsibility!" The newsboy shouted those difficult Spanish words as he ran down the street, when suddenly a man blocked him and said, "Give me a paper."

The newsboy took the money from his hand and handed him a newspaper; as the man unfolded it, another female officer in uniform approached, her expression somber, and asked, "Has the death toll risen to 135? It's probably more than just one village that was attacked, isn't it?"

"That's right. Latest reports indicate all villagers from three villages have been slaughtered; the killer wielded heavy firepower, and the villagers had no means to resist… Alright, Officer Kroyin, let's get back to our investigation."

Lucifer closed the newspaper, folded it, and casually slipped it into his pocket, then turned to Kroyin and said, "Follow the paparazzo who claimed his lover is an actor named Gray. Do you know this Gray? What roles has he played?"

Kroyin crossed his arms and shook his head. "He's probably not a famous actor; otherwise, the paparazzo would've exposed them."

"Then let's go find this Gray. He might know who killed Delila."

Kroyin nodded, agreeing with Lucifer's idea. Just as they were getting into the police car to leave, Kroyin's communicator buzzed. He answered: "Hello? Dan? Linda's looking for me? … Oh, yes? What's up? She says she has something to tell us? Alright, we're on our way."

Kroyin hung up and said to Lucifer, who was sitting in the back seat: "We're going to see the psychologist Linda first. She called the station saying she has something to tell us."

"She's not going to tell us Delila's lover's name now, is she? But what good is that? We already figured it out ourselves," Lucifer said, annoyed.

"Don't be like that. Linda is a respected psychologist. If I were seeing a therapist, I wouldn't want mine broadcasting my private details to the whole world," Kroyin said, starting the car and heading toward Delila's psychological clinic.

On their second visit to this clinic, they were familiar with the routine. Linda, dressed in her doctor's uniform, poured water for both of them. After they settled on the sofa, Linda hesitated and asked, "Have you seen today's morning news?"

"What news?" Lucifer asked in return.

"Three villages in Mexico were massacred. Many died. The perpetrators were drug traffickers…" Linda spoke haltingly, as if deeply saddened.

Kroyin nodded, her face also grim. "It's a tragic development. Those criminals are too cruel."

"Why did you come here? What do you want to say?" Lucifer asked impatiently. He had no fondness for this psychologist; when he'd come before for information, she'd refused to give any leads, exhausting his patience.

Linda sat upright on the sofa, legs together, arms resting on her knees, rubbing her palms continuously. After a long pause, she spoke: "Delila is dead, but her death may not be as simple as it seems."

"You don't need to tell us that," Lucifer snapped. Kroyin nudged his arm; Lucifer took a deep breath and fell silent.

"I know you suspect her ex-husband or lover killed her, but the truth is likely more complicated," Linda said, adjusting her glasses.

"You have additional clues, don't you, Doctor? Please tell us," Kroyin leaned forward, locking eyes with Linda.

The Great Protector of the Iron Fortress

Linda sighed, picked up her water cup, and took a sip. "When Delila came to me for counseling, I noticed signs of anxiety. In exploring the cause, I found she was terrified."

"I provided psychological guidance, but her condition showed no significant improvement. As therapy progressed, she began revealing deeper emotions, and I discovered she had developed a drug addiction — recently."

"So what? In the southern neighborhoods of Los Angeles, everyone you meet is addicted. Those junkies are proud of it. But my bar doesn't welcome them," Lucifer said.

"I mean, she didn't choose to become addicted. It might have been accidental — or forced upon her," Linda took another sip.

"You're saying someone deliberately got Delila addicted? But why?"

"Maybe to sell drugs," Linda shook her head. "Delila didn't tell me the details. I deduced this from her emotions. Unlike other junkies who give up, she suffered terribly over it."

"And most importantly…" Linda paused. "During hypnosis, I found someone may have forced her to traffic drugs."

Lucifer and Kroyin both frowned. In their view, someone choosing to use drugs was their own business — but forcing someone to traffic them was another matter entirely.

"You mean someone deliberately got Delila addicted so she'd be forced to sell drugs?" Kroyin asked.

Linda nodded. "What follows is only my speculation — I have no concrete evidence. Please just listen."

"When Delila first came to me, she suffered from tension-induced anxiety, primarily due to a change in her living environment and inability to adapt to a new social circle. Given her circumstances, it likely stemmed from sudden fame after entering the entertainment industry and the overwhelming pressure she faced."

"Later, her personal life began to unravel. Her ex-husband abused her. She had a lover, but both relationships ended badly."

"During those periods, her emotions were relatively normal. But later, her panic exceeded normal limits. From what I've learned, someone forced her to promote and sell drugs within certain circles."

Lucifer and Kroyin exchanged glances. Lucifer asked, "Certain circles? You mean singers, songwriters, musicians? But those circles are full of junkies already — why would they need Delila to promote?"

"No," Kroyin spoke up. "You haven't dealt with these people, so you don't know. Their supply channels differ. Sources vary. Many supply lines compete fiercely."

"So a drug cartel, locked in vicious competition, forced Delila to steal customers from singers and musicians?"

Lucifer thought, then suddenly realized. "When Delila came to me, she hesitated several times — like she wanted to ask something but never spoke up. Could she have been trying to pitch me that stuff?"

"Very likely. You run a bar — bars are always flooded with junkies. If you'd agreed, their sales would've skyrocketed," Kroyin said.

"I never allow those troublemakers into my bar. Once they're high, they don't care what they break — they cause chaos. I'd never let that stuff be sold in my place," Lucifer said, scowling.

"It makes sense, doesn't it?" Linda continued. "Delila became famous overnight because of one album. She had no foundation. To survive in this industry, she needed protection."

"Drug cartels likely exploited this need — forcing her to use drugs and then forcing her to sell them, to steal customers for them."

Kroyin sighed deeply, clearly saddened by Delila's fate. But then she added, "Could these people have killed her?"

"No. If they needed Delila to steal customers, they wouldn't kill her so soon. She's at her peak; her new album is in production. If it succeeds, she'll rise further. These drug lords aren't that short-sighted — they wouldn't rush to silence her," Lucifer deduced.

Suddenly, all three fell silent. Lucifer and Kroyin spoke in unison: "Rivals!"

"If one cartel forced Delila to steal customers, their rivals wouldn't stand idly by. The simplest solution? Kill her…"

Kroyin stood up immediately. "We've focused too much on Delila and ignored the killer's background. He said he was hired — but the employer wasn't necessarily a stranger. It could've been his superior — another cartel…"

"I'm going back to the station. I'll ask the narcotics unit to find out which drug organization the killer belonged to."

Saying this, Kroyin hurried out. Lucifer followed her. They arrived at the station, reported the details, and Kroyin successfully retrieved the records.

Thanks to the horrific 1984 case, cities along the West Coast had achieved remarkable results in drug enforcement; nearly all drug organizations in the city were documented. After that major purge, only a few remained. The killer belonged to a cartel operating in northern Los Angeles.

The most likely perpetrator was "Black Wave," the dominant drug syndicate in Los Angeles, which long monopolized most of the city's drug trade. It had violently clashed with other gangs to seize customers and had a long history of brutality — highly likely to kill to maintain its customer monopoly.

Kroyin stood in the office, pointing at the data. "Within the U. S., only certain areas of southern California have conditions for producing drug raw materials. Thus, most drugs are imported."

"Before 1985, most drugs came from Colombia via Mexico. Back then, Black Wave's supply came from Colombia."

"But the 1984 purge cut off most supply routes. They began collaborating with local Mexican drug manufacturers. Customs records show most of their supply now comes from a city in southern Mexico…"

Lucifer looked at the document and softly read out the difficult name: "Guadalajara."