Chapter 659

"Communists?" Lila and Kela exchanged a glance, both seeing confusion in each other's eyes—after all, they themselves were the real communists; how had they never heard that the Quinn heir was one of them?

"What exactly is going on? Explain clearly!" Kela's tone grew cold, showing intense interest in the matter. William sighed deeply and said:

"I don't know the details, but I heard it was something about Marxism… Apparently, young Quinn's college classmate said he'd read books on this, and seemed to support the theory—could it be that country over there?"

William looked uneducated; he struggled even to pronounce proper nouns, so it probably wasn't fabricated—but Kela and Lila both narrowed their eyes. The Quinn heir was a Marxist? Kela's mind stirred with other thoughts.

"Are you sure?" Kela asked again, applying pressure. "This isn't trivial—if the Quinn heir has been corrupted, then someone close to him is definitely tainted. Who do you suspect?"

"I really don't know!" William nearly cried. "I don't understand any of that ideology—I made my fortune in shipping, never read a book. I'm not a suspect…"

Kela pressed him several more times, but William couldn't produce anything concrete. He'd only heard rumors, with no specifics, let alone context or cause.

After warning William to keep his mouth shut, the two left Quinn Group's building. In the car, Kela said: "I lean toward believing him. What about you?"

"Which part?" Lila asked.

"The list seems solid. I mean the part about the Quinn heir—do you think Oliver Quinn could be recruited?"

"Kela, I know that if we could turn the Quinn heir to our side, operations in Haibincheng and across the entire West Coast would proceed far more smoothly—but you must understand, this carries enormous risk…"

Lila was clearly more mature. He'd once been a top leader of the Black Panthers, survived multiple assassination attempts, and even kept his job at the Drug Enforcement Bureau after the Panthers were forcibly disbanded. He enjoyed high prestige among all Black people on the West Coast, a result of his cautious, steady nature.

"But it's worth a try!" Kela slapped the steering wheel. "You know our influence has waned drastically—otherwise we wouldn't have failed on the Philby list."

"The new congress convenes on May 25—ten days from now. Before then, I want progress."

Kela's tone was clearly anxious. Though she'd risen swiftly through the CIA without obstruction to her current position, she'd achieved nothing since taking it—and she desperately needed results.

"Of course, I understand you, Kela, but—"

"First, let's go to Old Tot. If it's true, then to protect Oliver, everyone who knows must disappear."

With Kela's firm tone, the car vanished into the horizon.

At the Los Angeles Police Department, Cloyn grabbed the archives key and hurried down the corridor, Lucifer following behind. As she walked, she said: "Black Wave is essentially LA PD's greatest enemy—they're large, organized, and armed with heavy firepower. We must capture one person, extract intel, before we strike."

"I'll go," Lucifer volunteered. But Cloyn frowned. "Don't be ridiculous. You're just a civilian. This is police work."

Half an hour later, watching the drug dealer pinned to the ground by Lucifer, Cloyn holstered her pistol, stepped forward, and stared in shock at Lucifer: "What did you do to him???"

The dealer was paralyzed with terror—he'd seen Lucifer's demonic visage and believed he'd sinned so grievously he'd already descended into hell. Before Lucifer even asked, he confessed every crime himself.

This low-level dealer had no willpower—he was just a thug with a side job—but he also had no valuable intel. After hours of questioning, they learned nothing.

Cloyn wasn't angry. In her career, this happened too often—every field operation yielded either ignorant suspects or stone-cold liars. She was used to it.

But Lucifer, new to investigations, had no such patience. He knocked the dealer unconscious and said: "Let's go straight to the gang's headquarters."

"Hey, wait! You can't be so reckless—they've got—"

Another half-hour later, Cloyn stared at the wreckage around her, swallowed hard, and looked at Lucifer standing in the center of the room—he now gripped the Black Wave boss's throat.

In a moment of dizziness, Cloyn saw two demonic horns atop Lucifer's head. She blinked—and they vanished. She thought she must be exhausted, hallucinating.

When the Black Wave boss was thrown to the floor, he too panicked, babbling out his confession.

"Yes, we did it. That bastard Claude stole three of my clients through that bitch Delilah—over a dozen customers. I had to kill her, or Black Wave couldn't survive!"

"Delilah's been working for your rival for a while, right? Why only now did you kill her?" Cloyn sensed something off.

According to psychologist Linda, Delilah's transformation hadn't happened just days ago—she'd been coerced into trafficking for some time. If this were merely about protecting business, Black Wave should've acted sooner, minimizing losses.

"I never planned to target Claude—it wasn't worth it. But they pushed me too hard. I had no choice," the Black Wave boss said angrily.

"They? Who are they?" Lucifer stepped forward.

"My suppliers—the ones who give me the product. They told me to prepare customer networks. They want to launch a new drug and need me to spread it first, to seize the market…"

"New drug? What kind?" Cloyn asked again.

The Black Wave boss hesitated, instinctively glancing behind the sofa at the bar. Lucifer caught the motion, walked to the bar, and began searching. The boss tried to rise—Cloyn chambered a round, aiming at him—he froze.

After rummaging, Lucifer found a small box behind the bar. He opened it—and inside were candies wrapped in silver foil.

He brought the box over. Both stared at the candies. Lucifer peeled one open and popped it in his mouth. Cloyn smacked him hard. "What are you doing?! Spit it out! It's poison!"

Lucifer chewed twice, didn't spit it out, and smiled at Cloyn. "You're worried about me, officer?"

"I'm not!" Cloyn turned her head away—but quickly added anxiously: "Spit it out! What if it's really toxic?"

loubiqu.

"Relax," Lucifer chewed. "Didn't I tell you? I'm not ordinary. This is gum. Tastes fine. Whether it contains drugs? I can't tell."

"We need to test it," Cloyn took the box from him. As soon as she held it, she froze. "Wait—this packaging isn't ordinary. LA gum doesn't come in metal tins like this. It looks like the kind sold in convenience stores in Haibincheng or Xingcheng…"

Cloyn seemed to recall something. She studied the box. "I've seen this before… but I can't remember where… Never mind. Let's take it back to the station for testing. Let's go."

They drove back to the LAPD, sent the gum for testing, and Cloyn kept staring at the box, trying to place where she'd seen it.

"Stop obsessing, officer. You're overworking. Isn't it lunchtime? Let's get something to eat," Lucifer invited.

Cloyn wanted to refuse—but she was hungry. She set the box down and followed Lucifer into the car.

They arrived at a restaurant near Disneyland, crowded with tourists. In the center of the dining area stood three large TVs, broadcasting cartoons.

In this era, that was rare—children gathered around, laughing and shouting.

"You have a daughter, right? Bring her here. The food's cheap, tasty, has kids' meals, and you can watch TV. I think she'd love it," Lucifer said while eating.

Cloyn looked up, studying the restaurant's decor. As Lucifer said, this place—next to Disneyland—was clearly designed for children, filled with elements kids adored.

"Thank you for the invitation. You've shown me a great place," Cloyn smiled—the first since meeting Lucifer. "I have to pick up Beatrice from school soon. If I'm late, she'll complain again."

Lucifer felt a pang of regret but didn't stop her. It was important. After lunch, Cloyn rose to leave—just as she turned to exit, she heard the TV behind her blare an ad:

"Quinn Gum—your ideal life companion. Small packs for on-the-go, large packs for family time. When buying gum, choose Quinn Silver Box Gum…"

Cloyn froze. She turned, eyes wide, staring at the screen. Lucifer turned too. On screen: Quinn Gum's large package—the so-called Silver Box Gum.

The box on screen matched the one they'd found almost exactly—same size, same silver color—except theirs bore no Quinn Group logo.

Both bolted out of the restaurant, jumped in the car, and raced back to the station. As soon as they entered, a detective approached: "Officer Cloyn, your test results are in. The gum contains a special addictive compound—likely a drug."

"Thank you." Cloyn snatched the report, sprinted to her office, grabbed the box, and met Lucifer's gaze. "Quinn Group."

Lucifer rapidly pieced together the sequence:

"Quinn Group invented this new drug—the gum. To launch it quickly, they pressured the Black Wave boss to steal customers. To compete, Black Wave killed Delilah, who was controlled by Claude."

Both stared at the gum inside the metal box. Cloyn said: "If the mastermind behind all this is Quinn Group in Xingcheng, then this object we hold…"

"The packaging matches Quinn Gum exactly. This is their most damning evidence!"

At the entrance to Xingcheng's villa district, a car sped away. Kela's face was tense: "We must recover the gum Old Tot mentioned. We can't let Quinn Group's drug evidence escape!"

"If the Quinn heir can be recruited, then Quinn Group is invaluable to us. They can't fall…"

"Kela, snap out of it! Do you want to cover up the crimes of a notorious drug cartel?!" Lila shouted. "Don't you see you're reversing priorities? Is this our goal?!"

"It's for a greater cause! We need every ounce of power!" Kela raised her voice. "I have no other choice!"

The female agent took a deep breath. "It's Moscow's order. The congress is imminent—it will decide our next leader. He needs this power…"

"Who are you referring to?" Lila's voice dripped with deep disappointment. "Have you forgotten why you even work?"

The car sped faster. Kela's facial muscles trembled.

A screech—brakes shrieked. Kela's forehead slammed into the steering wheel. Blood trickled down. Her hair fell loose—she looked hysterical, shattered.

Long silence. Kela slowly pushed her hair aside. "I'm… losing my mind. I'm nearly mad. To protect my homeland, I'll do anything. I have no other choice…"

"When you think like that, you've already lost your home," Lila turned away. "We once thought the same—anything to save the party… What happened?"

Kela closed her eyes, holding back tears. "Perhaps everyone realizes this is just a dying struggle. But even so, I want to struggle once. Maybe… maybe there's still a chance?"

"He's using you exactly like this!" Lila intensified his tone. "He makes you believe he's the last hope—that he'll save this country…"

"But I guarantee you—he'll do nothing. When he tells you to do anything for power, to ignore the people, justice, ideals—you should know he's a traitor!"

Kela took a deep breath, opened her eyes, and gazed out the window at the sky. The dusk clouds slowly parted. On the horizon, golden, crimson, and purple hues intertwined as a red sun sank slowly.

The twilight light faded. After the long night, dawn rose again. On TV, as the exterior footage shrank, the anchor's face enlarged. He placed his arms on the desk and said:

"This station reports: Xingcheng's renowned Quinn Group has developed a new drug resembling chewing gum. Confirmed by the U. . Drug Enforcement Administration, it has long been linked to Mexican drug cartels, particularly the Guadalajara cartel responsible for the massacre…"

"Quinn Group's actions have ignited public fury. In just three days, Xingcheng has seen three protests. Quinn Tower has been shut down; all responsible personnel have been arrested…"

"Quinn Group heir Oliver Quinn died in a maritime accident. It remains unclear whether he knew the truth behind the company's operations—but unquestionably, he bears responsibility…"

"Quinn Group's stock has collapsed since the exposure. Financially, it is dire—bankruptcy is imminent…"

The anchor flipped his script and continued:

"Next, international developments: our neighbor Mexico has recently seen outbreaks of peasant and worker movements. Experts speculate they may be linked to the earlier massacre in Sinaloa State."

"However, insiders suggest these movements are being fanned by leftist parties. Some experts claim leftists may be colluding with local drug traffickers, closely tied to the earlier massacre…"

*Click. The TV turned off. Hal slowly turned to Shieler. "Oliver's missing. Could it be you…?"

Shieler, writing a medical record on the coffee table, didn't look up.

"As you see, I'm just an ordinary university professor… and currently on vacation."