Chapter 121
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Later in the evening, when the composition over the presentation subsided, and all those who came to the conference dispersed, Greg gathered everyone in his office. Everyone's expressions reflected only one thing - extreme exhaustion. In addition to the million questions from the paparazzi, partners, and shareholders of the company, they also had to deal with the police. Replaced by representatives of the military departments and Interpol afterward.
Even at this point, one of the agents of this organization, Mrs. Brown, was still in the office. It was an older woman but with a grip of a bulldog, and now she stuck to Greg and apparently decided to pursue him until she learned everything down to the color of his underwear.
"Listen, Mrs. Brown. I have already informed you of everything that I know. All the materials that we have already been transferred to your department. There is enough evidence to settle both of Leibs in prison for a very long time. I did all the work for you. What else do you need from me?" - Greg repeated for the umpteenth time, tiredly leaning back in his chair. Lana moved closer and imperceptibly extended her hand under the table, finding his palm and squeezing it gently.
"Mr. Wells, we are very grateful to you for all the information provided. But you don't quite understand what you got into. Having arranged today's show, you ruined us all the plans. If you had reported about what was happening in advance, we would be able to take action on time. And now, because of your little amusement, we only have one dishonest general and his thief daughter who imagines herself as some Lord of War, but that's all. Do you think we did not know about their affairs for some time? Don't make me laugh!" - The woman grumbled discontentedly, without even looking at Greg. Before her lay a pile of papers, which she diligently shifted around, as if in hope to find something new. But everything was exactly as it was.
Greg sighed, unable to find words. Yes, he knew perfectly well that in this game there are bigger fish than the general and his naughty daughter. He had a plan for how to reach these people, but ... Is it worth it to open your cards now, will Mrs. Brown take such a risk?
Mrs. Brown, meanwhile, looked up at Greg and, adjusting her massive-rimmed glasses, stared at him with a studying look.
"Mr. Wells." - She said slowly as if weighing the words she was about to say. Greg felt for a second like she was trying drill a hole in his brain with her eyes to pick inside.
" I will now tell you something as a sign of goodwill." - She finally uttered. "And I hope you will appreciate it..."
In her words, Greg grabbed a strange hint. Was this woman really able to read minds? He shivered slightly, watching as the Interpol agent took out a large, shabby case from under the table and rummaged a bit, fishing out the beige folder. Throwing another testing glance at Greg, the woman nodded, as if making a final decision for herself, and pulled it toward him.
Greg hesitated a little. For some reason, he felt a cold breath for a second. Lana moved closer, squeezing his hand under the table. But he couldn't show his worries before this woman, so Gregory pulled the documents to him with a confident movement and opened the cover.
As soon as his eyes fell on the first sheet, the air seemed to disappear from the lungs, and a strange ringing appeared in his ears. Lana gasped beside him, clutching his arm harder, her fingers began to tremble. Greg felt as she, despite her own horror, diligently trying to send warmth and support through their connection.
" When did it happen?" - Greg asked in a hoarse voice, picking up a photograph with Martin's dead body on it. The man lay on the ground in an unnatural posture, and his face was covered in blood. Only by clothes and general silhouette could one figure out who it is.
Frank, noticing a friend's expression, got up and approached them too. But as soon as he saw what Greg was holding in his hands, the big man could not help it and cursed, clutching at his hair.
"About two hours ago. Your former colleague, and now a subordinate, was shot in the head near the house of his former wife. She testified that Martin came to her an hour earlier. But after a quarrel, during which she threatened to call the police if he did not leave, he left her house, and she never heard anything about him after that. "
Her low, cold voice sounded in the silence like the gnash of rusty metal. Greg took a deep breath as if trying to ease the pain stuck in his chest. Yes, he was mad at Martin. He was ready to pay him back for betrayal. But on the other hand, he remembered too well how Frank was after returning from the army. What evil jokes the brain can play with a man. Pulling a normal guy into the abyss of depression and despair. Martin was once a good friend and did not deserve such a death.
Greg turned and looked at Frank's pale face, who could not take his eyes off the picture. But still, Franky tried to keep himself together, on the ticking muscle on the jew showed his nerves right now.
Mrs. Brown cleared her throat drawing everyone's attention back to herself.
"I understand that it is hard for you. But there is something else ... " - said the woman, again putting her hand in the briefcase. Something chimed, and the next second a small transparent bag appeared in her hand. Greg didn't even have to look closer after catching Tony's eyes full of panic.
" This bullet was found at the crime scene. This bullet is what killed your friend. Do you happen to be familiar with it?" - She asked calmly looking at the faces of those present one by one, watching for any change in the expression. Greg instantly tried to get rid of any emotions on his face, but it was difficult to fool an experienced agent. Her gaze stuck on him as if trying to turn his head inside out just by the power of thought.
"Mrs. Brown," - Greg began nonchalantly, leaning forward, and returning her piercing stare with his own - "Are you trying to blame me for something? You should be well aware of where I was today at the time of the murder. There was a whole army of journalists in the room with me, so it's not even funny!"
Mrs. Brown narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing her opponent. She wanted to argue something already, as the sound of the opening door cut her off in mid-sentence.
"It is somehow strange that Interpol suddenly became interested in ordinary murder. It seems to be not quite your specialty, isn't it, Mrs. Brown?" - from the entrance came a rich male voice, full of sarcasm, making everyone turn around.
"I didn't expect to see you here, Mr. McNill. What fate brings you here?"- the woman hummed while turning around, although there were notes of a special venom in her voice.
"I just came to visit a friend. And what luck! I came across an Interpol agent who interrogates absolutely innocent people without any permission. Ba also without the presence of a lawyer. This is such a delightful thing that I stopped by, hmm?" - Paul replied in the same smooth tone, although his speech was full of poison too. And though the young red-haired guy with a pretty face was smiling broadly, his eyes were cold as two little pieces of ice. He sauntered into the room, took a seat opposite Mrs. Brown, and leaning back, began to drill the woman with his eyes.
"Well, why are you not saying anything? Go on, Mrs. Brown. It is so exciting for me to find out why you decided that my friend Greg, and by the way he is also my client, should know something about this bullet? I just love speculations and insinuations so bad!"
The elderly woman opened her mouth and immediately shut it. Her face twisted for a moment in a grimace of rage, but it quickly disappeared. Only her nostrils were still flared like a cobra hood.
The door slammed open again, and this time a tall, broad-shouldered guy entered the room. He looked around them with a cold, unemotional look, nodded to his friends, and silently sat in the chair next to Paul.
" Who is that?" - the woman snapped, barely holding back.
Mike did not even look at her, just crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes. All his aura literally shouted: "Nobody is at home, so leave your damn message to your f*ckingself!"
"Don't be so unfriendly!" - in the meantime continued Paul smiling even wider. - "This is just our mutual friend Michael Ross. Did you hear about him before? "
Hearing that name, Mrs. Brown started up and looked again at the silent guy, who was still sitting with closed eyes.
" Ok. I got it. I'm leaving!" - She grumbled rising. - "But I hope for your good judgment, Mr. Wells. If you remember something ... "
She fished out a business card from an old case and handed it to Greg. But he did not even have time to move, as Paul grabbed the card from the outstretched hand of the woman and tore it up, hurling it over his shoulder.
"I have your contacts, Mrs. Brown." - the guy stated in the same sweet voice. - "And if Greg remembers something, I'll ring you up."
The woman instantly winced appreciating the perspective but had to agree and leave with nothing.
Paul watched her back, right up to the moment the door slammed behind it. Then he turned slowly, only there was no smile on his face anymore.
"Well, let's see who wants to tell me what the hell is going on here first?" - He growled, and at this point, his eyes were no longer the ice cubes, but rather two blazing flames.
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Later in the evening, when the composition over the presentation subsided, and all those who came to the conference dispersed, Greg gathered everyone in his office. Everyone's expressions reflected only one thing - extreme exhaustion. In addition to the million questions from the paparazzi, partners, and shareholders of the company, they also had to deal with the police. Replaced by representatives of the military departments and Interpol afterward.
Even at this point, one of the agents of this organization, Mrs. Brown, was still in the office. It was an older woman but with a grip of a bulldog, and now she stuck to Greg and apparently decided to pursue him until she learned everything down to the color of his underwear.
"Listen, Mrs. Brown. I have already informed you of everything that I know. All the materials that we have already been transferred to your department. There is enough evidence to settle both of Leibs in prison for a very long time. I did all the work for you. What else do you need from me?" - Greg repeated for the umpteenth time, tiredly leaning back in his chair. Lana moved closer and imperceptibly extended her hand under the table, finding his palm and squeezing it gently.
"Mr. Wells, we are very grateful to you for all the information provided. But you don't quite understand what you got into. Having arranged today's show, you ruined us all the plans. If you had reported about what was happening in advance, we would be able to take action on time. And now, because of your little amusement, we only have one dishonest general and his thief daughter who imagines herself as some Lord of War, but that's all. Do you think we did not know about their affairs for some time? Don't make me laugh!" - The woman grumbled discontentedly, without even looking at Greg. Before her lay a pile of papers, which she diligently shifted around, as if in hope to find something new. But everything was exactly as it was.
Greg sighed, unable to find words. Yes, he knew perfectly well that in this game there are bigger fish than the general and his naughty daughter. He had a plan for how to reach these people, but ... Is it worth it to open your cards now, will Mrs. Brown take such a risk?
Mrs. Brown, meanwhile, looked up at Greg and, adjusting her massive-rimmed glasses, stared at him with a studying look.
"Mr. Wells." - She said slowly as if weighing the words she was about to say. Greg felt for a second like she was trying drill a hole in his brain with her eyes to pick inside.
" I will now tell you something as a sign of goodwill." - She finally uttered. "And I hope you will appreciate it..."
In her words, Greg grabbed a strange hint. Was this woman really able to read minds? He shivered slightly, watching as the Interpol agent took out a large, shabby case from under the table and rummaged a bit, fishing out the beige folder. Throwing another testing glance at Greg, the woman nodded, as if making a final decision for herself, and pulled it toward him.
Greg hesitated a little. For some reason, he felt a cold breath for a second. Lana moved closer, squeezing his hand under the table. But he couldn't show his worries before this woman, so Gregory pulled the documents to him with a confident movement and opened the cover.
As soon as his eyes fell on the first sheet, the air seemed to disappear from the lungs, and a strange ringing appeared in his ears. Lana gasped beside him, clutching his arm harder, her fingers began to tremble. Greg felt as she, despite her own horror, diligently trying to send warmth and support through their connection.
" When did it happen?" - Greg asked in a hoarse voice, picking up a photograph with Martin's dead body on it. The man lay on the ground in an unnatural posture, and his face was covered in blood. Only by clothes and general silhouette could one figure out who it is.
Frank, noticing a friend's expression, got up and approached them too. But as soon as he saw what Greg was holding in his hands, the big man could not help it and cursed, clutching at his hair.
"About two hours ago. Your former colleague, and now a subordinate, was shot in the head near the house of his former wife. She testified that Martin came to her an hour earlier. But after a quarrel, during which she threatened to call the police if he did not leave, he left her house, and she never heard anything about him after that. "
Her low, cold voice sounded in the silence like the gnash of rusty metal. Greg took a deep breath as if trying to ease the pain stuck in his chest. Yes, he was mad at Martin. He was ready to pay him back for betrayal. But on the other hand, he remembered too well how Frank was after returning from the army. What evil jokes the brain can play with a man. Pulling a normal guy into the abyss of depression and despair. Martin was once a good friend and did not deserve such a death.
Greg turned and looked at Frank's pale face, who could not take his eyes off the picture. But still, Franky tried to keep himself together, on the ticking muscle on the jew showed his nerves right now.
Mrs. Brown cleared her throat drawing everyone's attention back to herself.
"I understand that it is hard for you. But there is something else ... " - said the woman, again putting her hand in the briefcase. Something chimed, and the next second a small transparent bag appeared in her hand. Greg didn't even have to look closer after catching Tony's eyes full of panic.
" This bullet was found at the crime scene. This bullet is what killed your friend. Do you happen to be familiar with it?" - She asked calmly looking at the faces of those present one by one, watching for any change in the expression. Greg instantly tried to get rid of any emotions on his face, but it was difficult to fool an experienced agent. Her gaze stuck on him as if trying to turn his head inside out just by the power of thought.
"Mrs. Brown," - Greg began nonchalantly, leaning forward, and returning her piercing stare with his own - "Are you trying to blame me for something? You should be well aware of where I was today at the time of the murder. There was a whole army of journalists in the room with me, so it's not even funny!"
Mrs. Brown narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing her opponent. She wanted to argue something already, as the sound of the opening door cut her off in mid-sentence.
"It is somehow strange that Interpol suddenly became interested in ordinary murder. It seems to be not quite your specialty, isn't it, Mrs. Brown?" - from the entrance came a rich male voice, full of sarcasm, making everyone turn around.
"I didn't expect to see you here, Mr. McNill. What fate brings you here?"- the woman hummed while turning around, although there were notes of a special venom in her voice.
"I just came to visit a friend. And what luck! I came across an Interpol agent who interrogates absolutely innocent people without any permission. Ba also without the presence of a lawyer. This is such a delightful thing that I stopped by, hmm?" - Paul replied in the same smooth tone, although his speech was full of poison too. And though the young red-haired guy with a pretty face was smiling broadly, his eyes were cold as two little pieces of ice. He sauntered into the room, took a seat opposite Mrs. Brown, and leaning back, began to drill the woman with his eyes.
"Well, why are you not saying anything? Go on, Mrs. Brown. It is so exciting for me to find out why you decided that my friend Greg, and by the way he is also my client, should know something about this bullet? I just love speculations and insinuations so bad!"
The elderly woman opened her mouth and immediately shut it. Her face twisted for a moment in a grimace of rage, but it quickly disappeared. Only her nostrils were still flared like a cobra hood.
The door slammed open again, and this time a tall, broad-shouldered guy entered the room. He looked around them with a cold, unemotional look, nodded to his friends, and silently sat in the chair next to Paul.
" Who is that?" - the woman snapped, barely holding back.
Mike did not even look at her, just crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes. All his aura literally shouted: "Nobody is at home, so leave your damn message to your f*ckingself!"
"Don't be so unfriendly!" - in the meantime continued Paul smiling even wider. - "This is just our mutual friend Michael Ross. Did you hear about him before? "
Hearing that name, Mrs. Brown started up and looked again at the silent guy, who was still sitting with closed eyes.
" Ok. I got it. I'm leaving!" - She grumbled rising. - "But I hope for your good judgment, Mr. Wells. If you remember something ... "
She fished out a business card from an old case and handed it to Greg. But he did not even have time to move, as Paul grabbed the card from the outstretched hand of the woman and tore it up, hurling it over his shoulder.
"I have your contacts, Mrs. Brown." - the guy stated in the same sweet voice. - "And if Greg remembers something, I'll ring you up."
The woman instantly winced appreciating the perspective but had to agree and leave with nothing.
Paul watched her back, right up to the moment the door slammed behind it. Then he turned slowly, only there was no smile on his face anymore.
"Well, let's see who wants to tell me what the hell is going on here first?" - He growled, and at this point, his eyes were no longer the ice cubes, but rather two blazing flames.
Later in the evening, when the composition over the presentation subsided, and all those who came to the conference dispersed, Greg gathered everyone in his office. Everyone's expressions reflected only one thing - extreme exhaustion. In addition to the million questions from the paparazzi, partners, and shareholders of the company, they also had to deal with the police. Replaced by representatives of the military departments and Interpol afterward. Even at this point, one of the agents of this organization, Mrs. Brown, was still in the office. It was an older woman but with a grip of a bulldog, and now she stuck to Greg and apparently decided to pursue him until she learned everything down to the color of his underwear."Listen, Mrs. Brown. I have already informed you of everything that I know. All the materials that we have already been transferred to your department. There is enough evidence to settle both of Leibs in prison for a very long time. I did all the work for you. What else do you need from me?" - Greg repeated for the umpteenth time, tiredly leaning back in his chair. Lana moved closer and imperceptibly extended her hand under the table, finding his palm and squeezing it gently."Mr. Wells, we are very grateful to you for all the information provided. But you don't quite understand what you got into. Having arranged today's show, you ruined us all the plans. If you had reported about what was happening in advance, we would be able to take action on time. And now, because of your little amusement, we only have one dishonest general and his thief daughter who imagines herself as some Lord of War, but that's all. Do you think we did not know about their affairs for some time? Don't make me laugh!" - The woman grumbled discontentedly, without even looking at Greg. Before her lay a pile of papers, which she diligently shifted around, as if in hope to find something new. But everything was exactly as it was. Greg sighed, unable to find words. Yes, he knew perfectly well that in this game there are bigger fish than the general and his naughty daughter. He had a plan for how to reach these people, but ... Is it worth it to open your cards now, will Mrs. Brown take such a risk?Mrs. Brown, meanwhile, looked up at Greg and, adjusting her massive-rimmed glasses, stared at him with a studying look."Mr. Wells." - She said slowly as if weighing the words she was about to say. Greg felt for a second like she was trying drill a hole in his brain with her eyes to pick inside." I will now tell you something as a sign of goodwill." - She finally uttered. "And I hope you will appreciate it..."In her words, Greg grabbed a strange hint. Was this woman really able to read minds? He shivered slightly, watching as the Interpol agent took out a large, shabby case from under the table and rummaged a bit, fishing out the beige folder. Throwing another testing glance at Greg, the woman nodded, as if making a final decision for herself, and pulled it toward him.Greg hesitated a little. For some reason, he felt a cold breath for a second. Lana moved closer, squeezing his hand under the table. But he couldn't show his worries before this woman, so Gregory pulled the documents to him with a confident movement and opened the cover.As soon as his eyes fell on the first sheet, the air seemed to disappear from the lungs, and a strange ringing appeared in his ears. Lana gasped beside him, clutching his arm harder, her fingers began to tremble. Greg felt as she, despite her own horror, diligently trying to send warmth and support through their connection." When did it happen?" - Greg asked in a hoarse voice, picking up a photograph with Martin's dead body on it. The man lay on the ground in an unnatural posture, and his face was covered in blood. Only by clothes and general silhouette could one figure out who it is. Frank, noticing a friend's expression, got up and approached them too. But as soon as he saw what Greg was holding in his hands, the big man could not help it and cursed, clutching at his hair. "About two hours ago. Your former colleague, and now a subordinate, was shot in the head near the house of his former wife. She testified that Martin came to her an hour earlier. But after a quarrel, during which she threatened to call the police if he did not leave, he left her house, and she never heard anything about him after that. "Her low, cold voice sounded in the silence like the gnash of rusty metal. Greg took a deep breath as if trying to ease the pain stuck in his chest. Yes, he was mad at Martin. He was ready to pay him back for betrayal. But on the other hand, he remembered too well how Frank was after returning from the army. What evil jokes the brain can play with a man. Pulling a normal guy into the abyss of depression and despair. Martin was once a good friend and did not deserve such a death.Greg turned and looked at Frank's pale face, who could not take his eyes off the picture. But still, Franky tried to keep himself together, on the ticking muscle on the jew showed his nerves right now.Mrs. Brown cleared her throat drawing everyone's attention back to herself. "I understand that it is hard for you. But there is something else ... " - said the woman, again putting her hand in the briefcase. Something chimed, and the next second a small transparent bag appeared in her hand. Greg didn't even have to look closer after catching Tony's eyes full of panic. " This bullet was found at the crime scene. This bullet is what killed your friend. Do you happen to be familiar with it?" - She asked calmly looking at the faces of those present one by one, watching for any change in the expression. Greg instantly tried to get rid of any emotions on his face, but it was difficult to fool an experienced agent. Her gaze stuck on him as if trying to turn his head inside out just by the power of thought."Mrs. Brown," - Greg began nonchalantly, leaning forward, and returning her piercing stare with his own - "Are you trying to blame me for something? You should be well aware of where I was today at the time of the murder. There was a whole army of journalists in the room with me, so it's not even funny!"Mrs. Brown narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing her opponent. She wanted to argue something already, as the sound of the opening door cut her off in mid-sentence."It is somehow strange that Interpol suddenly became interested in ordinary murder. It seems to be not quite your specialty, isn't it, Mrs. Brown?" - from the entrance came a rich male voice, full of sarcasm, making everyone turn around."I didn't expect to see you here, Mr. McNill. What fate brings you here?"- the woman hummed while turning around, although there were notes of a special venom in her voice."I just came to visit a friend. And what luck! I came across an Interpol agent who interrogates absolutely innocent people without any permission. Ba also without the presence of a lawyer. This is such a delightful thing that I stopped by, hmm?" - Paul replied in the same smooth tone, although his speech was full of poison too. And though the young red-haired guy with a pretty face was smiling broadly, his eyes were cold as two little pieces of ice. He sauntered into the room, took a seat opposite Mrs. Brown, and leaning back, began to drill the woman with his eyes."Well, why are you not saying anything? Go on, Mrs. Brown. It is so exciting for me to find out why you decided that my friend Greg, and by the way he is also my client, should know something about this bullet? I just love speculations and insinuations so bad!"The elderly woman opened her mouth and immediately shut it. Her face twisted for a moment in a grimace of rage, but it quickly disappeared. Only her nostrils were still flared like a cobra hood.The door slammed open again, and this time a tall, broad-shouldered guy entered the room. He looked around them with a cold, unemotional look, nodded to his friends, and silently sat in the chair next to Paul." Who is that?" - the woman snapped, barely holding back. Mike did not even look at her, just crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes. All his aura literally shouted: "Nobody is at home, so leave your damn message to your f*ckingself!""Don't be so unfriendly!" - in the meantime continued Paul smiling even wider. - "This is just our mutual friend Michael Ross. Did you hear about him before? "Hearing that name, Mrs. Brown started up and looked again at the silent guy, who was still sitting with closed eyes." Ok. I got it. I'm leaving!" - She grumbled rising. - "But I hope for your good judgment, Mr. Wells. If you remember something ... "She fished out a business card from an old case and handed it to Greg. But he did not even have time to move, as Paul grabbed the card from the outstretched hand of the woman and tore it up, hurling it over his shoulder."I have your contacts, Mrs. Brown." - the guy stated in the same sweet voice. - "And if Greg remembers something, I'll ring you up." The woman instantly winced appreciating the perspective but had to agree and leave with nothing.Paul watched her back, right up to the moment the door slammed behind it. Then he turned slowly, only there was no smile on his face anymore."Well, let's see who wants to tell me what the hell is going on here first?" - He growled, and at this point, his eyes were no longer the ice cubes, but rather two blazing flames.
