Chapter 52: I Only Appear Where Peace Is Needed

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That night, it was only at the hotel that Sorel was found dead in his suite. The police arrived first at the scene and, upon investigation, identified the direct cause of death—an overdose from a single use.

By the time the FBI learned of the incident, it was already the next day.

Denham had just started his shift when he received the news of Sorel’s death. He felt both shocked and helpless. After finally gathering some evidence linking Sorel to money laundering at the Red Flower Restaurant, Sorel just died? Damn it! Why did he have to die at this exact moment?

With Sorel gone, the money laundering trail connected to Jordan was once again cut off. Given Jordan’s cautious and savvy nature, uncovering the next slip-up would become even more difficult.

Moreover, all leads related to the Red Flower Restaurant also came to a halt. From now on, any breakthroughs would have to come directly from the restaurant itself.

Denham felt a headache coming on. Japanese drug trafficking gangs were far more difficult to deal with than a lone banker.

Standing before a whiteboard plastered with photos of Jordan and various financial criminals, Denham rubbed his head in frustration. When he opened his palm, a handful of hair strands fell out.

At this rate, he feared he’d go bald.

Until evening when he finished work, Denham had pulled out countless hairs but still couldn’t find a new lead. Returning home, seeing the sumptuous meal his wife had prepared, he managed a relieved smile.

Though there had been no progress at work lately, he had been getting off work on time every day, which made his wife very happy to have more time with him.

“Today, we received a thick envelope in the mail for you,” his wife said as she got up to fetch it.

“Oh? Did the magazines I ordered arrive?”

She handed over a yellow file folder. Upon opening it, Denham found stacks of billing records, various pieces of information, and even an audio tape.

It was all evidence of Sorel conspiring with the Red Flower Restaurant to launder money—down to the billing details and overseas accounts listed!

All of this could be traced directly.

Denham was stunned. If the intelligence was true, they could immediately arrest Aoki Roku and have the court sentence him to decades behind bars.

But who had sent this?

Flipping to the last page, Denham found a white pigeon feather tucked inside.

Denham muttered, “...Pigeon, I knew it was you!”

He took out the tape and went upstairs alone to listen. It contained Sorel’s “confession session,” revealing everything about the Red Flower Restaurant.

Hearing Sorel’s voice, Denham suddenly didn’t know whether to thank Pigeon or resent him for killing Sorel.

He realized his anger toward Pigeon had no effect. Was he really supposed to use this feather as evidence to convict Luca?

If he used this evidence, his entanglement with Luca would only deepen.

Back at the dining table, his wife noticed his distracted expression and asked worriedly, “That mail must have upset you. You can share your troubles with me.”

“I...” Denham sighed. “Have you ever met someone who helps you without expecting anything in return? He wouldn’t even stand up and claim responsibility, but I know it was him... I could pretend not to know, but I can’t deceive my own heart. I can’t become a shameless person who turns their back on others.

“Darling, have you ever felt like there’s a rope tying you down? To me, catching criminals is like climbing a rock wall. I can endure the hardship and pain, climbing bit by bit. But suddenly, there’s a ladder beside me, leading to the same destination.

“I don’t want to cut the rope because that would make me lose myself; but without the ladder, I might never reach the top or catch the criminals.

“Yet once I use the ladder, it becomes hard to come down again. So, what should I do?”

Denham clutched his head in anguish. The most despairing part was that unlike the first time he faced Jordan’s bribe, he could no longer simply refuse without hesitation.

His wife thought for a moment and said, “Denham, we’re almost fifty. Maybe you should think more about yourself and your family.”

Denham sighed deeply and picked up his utensils.

...

Three nights later.

Brooklyn.

An abandoned airport with a vast area and long runway had become a gathering spot for many street racers in New York.

The air was filled with pulsating rap music as numerous young people showcased their driving skills, racing around the runway in circles, holding open-air beer parties.

Sexy and provocative, scantily clad women flocked around flashy sports cars, posing seductively on hoods, unabashedly flaunting their alluring figures and releasing their hormones.

“Aoki Roku is my target. He’s here...” David Mills stood at the edge of the crowd, speaking into his earpiece, “Yeah, I see Turner too... Not sure yet which car has the drugs—they haven’t started the deal.”

Faced with dozens, even hundreds of cars and a dense crowd, David felt overwhelmed. There were way too many racers here—not just the Red Flower gang but all kinds of riffraff from across New York.

For instance, the Bronx punk racers—David spotted Nancy and her gang of nonconformist youths.

What troubled him most was...

“Roku, Pigeon’s here too!”

David discreetly watched Luca, surrounded by a group of women. Nancy was already nestled in Luca’s arms, embraced warmly by Pigeon.

Rich, who was blocking nearby roads, was momentarily stunned. “Pigeon? That old-school car mafia is into street racing now?”

He recalled that the mobsters rarely cared about racing; those old-timers in dark clothes preferred enjoying their time at clubs.

“It’s definitely Pigeon. How could I mistake him? He’s like a celebrity—he has more women around him than anyone else here!”

David’s frustration grew as he muttered, “While we’re working late at night, this guy’s out here having the time of his life.”

Rich was speechless. “Don’t say anymore, don’t ruin my focus. Right now, all I see are drug dealers, no beauties!”

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At that moment, Rich suddenly shouted, “Fuck! The FBI’s here! I just sealed off the road!”

“FBI?” David was confused. What was the FBI doing here?

Then, he heard intense discussions through the earpiece. Eventually, Rich and the FBI reached a temporary agreement to cooperate and capture Aoki Roku.

“The FBI has evidence of Aoki’s money laundering. They’re coming straight for him! No need to wait for the drug deal—we can move now!”

Rich excitedly explained to David, “David, keep your eyes on Aoki! Don’t let him escape! Tonight, he won’t fly away even with wings!”

David was stunned. Damn, is the FBI this efficient? An unexpected assist!

...

Boom!

An explosive roar echoed across the scene.

Just before the finish line, a green heavily modified Mitsubishi Eclipse, fueled by nitrous, surged forward like a green lightning bolt, crossing the line first.

“Oh!!!”

Amid deafening cheers, Brian slammed the door open, puffed out his chest, and punched the air in a victorious outburst.

“Old Pigeon! Haha, I did it! Didn’t let you down, right?” Brian rushed to Luca and gave him a hearty bear hug.

True synergy between man and machine... Luca patted Brian’s back with admiration. This kid drove a modified Mitsubishi fearlessly against the Japanese’s tuned GTR and even forced it off the track.

A badass wild ride.

Now was the time to reap rewards.

Luca collected all the bets from the referees. Five thousand each, with over a dozen cars, totaling sixty to seventy thousand.

The key bet was the one between him and the Japanese—loser leaves their car behind.

“Get out, Chairman Aoki,” Luca approached the GTR. A Japanese man sat inside.

“Get out, Chairman Aoki. You lost the bet. Hand over the keys to the GTR.”

“...” Aoki clenched his fists.

Baka!

He looked at Brian with disbelief.

How was it possible? An American driving a Japanese craftsman’s car had defeated the undefeated Eastern racing god in New York?

Where did this monster driver come from?

“Pigeon, I was wrong this time,” Aoki said, increasingly unwilling to accept defeat. “Let’s race again sometime? My gang still has plenty of skilled drivers with all kinds of sports cars. Pick any car you want as the bet!”

Do you even have a next time...? Luca lazily raised an eyelid. “We’ll talk about next time later. Hand over the keys and registration.”

Aoki winced. This GTR cost him hundreds of thousands to modify, and he just lost it like that? To a Mitsubishi...

Just then, sirens blared all around.

“Oh shit! The cops are here! Get out!!”

Someone yelled, and everyone scattered, scrambling into their cars to flee.

Aoki floored the gas, faster than anyone else—unstoppable.

“Shameless! That’s my car I won fair and square!” Brian was even angrier than Luca.

Luca calmly waved him over. “Brian, get in.”

Brian jumped in immediately. “Where to?”

“Running away’s not my style.”

Behind them, flashing police lights appeared, wind whipping Luca’s coat.

“Brian, I like your driving skills and courage. You’ve won my respect... You came all the way to New York saying you wanted to make big money here, so now I’m giving you a chance to earn with me!”

Luca pointed at the retreating GTR, eyes burning, “Your mission is to stop that GTR! No one steals my car!”

Brian: “???”

Come on, Old Pigeon, the cops are here and you’re still thinking about the car?

Whatever. I’m FBI... Brian didn’t mind getting caught; whatever the boss says goes.

This was a great chance to gain Pigeon’s trust!

Plus, he got to race!

Blood boiling, Brian dropped the clutch and floored it!

The car roared!

“Old Pigeon! Leave it to me! I’ll get that car back!”

“Even if I have to crash it, I won’t let the Japanese take it! Got it?”

“...Alright!”

Brian nodded firmly, and with dazzling maneuvers, the car shot forward like an arrow.

At that moment, police cars pulled up beside Luca.

Denham, David, Rich, and others were all on the scene.

On the empty airport runway, police and FBI swarmed from all directions. The headlights focused on Luca standing in the shadows, dispelling the darkness behind him.

Only now did many officers get a clear look at the young man’s true face.

David shook his head with a smile, signaling the officers nearby to stand down; Denham also reluctantly told his colleagues to lower their weapons.

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“Old Pigeon, you like street racing too?”

David was somewhat annoyed. “Why do I run into you everywhere? Don’t tell me you came all the way from Little Italy just to race with these lowlifes? That’s not like your family’s style.”

“I only appear where peace is needed.”

“...” David was speechless. Such a righteous claim left him at a loss for words.

Denham stared intently at Luca’s calm face, harboring some suspicions... If Sorel was killed by Luca, then Luca’s appearance here tonight was to take down Aoki Roku?

Rich smiled wryly. “Pigeon, thanks for the goodwill, but you probably don’t need to help keep the peace tonight.”

Luca feigned ignorance. “So, is all this a big operation just to catch a few second-rate street racers?”

“Don’t lie to me...” Denham groaned. “Pigeon, you better leave now. Don’t interfere.”

He grabbed his radio and checked in with the pursuing FBI; Rich and David maintained constant communication.

The other racers were minor issues—the key target was Aoki.

They couldn’t let him escape!

This time, with solid evidence and a well-prepared ambush, that Japanese man was definitely trapped.

Yet, something unexpected happened.

“Report! Aoki has been intercepted! We found a large quantity of drugs in his car!”

The radio crackled with good news.

“Well done!” The FBI and police rejoiced—they had finally caught him!

“Uh... it wasn’t us who caught him. It was a blond kid driving a Mitsubishi Eclipse. He drifted through the corners using inertia, went so fast, we could only see flames shooting from his rear!

“No cop could catch him! Bullshit! He must have installed a nitrous tank... That GTR was no match! He’s too fast—is he a car god?

“I bet even if the entire NYPD surrounded him, he’d still break out!

“Oh God! That’s a flying machine on land!”

The officers were dumbfounded.

“What did you all just witness?”

An officer added, “By the way, the kid said the GTR belongs to his boss Pigeon. What now? Should we give it back?”

The police looked confused and silently glanced at Luca, who was adjusting his collar nearby.

Luca smiled faintly. “Now you know why I stayed. That GTR is my trophy. Take the man away but leave the car with me.

“Let’s all keep the peace, shall we?”

Peace again...

Everyone sighed. That Pigeon really was here to defend peace.

Denham’s gaze grew more complex as he quietly stared at Luca’s smile, thinking that next time Luca brought his sister over, he’d personally cook for them.

—Though his cooking was awful.

...

[You provided sufficient evidence and, with Brian’s help, assisted the authorities in capturing the head of the Japanese drug gang... You have maintained peace in New York.]

[Skill points gained: +20]

[Skill fragments gained: +10]

[When your body secretes adrenaline, the synthesis and secretion speed of adrenaline increases by 5%.]

[Remaining skill fragments: 21]

Luca was quite pleased with this reward. This bonus, combined with the Berserker skill, would significantly boost his combat power.

Soon after, Brian returned to the scene with the police, and the GTR was driven back by the officers.

Luca approached Brian with an encouraging hug. “Well done, Brian. Your outstanding performance made me admire you even more. Come earn money with me from now on.”

“Old Pigeon, thank you for giving me this opportunity.”

Before Brian finished, Luca put his arm around his shoulder and led him in front of the officers. “Let everyone see the true face of a car god.”

David rolled his eyes. “Okay, Old Pigeon, I get it—your driver’s amazing. Thanks for his heroism in helping us catch the criminal. Can we stop now?”

“Driver? No, no, Brian’s not just a driver. He’s my man!”

Luca’s tone was resolute. He used “friend of mine,” not “guy,” “man,” or “partner.”

The officers were stunned. Everyone knew the Mafia was precise with terminology regarding membership. Ordinary henchmen and low-level members were not worthy of being called “my man,” especially in front of the police.

This meant Luca was vouching for Brian!

What a joke. When did Sicilians start trusting some street-racing punk?

Brian was also slightly stunned, feeling an inexplicable sense of security in Luca’s strong embrace.

So soon, I’m Pigeon’s man?

This undercover mission might not be so difficult after all. Pigeon was just too trusting.

Thinking back to Pigeon saying he would help him make big money... For some reason, Brian thought his big brother was a bit foolishly straightforward.

[Bond: Friend]