The second basement level of the Empire State Building.
This place was originally a vault used to store old bank ledgers and heavy metal samples, but it had now been converted into an interrogation room.
The air circulation system emitted a low hum, but it still could not mask the sour stench mixed with fear and sweat.
A single electric light hung overhead, its dim yellow beam cast upon the heavy cast-iron chair in the center of the room.
Clive Cavendish was tightly secured to the chair with leather straps.
His forehead was badly swollen from a wound inflicted by Ketchum with a pistol butt, and the blood had already congealed into a dark, black scab.
When the heavy iron door was pushed open with a harsh, screeching sound of friction, Cavendish shuddered violently.
Felix walked in front, followed by Timmy, the head of the Intelligence Department, as well as the grim-faced Senator Pendleton and Agent Higgins.
Timmy dragged a chair over and placed it in front of Felix.
Felix sat down and carefully scrutinized the disheveled Englishman before him.
In the social circles of Washington, Cavendish had once been a respectable gentleman who wore custom-made tailcoats and swirled champagne in his hand.
But now, he was just a pile of mud.
"Mr. Cavendish, are you getting used to living in Philadelphia?"
Felix's voice echoed in the empty basement, carrying a suffocating sense of oppression.
Cavendish raised his head, his eyes bloodshot.
When he saw the high-ranking Washington official and the Secret Service agent standing behind Felix, a flash of panic crossed his eyes.
"Mr. Argyle, what are you doing?"
"How dare you openly kidnap a British citizen? This is a serious diplomatic incident!"
"A diplomatic incident?"
Felix laughed aloud and turned to look at Pendleton.
"Senator, why don't you explain it to him?"
Upon hearing this, Pendleton stepped forward, his tone stern.
"Mr. Cavendish, I am United States Senator Arthur Pendleton. Beside me is an agent from the federal Secret Service. You are now implicated in a treasonous case involving the murder of the United States President. Never mind being a British citizen; even if you were truly a British diplomat, you would still have to spill everything you know today!"
Cavendish was stunned. Why were a high-ranking Washington official and someone from the Secret Service both here?
"Murder the President? I didn't."
"Don't wrongly accuse me. I am only responsible for Mr. Morgan's investment business in America. How could I possibly assassinate the President? This is absurd!"
"Perhaps, but every order Old Morgan issued to America was carried out through you, his white glove, wasn't it? Now I have evidence showing that the assassination was orchestrated by Old Morgan from behind the scenes. You say you didn't do it—who would believe you?"
Felix stared into his eyes.
"Then I am just a mouthpiece; I know nothing about the assassination." Cavendish shouted.
Felix reached out his hand to Timmy, who immediately handed over a kraft paper folder.
Opening the folder, he pulled out a photograph and several papers stamped with London postmarks, tossing them onto Cavendish's lap.
"Clive, don't shout here. My patience is very limited."
Felix leaned back in his chair and slowly read out a set of information.
"Your wife, Mary Cavendish, currently lives in the West End of London, at 14 Kensington Street. Every afternoon at three, she goes to the bakery across the street to buy baguettes. Your son, Thomas. He is eight years old this year. He attends St. Jude's Private School for Boys. Every morning at 8:10, a carriage picks him up for school right on time."
With every word Felix read, Cavendish's face turned a shade paler.
When he heard his son's name, he completely fell apart.
"Don't touch them! Please, don't touch them!"
Cavendish shook his head frantically, tears streaming down his face.
He knew Argyle was not a good person, and if he didn't say what he wanted to know, he would really go after his family.
"Of course, that depends on your current attitude."
"After all, I'm not a bad person."
Felix closed the folder, composed and ready.
"Then tell me, how much money did Old Morgan give you? How did you distribute the money in Philadelphia? The people who went to the South to seize guns, the people who ambushed me on Fifth Avenue, and the people who opened fire in Indiana. Who was coordinating them?"
"I'll talk... I'll tell you everything."
Cavendish gave up resistance.
Facing the Argyle Family's transnational intelligence network, he felt it wasn't worth risking his family and children for Old Morgan.
"Half a month ago, Mr. Morgan sent me a coded telegram saying he wanted to use a hidden reserve fund. Three million dollars in bearer drafts; it seemed he was preparing to do something."
Cavendish panted, speaking extremely fast.
"But perhaps he knew I was timid. So, the person actually executing his plan was not me."
"Of course, I could guess that it was likely intended to deal with you, Mr. Argyle."
"Then who was it?"
Agent Higgins immediately took out a notebook, ready to record.
"David Burke."
Cavendish spat out a name.
"What kind of person is he?" Felix frowned.
"He is a ghost that Old Morgan keeps in Europe, specifically responsible for doing those dirty jobs that cannot see the light of day. Half a month ago, he arrived in Philadelphia secretly by cargo ship, carrying Old Morgan's token. He withdrew 1.5 million dollars in cash directly from me, and later took another 4 million dollars."
Cavendish recalled that gloomy and terrifying man.
"I asked, but he didn't tell me specifically what he was doing, only that last time he said he was going to the West and the South. Afterward, I heard that President Grant and Mr. Argyle seemed to have had a bad conflict. And then Mr. Argyle was assassinated, and finally President Grant was assassinated."
Hearing this, Felix and Higgins exchanged a glance.
The puzzle of the South had been pieced together.
"So you mean the assassination of the President was very likely orchestrated by him?"
Higgins asked urgently.
"This... I'm not entirely sure. What I can be sure of is that the assassination attempt on Mr. Argyle definitely had something to do with him. As for the President, I... I'm not saying it was definitely him, but I feel it probably was."
Cavendish explained, sounding terrified and hesitant.
"After all, Burke is extremely cunning. After taking the money, he cut off all contact. I was only responsible for providing the funds; he operated everything else!"
"But he has no roots in America. How could he get the President's itinerary in such a short time and avoid the gaze of the Secret Service?"
Senator Pendleton pointed out the suspicious points.
Facing the question, Cavendish hesitated.
"It should be the Democratic Party."
Cavendish's words made the two high-ranking Washington officials present change color.
"As far as I know, after Burke arrived in Philadelphia and got the first sum of money, he used that huge amount to clear the political underground lines in Washington. Mr. Morgan seems to still have some relationships within the Democratic Party. I think as long as there is enough money to feed that person, him going to the West and the South should not have been a problem."
Thinking that he had already given up but was still implicated, Cavendish sold Old Morgan out completely.
Now Felix also understood.
The mysterious person who had previously sent millions of dollars in political contributions to the Democratic Party, only to have it accidentally intercepted by him, which even triggered the Washington purge, was this David Burke!
Burke had originally impersonated the Argyle Family, appearing to unite with the Democratic Party to cause a rift between Grant and himself.
Afterward, Old Morgan had assassinated him, making him and most people think it was done by the President's people.
Finally, he assassinated the President, making everyone think it was his revenge, causing the Argyle Family and the Federal Government to split completely.
The Fifth Avenue ambush, the arms depot robbery in the South, the serial frame-up assassinations in Indiana.
It seems that all of this was orchestrated by this David Burke behind the scenes.
"What a ghost."
Felix stood up and walked to Cavendish, his eyes gleaming with a fierce light.
"Where is he now?"
"I don't know, he disappeared after taking the last of the money!"
"He knew I couldn't be relied upon, but before he left, he only left a P.O. box at a shady hotel in Philadelphia. But I've never been there!"
Felix turned his head and looked at Timmy.
"Did you hear what he said?"
"I heard it very clearly, Boss."
A sharp glint flashed in Timmy's eyes.
"Find me this David Burke."
He had to catch this mastermind; otherwise, not only would he have to shoulder the blame for assassinating the President, but he would also have to sleep with one eye open.
Just then, the silent Agent Higgins closed his notebook.
"Mr. Argyle, this is no longer just your personal vendetta. This person likely orchestrated the assassination of the United States President. The Secret Service will intervene fully, and I hope your intelligence network can share information with us."
"No problem, Agent Higgins."
Felix reached out and shook hands with him.
"After all, catching him is good for both of us."
Senator Pendleton breathed a sigh of relief; it seemed there was a breakthrough in the truth.
The night in Manhattan was deepening.
The temporary intelligence command center on the third floor of the Empire State Building was brightly lit.
It was like a war machine, with dozens of telegraph operators and intelligence analysts working at full capacity. The ticking of the telegraph machines merged into a continuous, nerve-wracking roar.
Timmy stood in front of a giant map of New York and the surrounding counties, holding a long wooden pointer in his hand.
Standing next to him was Higgins, a senior agent from the Secret Service; the two had now formed a close tactical alliance.
"According to the clues provided by Cavendish."
Timmy pointed to an area east of Philadelphia with his pointer.
"Our men searched that P.O. box two hours ago. It was registered under a fake name. There was no written information left inside. However, there was a layer of extremely fine coal ash on the edge of the box."
"Coal ash?" Higgins frowned.
"That's right, this isn't ordinary charcoal ash. This type of coke ash only exists near large steam locomotive railyards. This indicates that before David Burke cut off contact with Cavendish, when he went to pick up the letters, he had just come from a major railway hub."
Timmy's pointer slid up along the railway line and finally stopped at the border between New Jersey and New York.
"In addition, combined with the reports from Atlanta in the south, the gang of bandits who stole our fourteen rifles has been heading north along the East Coast railway line. They couldn't possibly have carried so many long guns and swaggered onto a passenger train."
"You mean they took the freight line!"
Higgins reacted immediately.
"Yes, and Burke needs a safe place to receive this batch of weapons while assigning assassination missions to these desperadoes." Timmy turned his head to look at Higgins.
"We have already obtained the photos and sketches of the assassins killed by the Secret Service in Indiana."
Timmy walked over to the table nearby and picked up a few sketches.
"We mobilized all our gang informants in the New York underworld to identify them. One of the assassins who was killed had been drinking in a low-end bar in the Red Hook district of Brooklyn a week ago."
The clues were completely connected.
Higgins slammed his fist in excitement.
"He set up his safe house and command post in Brooklyn! It's a dock area with an extremely complex population, and it happens to be at the intersection of the New Jersey freight line and the New York passenger line!"
"Check all independent warehouses and cheap boarding houses with basements that have been rented out for short terms near the Red Hook district of Brooklyn in the last ten days."
Timmy gave the order decisively.
"He has a large amount of cash in his hands, so he certainly won't stay in those high-end hotels that register identities. Plus, he needs enough space to hide the rest of his accomplices."
"I will immediately mobilize all Secret Service agents from the New York branch." Higgins grabbed his coat.
"Let's combine our men and turn the entire Red Hook district upside down."
Watching Higgins's retreating figure, Timmy's expression remained grave.
Finding them was only the first step.
A person of David Burke's caliber would absolutely not hesitate to silence witnesses or destroy all evidence the moment he sensed something was wrong.
In the CEO's office on the top floor.
Felix stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at the city lights flickering like stars below.
Catherine sat on the sofa, flipping through the latest telegraph briefings.
"My dear, there has been progress on Timmy's side. They have locked down the general area in Brooklyn. As long as they catch David Burke, we can completely shake off this blame." Catherine looked up and said.
"Catching him only solves half the problem, my dear."
Felix turned around and walked over to sit next to Catherine.
"Even if the Secret Service gets Burke's confession proving that Old Morgan did all of this, those politicians in Washington won't give up so easily. Don't forget, Grant is still lying in a hospital in Indiana, his life hanging in the balance."
Felix picked up the political dynamic assessment sent by an internal informant in Washington from the coffee table.
"Capitol Hill is in an uproar now; Thomas is attempting to take over domestic affairs and act on behalf of the president. But this touches the core interests of the radical faction of the Republican Party and Grant's die-hard loyalists. They are obstructing it."
Thinking of this, Felix scoffed.
"Even if it's proven that I'm not the assassin, they might still use 'the Argyle Family's negligence in weapon management leading to the president's serious injury' as an excuse to suppress my Vanguard Military Industry. These vultures, once they smell blood, will come to tear off a piece of meat regardless of whose blood it is."
Chief Secretary Frost pushed the door open and walked in.
"Boss, the latest news has come from Indiana. Dr. Finch says the president has made it through the most dangerous first stage of the infection period. Although he is still in a coma, his heartbeat has stabilized."
Hearing this news, Felix narrowed his eyes.
"He didn't die?"
"This general's life is truly tough."
Felix's words were full of complexity.
"If Grant didn't die, then the situation in Washington will be even more delicate." Catherine thought for a moment and analyzed.
"The radical faction will use his lingering breath to tightly occupy the center of power and refuse to let the vice president take over."
"They won't be able to occupy it for long."
Felix stood up and walked to the desk.
"Old Morgan spent millions of dollars to create such a huge mess, which has indeed caused me huge trouble. But if managed properly, this is also an excellent opportunity to completely purge the opposition in Washington."
Felix pressed his hands on the desk, his eyes revealing a shudder-inducing determination.
"Pin all the bad debts and dirty water on this David Burke and Old Morgan. I want those radical congressmen to understand that if they dare to keep hounding me, they are colluding with the foreign capital that assassinated the president!"
Felix looked up at Frost.
"Notify the Central Station to prepare my private train immediately. Raise all security forces to the highest level, and have Ketchum bring his most ruthless squadron to accompany me."
Frost was stunned for a moment.
"Boss, are you leaving New York now?"
"Timmy and Higgins are enough for the arrest operation."
Felix casually straightened the hem of his suit.
"The real battlefield is not in the sewers of Brooklyn, but in that center of power filled with hypocrites."
Felix's gaze passed over Frost, as if he could already see Capitol Hill hundreds of miles away.
"I'm going to Washington to have a good talk with the top brass of the Republican Party."