Three hours later, accompanied by several subordinates...
The corrupt cop Stansfield quietly entered Michael's apartment through the back door!
Looking at Michael, who had a mournful expression and was trembling with fear...
Stansfield had to try hard for a long time to suppress the urge to draw his gun and blow Michael's head off right there.
"Sorry, sir."
"I didn't expect to be watched, but I can assure you. I absolutely did not reveal anything about that shipment to anyone."
"Somehow the news leaked, and someone broke into my home."
"I didn't dare call the police. After discovering today that my house was broken into and the goods I hid were stolen... I wanted to atone for my failure, so I looked everywhere for clues."
"As a result, I discovered someone was monitoring me."
Like a pathetic wretch, Michael stood slightly bowed beside the corrupt cop Stansfield.
His wife Margie was currently at work.
His two daughters and son had been sent away by Michael to play nearby.
Clearly, Michael was ready to take a beating.
But in his view, as long as his plan succeeded...
Even if he was severely beaten by Stansfield or suffered some injuries, it would be worth it.
He felt that although Stansfield had a bad reputation, he was still a senior DEA agent.
He probably wouldn't dare to easily get blood on his hands.
Moreover, this time, the somewhat-clever-but-not-smart-enough Michael felt...
That the real culprit who caused him to be watched was Stansfield and his men leaking the news, not himself.
The veins on Stansfield's face throbbed constantly.
Suppressing his rage, he barely managed to maintain a sliver of a smile on his face.
Stansfield walked close to Michael, bringing his head right up to Michael's cheek.
With his extensive experience in handling cases and seeing the world, he could, of course, tell that Michael had a guilty conscience.
But Stansfield still had many doubts in his mind that hadn't been answered.
"Your name is Michael, right?"
"You should know that no one can deceive me."
Michael felt Stansfield's hot breath hitting his cheek.
Having a guilty conscience, cold sweat immediately broke out on his forehead.
Feeling his heart pounding violently, Michael's greed still overpowered everything else.
He feigned calmness, trying his best to meet Stansfield's eyes.
But his stuttering tone betrayed his inner nervousness.
"Of... Of course..."
Stansfield was even more certain now: this guy definitely had a guilty conscience.
"Don't let me find out this has anything to do with you."
He pressed his lips close to Michael's ear and delivered his final warning in a low, calm voice.
Then, Stansfield pulled away from Michael.
Slowly, he reached out and straightened the clothes on the sweating Michael.
Under Michael's terrified gaze, he patted him on the shoulder.
Then, Stansfield turned around to look at the subordinates he brought with him.
Two of them had rushed to the apartment immediately after receiving Michael's call to verify his story.
Seeing him look over, a tall subordinate immediately walked up close and whispered to Stansfield.
"Stan, we can't be sure if Michael is pulling a fast one yet, but the apartment is indeed under surveillance."
"We investigated just now. The surveillance camera is wired to the fourth floor of this building."
"We sent someone to the real estate agency to ask."
"At first, they refused to reveal any useful information until we flashed our DEA badges."
"They told us that the apartment on the fourth floor was rented by several men recently."
"We took the identity information they left at the agency and investigated carefully."
"But the results showed... their clearance level is so high that we don't have the authority to query their files."
Stansfield's calm face immediately wrinkled into a frown.
To survive as one of LA's biggest drug lords while being a senior DEA agent...
If he lacked cunning and methods, he would have been discovered and killed by the ruthless drug lords or his DEA colleagues long ago.
Stansfield naturally understood the implication of his subordinate's unfinished sentence.
"Even you don't have the authority to query them?"
"Looks like someone is really watching me."
"Is it Internal Affairs? Or the FBI?"
Stansfield had been operating in the LA DEA for over a decade. His heart was black enough, and his methods ruthless enough.
So even though he was still just a senior agent, within the LA DEA...
Apart from the Director, even the Deputy Director had been corrupted by Stansfield's black money from drug trafficking, becoming one of his umbrellas.
This was one reason Stansfield hadn't been exposed all these years.
So he quickly determined it probably wasn't the DEA (Internal Affairs) targeting him; it was likely the FBI.
Although the FBI had the authority to supervise DEA cases...
The DEA belonged to the Department of Justice, one of the most powerful departments in the US.
If it came to a real conflict, the FBI wouldn't have an easy time either.
Therefore, although Stansfield was angry, he wasn't particularly panicked.
Glancing at Michael, who was standing nearby but couldn't hear their conversation...
Stansfield whispered instructions: "I got it. I'll verify their identities later."
"Be careful. Don't alert the snake in the grass just yet."
"Remember, this place has nothing to do with us."
"Also, keep a close eye on this guy."
"Watch him. Make sure he doesn't get any ideas and cause me trouble."
His subordinate subconsciously glanced at Michael too.
Then he nodded. "Don't worry, Stan."
"I'll watch him personally. If this guy is up to something, I guarantee I'll find out."
"Mhm."
Stansfield gave Michael one last deep look before quietly leaving with his men.
Only after seeing his figure disappear from the doorway...
Did Michael heave a sigh of relief. When he came back to his senses, he realized his whole body was soaked in cold sweat.
That look Stansfield gave him before leaving made Michael feel like he had already been exposed.
For a moment, Michael was lost in anxiety.
So much so that, having unconsciously walked to his own front door, he didn't notice...
In the inconspicuous keyhole of the door handle of the apartment next door, light and shadow alternated.
It seemed as if someone was quietly peeping through that keyhole.
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