Hearing that the amount involved reached a ton of banknotes, Harry's eyes turned green with envy. If he cracked this case...

"And then what?" Seeing Haver pause again, Harry grew impatient.

Haver glanced at him disdainfully. "Of course, we moved the money!"

"Those twenty-dollar bills filled the pickup truck we drove. It took a lot of effort to cover the heaps of banknotes with tarpaulins. After that, there was the issue of dealing with those people."

Regret flashed in Haver's eyes. "We didn't find the printing plates used for counterfeiting in the basement. That meant, apart from the few people in the basement, someone else had already taken the tools and materials for printing, leaving only these individuals to cut and package the counterfeit notes. Accomplices could have come to this basement for a pickup at any moment. So, we decided to kill these people and leave with the money as quickly as possible. But Azak, that idiot, disagreed. He wanted to wake them up and ask about his girlfriend's whereabouts."

Haver sneered. "I don't even know why I have such a foolish and naive son. After those men had vented their desires, how could they possibly leave anyone alive? He almost got us killed."

Hearing this, Harry looked at Dean, who had been silent beside him. "Buddy, why does the scene this guy's describing sound like something out of a movie with an idiotic female protagonist who messes things up at the most critical moment?"

"Because it's fabricated," Dean patted Harry's shoulder. "Haven't you noticed? This guy always pauses at crucial moments, just when he's piqued your interest. In that case..." Dean looked at Haver, whose expression had changed drastically, and chuckled softly. "In that case, our attention would be drawn to the 'story' he's telling, and we'd forget something very important!"

Harry glanced at the ashen-faced Haver, then at the calm Dean, his eyes completely lost. "That... what... what important thing?"

He suddenly felt like he was in a math class; he'd looked down for just a moment, and when he looked back up, the blackboard was covered in incomprehensible formulas, making him wonder if he'd missed an entire lesson.

Dean, seeing Harry struggling to understand, sighed and turned to Haver. "Didn't you hear my partner asking you a question?"

Haver, relieved that Dean didn't seem inclined to use force, hurriedly explained, "I swear, everything I said is true; I only altered the details regarding the printing plates."

Harry finally understood. "So you not only found the counterfeit money but also the printing plates used for counterfeiting?"

"Correct!" Haver, seeing that Dean had completely seen through his deception, stopped trying to argue. "Actually, the people printing the money were all in the basement. Compared to the counterfeit notes, those printing plates were the real cash cow, capable of providing us with a continuous stream of wealth. So, despite my son's objections, we killed everyone in the basement. As a result, Azak, that fool, unhappy with what we'd done, deliberately took one of the counterfeiter's phones. After we left, he disappeared with a stack of counterfeit notes and cut off all contact with us."

"So you chose to call the police?"

"Yes." Haver nodded. "Actually, finding the right materials for counterfeit notes and mixing the inks isn't difficult. The hard part is the printing plates, which are difficult to distinguish from the real ones. Those idiots in the basement, no matter how you looked at them, weren't the type of people to possess such things. My wife and I concluded there had to be a secret behind it all. In that situation, if Azak, that fool, made a scene trying to find that damned girlfriend of his, it could implicate us. That's why we wanted to use the police to find him."

"But initially, didn't the precinct help you find Azak?" Harry tapped the table. "So why did you stage the incident, drive the car to the abandoned factory, and then call the police again?"

This action clearly contradicted Haver's own words.

Haver's face was etched with bitterness. "We did it for self-preservation. The patrol officers did help us find Azak, that fool. But before that, while trying to find his damned girlfriend, he'd already used the phone he'd taken to contact the people involved. He naively told the stranger on the other end of the line that he had the printing plates and if they wanted them, they had to release his girlfriend, Serena. We knew nothing about this. So, after finding Azak, we took him home and kept him under watch. But that very evening, we were attacked. If we hadn't prepared a secret escape route in our house, connected to the underground sewage system, you wouldn't be seeing us now. Azak, the idiot, finally realized the severity of the situation. Just a phone call, just a name, and the people behind the scenes found us. This meant they had strong intelligence capabilities. If we ran around recklessly, we might have been killed before we even left Los Angeles. To protect ourselves, we staged the whole scene, hoping the burnt counterfeit money in the car would lead you to the hidden underground chamber beneath the abandoned factory. Inside, we placed the phone Azak had brought back and most of the counterfeit money. That way, your attention would shift to the masterminds behind the counterfeiting, creating an opportunity for us to escape with the printing plates."

After Haver finished speaking, he let out a long sigh, slumped into the chair, and said firmly, "That's the whole story. The printing plates are now hidden in a very secret location. If you can contact the FBI and have them protect my family and give us new identities, I'm willing to hand them over to you."

At this point, the broad outline of the case had emerged: An unknown group had been producing counterfeit money in the underground chamber beneath the abandoned factory for an indeterminate amount of time, until they exhausted all their materials. Unable to endure the oppressive heat any longer, the group had secretly exited the underground chamber. They abducted young women loitering nearby, brought them to the chamber for their amusement, and disposed of them once they grew bored. Unfortunately, Azak's girlfriend was among the missing. Ultimately, this chain of events led to the current situation.

Dean withdrew his gaze from Haver. This time, he was probably telling the truth.

Suddenly, Dean's gaze sharpened. If that's the case, isn't Haver's wife in danger now?

At this thought, Dean quickly said, "Harry, call Hawk right away! Tell him to arrange more people to protect Haver's wife. I'm worried the people Haver and his family provoked will go to the hospital looking for her."

Haver was right about one thing: compared to that ton of counterfeit money, the printing plates, capable of producing counterfeit US dollars virtually indistinguishable from real ones, were the true cash cow. Now, Haver's wife was in danger!

Without hesitation, Harry picked up his phone and dialed Hawk.

Haver, hearing Dean's arrangements, remained completely indifferent. He looked at Dean with an expression of someone awaiting judgment. "What are you going to do with me?"

Dean looked into Haver's eyes and said gravely, "I'll hand you over to the FBI. Now, tell me about the people who attacked you. Since you had an escape route prepared at your residence well in advance, don't tell me you didn't set up any hidden surveillance!"

Haver instinctively averted Dean's piercing gaze. He hadn't expected that this detective, who appeared to be only in his twenties, possessed eyes that seemed almost magical, capable of seeing right through an old fox like him and discerning all his plans.

After a long silence, he finally spoke in a voice only Dean could hear: "The Skull Gang! Those were people from the Skull Gang!"

"Good!" Dean turned, about to head to the hospital with Harry to lie in wait.

An even fainter voice came from behind him: "They're a bunch of racist lunatics. If you don't want to stir up trouble, you'd best stay out of this case."

Dean stopped, turned his head, and gave Haver—who had closed his eyes and said no more—a long, hard look. Then, he and Harry, who had just finished his call, walked out.

As for Haver? For the time being, staying in the interrogation room was much safer than being held in the precinct's temporary lockup. After all, police departments in the United States are never short of dirty cops!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.