The Congers was taken away by the FBI, and his gang members worried he might leak secrets, so they ambushed him mid-way attempting to kill him, but he managed to escape.
The gang sent hitmen to the Congers’ house, and I bumped into them. Then FBI agent Carl and his partner rushed in to investigate and also encountered the gang hitmen gunfight with me.
Besides, due to the informer’s tip-off, the FBI deputy director is now targeting me and wants to take me in. So he ordered to kill Carl to frame me.
Oh, by the way, the voice from the blackmail call, when restored, matched the Congers’.
"Gray Shark" on the other end of the phone hummed a few times, indicating that Zhou Qingfeng’s speculation was generally correct, with only some details needing adjustment.
"By the way," Gray Shark suddenly remembered something, "Did the ’Hourly Worker’ helper I found for you get in touch?"
"No." Zhou Qingfeng shook his head; he indeed hadn’t received any contact from the ’Hourly Worker.’
Gray Shark sighed in annoyance, "That old guy is getting slower and slower. I’ve already urged him several times. I won’t assign him any more tasks in the future."
Zhou Qingfeng was curious, "You found me an old guy to be the ’Hourly Worker’? How old?"
Gray Shark explained, "Ordinary ’Hourly Workers’ just fight and kill, like those two hitmen you encountered, brainless, not suitable for you.
The ’Hourly Worker’ I assigned you is cheap, experienced, and works with finesse, and happens to be in Miami.
The only problem is he’s a bit old, already over seventy."
"Over seventy and still being ’Hourly Worker’?" Zhou Qingfeng thought people of that age should be in a nursing home sitting in wheelchairs.
Gray Shark smiled helplessly, "No choice, most people in this line are rookies, earning a few years of risky money before dying.
Few can do this job for half a lifetime. Right now, I can’t find anyone to replace him, so I have to contact him again and urge him to complete the order."
"You can even urge orders?" Zhou Qingfeng couldn’t help laughing, but the laughter carried bitterness.
After hanging up the phone, Zhou Qingfeng had just put his phone down when the ringtone abruptly rang again.
He glanced at the screen; it was an unknown number flashing. His finger hesitated on the answer key for a second before finally pressing it.
"Are you Victor?" A hoarse and slow elderly voice came from the other side, like from a distant corner.
"It’s me." Zhou Qingfeng responded briefly, his brow furrowing tighter.
"Great, kid, I finally dialed the right number."
The old man’s voice carried a sense of relief, "I’m Hammer, your ’Hourly Worker,’ I’ve got a little trouble now. Can you come pick me up?"
"Why?" Zhou Qingfeng impatiently asked.
"I got lost." The old man said with a tone of helplessness and embarrassment.
"Lost?" Zhou Qingfeng rubbed his temples, astonished and disappointed, thinking what kind of excuse is this.
"Sorry, I can’t leave my shelter now to pick you up. Or else, cancel the order. I’ll still pay the fee."
"Oh..." The other end of the phone was silent for a few seconds, then there came a heavy sigh, "No, I should say sorry. I indeed arrived too late; forget about the fee.
I’m probably too old, recently always forgetting things. My memory isn’t as good as you young people. Not being able to help, I’m very sorry, really very sorry."
After the call ended, Zhou Qingfeng tossed his phone aside, collapsing onto the bed, exhaustion washing over him like a tide.
Today’s continuous changes have drained too much energy. He casually pulled the blanket over himself, attempting to sink into sleep.
However, a knocking sound came from the door, breaking the night’s silence.
"Who?" Zhou Qingfeng abruptly opened his eyes, quickly reaching under his pillow to grip the cold gun handle.
"It’s me." Helen’s voice came from outside the door, soft but uneasy, "Victor, can I come in?"
Zhou Qingfeng didn’t turn on the light, holding the gun single-handedly behind his back. He got out of bed, quietly walking a few steps sideways and opening the door.
In the dark, Helen stood there in thin pajamas, wrapped in a faint fragrance. Her hair was messy, looking very helpless.
"Victor, I’m a bit scared. Can I sleep with you?" Her voice was so low it was almost inaudible, as if afraid of disturbing something.
"Okay." Zhou Qingfeng didn’t refuse, pulling Helen towards the bed. Just as they were about to lie down, the phone rang again.
Zhou Qingfeng picked up the phone to see; it was still that number. He answered it, clearly impatient, "Hello?"
"Are you Victor? I’m Hammer, your ’Hourly Worker.’ I’ve got a little trouble now. Can you come pick me up?"
Still that elderly voice, still the same question.
Zhou Qingfeng couldn’t suppress his irritation any longer, feeling agitated instantly. He couldn’t help cursing, "Mr. Hourly Worker, do you have dementia?"
The elderly voice responded hastily, "Yes... yes... I think I do. I’m very sorry, really sorry, very very sorry."