Apart from the towering skyscrapers of reinforced concrete, the most common type of architecture in New York is the brownstone buildings. "Brownstone" actually refers to red bricks, which in China are also called slab bricks or 85 bricks, and are considered essential tools for home life, travel, and—if need be—committing robbery and murder.
With economic development, red bricks gradually transitioned to gray bricks, and later, for environmental reasons, they were replaced by cement bricks made from fly ash and coal slag. As a result, red and gray bricks, which require clay for firing, became increasingly rare.
If you build a house but can't bear to plaster the walls, leaving the red brick exposed, it turns into the brownstone architectural style that gained popularity worldwide following the Industrial Revolution—a high-end architectural aesthetic capable of bringing countless bohemian romantics to tears.
For certain well-known reasons, these red brick houses, some dating back to the previous century or even the century before that, have become some of the most comfortable residences around New York, aside from the skyscrapers.
"It looks like this Mr. Swan has a pretty decent income." Jack didn't knock on the door. Instead, he paused at the entrance to listen, sniffed the air, then pulled out his lockpicking tools. "There's a body inside."
Reacher and Nigeli exchanged puzzled glances. They couldn't smell anything.
However, the big guy instinctively chose to trust Jack. He stepped in beside him, blocking the view to prevent passersby from noticing and misinterpreting the situation. His hand rested on the Glock 20 at his waist.
With two soft clicks, the top and bottom locks were opened. Jack gently pushed the door, and the strong stench of decay wafted out.
Reacher and Nigeli, standing behind him, immediately drew their guns and stepped inside. After a quick search, they found a golden retriever's corpse in the bathroom.
"The name on the collar is 'Miles.' Looks like it died of thirst—it even drank the toilet water dry." Jack briefly examined the dog's body and then looked at the big guy.
Nigeli's expression showed pity. "That must have been a horrible way to die."
"Swan would never let his dog die of thirst. If he hasn't come home, there's only one possibility—he's dead," Reacher said grimly.
It was clear that emotion fueled his statement. Neither Jack nor Nigeli took it as a certainty, but they couldn't deny that, based on what they currently knew, it was a strong possibility.
Jack didn't try to comfort them or analyze the situation further. Instead, he scanned the room. "I checked the doors and windows leading to the backyard—there are no signs of forced entry. Judging by the placement of the furniture and belongings, Swan had no plans to travel. I'll call in the CSI team to confirm."
After Jack finished his call, the three of them didn't leave immediately. Instead, they waited in the driveway in front of Swan's house, because Stella had just told them over the phone that their team had found an important clue in the ruins of Franz's office.
"That's impossible. We checked everything. There's no way we missed an important clue." Reacher felt his dignity as a special investigator was being challenged.
"CSI is the nation's top forensic crime lab. I've worked with them many times. From a forensic science perspective, they're the real experts."
In Jack's previous life, the CSI crime lab only existed in TV shows. But in reality—or at least, in part—it was modeled after the FBI's crime lab. So, it wasn't exactly an exaggeration for him to praise them.
"Thanks for the compliment." Stella, who had just stepped out of her car, clearly heard Jack's words and couldn't help but show a hint of pride. However, when she turned and saw his square jaw, she was momentarily taken aback.
"It's just for convenience. Let's talk in the car." Jack winked at her, offering a vague explanation before motioning toward the Range Rover they had arrived in.
Behind Stella, several technicians in protective suits were already heading into Swan's house with their toolboxes.
"Do you guys know much about fax machines?" Stella's first question after getting into the car took everyone by surprise.
Nigeli grinned. "You mean those magical little boxes that, after picking up a call and playing a bunch of static noise, spit out an A4 paper with something printed on it?"
"I like your sense of humor," Stella replied with a smile. "Fax machines also have built-in memory. Any new faxes overwrite the old ones in a continuous loop. The printer in Franz's office was smashed, but its internal flash memory was intact. Our techs recovered several fax logs, and this is what we found."
She pulled out a printed document—it was an official reply letter from the DHS (Department of Homeland Security).
The letter was brief, describing a suspected arms dealer named Azari Mahmoud, who was believed to be supplying weapons to terrorist organizations.
"Does that name look familiar?" Jack handed the printout to Reacher, who nodded slightly. "The initials are also 'AM.'"
"What does that mean?" Stella and Nigeli spoke in unison, confused by the cryptic exchange.
Jack gave a brief explanation of the two files found on Franz's USB drive. One of them contained a list of aliases, all with the initials "AM." This was the first real breakthrough in solving that mystery.
Reacher then read aloud the last two handwritten lines on the document: "Mahmoud might be the man we're looking for. He's like a ghost—there are no known photos of him."
The signature at the bottom was: "Sanchez."
Nigeli suddenly understood but immediately had another question. "So Sanchez and Orozco were helping Franz investigate this guy. But what does that have to do with Swan?"
"I don't know, but we'll find out," Reacher answered with a grim determination.
"OK, the rest is up to you, Jack. I'm going inside." Before leaving, Stella patted Jack on the shoulder and sighed sincerely.
"Wow—terrorists, international arms dealers… Jack, why do you always end up in these massive cases?"
Jack sighed helplessly. "I don't know. Maybe it's because I have too many powerful friends." He then took out his phone and snapped a photo of the document to send to Jubal.
"So, what's our next move?" Nigeli started the car, glancing at Reacher in the passenger seat, then at Jack in the back. "Is the FBI officially stepping in?"
"We've been involved from the start," Jack muttered, rubbing his temples as he quickly reviewed the case in his mind.
Laying out the timeline: the first to die was Franz, a private investigator who worked for Wall Street clients. Sanchez and Orozco, who lived in nearby New Jersey, got pulled into this mess—likely just as a favor for a friend—and were killed as well.
Since they were investigating a mysterious arms dealer who supplied terrorist organizations, this part of the case made sense. But what about Swan? Was he involved because Franz asked him for help?
Just then, Jack's phone rang. It was JJ. She reported that suspicious individuals had been spotted near Franz's home again—possibly surveilling the area.
Jack immediately called Clay and Aubrey, who were on standby at the Federal Building, instructing them and Danny to start a covert investigation into Swan's whereabouts.
Then he said, "Someone will contact DHS to verify Azari Mahmoud's identity. We've also assigned people to track down Swan. But as for you two… would you be interested in going fishing with me?"
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