"Where's that Asian? He's the real boss in there." Bolo questioned.
"According to the intel, he's a street guy in Los Angeles, collaborates with others to own a bar, and also a recycling center, specifically recruiting homeless people for can business."
The underling confidently replied, "In his assets, there's only a private plane, a Jeep, and an RV listed. That's all there is."
"That's all? That's it?"
Bolo looked doubtfully at his underling, couldn't help but curse, "Do you think I'm an idiot? You're telling me he's just a recycler? A can picker? That's definitely just a front for their real operations! They can get their hands on clay bombs and that shipment; their business is definitely not so simple! That old man sure has killed someone! Might even be a Dark Web hitman!"
"Does he really not have a house of his own?"
Bolo asked again to confirm, and the increasing anxiety in his underling's response made his own heart race.
