Chapter 94: What is Art?
"I thought you were really going to hurt that family back there." Arthur looked at Ron with a mix of admiration and wariness.
This guy—was he always this theatrical? Arthur had just used standard interrogation techniques.
"Of course not," Ron shrugged. "Enhanced interrogation is all about psychological pressure and misdirection. As long as you sell the threat convincingly, you can get someone to confess to jaywalking from thirty years ago. Basic IRS training—I just didn't expect the kitchen appliance to be so effective as a prop."
Hank in the back seat had no idea what they were discussing. If he'd known what really happened in that house, he would've wanted to crawl under the car instead of riding in it.
300 Colby Plaza was a towering office building. Ron parked in the garage of the building across the street, and Arthur immediately made his suggestion.
"I'll call Dean first and triangulate his position using the cell towers. Once we pinpoint his exact office, we can plan our approach."
"Too complicated and time-consuming," Ron shook his head and popped the trunk. "Hank, take these two cases to the roof and set them up. Then stay up there and wait for my signal. Arthur, you're coming with me—we're taking the express route."
"You've lost your mind! Do you have any idea how many people Dean has? We need a detailed plan, intercept him during a transfer, use multiple vehicles to separate his security detail, then hit him when he's isolated. Ideally we'd..."
Arthur rattled off his tactical plan. This was the most Ron had heard him speak since they'd met. Usually Arthur was the strong, silent type.
But hearing Ron's reckless approach, he finally dropped the cool facade.
Ron held up a finger for silence. "Easy there, partner. Don't forget—helping you settle this score was just a side benefit. My real objective is accessing his financial records and offshore accounts. Let's keep our priorities straight, Agent Arthur."
"Need I remind you he's got at least fifty trained operatives as security?" Arthur remained firm in his objections.
"Actually, I know the situation better than you do," Ron said, holding up his phone to show Arthur. "He's currently in Suite E on the 23rd floor. Throughout the building, including the lobby and other leased offices, there are exactly 54 guards.
They're carrying military-grade MP5 submachine guns from the early 90s. Reliable weapons, but that particular batch had some manufacturing issues—they're prone to jamming under sustained fire."
Ron's phone screen displayed crisp surveillance footage from inside the building, switching between different camera angles as he swiped, giving him a comprehensive view of Dean's security layout.
Arthur's jaw dropped. "How the hell did you get access to that?"
"The surveillance feed? I've got a tech specialist who just hacked their security system," Ron said proudly. "As for intel on their weapons, let's just say I have a very well-connected arms dealer friend, and they buy all their hardware from his catalog."
Arthur was finally convinced by his new boss's resources. "Alright, you're calling the shots."
Ten minutes later, Ron used his federal authority to issue an evacuation order to the building's management company. Everyone except the floor housing the assassination company was cleared out.
Meanwhile, Hank finally reached the opposite rooftop, hauling the heavy equipment cases. Opening them as Ron had instructed, he found an array of sophisticated remote-controlled devices.
"Boss, are you sure this is the right gear? This stuff looks like those fancy RC helicopters rich kids get for Christmas, except with four rotors. They look like high-tech toys."
Hank unpacked the contents: one large tactical drone, six smaller reconnaissance drones, and various control units.
"Trust me, I brought exactly what we need. Don't underestimate those devices—they represent the future of tactical operations."
Ron and Arthur took the elevator to the 24th floor and entered the emergency stairwell. They immediately used their phones to notify building management to shut down all elevator access.
"What's your view from up there? Can you see Dean's office?"
"Crystal clear. Want me to end this right now?" Hank said eagerly, setting up his sniper rifle. He'd been itching to use it in the field.
"Negative. I need Dean alive to tell me where he's hiding his assets. This guy's legitimate bank accounts total less than fifty grand. He's got to have the real money stashed somewhere offshore."
"Copy that, boss," Hank said, redirecting his weapon toward an adjacent office. "Ready when you are."
"Light them up."
As Ron's command came through Hank's earpiece, Hank gently squeezed the trigger.
"CRACK!"
A high-velocity round shattered the building's reinforced glass and struck the security station.
The impact sent sparks flying through the surveillance equipment, and on Ron's phone screen, one camera feed after another went dark.
Hank, positioned across the street, was amazed by his weapon's precision and felt his adrenaline surge.
His boss was right—this equipment was incredible!
"What the hell was that?" Dean dove under his mahogany desk and shouted to his security team, "Is that bastard Arthur here? Find him and eliminate him!"
Before he could finish the order, Hank's second shot arrived, punching through another office window and embedding in the wall.
The impact brought down a section of drywall in a cloud of dust and debris.
Dean's phone buzzed with a text message from Arthur—a classic line from Terminator: "I'll be back."
Ron gave points for style.
Dean, rattled by the sniper fire, immediately grasped the situation and yelled to his bodyguards: "It's Arthur! He's in the building! Get me out of here now!"
Before his security team could regroup from the confusion, the rotors of six small drones positioned on Hank's rooftop began spinning in unison, lifting their compact frames into the sky.
As Hank watched in amazement, they rapidly crossed the 300-meter gap between buildings, flew in formation through the shattered windows, navigated through the damaged offices, and entered the main corridor.
The security team, having never encountered such technology, forgot to even shoot at them.
Ron's voice crackled through the drones' speakers: "Gentlemen, do you know what art is?"
(End of Chapter)
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