Daily life of an American TV drama agent

Ron was about to step forward, preparing to torture him about who was behind it, but saw the man take out something and stuff it into his mouth. By the time Ron rushed forward, the man was already foaming at the mouth and falling down.

"FXXK! Committed suicide by taking poison, and our clues have been cut off again." Ron said angrily. If he had known better, he should have injured both of his hands just now.

"I'm starting to get curious now, who are we messing with these times? Have you two cleaned up any communication tools such as mobile phones?" Ron turned around and asked.

The cell phone Ron used to talk to Finch had been thrown out of the window long before Finch realized something was wrong. The cell phone Peggy gave him had no calls to anyone except for a single line of communication with Peggy. I have never logged in, and there is no possibility of being invaded.

So the question is, how did this killer find his way here?

"All the mobile phones and computers are new now, and I haven't called anyone yet." Finch took out the communication device on his body and showed it to Ron in confusion.

There is nothing wrong with Finch and Reese's things, and Ron himself is even less likely to have a problem. To borrow a phrase that Sherlock often said: "Eliminate all impossibilities, and whatever is left, no matter how unbelievable, is the truth."

If there was nothing wrong with Ron and Finch, then the problem could only be... The three of them all turned their attention to Powell, who was no longer sleeping, and even had a ridiculous idea in their minds.

Is this man who looks like a victim pretending to be a pig to eat the tiger?

Ron thought like this, and slapped Powell's head, which was already swollen like a pig's head, twice, but there was still no reaction, not even the conditioned muscle tightening.

This shouldn't be faked. Ron shook his head at the two of them, and the clue was broken again.

"Wait a minute, is it possible that the FBI or someone who wanted to kill him installed a tracking device on him while he was at the police station? As you all know, the Los Angeles Police Department has long been penetrated like a sieve."

Reese suggested another possibility, and Ron touched the sleeping old man again.

The pockets of the clothes were all empty. All belongings should have been taken away when they were caught. The belt buckle was made of a single piece of metal. Judging from the shape, there was no possibility of hiding the tracker. If these places If there are no trackers, there are only two places left to put trackers.

Ron and Rise's faces turned dark at the same time. Ron said before Rise could speak: "I'll check his shoes now. If I still can't find the tracker, you can check his intestines. Over there." There were rubber gloves and lube in the drawer.”

Reise had no choice but to nod with a dark face, but fortunately Ron checked the first shoe and found a small, shining tracker on the sole.

"You're so lucky. You don't need to do an anorectal examination for him now."

"What are you going to do now?"

"First of all, I will take this out for a walk, pretending that I didn't find it, and then find a place to attract the killer, but this time I will be careful and take off his jaw before he commits suicide. "

"What about us?" Finch asked quickly.

"You just need to be responsible for waiting for him to wake up and return him to the police station."

Ron pointed at Powell. Finch was a little confused and asked worriedly: "Why should he be sent back? What if the killer attacks him again?"

"Impossible, where is the killer?" Ron held up the tracker.

Judging from the traces of the tracker, the tracker has been installed on the shoes for at least two days, which means that the man behind the scenes installed it in advance and he has no power in the police station.

It would be safest for Powell to return to the police station now.

As for the next killer to come~ Ron looked at the tracker in his hand and had a bold idea in his mind.

…

On Fifth Avenue, the second killer who followed the signal held his cell phone tightly and walked to the end of an alley. He stopped, looked up at the dead end in front of him, and then looked at the light spots that were still moving on the screen of his cell phone, revealing that The expression of seeing a ghost.

"Boss, I've followed the tracker's signal to a dead end, but the tracker is still moving forward. Is it broken?"

"Impossible. This tracker is the best on the market. It is absolutely impossible to break!" The electronically synthesized voice sounded in the killer's ears. Although the electronic sound was very heavy, he could vaguely tell that it was a woman.

"Is it possible that they found the tracker?"

"It's not impossible, but it's unlikely. Let me look at the tracker's line again... Wait, this line happens to coincide with the sewer line in Los Angeles! They are not above ground, but underground!" Electronic synthesis The female voice said excitedly: "Go down now and continue tracking, he must be inside!"

The killer opened a sewer cover, and the smell of feces mixed with all kinds of filth hit his face, and he almost vomited directly.

This TM is actually a special pipe for excrement!

"Boss, can I track them in another way? For example, continue to track them on the ground and kill him when he comes out. He can't stay in the sewer all the time. He will definitely come out. This is not New York, and he is not a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle."

"However, there are several dead ends in the sewer line. If he comes out behind one of the dead ends, you will definitely not be able to keep up with him. Quick, I want you to go down now, otherwise, I will send the next person out immediately, but I Guaranteed, the next person will not only kill him but also your daughter by the way. Think about your daughter, do you want her to die in front of you?"

The other party threatened mercilessly in the earphones, and the killer could only hold back his nausea, pinch his nose, jump in, and continue to follow the tracker's trajectory in the waist-deep excrement water.

"Hahaha, to be honest, if it weren't for the rivalry, I would feel a little sorry for him now." Ron laughed so hard that tears came out. While laughing, he patted his thigh, and it was Finch's thigh.

"Hiss..." Finch gasped in pain: "Be gentle, be gentle, pat your own leg, okay? When are you going to take action?"

"Don't worry, let's play again." Ron continued to operate the remote control and direct the remote control boat to sail in the sewer: "Do you know where the end of this sewer is?"

Finch shook his head: "I don't know."

"It's a septic tank, Mr. Finch." Ron smiled: "What do you think about us letting this lovely Mr. Killer take a bath in the septic tank?"

With that said, the remote-controlled boat turned at the fork and headed towards the septic tank.

Ron took the remote control and moved to the passenger seat: "You drive, we will meet Mr. Killer at the septic tank."