The United States Central Intelligence Agency is abbreviated as FBI.

U.S. President McKinley was shot dead, and Vice President Roosevelt was urgently inaugurated as President of the United States. President Roosevelt angrily demanded that the CIA immediately find out who the killer was, even though he knew in his heart who the killer was. But he can't say. Everyone in the big conglomerates in the United States knows in their hearts who the murderer is, but no one says it and no one dares to say it. Roosevelt didn't dare, but he couldn't help but take a stand.

The CIA found Qing clothes near the scene, but everyone knew that it was nothing more than a cover-up. No Assassin would have left such obvious evidence, let alone that this Assassin had assassinated the president of a country?

Ryan didn't believe it either, so he didn't look in that direction, the assassin had to die anyway, although he knew that the chance of being able to find it was almost zero. Sure enough, after inviting a few friendly people in the dark to the CIA for coffee, a certain bigwig revealed some secrets.

Ryan saw the beaten corpse in front of him in a dilapidated tavern. To say that it is a nest bee is really lifting it. The corpse had no human features other than a human-like appearance. The number of bullets in its body is not a thousand, but eight hundred. He was sure that the bullets had weighed more than they had weighed.

"Can this person be identified?" Ryan was hopeless.

But something surprising happened.

"He's Will." His assistant Johnson replied.

"Oh, how do you know his identity?" Ryan was somewhat interested.

"You know him, sir." Johnson smiled wryly.

"He was the ace shooter of the War Department, but he was expelled from the army because of an accident, and then he was absorbed by the bureau and became one of our partners. In addition to training the Gunners for us, we also take on some orders. ”

Outside! Ryan understood. The CIA is not just an intelligence agency, it is also responsible for dealing with people and things that are not easy to deal with on the surface. Since it is a matter of the dark side, of course, it is difficult for the CIA to come forward, so it is left to outsiders to do, and Will is one of them. And only someone like Will can do a one-shot headshot. Assassination is not something that can be done by any organization. Haven't you seen that French mercenary groups usually select talents from among veterans? Especially those from the special forces. It is precisely because the training of such talents is too complicated and difficult, and only the regular army can complete such a huge project, the percentage of talents grown is too small, and it is not possible to get a sharpshooter with a hundred shots among a hundred soldiers.

"So what's going on?" Ryan didn't understand.

"He disappeared three months ago." That's what Johnson wryly laughs about.

"In any case, this should not be something we should be thinking about. Now that the assassins have been found, what about the evidence? Where are the firearms? Ryan didn't want to think about it, the water was too deep and he had a wife and children. He still wants to keep alive.

"Found it, in the box under his bedboard." Johnson also understands.

"Then that's the end of the case."

When President Roosevelt saw the case file, his heart and lungs were immediately burned. Soon the evil fire was suppressed again. He is only acting president now, and he can't do anything about the people and things behind the case, and even if he does become president, he can't do whatever he wants. He can kill those people, or even make those people completely bankrupt and disappear into this world forever. But so what? He also has to bury those people, and the presidents of the United States who have been assassinated are not one or two, there are no more than him, and no less than him. Get rid of the group of people behind them, and there will be the same characters to replace them. The United States needs them any more than the United States needs a president. As for "they" and the president or not, it doesn't matter. The president of the United States can be either Roosevelt or Drumsevelt.

"Let this Ryan let me find out who is behind the recent Chinese exclusion incident!" Roosevelt said hatefully.

Ryan received the case file again, and it was the director himself who gave the case. This made him stressed.

"Chinese Exclusion Act. These people are going to mess with me. ”

"Sir, if they don't make trouble, you'll be laid off." Johnson replied angrily. He hadn't closed his eyes for three days with Ryan.

"Okay. Let's take a look at the newspapers first, a total of more than 20 newspapers published relevant anti-Chinese remarks at the same time. Uh-huh, a rookie. The same person did it. The name is Davis. Is this guy a fool? The same name, or is it your real name? Ryan touched his chin.

"Would you like to meet this Mr. Davis?"

"Why not?" Ryan picked up the file and looked at his watch.

"I'm on a business trip again. I don't know how to explain it to my daughter, but I promised her to take her to the park this weekend. ”

"I also promised my son to go to the museum!" Johnson lamented that it was really unfortunate to meet such a boss.

The two of them rushed to New York with great difficulty. New York isn't the best place to be, and while Miami is the most famous chaotic city in the country, New York is no slouch. Money is everything here, and people who don't have money, whether you are black, white or yellow, are all inferior, sleeping on overpasses, eating in garbage heaps, and burying fish in the river are their destination. And as long as you have money, even if you are black, you can live here as if you were in heaven.

Davis was undoubtedly one of the inferior people, but it seemed that he was lucky that he used to sleep on the flyover and had a small room in an apartment building in the center of the city.

Ryan and Johnson were armed with guns, and four local police officers in the back, led by Sheriff Rick, surrounded the area. Johnson easily opened the lock. Ryan rushed in, crouched, pistol pointed in the direction of his eyes, and finally stopped on the couch in the center of the living room.

An indescribable smell came to my nose in the living room. Bottles that fell to the ground, spilled ashtrays, and trash cans that fell down. Newspapers and books were everywhere, and there were open bathroom doors.

"Is this a fucking dump?" Ryan angrily pointed a gun at the drunk man on the couch. The drunk was clearly still asleep.

"He's alone." After a search, Johnson asked Rick to retreat with the officers first.

Ryan picked up a wine bottle with a small half bottle in it, and then poured the bottle into the drunkard's eyes.

The drunk didn't react, just tilted his head to the side.

"Sir!" Johnson smiled. He picked up two newspapers and put them in the drunk's face, then slapped them hard.

The drunk jumped up and fell from the couch to the ground. His sleepy eyes were open, his hands were shaking from side to side, and he was muttering something in his mouth.

Johnson kicked the drunk to the ground. The drunk finally came to his senses.

"Who are you! This is a private residence! ”

Ryan swung his pistol in his hand. The drunk obediently touched his face and sat down on the couch. Johnson handcuffed him.

"Are you awake now?" Ryan smiled.

"It's been almost a year since you lost your job at the newspaper. So who gave you the money to publish those damn anti-Chinese rhetoric? ”

"I don't know what you're talking about!" The drunkard's eyes are looking around.

"Don't look at it. I advise you to be well-behaved, so that everyone will have a lot easier. Johnson rubbed his wrist.

"I really don't know what you're talking about. A stranger came to me out of the blue and asked me to go to the newspaper office, you know, I've been in the newspaper for many years, and I know a lot of people. As long as a newspaper was willing to publish it, he would pay me five hundred dollars. I have no reason to refuse. I don't really know about the rest. The drunk hurriedly waved his hand.

"So will you be able to recognize him now?"

"Of course. I can also sketch. Need me to draw it for you? ”

"That's for the best." Ryan and Johnson looked at each other and smiled.

Davis rubbed his face vigorously to make himself more sober. Then he retrieved a pen and paper from the chaotic table. Soon a canonical sketch appeared on paper.

Ryan picked up the sketch. In addition to the two sketches, there is also data on them.

A white male, about 1.8 meters, thin and with sparse hair. The voice is muffled.

One sketch is the front face, and the other is the overall image.

"Good boy, you have a hand, but can't you describe it in more detail?"

"Officer, I'm just a news censor editor, not a reporter. It's nice to be able to sketch. The detailed description is still so clear, you must know that it has been almost a month since this incident. Davis grumbled.

"Can you find him?"

"Are you kidding?"

"Okay. Come with us. ”

Johnson pushed Davis out the door, but nothing happened until the carriage left.

"It's weird." Ryan was a little puzzled: "It doesn't seem right here. ”

"Of course not. Sir, it went so well. Johnson looked at the sketch.

"It's useless to have a sketch, there are so many people in New York, it's hard to catch him unless you're unlucky. And you're just sure he didn't leave the United States? Ryan rubbed his head, and had wasted all his hard work, knowing that he was going to treat Sheriff Rick to a big meal in order to get the steel cart in order.

"What now?" Johnson sighed.

"Let's get a wanted warrant." Ryan put down the sketch.

"I knew it wasn't that easy. Arrange, find a random reason to let Davis out, and then monitor it 24 hours a day. ”

"If I were that guy, I'd have run away a long time ago." Johnson lifted the window to look out, and was surprised to see a short-haired yellow man in an overcoat pressing his hat and hurrying away in the opposite direction. It's the heart of New York! Is there such a civilized and open yellow race?