Empire of Shadows

Everyone was gathered in the open space outside the FBI office. Director Roland’s men stood with guns, preventing people from leaving while monitoring them.

Although Bob’s death meant finding the poisoner was technically irrelevant to the case, capturing the culprit was crucial for deflecting blame.

Furthermore, there was a risk: the poisoner was wearing an FBI uniform. If this news spread without the perpetrator being caught, Roland would become extremely vulnerable.

Some people were ignorant of the facts and would believe any rumor they heard.

But others knew the truth and would pretend ignorance, repeating the rumors.

A Director of a law enforcement agency who couldn’t even manage his own staff, with a ”traitor” in the ranks—even if he managed to suppress the truth about his conversation with Bob, people would question his competence in running the increasingly vital FBI.

His face was grim. He knew the incident was inextricably linked to Lance and Senator Cleveland’s faction. Only by finding the poisoner and extracting the necessary information could he fully resolve the political crisis.

He looked intensely at everyone, seeing each person as a potential culprit or traitor within the FBI.

He wasn’t sure if the poisoner was an agent he brought from another state, a local recruit, or... someone impersonating an agent.

If this were an ordinary case, impersonation would be a simple and sufficient explanation. But this wasn’t an ordinary case; the truth had to be uncovered.Many people didn’t know what was happening. The Bureau had much work to do, but Roland, the powerful Director, ordered them to stay put.

The people stood impatiently in the sun. Early September sun was still fierce. Many were already wiping sweat.

The guard knew he was responsible for the situation. He looked meticulously, his eyes hurt and sharp, trying to pierce everyone he looked at.

He moved slowly and deliberately. The blurry face he remembered was constantly shifting and fading as he examined each agent’s features. He couldn’t even fully recall the man’s appearance now!

This was terrible, but he dared not say it. Even if the culprit stood right before him, he might hesitate, unsure if it was the man.

Covered in sweat, under Roland’s intense gaze, he finished inspecting every agent. Finally, he looked down. ”He’s not here.”

”Are you sure?”

The guard sighed. ”He probably left immediately after administering the poison. Seven or eight minutes passed between his entry and your arrival.”

That time was more than enough for the man to calmly walk out of the FBI office.

”F***!” Roland cursed again. He glanced at the agents standing in the sun. ”Go back to work!”

The moment the dismissal order was given, the agents rushed back inside. Roland remained outside, hands on his hips, staring at the guard.

He pointed at the guard’s nose. ”Go home, pack your things, and turn in your badge and weapon to the office. You are fired!”

The guard froze, his face showing shock. He forgot his fear of Roland and rushed forward. ”You can’t do this!”

”I can’t?” Roland pushed him back. ”The fact that you are saying this makes me suspect you are an accomplice!”

The guard, who was about to defend himself, stopped. He stared at Director Roland in disbelief, then fell silent. He accepted the decision.

He knew well that the FBI’s internal interrogation procedures were not the gentle process they publicly claimed.

Roland was a utilitarian. He didn’t care about rules; if he could get the information he wanted, he would use any means necessary. He had once ordered a man’s fingers to be cut off with gardening shears to extract a confession.

If Roland suspected him of being an accomplice, he would certainly be tortured to death to fabricate evidence.

He backed away, his face filled with despair and resentment, but he knew he was powerless.

Roland returned to his office and called a trusted subordinate. ”Shadow that guard. I want to know where he goes and whom he meets after he leaves the building.”

”And bring more men. Watch everyone he meets. Investigate his recent income, bank deposits, and extravagant spending.”

His subordinate looked at him, surprised. ”Do you suspect he was working with them?”

Roland didn’t answer, merely remaining silent. Whether he was guilty or not was irrelevant. Roland kept his own thoughts private.

His subordinate assumed Roland was simply too upset to answer and accepted the task.

When everyone left, Roland walked to the window and lit a cigarette, staring at the quiet Old City outside.

”Was it you?”

”Lance.”

In this moment, the only person he could reasonably blame for this incident was Lance, who was also operating in Old City.

His career was at a critical juncture. If he made a mistake now, his dreams would likely end here.

He couldn’t accept that. He had a great future and dreams to fulfill. He couldn’t fall.

He took a deep drag. His figure was faintly reflected in the glass, and behind him, there seemed to be a pair of eyes watching.

The news of the incident in the FBI office quickly spread. When Roland ordered the agents to the plaza, everyone knew something major had happened.

Lance received the news immediately.

”Bob is dead. Roland can no longer claim he didn’t receive any crucial information from Bob. With no body to verify the facts, whatever Roland claims will be dismissed.”

”Senator, perhaps you could put some pressure on him.”

Lance was suggesting that Senator Cleveland spread the news in the New Golden City. Political news traveled fast and didn’t require him to personally be the source; Tom and the aides could handle it.

This was their chance to prove their value. They could call their friends and casually mention the news.

”Did you hear?”

”Bob is dead!”

”What?”

”You don’t know who Bob is?”

”Then I must tell you!”

Simple insertions of information could quickly spread the news. Tom would target two groups: those directly involved—capitalists and politicians who had ties to the Perez family—and political brokers who would quickly monetize the information.

The Senator chuckled. ”You move fast. I thought we just talked about this yesterday.”

Lance smiled. ”If we drag it out, Roland might figure out what we’re doing and develop an uncontrollable counter-strategy. So, I took action today.”

Senator Cleveland was pleased with Lance’s speed. ”So, how do you plan to deal with Roland?”

Lance considered this. ”It depends on whether Mr. Potter and his supporters are willing to abandon him.”

”If they refuse, the cost of moving against him is too high. He can only be eliminated if he is abandoned.”

”After all, aside from being an annoyance, he hasn’t caused us any significant damage yet.”

Senator Cleveland agreed. If Roland posed a massive threat, he would be eliminated quickly.

But he was merely an annoyance. There was no need to escalate the conflict with the Liberal Party further.

”Let’s proceed with that for now. Contact me if there are any further developments.”

Senator Cleveland ended the call and summoned his aides, including Tom.

He recounted Lance’s conversation, stressing the need to immediately spread the news of Bob’s death.

”Bob is dead?” Mr. Potter, returning to his office, heard the news and paused. ”I called Roland this morning. He promised to send him over. How did he die?”

His aide had just received the news. Given Mr. Potter’s high probability of winning, political brokers constantly sought him out.

Someone who wanted to curry favor with Mr. Potter had called his aide.

The aide relayed the news—the version processed by Lance—to Mr. Potter. Mr. Potter’s expression was grim.

He had just finished a campaign rally. He was unhappy.

He felt uncomfortable hearing the news from his aide. He should have been the first to know.

Any successful leader views themselves as the central source of information.

”Are you saying... Bob was poisoned by an FBI agent who has now fled?” Although he tried to maintain objectivity, Mr. Potter was clearly perturbed by the absurdity of the rumor.

He laughed coldly. Roland was always bragging about the FBI’s competence. He had promised Mr. Potter the FBI would be his sharpest dagger.

Yet, they were already compromised internally.

He didn’t pursue the issue, even when his aide suggested it might only be a rumor.

The concept of ”pre-judgment” was strongly at play here.

Back in his office, Mr. Potter was supposed to rest, but he wanted to talk to Roland.

He picked up the phone. ”I heard Bob died minutes after I asked you to transfer him!”

The single sentence made Director Roland’s prepared excuses vanish. No matter how he explained it, the timing was fatal.

I didn’t care. Bob was fine in your custody.

I asked you to transfer him for questioning, and he died immediately.

Anyone would question the coincidence. Roland knew his team was compromised.

Who the hell would betray a future President for an insignificant FBI Director?

Such a person was a pawn, worthless in the grand scheme. Why would someone waste resources to compromise the FBI?

Roland had to acknowledge the obvious. He fell silent. After a long moment, he apologized. ”Mr. Potter, I apologize. This is entirely my fault. I swear on my family that I am also a victim.”

”Bob was a sensitive man. He had secrets. I hadn’t even interrogated him when the rumors began. This was an attempt to sow discord.”

”This proves they are afraid of me!”

”I will investigate and prove this.”

Mr. Potter was slightly mollified. He started to focus on the political implication.

He thought for a moment, then spoke. ”Try to handle it.”

”Who do you think is behind the frame-up?”

Roland named the two obvious suspects. ”Lance White, and Senator Cleveland.”

”I was preparing to investigate Lance, and he knew it. This gives him a motive.”

”As for the Senator, I don’t know the full details, but it’s likely related to the election.”

Mr. Potter became calmer, more rational. He avoided commenting on the election.

After a pause, he hung up.

Roland sighed, running his hands back through his hair. He knew fighting Lance would be difficult.

Lance was not a traditional gang leader. He was a complex figure—a terrifying combination of political strategy, economic power, financial acumen, and gang ruthlessness.

He was a formidable opponent.

Roland needed to minimize the political damage and protect himself.

A new idea flashed in his mind—the one he had temporarily suppressed.

Sometimes, all those influential figures needed were not facts, but a plausible narrative.

As long as the excuse wasn’t too ridiculous, they would accept it.