Chapter 22: Recording Restoration
Around nine o'clock at night.
After leaving the Congers' house, Zhou Qingfeng drove a dilapidated pickup truck, like a man with heavy thoughts, swaying all the way, and finally slowly drove into a car wash hidden on a suburban street corner.
On the way, 'Gray Shark' called, saying that they had tracked the call Chief Inspector Karl's partner received before he got shot...
"Good news, the number made no attempts to conceal itself; bad news, the call was made by Deputy Director Schulte of the FBI Miami Branch.
The FBI received the tip-off call, most likely from someone who wanted to blackmail you but was worried you'd take the money and run, so they decided to make things a little difficult for you.
Deputy Director Schult has a simpler plan; he directly arrests you and kills Karl to frame you, so he doesn't need any tip-off to make you cough up the money obediently.
Oh, I told Kelly about this, she said she'd figure something out and that she's still on your side, just make sure you don't get caught."
There were so many people wanting to grab that fifteen billion US Dollars, Zhou Qingfeng was forced into a short-term escape.
This car wash was found with the help of 'Gray Shark', located in a suburban community crowded with immigrants.
The store sign was worn away by age, and the dim yellow lights flickered in the morning mist.
Dirty water flowed outside the store, reflecting twisted shadows in the puddles, the air filled with a mix of car exhaust and unknown chemicals, strongly unpleasant.
Even late at night, the streets in the community were still bustling.
Homeless people, addicts, drunkards, and drunks staggered about, occasionally their shadows flickering at the street corners.
'Gray Shark' contacted this place, the owner was an elderly Jamaican immigrant, his face dark, his eyes cold, his build robust.
He moved out like a cautious old cat from the dim corner of the shop, his gaze quickly sweeping over the pickup truck before finally settling on the thousand-dollar cash in Zhou Qingfeng's hand.
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"Come back in an hour." The Jamaican owner reached out with a rough hand to take the money, opened the store's rolling door, and quickly closed it after the vehicle drove in.
Zhou Qingfeng nervously reminded, "Don't clean the inside of the car."
"We know the rules..."
The Jamaican owner was accustomed to shady transactions, he chuckled coldly, turned and walked back inside the store, splashing a bit of dirty water with his steps, and soon disappeared.
Zhou Qingfeng paced outside the shop, occasionally looking up at the sky. He used this time to find a barbecue shop that was open late at night.
The shop had no door, just two windows on either side.
Knocked on the left one, a head-sized window opened, and the cook inside growled, "What do you want?"
"Barbecue, or anything, preferably with some drinks, I'm thirsty." Zhou Qingfeng had to bend down to place the order.
"Fifty bucks, pay first." the cook replied.
You're robbing me—Zhou Qingfeng cursed inwardly at the price. But he still obediently pulled out the money, asking in passing, "Where's the bathroom?"
"Everywhere is a bathroom." The cook took the money, slammed the iron window shut. The next second, he opened it again and barked, "Don't shit outside my door, or I'll shoot you."
Zhou Qingfeng stood dumbfounded for a while.
Three minutes later, the right iron window opened, and out came a plastic bag with five barbecue wraps and a bottle of 'Dr. Pepper' soda.
The barbecue portions were abundant and had a good smell. But that bottle of soda—wasn't it one of Ding Fatty's 'beggar' specials?
Hungry as he was, Zhou Qingfeng didn't care, found a dark corner to hastily fill his stomach, and also took the opportunity to 'water' the earth.
An hour later, a slightly rested Zhou Qingfeng returned to the car wash, the pickup truck now looked different.
It was not only repainted with different patterns and colors but also had a different license plate.
But its appearance remained deliberately shabby, made to blend in as an ordinary, unnoticeable vehicle you'd see everywhere.
As long as it wasn't stopped for inspection, it could pass unnoticed by any cop.
Just as Zhou Qingfeng was about to hit the road again, a black market medical service van painted with "Home Health Service" lettering slowly pulled into the car wash.
The wheels rolled over puddles, splashing water. An underground doctor and his nurse-wife got out of the van and walked directly towards Zhou Qingfeng.
This too was arranged by 'Gray Shark', they had to try to save Karl's life to lessen Zhou Qingfeng's troubles.
The underground doctor was thin, like a gust of wind could blow him over. He wore black-rimmed glasses, his eyes behind the lenses showing professional indifference.
His wife stood nearby, her eyes wandering, occasionally scanning the surroundings, hands in her pockets, both alert and sensitive.
Zhou Qingfeng bet the person had a gun in her pocket.
After receiving the four thousand dollars in advance cash, the underground doctor opened the pickup's back door. With just a glance at the unconscious Chief Inspector Karl in the backseat, he shook his head indifferently.
This action made Zhou Qingfeng's heart sink as he urgently asked, "What… can't save him?"
"No, he can be saved, just got shot in the face, although it looks bad but didn't hit any critical points, breathing weak but stable.
I have all the equipment in my van, can do a thorough debridement, suturing, even transfusion, make sure your friend is out of danger in no time, might even wake up immediately."
The underground doctor said unhurriedly, "But for a gunshot wound of this severity, four thousand dollars is not enough, at least forty thousand."
Zhou Qingfeng breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't have that much cash on him, so he took out his phone and dialed 'Gray Shark'.