North America Gunman Detective

Chapter 1561 836: Gentlemen's Club (Part 2)

"Well, Agent Yang, please come to the club again later, and I will give you a detailed introduction of the club and have you fill out the membership information. Enjoy this beautiful evening, excuse me, I have some matters to attend to."

As it was the first meeting, Ham didn't say much, and after confirming that Jimmy had received the membership card, he took his leave. However, Jimmy didn't leave the balcony but instead looked at the membership card in his hand. The front displayed the club's logo, and the back contained information like the number and contact information. It didn't have a magnetic strip, and the business card belonged to Ham. After considering, Jimmy put them into his pocket.

It seems that it's not suitable to discuss sensitive or detailed issues on the first contact, and Ham's words were too broad. The content was not particularly appealing to Jimmy, as what interested him were the things Ham didn't mention, such as the club's members.

But that's not a big issue. Since Ruiz often frequents here, it means there's something worth his while, perhaps he'll find out more during his next visit.

Of course, one can't leave a charity gala empty-handed, so Jimmy wrote a check and left the gala with an abstract painting created by a child with a rare disease. Though it was called a painting, it was more at a graffiti level, but after all, it was just a pretext, and it was pretty much storage room material, not something he'd expect to hang on a wall.

However, when Jimmy got home, Nia was rather interested in the painting. After examining it closely, she decided, "Let's hang it in the office."

Jimmy, half-dressed, looked at Nia and asked, "Why?"

Nia replied, "It's a great conversation starter. No matter who visits your office, it's an excellent opener. Also, donating to the Rare Disease Foundation is a significant selling point, which can be beneficial for improving one's image."

Jimmy hung up his suit and tie, placed the gun holster from his waist on the table, and sat down, asking, "What's the point of such selling points? We work at the FBI; who would enter my office? Or let's put it this way: those who enter my office, who would care about these things?"

Nia rolled her eyes at Jimmy, "Consider it image improvement, Butcher."

Alright, that reason was quite fitting; a notorious nickname isn't necessarily a good thing, especially when it doesn't sound nice. Counterbalancing it with charity events wouldn't hurt.

Indeed, there's no cheap membership at a good club. When Jimmy contacted Ham to visit again, he learned that the club charges different annual fees for different membership levels, ranging from ten thousand to hundreds of thousands of US dollars. As for himself, he needed to pay fifty thousand US dollars annually.

Different levels of membership naturally come with substantial differences in benefits. The club could provide him with consultations and procurement services for a variety of businesses, including clothing, food, housing, traveling, business, finances, airplanes, yachts, artworks, and more. He could partake in the club's public and private banquets, and engage in a variety of cultural activities.

The club also offered him an exclusive room where he could store some personal items like wine and cigars. The room was not particularly large, but the meals provided by the club were sufficient for him to entertain some friends there.

However, having observed the club's scale, Jimmy noted that they definitely didn't have hundreds of rooms, which meant not every member had their own exclusive room. Clearly, his level of membership theoretically wouldn't have one either; this must be a special privilege.

The club also offered storage and related services, including a dedicated mini-warehouse for storing items and receiving package deliveries and so on. There were guest rooms available for members to temporarily rest, truly living up to the title of a man's second home.

It was Jimmy's first impactful encounter with such a high-end club. Comparatively, it was somewhat akin to the function of an intercontinental hotel, except that the latter served only the Dark World Assassin Organization, while this place served more people and offered more services.

From Ham's introduction, Jimmy gleaned a vague piece of information: there are often intermediaries active in the club's bar, but this would require Jimmy to navigate on his own, as manager Ham was obviously not going to spell things out so clearly.

But he didn't need to figure everything out at once; there was plenty of time. Following Ham's suggestion, Jimmy went to the bar, ordered a drink, and sat down. He pulled out his phone to check emails, taking it as a moment of rest.

"Excuse me, may I sit here?" A bald-headed middle-aged African American, standing beside Jimmy's round table with a smile, holding a glass of wine. He wore a deep blue pinstriped suit, white French shirt, blue-purple striped tie, and had a pocket square in his jacket pocket, looking very proper.

Jimmy nodded, "Please, have a seat."

The middle-aged man unbuttoned his jacket before sitting down, "Steve Davis, nice to meet you, Agent Yang."

Jimmy raised an eyebrow, "You know me?"

Davis smiled and said, "Of course, the youngest Supervisory Special Agent at the Manhattan office, the brilliant star legend, New York Guardian, who wouldn't remember that!

Jimmy smiled at Davis, "So, Mr. Davis, what about you?"

Davis: "I'm just a humble advocate, a small role serving everyone." As he spoke, he took out a business card holder from his inner coat pocket and handed a card to Jimmy with both hands. "I think we might have opportunities for cooperation in the future."

Jimmy reached out to take a look at it, then placed it on the table, "That's it?"

Davis raised his glass in a gesture of toast, to which Jimmy clinked glasses with him, "Just getting to know each other. Hope I'm not disturbing you. Goodbye, Agent Yang."

Davis stood up, buttoned his suit, picked up his glass, nodded to Jimmy, and turned to leave his position.

Jimmy watched Davis's back as he returned to the bar and ordered another drink. After sitting there for a few minutes, he got up and left the bar.

This was an interesting person. Jimmy looked at the business card on the table and put it away. After finishing his drink, he signaled to the bartender for a refill. Soon, a server brought another drink and took away the previous glass.

Perhaps because Jimmy was available now, two more people approached him later to exchange business cards. Obviously, a stranger of Chinese descent appearing in such a setting was quite eye-catching.

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In the morning, Jimmy and his team sat inside a command vehicle. The surveillance showed external images of a house, with multi-angle coverage showing the front and back of the house. An SUV drove up from afar and stopped in front of the house. Four people got out of the car, looked around, walked up the steps, and opened the door to enter.

"Is it them? Are you sure?"

The surveillance team replied, "That's right, the license plates and car model match, same as the car they switched to when escaping."

Jimmy picked up the walkie-talkie, "This is Jimmy, everyone get ready, Team A attack, Team B support, operation start."

"Received."

Soon, a Bearcat armored vehicle pulled up, followed by two SUVs. Six fully armed SRT team members disembarked from the armored vehicle. After signaling behind the vehicle, they rushed to the door. With a "bang," a shotgun breached the lock, and the team rushed in.

"FBI, don't move!" "FBI!"

A few seconds later, "bang bang" sounds of gunfire erupted. Jimmy watched from the command vehicle as the SRT team exchanged fire inside the room to capture, followed closely by FBI agents from the SUV entering the room, clad in bullet-proof vests holding handguns.

"Secure!"

The notification came through the walkie-talkie, Jimmy nodded, patted the surveillance team members, "I'm going to the site for a look, keep watching."