The Death Knell

Ten days later.

In a cold morgue, a man as tall as a hill was looking down at the console in front of him. The pale light above his head made the hot breath he exhaled particularly obvious in the air.

The man raised his hand to loosen his tie and tightened his cane, but there was no expression on his face, only a hint of loneliness flashed in his eyes.

"My son is dead."

"Yes, it is......"

The manager of the New York Autopsy Center morgue looked trembling. Many people thought that the bald man was obese, but in fact, when he pinched the stainless steel operating table just now, he left clear fingerprints on it.

"Who killed him?"

"I don't know! It's not me! I mean, I'm just a security guard, not a forensic doctor. I can only see that it's a gunshot wound."

The strong man's white suit made a hissing sound of threads coming off. The threads on the shoulders and buttons broke free when the muscles tightened.

But he still stared expressionlessly at his dead son, the little fat man, whose body was beaten like a rag doll.

As a boss on the road, he didn't need security guards to explain to him what was going on. Kingpin could tell that his son was shot in the back, and someone fired a 5.56-caliber weapon at him at a very close distance. bullet.

What kind of person would do this to a child? My own enemy?

The first shot that obviously only hit the back of the head killed Richard, but he beat him to pieces. Was he trying to demonstrate to himself?

Kingpin had been oppressed by anger to the edge of reason, and even immediately wanted to mobilize people to kill all the suspects.

But he calmed down suddenly. He was not stupid. Not only did his current strength not support starting a war with so many families at the same time, but there were also many strange things about this matter.

He turned around and looked at the other table behind him.

It was a black body that turned gray after cleaning the blood. It was very fat. The liquefied fat after death had flowed out from the bullet holes. The yellow liquid solidified at low temperature on the morgue, and a putrid smell was mixed with it. The smell of low-quality cosmetics, drugs mixed with corpse cleaners hit your face.

She is a black aunt who is at least sixty years old. There are flower-like scars on the skin of her legs. It is obvious that she is a common low-class prostitute on the street, and she is also a sick kind.

But the bullet holes on her body were mostly consistent with those on her son. In other words, at that time, his good son was working on such an ugly and smelly woman. As a result, someone came to the bedside and condescended to the two of them. Everyone was killed.

This makes no sense at all. Not to mention that Kingpin assigned so many bodyguards to his son. Besides, he is only eight years old. How could he have access to prostitutes?

This is a trap from the beginning to the end. Children are playful, and if they are trying the forbidden fruit for the first time, they are indiscriminate. The son should have taken the initiative to throw away the bodyguard and have a tryst with a prostitute, and was caught by someone.

So, whoever introduced the prostitute to him is the biggest suspect, and there is a high probability that he will find his enemy along this line.

The 5.56-caliber bullets are military firearms. Based on the point of impact, it seems that the murderer used an automatic rifle. It is still difficult to get that kind of thing in New York City. Searching along the arms line is also a way.

But that's what's going to happen, and some people can be killed now.

"Bullseye."

"Here it is, boss."

At the door was a young man who was still wearing sunglasses on a late night in the house and flipping toothpicks between his fingers. He had a concentric circle pattern like a target tattooed on his forehead.

Kingpin took a deep breath, raised his hand, pulled up the white sheet, and covered the fat black woman. Then he turned around and continued to look at Richard, who was like a pile of rotten meat, and said:

"Go and get rid of all my son's negligent bodyguards and make things clean."

Bullseye took off his sunglasses, put the toothpick in his mouth, sucked it, and gave a quote:

"Tsk, two hundred thousand."

"Do it."

Kingpin sensed Bullseye's kindness. He used to offer one hundred thousand dollars to kill one person, but now he had to kill an entire team of bodyguards for a friendly price of two hundred thousand dollars.

For a hired assassin, this is as good as it gets.

Each industry has its own rules. Although Kingpin has a long-term employment contract with Bullseye, this person is not his subordinate.

Mercenaries only work for money.

Unfortunately, Jin didn't have the intention to express his gratitude to Bullseye now, and just squeezed out the order from his teeth.

Bullseye raised his two fingers in a frivolous salute, turned around and walked out of the morgue, leaving Kingpin and the security guard alone in silence across a pile of rotten meat.

Kingpin was thinking, but the security guard looked too frightened to speak.

After a long while, Kingpin closed his son's body bag and put his big hand like a leaf fan into the inner pocket of his suit.

"Don't kill me! I know nothing! I heard nothing!"

The security guard thought that Kingpin was trying to kill someone and was pulling out a gun. He was so frightened that he crouched down with his head in his hands and huddled next to the morgue, as if the cold ground and the metal box behind him could provide him with a sense of security.

However, Kingpin just took out his check book, signed a check and threw it on the security guard's head:

"I don't need a gun to kill you, and I won't kill you. I, the Kingpin, have a clear distinction between grudges and grudges. Pick up the check."

The security guard did it tremblingly. It was a check for ten thousand dollars, and he suddenly became excited and excited.

He raised his head in confusion, but the big boss just tugged on the collar of his suit and pushed up the sleeves at the shoulder line:

"Don't say a word about what you saw and heard today. I have never been here. You need to take care of Richard's body. If anyone comes to see him except the police, you will write a check." Do you understand the phone call on the back?"

The security guard held the check tightly, blinked rapidly, and nodded repeatedly: "I understand, I understand, thank you boss!"

Kingpin took one last look at the black body bag, then turned and left without any regrets. He had to go home and tell his wife about the incident, and at the same time arrange an investigation.

The dead son cannot be resurrected, so more people should go down to accompany him.

Kingpin's huge body showed unnatural agility. He walked with wind and disappeared at the door of the morgue in the blink of an eye. Only the spring door squeaked and kept swinging back and forth.

The security guard stood up holding the check, carefully walked to the door and looked at it. After confirming that the other party had left, he took out his mobile phone and dialed a number:

"Boss? It's me. Kingpin came here just now. He started investigating who killed his son. He looked very angry."

"..." Someone on the other side of the phone said something.

Holding his cell phone, the security guard quickly walked to the security room at the other end of the morgue. On the ground there, there was a security guard who looked exactly like him lying on the ground with his eyes open, blood flowing all over the floor.

With his free hand, he picked up one of the corpse's legs and dragged the person outside. A wide red line was drawn crookedly on the ground.

"Yes, I understand, there will be a fire here tonight, and there will be many scorched corpses here..."