Wine and Gun

"He's dangerous," Zacharias pointedly pointed out. Seriously, though, anyone who sees a Sunday gardener can basically come to that conclusion.

"Well, I think you can beat three of him alone." Gabriel retorted lazily.

"That's not the reason why you lend your hands to him," Zacharias insisted. "I heard that the FBI is hunting him. It's not a sensible choice to get involved in this kind of thing anyway, not to mention that the United States is not your home base, and this kind of dangerous..."

"Oh, Zacharias, you're fine with everything, but sometimes you're too rigid." Gabriel pretended to sigh, so careless as a big cat basking in the sun, "Just think I'm He's funding artists - isn't Herrell Istar funding artists too? He's running an art gallery with his own money."

Zacharias really wanted to refute something, but in the end he kept his mouth shut. Anyway, his boss would generally not adopt such a well-founded statement-in fact, his boss often gān some things he couldn't understand, including A man rushed into the cathedral where the time bomb had been placed, and then ran on the terrorists who were going to bomb the church in front of his face - and finally everything he wanted to say turned into a sigh, just do the thousand things he did before. The same is true when you do not agree with the work.

"What do you want to see in that Sunday gardener?" he asked at last.

"I don't intend to see anything, he's not the type that would bring me fun." Gabriel replied in his usual calm tone, "It's like a black dòng, the light will bend in front of it, But black and light are meaningless to me."

Lavasa McCard watched silently at the Sunday Gardener—or, at Albarino Bacchus—with no expression of surprise on his face, his whole face in the light of the light. It looked quite solemn under the light.

"You don't look surprised," said Albarino in a very laid-back tone. "Ah, let me think about it—you're not the type to go it alone, are you? You arrest Herstad. I also brought a whole team of SWATs when I was there. Did you expect me to come? What did you prepare for me?"

"It wasn't difficult to anticipate your coming," McCard stated.

Albarino thought for a while, then said decisively, "Olga told you, didn't he?"

McCard didn't answer the question, maybe he didn't think the answer was important, or maybe he could guess the answer himself even without Olga Molozze. He said rather abruptly, "I did borrow someone from the Fort Lauderdale police station, three, fully armed, right at—"

Right behind me in the darkness.

McArd heard a series of muffled sounds, and something heavy slammed on the stone pavement.

Even though he knew it was best not to show his back in front of a serial killer, he couldn't help but turn around. Then McArd saw a haunting scene: three plainclothes police officers were thrown out of the darkness and fell limply to the ground, their necks apparently twisted from the angle of their crooked necks. Half of their bodies were immersed in the light, and the rest was completely drenched in darkness, looking eerie and terrifying.

"It wasn't that hard to anticipate," Albarino said briskly, standing on the bridge, "so you see, I borrowed a few people from a new partner I met."

McArd turned to look directly at Albarino again, his lips seemed to tremble a little, but he was quickly suppressed by his deep breathing. The lights behind Albarino also cast a dark shadow on his face, making his expression extraordinarily dark.

"And I'm the gardener's prey," McCard said slowly.

"Exactly." The smile on Albarino's face seemed to be more pronounced, "so they will not interfere in what will happen next."

McArd said softly: "The biggest difference between you and Herstal Armalite is that he doesn't put to death a person he knows is innocent, and to you there's no difference in dying. There's no difference to you to kill a saint and to kill a demon, men, women, old people, children, everything."

"Yes, so you must think that I am more guilty." Albarino snorted, "But since you are not willing to let him go, can I expect you to forgive me?"

"What's the difference between him and everyone else?" McCard demanded. "Why would you kill underage children and frail old people and be willing to do that for him?"

Albarino blinked, those eyes were like an unquenchable phosphorous fire in the night, as focused and bright as láng. A cold smile that did not reach the bottom of his eyes spread on his face——

"I molded him into shape."

In the next second, Albarino suddenly rushed forward, holding a gleaming knife in his hand. At the same time, Lavasa McCard pulled out the pistol from his waist and fired three shots straight ahead.

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