Chapter 156 Revelation
Inside the stark interrogation room, Leonard, the seasoned detective, shook his head in disbelief.
“Kid, you never cease to amaze me,” he said, casting an impressed glance at Elbert.
Across from them sat a burly foreigner, his chest and right arm swathed in bandages. The man, codenamed Spade 7, was the assassin Elbert had effortlessly subdued the previous night. He now sat slumped in his chair, mumbling incoherently with glazy eyes.
A stenographer scribbled furiously, already on his third notepad as sweat formed on his brow. He’d filled pages with Spade 7’s confession, one that had flowed like water the moment Elbert stepped into the room.
“This guy,” Leonard continued, gesturing toward the dazed assassin, “He’s a pro. My men worked him over for six hours and didn’t get a peep out of him. Then you walk in, and bam! He spills his guts like a broken faucet. How’d you do it?”
Elbert shrugged casually. “Hypnosis.”
Spade 7 was supposed to be their key to unlocking the secrets of the Card Club, the shadowy organization that had ordered the hit on Elbert. But six hours of interrogation had yielded nothing; the man was a fortress. Desperate, Leonard had called in Elbert. He hoped for a miracle, which was what he got.
The information, though incomplete, painted a chilling picture of the Card Club. A decentralized network of assassins, each trained in isolation, communicating through coded messages hidden in plain sight. They called it “Revelation,” a language of raised and lowered dots concealed within the pages of seemingly harmless books.
“They’re like ghosts,” Elbert murmured, more to himself than Leonard. “No connections, no traces. Once their usefulness ends, they become disposable pawns.”
Leonard bristled. “Hey, who’s hypnotizing who now? That’s exactly what you did to this guy!”
Elbert simply smiled strangely. He looked at a tray of evidence, his eyes settling on a metal playing card. It was the only item found on both Spade 7 and the previous assassin, Spade 9.
The card itself wasn’t remarkable, but its surface… it shimmered strangely, a layer of grayish liquid metal that seemed to writhe and flow. This, Elbert knew, was the true identifier of a Card Club member.
“The substance on this card,” Robert’s voice chimed in, his tone serious, “It’s unlike anything I’ve encountered. A rare metal, highly adaptable, capable of energy manipulation and release. It’s the same material used in Phantom’s gloves, the source of their destructive power.”
Elbert’s frown deepened. The Card Club was more formidable than he’d initially thought. “We need to analyze this,” he said, his voice tight.
“No can do,” Leonard interjected, shaking his head. “Evidence, remember? Can’t just hand it over.”
“Consider it a personal favor,” Elbert pressed, fixing Leonard with a steady gaze. “I’ll owe you one.”
Leonard’s resolve crumbled instantly. “Deal!” he exclaimed, grinning widely. It was as if he’d been waiting for Elbert to ask. His voice dropped to a whisper as he added, “But, you gotta tell me how you handled Spade 7. He’s babbling about a sniper, but all I see is a metal ball on that tray.”
Elbert chuckled, his eyes flickering adangerously. “Let’s just say, I have ways of making my point.”
Leonard stared, his jaw slack. He’d considered assigning Elbert protection, but now… now he realized how futile that was. This was a man who could turn a simple metal ball into a sniper’s bullet.
As Elbert turned to leave, his expression suddenly shifted. He froze, his eyes widening as he stared into the distance, his face hardening.
Robert had relayed an urgent message, a live feed playing directly into Elbert’s vision. It was the aftermath of a horrific car crash. Mr. Brown’s car was mangled beyond recognition. The driver was lifeless, and Mr. Brown… was being loaded into an ambulance in critical condition.
“Leonard,” Elbert’s voice was tight, his words clipped. “We have a problem.”
The air hung heavy with grief and tension as Elbert and Leonard arrived at FutureTech Hospital, making their way to the top floor. Leonard’s eyes were red-rimmed, his face etched with worry. Elbert, however, feigned stoicism, his emotions hidden behind a mask of cold fury.
As they stepped out of the elevator, Elbert spotted her—Jessica, the Phantom assassin. She slumped on a bench outside the ICU, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. In her hands, she clutched a children’s picture book as she gently stroked its cover.
Rage, raw and potent, surged through Elbert. This woman, this cold-blooded killer, was putting on a masterful performance. Anyone passing by would see a heartbroken daughter, her world shattered by her father’s accident.
He approached her, his steps measured with an unwavering gaze. Jessica sensed his presence and looked up, her tear-filled eyes meeting his. In that moment, Elbert saw a flicker of something else behind the grief; a flash of… defiance.
Without a word, he sat beside her and picked up the picture book. As his fingers brushed against its surface, he felt it. The telltale bumps and indentations, the language of “Revelation.”
The game, it seemed, was far from over.
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