Chapter 889 Seeking Help from Brian
Wyatt zoomed in on the footage.
The video had some kind of clarity boost, but it was still kinda fuzzy. You could just about make out what was going on.
This dude in a mask and hat strolled up to the Maybach, did a quick lap around it, checked to see if anyone was watching, and then slid under the hood.
He didn't hang out there long. Maybe a few minutes tops.
When he popped back out, he gave the hood a couple of taps with his gloved hand, like he was proud of his work.
Not long after, Charles showed up.
Gotta admit, that morning was perfect for the guy. Like, almost too perfect.
No security guards in the mall parking lot at that hour, and barely anyone around.
If this had gone down in Charles's neighborhood, no way it would've been this easy.
Plus, Charles was usually super careful, but that morning, he was so head-over-heels that he didn't notice anything off, so the bad guy got away with it.
Vincent watched the whole thing, sweating bullets.
This guy was planning to off the CEO of IntelliMerge Technologies.
Holy crap! This guy had some serious guts.
The kicker? This all went down in Vincent's turf, so he couldn't dodge the blame.
Vincent wiped his sweaty forehead with his sleeve and nervously asked, "This guy's got a mask and hat on, and we can't see his face. He's even got gloves, so no fingerprints. Wyatt, any chance you can ID him?"
As soon as he said it, everyone in the office looked at him like he was the biggest idiot on the planet.
Vincent gave a sheepish grin, "Yeah, that's a tough one, huh."
Wyatt didn't even want to dignify that with a response.
How the hell are you supposed to ID someone from a blurry video where you can't even see their eyes? Only an idiot would ask that.
Wyatt's fingers danced over the keyboard, pulling up a bunch of surveillance videos he had snagged, and pointed at them.
Wyatt said, "I tracked his moves and saw he hit up a bunch of spots before taking off in a van. Checked the van's plates, and turns out it was a junker with fake tags, so no dice on tracing him."
All they knew was he was a dude, about five-seven, and skinny. That was it.
Vincent started sweating even more.
The message was clear. He had to find this guy.
This place was huge; where the hell was he supposed to start?
Martin knew this was a tough gig for Vincent and didn't push him. Instead, Martin said, "Keep this on the down-low! Don't tell anyone. Have your guys search quietly."
Vincent was shocked, "Why? Wouldn't it clear Mr. Watson's name? Plus, it would stop the families from blaming him."
Martin smirked and said in a low voice, "Let them think they're in the clear. It'll make it easier to nab them."
Vincent got it right away, "Gotcha. I'll get my guys on it quietly! But finding him might take a while."
"I got it!" Martin stood up, straightening his sleeves out of habit. "This is on you now! You guys have busted your butts, and I won't let it go unnoticed!"
Translation: anyone who helps nail this guy is getting paid.
Vincent knew this cash wouldn't come easy, and honestly, he didn't want it. But with Martin laying it out like that, he couldn't say no and just thanked him, even if it was half-hearted.
Taking Martin's money meant the pressure to catch the perp was sky-high.
Martin added, "Wyatt's gonna stick around to hash out the details with you."
"Alright! Thanks, Wyatt!" Vincent said, then walked them to the door.
He watched them get into the car, all smiles and nods, and only after they drove off did he wipe the sweat off his forehead and head back inside with Wyatt.
On the ride back, Maximilian fumed, "This is straight-up premeditated murder! Who's got the balls to go after Charles? Sure, there's been business beef over the years, but with Charles's clout now, no one should dare."
Martin leaned against the car window, lost in thought. "Charles can't take this lying down."
Maximilian nodded like a bobblehead. "Damn right! If I find out who tried to off Charles, I'll rip 'em apart! Messing with my nephew? They must have a death wish!"
Martin stayed quiet. Yeah, if someone had the guts to plan a murder, they had to hit back hard.
Randy chimed in, "I remember Charles saying you can ID someone by their walk and body shape, even if you can't see their face. Everyone's got a unique way of walking, their stride, speed, all that. But not everyone knows this trick! When we left the station, I asked Wyatt on the down-low, and he hadn't heard of it. I'll call Carter; he's Charles's apprentice, so he might know."
Maximilian's eyes went wide. "No way! My nephew's a genius!"
Randy nodded, dialing as he talked. "Charles told me about it ages ago, but it's never been used, so Wyatt probably doesn't know."
The call connected.
Brian, clueless about what had gone down, answered all chill and happy, "Randy, what's up? Need something?"
People who rarely hit you up usually wanted a favor.
But every Langley was a badass, so he wondered what they needed from him.
Randy asked, "Carter, you're my brother's only apprentice. Did he ever tell you about a way to ID people by their body shape, walk, and speed?"
Only God knew how nervous he was asking that.
Even though the attack had happened, catching the perp was crucial.
If they didn't find the guy, the threat was still out there, and who knew when he'd go after Charles again.
So, they had to squash this threat.
Brian seemed to remember. "Oh, that! Yeah, Charles did tell me about it."
Brian had mad respect for Charles, even though he was twenty years younger. He never pulled rank on him because of age; he was just stoked to have him as a mentor.
Hearing that, Randy's eyes lit up.
Looked like he asked the right guy; this trick was real.
Seemed like they might catch the perp soon.
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