"No way, criminals don't take vacations."
The agents talked and laughed, and walked into the study room accompanied by Goodman and Hamlin, "Okay, don't waste time..." He put a photo of the deceased on the table, "Do you know this person? ?"
"No." Song Ya looked down, and a young black man wearing a two-piece suit fell dead on the side of the road, "I don't know."
"His acquaintances told us that he has been mingling with some Chicago accents recently. The place of his death was the same as the escape route of the Compton radio shooting vehicle, and the time was right."
The black colleague behind the agent said: "We have reason to believe that he and his Chicago friends committed the Compton radio shooting, which resulted in one death, two serious injuries, and multiple minor injuries."
"Come again?" Song Ya was upset, "Although I am willing to cooperate with you, can you stop bothering me with such inexplicable things?"
"You don't want our future contacts to follow the normal procedures, do you?" Hamlin followed his meaning and warned.
"Those who were shot include Sugonite, MC, and Compton Radio DJ. They just DISS you on the talk show."
Those two black agents obviously know the hip-hop circle very well. It seems that the FBI has upgraded the investigation lineup accordingly. "Do you need us to help you recall the grievances between you? APLUS."
"Shit!"
Song Ya exploded, "If you really have a memory, you should know that I haven't responded to them in public for a long time. Sugnet's big mouth has offended people everywhere, and he didn't just scold me... You don’t want to be gangsters in the rap circle anymore, just check it out and check how much I earned this year, and you should know that I don’t need to get involved in this kind of mess!"
Throwing Newsweek on the desk in front of the other party. The inside page of this authoritative magazine reported on the three businesses he participated in in 1994 with the title "APLUS 1994, three 100 million meters." including January 1. In effect, the deal with Dow’s 100 million chemical plant, the film danced a global box office of more than 130 million in my life, and the soundtrack of the film of the same name released by Sony Columbia Records at $14.99 is estimated to be hundreds. Ten thousand sales, which is a total sales revenue of hundreds of millions.
This 300 million is completely different from his personal income, but in the news, it is still very shocking and sensational for readers to list the cold numbers in this way and connect with him.
"Okay, sorry to disturb you."
The FBI agent didn't bother too much, and asked a few more questions and got up to leave.
But they were not in a hurry to leave the mansion, and a few guys gathered in front of the buffet table and gobbled up, "Sorry, you are responsible for driving tonight, haha." A fat black agent put a lot of sushi and salad on his plate. , And ordered a glass of champagne from the waiter, and teased his colleagues, "I will help you get rid of the wine."
"Shit!"
While delivering a small truffle salmon sandwich to his mouth, the colleague enviedly looked at the well-dressed distinguished guests, "Next time we can pick the rich people's party time to come."
"Stop dreaming."
Their white captain was a little frustrated, "This Shinco African-American Light already hates us..."
"Boss, do you think he will be involved in Compton..." another black agent asked.
"Don't talk here." The captain pointed to the professional bodyguard who was staring far away. At this time, the pager on his waist rang, "I'll make a call and we will leave here when we come back." He pulled one of them. Waiter passing by, "Where is the telephone, please?"
The three subordinates hurriedly seized the time, filled the wine with the wine, wrapped the doughnuts with paper towels, and ate and took them, not caring about the people nearby.
"Let's go."
The captain came back sternly after the phone call, and the group got into the car outside the villa. "APLUS is unlikely to deal with Sugonite. He was too lazy to speak back by Sugonite or other people in the gang rap circle DISS. There really is no need to get involved in this kind of thing anymore," said the fat black agent.
"I agree, you are an expert in this area."
The captain said: "But I just received a report. The local Chicago police have dealt with the AK killing case, the Harlem nightclub shooting, and the recent violent crimes of the Hell Bobcat. They think Little Binny and Sina Roja is the same person."
"What?!" the subordinates exclaimed in unison, "then why don't the local police report it?"
"They want to catch the suspect on their own, and then use it to slap us in the face."
The captain was in a bad mood, "We are behind."
One of the subordinates said: "Since we also know now, then tomorrow, oh, it is today, and when it's working time today, we will force the local police to hand over the relevant evidence."
"It's late, the action is tonight, an abandoned car treatment plant on the outskirts of the city. M-Fxxk!" The captain yelled helplessly in the car: "I will be the laughingstock of the FBI tomorrow!"
"Can't we follow it?" the subordinate asked.
"In the past, if the local police idiots messed up the action, they would definitely put the blame on us." The captain said.
"We can observe from the outside, maybe there is any surprise? Anyway, they have all come to Chicago." The subordinate proposed.
The captain thought about it, "Okay, then let's go over, hurry! Hurry!"
The car started and whizzed out of the gate of Highland Park. All four of them did not pay attention to Sinaloa, who was standing at the gate.
"I am the brother of APLUS! OK?"
Sinaloa, who opened his black mink coat and exposed the big gold chain on his chest, is now very angry. He is walking around with his neck and shouting at the security guard at the door: "Let him come out and see me! Or let me go. Go in and see him! M-fxxk! He said I can see him anytime, he said it himself!"
"Sorry, this sir, you don't have an invitation letter. We can't let you in." The security guard is very responsible. "Please understand that we must strictly follow the rules. I will help inform the inside. May I ask your name?"
The subordinates immediately grabbed the wide cuffs of the Sinaloa mink coat, and he threw them off impatiently, "Just tell APLUS, it's his friend in Nancheng, the best friend! The best one! He knows. !"
"Okay, Mike, there are a few people who don’t have an invitation letter... They say they are Mr. APLUS’s best friends in Nancheng. They didn’t report their names, but they were just outside the gate... Uh, the height of the leader is about 1.7 meters, African American, seventeen eighteen. Years old...Yes, the front teeth are golden. Okay..."
A car drove to the door and honked the horn. The security guard immediately signaled to Sinaloa and the others: "I have already reported, please wait, uh, please leave the way a little bit?"
"Fxxk! Let him hurry up!" Sinaloa yielded aside.
The window of that car was rolled down, and Michelle, who was sitting in the co-pilot, handed out a white invitation.
"Welcome, Ms. Michelle, please come in." After checking the invitation letter, the security guard returned politely and opened the automatic iron door.
"Hey! How can those two Ngers get in!"
Sinaloa was furious. He tried to rush in, but was stopped by several security guards with open arms, "Ah! M-Fxxk!" His hand immediately stretched to his back.
Michelle’s husband started the car quickly and drove in.
"Hey! Hey! Boss, calm down!"
The men grabbed Sinaloa's arm, "Don't be impulsive! There are many reporters across the street!"
"Let me in! I want to go in!" Sinaloa's eyes were flushed with blood.
At this time, Old Mike rushed to the door with a group of bodyguards, "Hey! I remember this person, I have seen it! Where is APLUS? Where is my brother!?" Sinaloa yelled happily when he saw him.
Old Mike glanced at the cars and motorcycles lined up by reporters across the street, hurriedly stepped forward and dragged Sinaloa to the dark side of the door, "It is not convenient for him to see you now, and it is not convenient for you to be here! "