McCaul looked at Jason, John, and Brian, who showed no surprise, and immediately knew that he had been discovered long ago.
This private detective sighed.
"Sorry, I'm used to teaming up with amateurs, forgetting that you all are experts," he said.
"And just now, sorry for not being able to help."
Regret surfaced on the face of the private detective, but then he looked at Jason, John, and Brian with a very serious gaze and lowered his voice, "I have stored some weapons."
"They're a bit special."
While speaking, McCaul drew a special symbol on the small coffee table: a three-leaf fan.
"Yellow bottom with black color?"
Brian inquired.
McCaul nodded.
Hiss!
A low gasp emanated from the middle-aged father.
"Aren't you a private detective?"
"Where did you get a 'nuclear flatten' from?"
Brian assessed McCaul with a serious look, this detective who had always shown a great sense of justice.
"Private detectives can't have 'nuclear flatten'?"
