Withers knew the trickiness and seriousness of this matter, and when he found nothing inside the suite, Saar and the other three mafia leaders all stared at him angrily.
"Sir, you are not going to tell us that it's April Fools today, right?"
Withers shrugged his shoulders. "Can I?"
Then, one of Saar's men immediately smashed a beer bottle on Withers's head.
Those undercover agents immediately pulled out their guns and pointed them at Saar and the others.
The Mexicans weren't fazed by this at all. The underlings all stood in front of their bosses, blocking the guns with their own bodies as they pointed their guns right back at the FBI.
Withers felt dizzy in his head. He gritted his teeth and waved his hand, and his subordinates finally backed off and pulled back their weapons. Nobody wanted a shoot out to happen.
"I will be filing a complaint to your boss," Saar smoked his cigar as he snorted at Withers.
