Belmode: "…"
Some people have to suffer, but some people have to suffer too much, like Gin.
Repeated terrorist attacks in one's own precinct are just too unpleasant and counter to the mystical nature of the organization.
The first two terrorist attacks were fine, but the embassy...
By daybreak, the world will know that a terrorist organization in Tokyo attacked the embassy and killed the FBI investigator inside.
Even if the organization doesn't claim responsibility.
"But it's none of your business," Belmode said in fairness, "the gentleman already knew about the embassy, and he wasn't angry."
And then, as if nothing had happened, he added, "He hasn't answered me yet."
"He hasn't gotten back to me yet." The lack of response is rounded up to mean that he doesn't care, he's not angry about it.
Belmode continued as if nothing had happened, "Make the call, FBI backup is on the way anyway."
She picked up her black tea again, and said softly, "The guy leading the FBI support team this time, is not a simple guy, a hyena that spews foul-smelling breath when he opens his mouth to bark."
This means that the other guy is not a good guy, but a black-and-white carnivore, not a good guy from the point of view of the black people, and not a good guy from the point of view of the general public.
"People like him are perfect for letting out a bite, just one bite, and they can tear off chunks of meat, even many of the FBI find him quite tricky, that's why they sent him with his men for support."
When you're facing a bloody enemy, you have to unleash the bloody dogs.
"And," Belmode added, "that call was strange, wasn't it?"
"Just in case, there's room for maneuver..."
She had a lot to say, so much so that she 'tried to make amends for Ichijō Mirai, but realized that it was too far out of line to make amends, and had to do it the hard way'.
Gin snorted, "Curb your petty thoughts."
Belmode's tone lightened, "What that gentleman wants is what I want."
"Call."
"The gentleman will want to know the details."
It was a difficult call.
Gin glanced at his cell phone in the middle of a call, put it in the background, kept it on hold, and dialed another number.
The cell phone screen was black on white, very black and white, but when he dialed the number, Gin had a subtle illusion: it was a crazy blood-red color that waved out of the shadows.
He waited quietly for the call to go through.
The phone didn't ring for long, and was soon answered by Ichijō Mirai's rather light-toned voice, "Hello, good morning."
"It's only five o'clock," He said, glancing at the time with warm concern for his boss, "Are you up this early? Do you get up this early every day?"
And in awe, "Wow, no wonder you don't smile by nature."
And have the nerve to complain, "I was up all night."
Complaining is very effective. It brings out the seven human emotions.
Seven emotions: anger, anger, and anger.
Six sense: the desire to shoot, the desire to shoot, and the desire to shoot.
Gin: "..."
He said coolly, "Not just up, not asleep."
"Huh?" Ichijō Mirai pretended to be surprised, and then became more respectful, "No wonder you don't like to smile by nature!"
"It's your fault, the organization's fault, and none of my business," He sighed, "And I, too, am becoming less and less smiley by nature, and I'm actually working overtime until after five in the morning."
"It's your fault that you don't like to laugh by nature. It's the organization's fault. It has nothing to do with me," He sighed, "and I am also gradually becoming less fond of laughing by nature. I actually worked overtime until after five in the morning."
"If you work overtime until midnight, the overtime pay should be at least ten times as much, right?"
Gin: "..."
If he had a choice, he'd want Ichijō Mirai to work 0-7.
One more time: does the organization really need this?
"I heard the police call," Gin skillfully suppressed his high blood pressure, ignored the trash talk, and asked in a stiff tone, "What are you going to do?"
He heard a few broken voices on the other end of the line.
Ichijō Mirai seemed to be covering his phone, and turned around to talk to someone. Only some sporadic voices could be heard faintly, sounding quite gentle, like a tired husband who was communicating with his beloved wife in a gentle voice:
"Okay...good job...you were great...good boy..."
It's a little bit like talking to a secret lover. "Thirteen hours?"
"Okay...call...don't worry, it'll be quick...ten minutes..."
"Sniper rifle?"
"Don't worry."
...Sniper rifle?
Gin immediately became alert, and the moment the voice on the other end of the cell phone became clear again, he asked in a deep voice, "What sniper rifle?"
Ichijō Mirai's somewhat surprised voice came out, "Huh, are you eavesdropping?"
"It's nothing," he replied patiently, as if calming down a girlfriend who was having a tantrum, "There are sniper rifles in the embassy."
"I'm on the tenth... I found out after I found dozens of bullets. Isn't that against the rules? I didn't expect that someone who looked like a decent person would actually hide a sniper rifle. How kind of a person."
"What else did you hear?" Ichijō Mirai asked carelessly, "You're very curious."
"I've just had a friendly chat with the man the FBI sent to investigate me, and he's already memorized his lines and confirmed from his intranet orders that the second batch of FBI agents have bitten the bait, and that there's still thirteen hours to go before they can pull up their stakes and reel in the line."
After a moment's thought, he explained, "Oh, it means that the second batch of FBI investigators have boarded the plane and there are thirteen hours to go before they arrive in Tokyo."
"FBI meetings are so serious, they're scary," Ichijō Mirai complained, "and this nice FBI man got so spooked he almost alerted the rest of the embassy, and I had to calm him down before I could pour orders into his head, ugh."
So at first, it was calming.
It's like he just remembered Gin's initial question, "Call the police?"
"Oh, I asked Mr. FBI for a little help."
"Their internal assumption is that I'm an ex-veteran with a limp." Ichijō Mirai's complaint intensified, "Really, that's too much, isn't it?"
"Even if they opened their mouths and shouted
"Tsk."
Gin: "..."
Amidst the trash talk that was almost like a hurricane, which could easily turn the ocean of his mind into a dark place, he caught the keyword, "The second batch?"
The first group of FBI investigators were from the embassy.
The second group of FBI investigators, on the airplane.
Ichijō Mirai's terminology is fishing.
He threatened and intimidated one of the FBI investigators into making a false distress call, which brought in the second group of FBI investigators, and after a terrorist attack that didn't involve sniper rifles, he said he found sniper rifles, and complimented the staff at the embassy on their kindness.
What does that mean?
Gin: "...What are you going to do?"
He hears the compliment, "You're smart."
Ichijō Mirai smiled, "I heard that every novice fisherman gets a fishing gift pack, so to please you dear, dear chief, I'm going to catch a few more fish."
"The first fish was a little small," he apologized, "but the second was bigger."
"Don't worry, I'll make sure the organization will be satisfied."