Seeing the tense atmosphere, the large sparrow frowned and said, "All the money is here. We're just waiting for you, so we won't do anything for now."
"Of course, of course. Maybe the rumors are wrong," Saul replied with a smile, raising his hand.
"Maybe we should have gone to the warehouse earlier; perhaps the employer has a way to get us out," he suggested.
"Stop talking nonsense! That's impossible. Besides, a bunch of gang idiots? There's nothing to fear; we're not even scared of the police!" the sparrow retorted.
"The scary part is if there's a shootout; we'll be exposed!" another voice added.
"Okay, enough arguing. At least it's safe here for now. They can't keep blocking the road; the police don't have that many officers," the sparrow comforted the group loudly. "Civil strife isn't allowed. We may face death eventually, but we can't die so uselessly."
That night, the robbers were restless, and Wells was equally uneasy. The bank was putting immense pressure on him.
Sean, however, surprisingly slept better than before.
"What time is it?" he groaned, picking up his phone. "My dear Chief, it's only 7 o'clock! Capitalists can't be this dark!"
"Has anyone been found?" Wells, who hadn't slept well all night, was irritable. If he didn't catch the robbers this time, his 'donations' for the latter half of the year would be significantly reduced!
Every year, many local wealthy individuals and businesses give private donations to the police due to insufficient funding. This is a common practice in the United States, contributing to a better service attitude.
"Newark is so big; do you really think it's easy to search for a group of people?" Sean exhaled deeply. "Dear Chief, what about the number of auxiliary police officers?"
"Damn it! Get your men to the police station and have them pick up their uniforms and IDs—right now!" Wells barked.
"Hahaha, don't worry! When have I ever let you down?" Sean chuckled as he hung up the phone and dialed again. "Notify Craigie Wright and ask him to take a team to the police station to collect their documents."
After hanging up, Sean washed his face and brushed his teeth. He ordered breakfast: crab roe buns, crystal shrimp dumplings, Chaozhou rice with pickles, and a glass of milk. While eating, he perused the morning newspaper.
As expected, after a night of speculation, major newspapers—including those from New York—were reporting on the bank robbery. The articles pointed fingers at the Newark Police Department, accusing them of chaos in local law enforcement. They detailed how officers were beaten and disarmed, and six were seriously injured, while the robbers escaped with only a few minor injuries.
Wells was painted with labels of incompetence and stupidity, which explained his early morning frustration with Sean. In truth, Wells had done a commendable job, but he was simply unlucky to face such a powerful group of robbers. Sean shook his head, feeling a moment of sympathy for Wells—just a moment.
Flipping through the newspaper, Sean noted that not only was Wells criticized, but Mayor Clemens Wiley was also chastised for the declining law and order during his tenure. The articles questioned his inaction, despite evidence showing that Newark's crime rate had actually decreased in recent years. However, the issue of insufficient police funding was conveniently ignored; it wouldn't sell papers.
While Sean enjoyed his breakfast, the police station was swamped with reporters, many coming from New York, creating a headache for Wells.
It wasn't until Bill arrived to inform Sean that everyone's auxiliary police procedures were complete that Sean finally set down his utensils.
"Help me contact the bank. I want to meet their manager in the name of X Security Company," Sean instructed.
In reality, even under his own name, Sean could have met the manager of Kelsey Bank anytime; he was now a wealthy man and a significant client of the bank due to his fitness club's cash flow.
However, approaching them as a security company indicated that he was here regarding the bank robbery.
An hour later, Sean met with their manager, Polly Chad, in the top office of the Newark branch of Kelsey Bank. After exchanging American-style greetings, Sean pointed to the newspaper on the table and got straight to the point. "What does Manager Polly think of this situation?"
"The bank suffered a lot—five people were killed and two injured. If the money isn't recovered, we'll face even greater losses," Polly said, her expression grave.
"I heard that your security is compromised," Sean remarked.
Polly looked at him in surprise, then immediately shook her head. "I don't know where you heard that, but it's a rumor. It's slander Here's the continuation of the revised section:
against our company. Our security team is dedicated and conscientious; they would never betray us!"
"Your words are quite stubborn, but I've seen and heard things firsthand," Sean replied, his tone steady.
"Manager Polly, I own a chain of gyms and also run a security company. The police are reaching out to me for assistance regarding the robbery at your bank," he said, locking eyes with her. "So, why don't we speak more openly and honestly?"
Polly's face showed a flicker of embarrassment as she realized the gravity of the situation. She had been trying to protect the bank's reputation but knew she was cornered.
"Well, you know, I don't want to mislead you, but..." Polly hesitated, "the situation was complicated. Our security guards did shoot and kill a robber..."
Sean remained silent, watching her with an unyielding gaze.
"Okay, yes, they were killed by their own people, but our guards were injured," she reluctantly admitted.
"Keep spinning that story," Sean thought, smirking internally.
"I'm not here to question your company's security capabilities," he said with a charming smile. "What I want to emphasize is a saying in the U.S.: 'leave professional matters to professionals.' I think that applies to banks too, doesn't it?"
Just then, there was a knock on the door. Sean paused, and Polly called out, "Come in."
Bill entered, dressed in military green, saluting with a serious expression. "Boss, I have your phone call."
Polly frowned, wondering why such an urgent call warranted interruption.
"Bring it here," Sean said, waving him over. He took the phone from Bill. "It's me, Sean."
"I found someone, right? Good. Keep an eye on them and don't let them escape," he instructed, then hung up, his mind racing with possibilities.
Polly watched him closely, the tension in the room thickening. "What was that about?" she asked, curiosity piqued.
Sean leaned back in his chair, a smirk forming on his lips. "Let's just say I have a lead on the robbers. And I intend to find out the truth about what happened."
Polly's eyes widened, realizing the implications. "You think they might actually be in Newark?"
"That's exactly what I'm hoping," Sean replied, his confidence evident. "With your cooperation, we can ensure that this matter is resolved swiftly."
She nodded slowly, weighing her options. "Alright, I'll do what I can. But you must understand, we need to protect our image."
"Understood," Sean said, "but remember: the truth has a way of coming out, whether you want it to or not."
Their conversation continued, each side weighing the stakes, both aware that the outcome of this robbery could change everything for them.