William, already in a foul mood due to the unexpected developments, became even more annoyed when he heard what the Church had to say. "F, you talk too much. I said there won't be any problems, so there won't be any problems. Just wait for two days and don't touch Dave and his crew.
If there's no result by the third day, then do as you please. Besides, buddy, if you solve the case in just one day or even less, what will your people at Special Ops think? They might suspect that you were involved.
Even claiming credit takes strategy. Catching the culprits at the last minute looks more impressive and valuable. Plus, you need to arrange things properly. If all the evidence points to you, people are bound to get suspicious.
Just give your team some leads and let them find the evidence. That way, it looks more reasonable. The case gets solved, your team gets credit, you're seen as a capable leader, and your bosses get the results they want. It's a win-win-win."
The Church thought it over and responded, "Heh, William, you're not short on words either. After all that, you just want time to eliminate witnesses. Once they're all dead, how much credit can there be for solving the case? You'll be the one benefiting the most. Two and a half days—after that, I'll arrest them. If you want anyone dead, you'd better hurry."
"No problem," William replied, hanging up the call. He then instructed Sunday to send the evidence of Dave and his team's involvement in Susan's murder to the Church via email.
Meanwhile, McCall was packing his bags and heading to the airport in a taxi. As for Dave, who had been detained by Belgian police, he was released after a deal was made between the Church and Belgian Special Ops. He was immediately placed on a flight back to New York, and the rest of his team—Ali, Resnick, and Kovacs—were also summoned back from the Netherlands on the Church's orders.
After 31 hours back in New York and another 23 hours of interrogation, Dave and his team emerged from Special Ops headquarters, exhausted but relieved. The investigation had been intense, but the actual questioning wasn't as severe as they had feared. Dave and his crew were grateful their plan had been thorough enough not to link them to Susan's death.
However, although they had temporarily cleared the Special Ops hurdle, they had been suspended from duty and placed under restrictions, confined to New York while awaiting the final outcome.
As they left the headquarters, Dave recalled the message he had received the previous day, and his sense of relief evaporated. McCall wasn't dead, and worse, he knew that Susan's death was connected to them. He was now coming back to New York to seek revenge.
What troubled Dave even more was the realization that they had been played from the start. It was clear now that Susan had been the real target of the mastermind behind the scenes. Ever since they had accepted the mission to assassinate Carlbert, they had been mere pawns in someone else's game.
Now, not only had the mastermind forced them to kill Susan, but he also wanted them to deal with McCall when he came for revenge.
With a grim expression, Dave said, "Get in the car. I have something to tell you."
Ali, Resnick, and Kovacs didn't ask questions. They got in the car and headed toward Dave's house.
Before they could reach Dave's home, as he was explaining McCall's survival and sharing his suspicions with the others, his phone rang. Seeing that the caller ID was blocked, Dave felt a surge of anxiety. "Stop the car."
With the screech of brakes, the car pulled over to the side of the road.
Dave answered the call, and as he listened, his face grew darker. After hanging up, he thought for a moment before saying, "That was the mastermind. McCall is waiting near my house. What do you think?"
Ali considered for a moment and replied, "McCall doesn't know that we've discovered him. You should go home first. If you can confirm your wife and kids are safe, we'll find an opportunity to eliminate McCall. He's a rogue agent now, without any official protection."
Dave clenched his jaw and nodded. "Alright, we'll do it. As for the mastermind, we'll deal with him later. His targets are Susan and McCall. As long as we finish the job, he shouldn't cause us any trouble."
Ali and the others thought it over. It seemed plausible, and they had no better options. "We'll get out here. You drive home."
A few blocks away from Dave's house, the car pulled into a shaded area. Ali, Resnick, and Kovacs got out, retrieved their gear from the trunk, and suited up. They nodded to Dave in the driver's seat. "Once you confirm your wife and kids are safe, give us the signal. And," Ali hesitated before adding, "it's best if we use bait to draw McCall out."
Bait? Dave understood what Ali was suggesting. After a moment of silence, he nodded, "Got it." With that, he drove home.
When Dave pulled up to his house, he saw his wife and two daughters eating dinner through the window. He let out a sigh of relief. It seemed McCall was still the same as before—he wouldn't harm innocent people.
Feigning exhaustion, Dave entered the house. After embracing his wife, he sat down to eat dinner with his family. During the meal, he discreetly sent a signal to Ali. An hour later, after dinner, Dave found an excuse to send his wife and daughters to the supermarket.
With his wife and daughters gone, Dave sat alone in the kitchen, sipping coffee in silence. About ten minutes later, there was a faint noise at the back door.
"Good evening, Dave."
Dave, who had been sitting with his back to the door, turned around to see McCall. Despite knowing McCall was alive, seeing him in person still startled Dave. The shock on his face was genuine, and he stammered, "McCall? God, you—you bastard! I thought you were blown to bits!"
McCall smiled. "Sorry, Dave. That was all part of the plan. I wanted to retire."
"Bastard! I saw your car explode with my own eyes. Six years! I've spent six years in regret. And all these years, you never came back to see me once. You let me live with that guilt for six whole years!" Dave walked over to McCall and embraced him tightly.
"I'm sorry, Dave. You know I didn't want to disrupt your life," McCall said, hugging Dave back just as tightly.
They held each other for a long moment before stepping apart. While they were reconnecting, Ali and the others were quietly approaching Dave's house. Dave's earlier display of emotion had been half genuine, half a ploy to buy time for Ali's team to arrive.
But McCall wasn't an idiot.
As the emotional reunion subsided, Dave noticed something strange about McCall. Before he could react, McCall took a few steps back, revealing a detonator in his hand. He then unzipped his jacket, exposing four or five grenades strapped to his waist.
Seeing the type of grenades McCall had brought, Dave's pupils dilated. He knew the power of those explosives. If they detonated, the entire house would be blown to bits, and no one would survive—not even Ali and his team outside would escape the deadly shockwave.
"Is this how you meet an old friend, Robert McCall?" Dave asked, his face darkening.
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