The Bombing's Bitter Truth (Day 3-END)

"Boss..." you whispered one more time. "Are you sure what you're doing?"

He nodded with vigor. "Yes," he replied softly. "Think of Milad's defining characteristics. He has one obvious physical trait that makes it impossible for him to do one of the tasks successfully."

"Really?" you muttered to yourself. "His defining characteristics..."

You thought about it for a while. The medical report flashed in your mind. 'A defining physical trait...?' you reflected. 'No way... could it be?'

You whispered to Detective W, "No way... he must walk side to side, right? His missing right eye... he can't use his peripheral vision, right?"

Detective W nodded. "You got it in one. Now, let me prepare. Just stay put for now and wait for the command."

Detective W wrapped a black blindfold around the plumber's eyes. Once the plumber stayed put, Detective W grabbed 2 random police officers from the circle and told them to stand on the plumber's sides. He then raised his right hand up, signaling you to give the command.

"All right! I want you to walk... side to side! Starting from the right! Keep your head straight at me!" you commanded with a clear, booming voice.

Detective W quickly unfurled the blindfold. The plumber, still holding onto his bag, took a slow step right. He took several more steps to the right, and bumped into one of the officers.

"Oh, shoot, my bad," the plumber stuttered. "My fault."

Detective W grinned. "So, Milad, how is that right eye treating you? I forgot... you can't see in your right eye, right?"

The plumber dropped his bag. "How... how did you know about that? I mean, just because my right eye is gone doesn't mean—"

"—Oh, shut it, will you?" Detective W then showed him the emerald ring. "This has some significant meaning to you, right?" He unscrewed the top off, and was about to press the red button.

The man leapt like a tiger. "Where did you find that? Only my daughter has it!" he screamed, scrambling around Detective W for the ring. Detective W swung his arms around, obviously toying with the plumber.

"How about this, Milad? Take off that mask, reveal what's inside the bag, and I will trade you this ring. That's a fair deal, right?"

The plumber put his hand on the mask, his fingers fidgeting at the cheeks. He dug beneath the collars, and tore the mask off. A head with coarse, curly hair, thick eyebrows, sorrowful eyes, and bushy mustache emerged.

"My daughter! My daughter! Is she safe?!" Milad cried while kneeling on the ground.

"Yes, Donya is safe. The police is protecting her right now," Detective W fibbed. "The bag inside has all deactivated bombs, right?"

Milad nodded, tears flowing like a waterfall. "Thank goodness... Donya..."

Detective W gave a gentle smile, and lent a hand to Milad. "If it makes you feel any better, I can help pay for your daughter's hospital bill. A bright kid like her shouldn't be staying in hospitals all the time."

"So... you're telling me, all this time... I could have avoided this situation...?" Milad croaked, and wiped his tears away.

"Yep," Detective W agreed.

Milad slowly stood up put both of his hands in front of him. "Thank you, Detective. I will hand myself over now. Say hi to my daughter for me," he sobbed, his last words inaudible.

Without warning, a mysterious, distorted voice rang out. "Milad... remember what I said about men that give up easily? They don't deserve forgiveness."

Blood spurted from Milad's head from the right, and Milad crumpled down on the concrete ground, his eyes lifeless. Detective W looked at Milad, then looked at his hand. The ring was emitting the noise.

"Well, well, who are you?" Detective W approached the voice with unnerving calmness.

"Who am I? Who are you?! Introductions, please!" the voice retorted.

"I'm W, a local detective. I suppose you're the mastermind behind this bombing, right?"

"You could call me the mastermind. I'm O.N. But, in the end, he came to me first, asking for help with his daughter's surgery bills. 20 years in prison does one no good, I guess... " the voice said.

"Quick question," Detective W asked. "Is this ring one-way only?"

"One-way for the ring bearer, two way for me," the voice stated with no emotion.

"I see. Oh, O.N. Why did you suggest bombing the city?"

"Aw... getting to the point, eh, W? Do you think I will tell you about that? Obviously no! See you next time!"

Detective W pressed the button on the ring. An uncomfortable silence hung in the air.

"Guess O.N. isn't responding..." he shrugged. He then tossed the ring to Detective Mwangi. "Have the lab analyze it for the team, Mwangi."

"No problem," Detective Mwangi uttered.

Detective W then walked to you, who were looking at the entire scene in shock. He slapped your back. "Don't just stand there gawking. There's still some endgame things we have to complete."

"Y-yes, boss."

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Bartolo gulped, wiped the sweat from his slick hair, and straightened his red suit. He looked out the window. Almost everything on the ground looked like tiny bugs to him.

Romolo sat besides him. Despite his large, intimidating figure, with cold blue eyes and a slasher grin, Romolo was quivering. He cracked his knuckles and comforted himself, "It's just a meeting... just a meeting..."

The overhead lights and the antique lamp illuminated the room. In front of them was a bloodwood desk piled with many books and documents. The books formed a wall, covering the one behind the desk. The entire room smelled like chocolate.

"Capo... capo supremo..." Bartolo floundered. "Is-is something wrong?" He wiped off more sweat.

The mysterious, distorted voice clicked its tongue in disappointment. "Yes, my little padrino. I thought you said you got rid of the annoying detective..."

"Capo supremo, I realized I failed... please give me another chance!" Bartolo clasped his hands together and pleaded.

"Bartolo..." the voice demanded.

"Yes, Capo Supremo?" Bartolo whimpered.

"Do you know why I put you as the padrino of the Squalo Tigre?"

Bartolo shook his head. "No... capo supremo, I don't..."

"I chose you... because you have great charisma. You are the glue that holds Squalo Tigre together—"

"—Thank you, capo, for your praises, I am—"

"—Shh! I am not done yet! However, you have no brain, Bartolo. None at all. You and Romolo only have brawn. It's quite depressing, really. Without me, the brains, Squalo Tigre would have been dead a long time ago."

Bartolo instantly snapped his mouth shut. The room felt like it dropped 10 degrees.

"I just went for a two week vacation to the motherland, and you guys couldn't even finish off one detective? Next time, I make the calls. Got it?" the distorted voice raged.

Bartolo whimpered and nodded. Romolo asked, "Capo supremo, why did you order that guy to do the bombing? You know how the American government is like when it comes to bombings..."

"Of course. I gave him an impossible task. But, he still managed to get two out of the original six places bombed. Kudos to him."

"Capo, how does the bombing help us?" Romolo continued.

"It ultimately serves as a distraction. We will buy the bombed properties, refurnish them, and..."

A long pause held in the air. Then the voice concluded.

"... make drug trafficking hubs with them."