Chapter 400: Pressure

Li Mochen indeed made another call to Zoe Dowlington, the head of the FBI's Atlanta field office, and his tone was anything but polite.

“Director Dowlington, I cannot simply ignore such provocation. You even deployed a warship—are you trying to put me to death? Your subordinate handcuffed me without any evidence.”

“This is aimed at me, isn’t it? You’ve caused my friend’s convoy to be delayed at sea for over an hour. I must state unequivocally that all weapons on our ship are registered and legally certified.”

“No, I won’t transfer the call to him. I’ll watch how you handle this. My Rising Sun Media will keep a close eye on this matter.”

When Li Mochen ended the call, he looked at the special agent in charge beside the porthole with a mocking gaze: “So you’re still going to persist, right? You’ll keep at it until you find evidence of our smuggling?”

Rambo Andor did not reply, but his face was as dark as water. He had already realized that he might have stepped into a trap set by the other party.

Yet Rambo truly did not want to give up. At River Bend Dock, he had personally watched those crates being loaded onto the ship.

During this time, more than one informant had reported to them, and they even had a quasi-legendary shadow infiltrate the warehouse to confirm the cargo.

Especially today, the entire process of loading that batch of arms onto the barges was under their watch. How could it all end up being empty crates?

His face was cold and stern, and he still stood by the porthole, waiting silently.

But as time ticked by, Rambo’s mood gradually turned cold and still.

About an hour and twelve minutes later, his assistant contacted him again via walkie-talkie, and this time his voice was filled with frustration: “We’ve been tricked, sir. No arms. We’ve searched nearly half the containers. They’re all household goods, already declared. We found no evidence. I think continuing to open crates won’t yield anything.”

Rambo Andor glanced at Li Mochen, then replied coldly: “If you can’t find anything, then call it off.”

“But sir, we have some other problems.”

The voice over the walkie-talkie seemed ashamed: “Our people got into conflicts with some crew members, and things got a bit rough. Especially on the Rora, where the crew was uncooperative, they fired shots and wounded someone. The wound is in the thigh, not fatal. I don’t know—it’s a bit strange. Maybe because we thought this operation was a sure thing, everyone was a bit excited. Then, there were some journalists on the ship. I don’t know how much they recorded.”

Rambo’s hand gripping the walkie-talkie bulged with veins: “Anything else?”

“Also, while docking, a few of our patrol boats collided with the cargo ships. How should I put it? At least on the surface, it looks serious.”

Rambo Andor let out a long breath: “Everyone withdraw. We’ll discuss the details when we get back.”

As the special agent in charge walked out of the bridge command room, Li Mochen sneered: “Mr. Andor, you don’t think this is over, do you?”

“Of course not!”

Rambo Andor turned back, his eyes dark: “Whatever tricks you have, Mr. Wiltondstein, I’ll be waiting.”

After he left, most people in the bridge, though not fully understanding, were all smiles.

After all, if the government had really found evidence this time, everyone here would have had to visit the FBI’s Savannah Coastal Division.

Angela patted her chest: “You know, back at the dock, my illusion almost fell apart. That guy has at least five level-15-plus magic hunters under him. Luckily, they were afraid of scaring us off and didn’t get close.”

Li Mochen noticed that while Angela looked relieved, she was actually secretly proud, as if she had ‘Praise me’ written on her forehead. He couldn’t help but laugh and pinched her straight little nose.

“So after thinking it over, only your illusion could fool them. My judgment was right, wasn’t it?”

Most illusionists in the world only create hallucinations. But his Angela could manifest real objects, even with real texture and weight—far superior to the former.

…

At this moment, Zoe Dowlington, the head of the FBI’s Atlanta field office, was sweating profusely.

“Hey, Zoe, that’s not fair. Everyone does business with the Antolia continent—Howard, Van Peter, Rafford—they all have commercial routes there. Why does the FBI have to target our ships? Or is it that you and the people behind you are deliberately targeting our Lynden family?”

“Don’t joke with me, Zoe. Without your tacit approval, he wouldn’t dare be so reckless. You even used the military’s South Carolina-class submarine—unbelievable.”

“If it’s not you, then keep your people in check. That Director Andor at the Savannah Coastal Division—you can’t let him run around biting people like a mad dog.”

“In short, I don’t want this to happen a second time. Otherwise, our Lynden Newspaper Group will consider ending certain cooperations with you—in all aspects.”

Less than half a minute after finishing the conversation with the Georgia State Senate Deputy Speaker from the Lynden family, Zoe Dowlington received another call, this time from an internal secure line.

At that moment, his female secretary appeared at the door with a cold expression: “Sir, it’s Lieutenant General Nathan Kaim, the Assistant Deputy Director.”

Zoe Dowlington sighed and reluctantly picked up the receiver. He knew this man was the son-in-law of the Targaryen family.

“Director Dowlington, I want to know what’s going on with the Wings of the Alliance convoy? My secretary told me their ships were intercepted at sea by our people. Did they find evidence of arms smuggling on the Wings of the Alliance ships?”

“Yes, General.”

Zoe Dowlington spoke cautiously: “This operation was led by Rambo Andor. Based on what we know, no smuggled arms were found on their ships.”

“So what do you plan to do, Director Dowlington?”

Lieutenant General Nathan Kaim expressed dissatisfaction: “You understand, Dowlington, that regarding trade with the Antolia continent, both the military and the FBI have a common, tacit approach.”

“Yes, it’s illegal and violates the UN consensus, but it serves America’s national interests. I would say that even in a public hearing before both houses of Congress.”

“I don’t care if you use public power for personal grudges to attack enemies. But since no evidence was found on the ships, someone must take responsibility. One Rambo Andor isn’t enough—a C2-level probationary director can’t bear it. By the way, I’ve reported this to the Vice President and the Director. They are both concerned about this matter.”

When Lieutenant General Nathan Kaim hung up, Zoe Dowlington leaned back and rubbed his temples in frustration.

About five seconds later, he sat up straight and glared at his secretary: “If that bastard Andor comes ashore, tell him to come see me immediately. Also, notify HR to start the process—suspend that bastard temporarily. It seems our Anti-Smuggling and Anti-Human Trafficking Unit needs a new director.”