Miligan, New York City, Federal Plaza, FBI York New York Office.

The fbi office has always been very busy. They have endless things to do every day. Everyone in it, agents or clerks, is always in a hurry and a serious expression.

But today, it seems that it is busier here. Even in the office, there are several people trotting and walking, and their speed of speaking is much faster than usual. Many of them have more nervousness than they were originally solemn.

One of the offices was in the office, and a slightly bald white middle-aged man was furious: "Fake! Fake, are you two pigs? How did I tell you before I set out?"

In front of him were two black suit agents who looked strong and capable, but now they were lowering their heads, like elementary school students admit their mistakes. Neither of these two spoke.

Seeing that the two of them were not talking, the bald man said in pain: "What I said was secret! It was inconspicuous! It was unaware of the gods! Invite him over! Do you two understand the meaning of these words?"

Faced with his questioning, one of the young operators spoke with a little aggrieved: "We have tried our best to pay attention. When the week is over, everyone has almost left, we will go in and invite..."

"You guys are careful!" The bald man slapped the table hard: "What I want is not to be seen! I was discovered! You said, how many people saw it and heard you invite him?"

"That's just a few volunteers who helped clean up..." Another operator also defended in a weak voice.

"Several? Or a dozen?" The bald man glared.

"Ten...more than ten..." The operator's lips squirmed, and his voice was like a mosquito or flies.

"What I want is that no one sees it!" The bald man slapped the table hard again.

After a few breaths, he took a deep breath, and looked at the timid two people in front of him again: "I have told you before that this Reverend Bruce is an important figure, and he has a great reputation in East Flebash and even in the black community in Brooklyn!"

He knocked on the table: "Just just now, the Brooklyn Police Department called, and nearly two hundred black people had already walked on the street, more than half of them were carrying guns! More black people were joining them! The police near Brooklyn had all rushed over to guard reinforcements and left! All of this was because of you two idiots! You just want to trigger another black riot?"

"Yes...I'm sorry..." One of the operators apologized with a bitter look on his face: "I didn't expect things to turn out like this..."

"Fake! What's the use of apologizing to me!" The bald man interrupted him rudely: "Why don't you get out of Dongfrebash and help me!"

"Let's go now!" Another operator reacted quickly, quickly pulled his companions out of this office that seemed to be devouring to others.

"Oh..." He let out a long sigh, closed his eyes again, pinched the nose and eyebrows, relieved his mental fatigue. The bald middle-aged white man buttoned up the open black suit and walked out of the office.

He walked through the bustling crowd in the office and into the elevator.

However, he was different from the two unlucky agents before, and he chose not to go downstairs, but to go upstairs.

The "Dingdong" elevator stopped quickly.

The elevator door is open, this floor is very quiet, and it is different from the previous open office. There are separate rooms here.

The bald middle-aged man turned left and right and came to a room.

This strange room has thick iron doors with electronic password locks, and a transparent glass like a blackboard.

Through the glass, he could clearly see the scene in the room.

Inside is a rectangular metal table fixed to the ground, and two metal chairs with backrests, but also fixed to the ground.

One of the chairs was the black priest's robe, the old black priest with white hair and a gentle smile. The one sitting opposite him was a smart face, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, holding paper and pen in his hand, as if recording something, a middle-aged white man.

Neither of them were bound to have any restraints, neither rope nor handcuffs.

The bald man stood in front of the large glass, but the two inside still did not see him coming, and their eyes did not turn to the glass.

The bald man waved, and soon, a young operator next to him with headsets handed over a pair of wireless headsets, the type with headsets and microphones.

As soon as I put on my headphones, a sound came from the room.

"...Pastor Bruce, in fact, I admire you very much. I admire you for decades of preaching in East Flebash, spreading the gospel, and persuading the young people who have walked on the slanting road, so that they can return to the right path... I can assure you that I, and my colleagues, have no malice towards you..." The voice was firm and serious, but the voice of the white man with gold-glasses.

"I can feel your kindness, and the unit does not understand why you invited me here." This is obviously the voice of the old black pastor, but it is a kind person, as warm and warm sun, and it is trustworthy.

Listening to the nutrition-free dialogue inside, the bald middle-aged man outside the room frowned and put down his headset, his voice a little quick: "Don't be polite anymore! Go straight to the topic! We don't have much time!"

The man in the glasses in the room subconsciously touched his ear, then nodded almost unconsciously, and looked at the old pastor in front of him again: "We invite you here this time, for nothing else, but the 'superpower' you have shown in the past few days! We want to know what happened!"

"No, this is not a superpower!" The old black pastor did not answer positively, but first corrected the mistake, and then said: "This is a gift, a gift from God! God's love! Give those devout believers to keep them away from illness."

"You...ah, I want to declare in advance that I do not believe that God exists. In fact, my parents are both devout believers." The man in glasses shrugged: "But I have been to church countless times since I was a child, and have seen many very pious but suffering from illness. But God never showed this gift..."

"Because He finally forgave us." The smile on the old pastor's face was still gentle, even with a hint of fanaticism, and his tone was full of excitement: "We have finally paid back our sins with our piety and returned to His arms!"

"I don't understand." The man in glasses expressed confusion.

"You don't need to understand." The old pastor's voice was gentle, without any aggression, but with unparalleled confidence: "You just go and witness! Just go and offer your piety and your faith!"

...

The two of them were having a verbal confrontation in the room, but there was a "da" sound outside the room.

It was the sound of high heels colliding with the floor.

A middle-aged white woman with long brown hair and a serious face, almost in her forties walked in. He walked to the bald man, and said in a unquestionable tone: "Lyn, let him go."

"We are now interrogating! We have reached the critical point!" The bald man began to beg.

"Release the person! Just now! And terminate the investigation indefinitely!" The white old woman spoke in a completely imperative tone.

"Why?" the bald man expressed confusion.

The old white woman's voice was a little weaker: "Just just now, Mayor Michael, Senator Hawkins, Bishop Luther, all called me in person..."

"But...but, our FBI is not responsible for them!" The bald man made his final resistance.
Chapter completed!