Chapter 38: No Boss Is Ever Truly Good (Please Recommend!)

What Roanne was doing now was establishing empathy with the other party.

The information on Frazer that Mona had sent him showed that Frazer had never attended high school, indicating a low level of education, and it was unlikely he had ever studied psychology.

Having no family meant he lacked affection, which was probably why he could commit murder and dismemberment without any psychological burden.

His frequent job changes suggested he was either clumsy and always getting fired for poor performance, or dissatisfied with his work—perhaps he found the tasks too troublesome, colleagues too difficult to get along with, or the boss was always nitpicking.

But regardless of the reason, it was clear that Frazer disliked the very act of “work” itself.

So, complaining about work was bound to strike a chord with Frazer.

Sure enough, when Roanne mentioned that he was only checking the room upstairs to complete a task, and that the FBI was just a job, Frazer’s attitude immediately softened.

“All right, spineless agent.”

Perhaps wanting to maintain face in front of Sabina, Frazer still clung to the “spineless” epithet, but his tone was much calmer:

“Hurry up and check the room. There’s no ‘surprise’ in here for your idiot boss to worry about. Once you’re done, let’s get this trade over with. You people had better bring my dog to me.”

Roanne shrugged, pointing to the pink bed in the room and asked,

“What about under there? I need to make sure there’s no ‘surprise’ hiding underneath. You know how my bosses are—completely brainless. I don’t want to get docked for something they nitpick. Who knows which nightclub they’ll blow my wages on!”

“Bullshit!”

Frazer, head hidden behind Sabina, rolled his eyes. His left hand gripped Sabina’s neck, right hand pressed the gun to her temple as he edged them both to the other side of the room, saying,

“Then hurry up and look. Under the bed, you’ll only find the clothes and toys I prepared for Sabina—no ‘surprises’.”

“I believe you, Frazer.”

Roanne shrugged again, took a few steps forward, knelt on one knee, lifted the draping blanket, and swept his gaze underneath while replying,

“But you know how it is, Frazer—bosses everywhere are the same. They’ll find any excuse to get at you, as if your having a good day means they’ll have a miserable one!”

At this, Sabina, herself a company executive, rolled her eyes, but Frazer nodded vigorously in agreement:

“You’re right, bosses are all scum! That’s why when the owner of that dye factory said I wasn’t working hard enough and wanted to dock half my pay, I chopped him into pieces that very night!

Damn it, I’ve never been late a single day—how dare he say I wasn’t working hard enough!”

Roanne: “……”

My god, an unexpected confession?

Roanne’s eyelid twitched. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw he was now close enough to Frazer, and could just barely spot Frazer’s head behind Sabina. Without giving anything away, he slipped the steel pen from his pocket into his hand. Just as he was about to get up, Frazer suddenly shouted:

“Don’t move! Spineless agent!”

Roanne’s face darkened, but then Frazer shouted again:

“What’s that outside the villa? Some new FBI weapon? Are you tricking me?!”

A sniper rifle? SWAT couldn’t get here that fast!

Roanne’s expression eased but his brow furrowed more deeply. He quietly concealed the pen behind his hand and rose to look out the bedroom window, only to spot a black camera mounted on the villa wall, streaming everything happening in the bedroom.

“Fuck.”

Earlier, when Frazer and Sabina hid in the blind spot of the bedroom, no one outside could see him, nor could he see out. But after Frazer moved, his peripheral vision caught the camera outside the floor-to-ceiling window.

“Believe me, Frazer, that’s not some new FBI weapon.”

Roanne cursed the TV station under his breath, resolving to demand some mental compensation from them afterwards, then quickly turned to reassure Frazer:

“That’s the FBI’s body camera, okay? I told you, my boss is an idiot. They’re afraid I’ll do something out of line during the mission, so they use a body cam to monitor me! Trust me, all right?”

As soon as he finished, Roanne’s face froze; even he didn’t believe that story.

Sure enough, Frazer’s face flushed red, his whole body trembling with agitation. He leaned further out from behind Sabina, finally revealing his head, and pointed his gun at Roanne instead of Sabina’s temple:

“You think I’m an idiot? Since when does the FBI ever care about legal procedures on a mission? That’s your new weapon!”

Roanne: “……”

Frazer’s logic was irrefutable.

The scene in the bedroom was broadcast into thousands of homes. Seeing Frazer, in a frenzy, point his gun at Roanne at point-blank range, Mona gasped, August’s wide eyes bulged with panic, and Verinith’s whole body tensed, her legs pressed tightly together.

At the gala, Bronson’s lips curled up reflexively, Matthews clenched his fists and muttered for the killer to hurry up and shoot, while several congressmen narrowed their eyes, and many female guests covered their mouths in alarm, turning away from the impending violence.

Outside the villa, Lacey swore loudly—whether at Roanne or the killer, it was hard to say—then drew her gun and charged inside.

Lynette, the auburn-haired reporter, felt her heart pounding wildly, her mind in chaos; it was the first time she had ever witnessed a shooting at such close range.

“Spineless agent, I can’t believe you dared to trick me!”

Inside the bedroom, Frazer cursed, “Go to hell!”

Before he could finish, his finger tightened on the trigger. Sabina, in front of him, screamed in terror.

But Roanne was faster. As soon as Frazer shouted, Roanne raised his right hand, the steel pen—long prepared—flashing like a silver blade through the air.

Bang!

Thump!

Two distinct sounds rang out at once in the bedroom. A bullet whistled past Roanne’s right cheek, the breeze it left behind almost warm, but Roanne was unscathed, his expression perfectly calm.

Across from him, Frazer’s eyes bulged wide, his whole body collapsing to the floor, a steel pen embedded squarely in the center of his forehead. His lifeless face stared directly at the floor-to-ceiling window.

Through that window, viewers at home could see the pen driven deep, only the barest tip still protruding.

“Oh my God!”

“Jesus!”

“Holy shit!”

“WTF?!”

Many watching at home were startled by Frazer’s death mask, but then they fell into astonished excitement, their eyes fixed on Roanne, now comforting Sabina, as if they’d seen a ghost.

In the office of Investigation Unit Five, Mona, August, and the other agents were dumbfounded, disbelief written all over their faces. Verinith’s tense muscles trembled, then abruptly relaxed, her legs no longer crossed, her gaze at Roanne now extremely complex.

At the gala, the congressmen and the women who hadn’t turned away gasped sharply, while Bronson and Matthews were struck dumb, their faces darkening as they heard the buzz of shocked voices around them.

“Did you see that?”

“Was that a pen? That was a pen, wasn’t it?!”

“Are all FBI agents this tough now?”

“Does anyone know this agent on TV? What’s his name?”

“Damn it, I actually missed it!”