"What is this?" My confusion had just surfaced, but before I could ask, Cyril explained, "Remember the new pistol I gave you a while ago? When you infiltrate the underground black market, everything on you will be searched. I assumed this would be no exception."
I couldn't help but admire his meticulous attention to detail. It was true—everything on me had been taken, including the pistol I'd carried for self-defense. However, the g*n was compact, its parts disassembled, and I'd cleverly disguised them as accessories. To the untrained eye, they were just ordinary trinkets. Unless the person searching me was a weapons expert, no one would ever suspect what they truly were. And that was highly unlikely.
In the eyes of the Hartman family, I was just a minor player—someone with a bit of mone
