Dirty Robber Bar, a bar with a long history in Boston, does not mean it is very famous. On the contrary, the small bar that has always adhered to the tradition has never appeared in any travel program or magazine.

However, the residents around him still like his old atmosphere and the menu that has not raised much price. Of course, the boss also knows that the latter reason is more important, but it doesn't matter. He is old and doesn't plan to make something new as a reason for price increase.

It was 11 o'clock in the evening and the guests were almost gone. The boss was silently wiping the wine glass at the counter. A guest sitting at the end of the bar caught his attention.

In fact, he had been paying attention to him for a week. From a week ago, the man would come to the bar on time at 6 o'clock every night, sit in that position, order a glass of whiskey, and sit until 12 o'clock when the bar closes before going out. Of course, the wine is also the cheapest type.

The boss noticed that he had never changed his jacket and the number of refills was getting less and less. From the increasing stubble and haggard face on his face, it can be seen that he was in trouble, which was mostly related to his income.

A stream of amber liquid poured into the wine glass in front of the man. He raised his head and looked at the boss with bloodshot eyes in confusion.

"I treat you, I don't have any money."

"Thank you." As the boss expected, the man's voice was hoarse, which should be caused by the difficulties in life.

"Where did you retire? Fbi, cia?" The boss filled the cup that was empty in an instant and ignored the other party's alert gaze.

"Haha, don't be nervous, I used to be, so I can recognize you at a glance. The dark, unobtrusive jacket, as soon as I enter the door, sat to the position where the whole room can be observed, and close to the back door, these things are not something that ordinary people can pay attention to when they are down. And if you still have these habits, it only means that these things have penetrated into your bones."

The man smiled bitterly and drank the wine again. The boss didn't care, but he still filled it with it. Then he said casually: "When I was young, I always thought that I could do everything, I didn't pay attention to anything, my body and property were squandered. When I was old, I felt that I could not do anything, but I couldn't get back what I had squandered, right?"

The man finally spoke: "I have always thought that I am working for the country and the people, but I don't care about my family. When the country you have always been loyal to has abandoned you like garbage, you find that you have not left anything for your family for so many years. Now I want to work hard to make my family live a good life, but I find that I can't care about anything. What do you think you should do."

Looking at the man whose eyes were red, the boss was a little silent. He remembered many of his old brothers. Like this man, they dedicated everything to the country, but they only received a not-so-rich pension. The various murders they had learned throughout their lives were not useful in normal society. So, they either indulged in alcohol or embarked on the road of crime. They were still lucky to use their pension and savings accumulated from their previous work to settle down a bar to make a living.

The boss knew that if no one could save him, this man would still follow his brother's old path. Moreover, judging by his age, he might not have retired normally, so the old agent who was at his peak would have a great harm to society.

"If you don't mind, I'm still missing someone. Although my salary is not very high, I can support myself and maybe a little bit."

Looking at the boss's white hair and warm smile, the man wanted to cry. If it weren't for the family, who would have been willing to silence and hit the walls everywhere? After all, what his wife and children need is a decent income husband and father, rather than a criminal family who can only bring humiliation and distrust his eyes around him.

Dingling, just when the man was about to agree to the boss, the doorbell hanging above the bar door rang. The boss frowned and looked over. Why was there anyone coming so late? "It's closed, I'll have to drink and go somewhere else." The boss's tone was a little impatient.

The man in black came in. His thick beard and hair almost completely blocked his face. This guy with his head and tail was not the customer he liked by the boss. His hand had already held the pistol under the bar. Although he had retired for a long time, he was still confident that he could kill him with one shot.

"Hey, don't you understand English?" Seeing the man at the door standing there without any intention of leaving, the boss was a little impatient. He put the m1911 in his hand under the light on the bar, giving the person a little intimidation.

The man raised his hand tactfully and signaled to the boss that he had no malice. He also stared at the man on the bar and said, "Hunt, will you not know me so soon?"

Bang, the tall bar chair fell to the ground. Hunter, who had previously expressed his feelings to the boss, stood up straight and opened his mouth wide, staring at the man at the door: "Here is you, it's really you?"

The man at the door lowered his arms a little, turning into open arms. Hunter rushed over and hugged him tightly, slapped each other's backs. The boss also quietly put away his pistol, picked up the bottle and poured two glasses of wine.

"Boss, you're not dead? That's great."

"Haha, my life is hard, it's not that easy to die."

"By the way, why did the Special Investigation Bureau disband? Where have you been during this period? I heard... you were wanted..."

"Sit down and talk slowly." The boss held two glasses of wine and looked at the two men with a smile. He heard Hunter's words just now, but he did not take any special actions. An agent who was so poor that he had no choice but to commit crimes, his friend should not be a bad person, especially when facing his pistol just now, his first choice was to raise his hand to contact misunderstandings rather than to draw a gun to counterattack immediately. He did not think that an old man like him was a threat to the active agent.

David nodded to the boss with a smile, and sat down with Hunter. Hunter asked impatiently: "Is the special transfer bureau reorganized? Your wanted list has been cancelled? I knew there must be a misunderstanding here."

David shook his head, "No, the Special Investigation Bureau has not been reorganized, and I am still wanted, otherwise how could I come to see you like this."

Hunter frowned, "Then are you looking for me?"

"Hunt, do you think I am the kind of person who betrays the country?" David asked seriously.

"How could anyone be, everyone is possible, only you can't." Hunter shook his head. After working with David for so long, he has confidence in this regard, let alone the target of selling is the demon. He is very clear about how many friends he has died at the hands of the demon.

"Okay, then you have to consider what I'm going to say seriously. Someone in the federal government colluded with the demons. Don't ask who I am. I have no evidence, but the disbandment of the Special Investigation Bureau has something to do with the former president's resignation. More importantly, I want to reorganize an institution to fight against the demons. Are you interested in participating?" David thought for a while and added, "It's paid, and the salary will not be lower than before."

Looking at David's eyes opposite, which were as clear as ever, Hunter didn't think too much, "No problem, head, I won't do anything else."

After saying that, he smiled and shouted to the boss at the bar, "Boss, I'm sorry, you have to find another guy."

The boss also smiled and waved at him, "No, I will keep this position for you all the time. Remember to come back alive to work for me. You still owe me a bottle of whiskey to drink."
Chapter completed!