On the other end of the line, Lawson hung up, a faint smile on his face.
The Mockingbird Trump Card was incredibly useful. As long as the enemy didn't know he possessed this ability, he could exploit the information gap to completely deceive them.
However, this ability couldn't be overused. Once people realized he could mimic voices, its effectiveness would drop drastically.
Lawson drove the Dodge Viper to the Long Beach port in southern LA. It was one of the largest ports in the world, consistently ranking near the top in America for cargo volume.
Historically, ports were highly contested territories for syndicates because they required massive amounts of manual labor.
This dynamic only shifted after port operations became fully mechanized.
Despite that, top-tier syndicates like the Mafia and the Irish Mob still maintained tight control over port workers.
Arriving at the destination, Lawson didn't rush in. He knew Sonny Black definitely had a massive welcoming party waiting for him.
Instead, Lawson pulled a business card from his pocket. He had found it in David Abbot's study; it belonged to Senior Agent Sean Arthur.
Finding a payphone, Lawson dialed Sean Arthur's cell number.
"Hello, this is Sean Arthur. Who's calling?"
The voice on the other end sounded exhausted. The senior agent was likely working overtime.
Given the current situation in LA, practically every cop—county and federal—was probably pulling extra shifts.
"Hello, Mr. Arthur. You can call me Clown."
Lawson once again deployed his specially crafted deep, raspy, metallic voice.
Sean's sleep-deprived brain instantly snapped awake. He immediately signaled Jane Banner to grab a voice recorder, then put his phone on speakerphone to capture the audio.
"Are you the Clown from the May 9th Pacific Standard Bank heist?"
"Hehe, take a guess!"
Sean frowned slightly. He was ninety percent sure the man claiming to be Clown was indeed the mastermind behind the bank job.
Unfortunately, the call came completely out of nowhere. Otherwise, Sean would have had technical run a trace.
Right now, his only option was to use interrogation tactics to pry more information out of the caller.
"Mr. Clown, why are you calling me?"
"Obviously because I have two friends currently tied up in warehouse XXX at the Long Beach port by the Mafia. I was wondering if the feds could help me rescue them?"
Sean instantly connected them to Clown's crew from the Pacific Standard Bank heist.
"Why did the Mafia take them?"
"Hehe! Mr. Arthur, once you rescue them, you can ask them yourself."
Without giving Sean a chance to ask another question, the call abruptly ended.
Jane reached over and clicked off the voice recorder, looking at Sean.
"Sir, was that man..."
"No mistake. That should be Clown."
Sean's expression was incredibly complex. Over the past two weeks, David Abbot's stonewalling had completely stalled the Pacific Standard Bank investigation, forcing Sean to shelve it and prioritize Little Martin's murder case.
He absolutely didn't expect the central figure of the bank heist—Clown—to suddenly call him and drop the location of his own crew members.
Connecting this to the events at David Abbot's house, Sean began suspecting the bank heist might have deep ties to the Mafia.
"Sir, are we going to that warehouse like he said?"
Jane felt that doing so meant letting the mysterious Clown lead them by the nose.
"Jane, I understand what you're thinking, but if we don't, we have absolutely zero leads. The Pacific Standard Bank heist was a near-perfect crime. We have no other choice!"
Sean had a sinking feeling that even if he bagged Clown's crew, finding Clown himself would still be incredibly difficult.
Jane fell silent. She knew Sean was stating facts.
"Jane, notify tactical immediately. Have them deploy a SWAT team to accompany me to warehouse XXX in Long Beach. If Clown called me, it's definitely because he can't handle the Mafia crew waiting inside!"
"Yes, sir!"
Jane quickly walked over to the desk phone while Sean grabbed his jacket.
"Whatever happens, I absolutely cannot let this crucial lead slip away!"
Sean looked out the window at the glittering lights of Los Santos.
Sonny Black sat on a ratty sofa, looking completely bored. Phil and Dennis were tied back-to-back on chairs, their mouths gagged again.
The other mobsters had found corners to post up and keep watch.
Honestly, the setup looked exactly like when Maggie Pistone was kidnapped.
It couldn't be helped. The Mafia was a syndicate, not a military outfit; you couldn't expect them to have strict tactical discipline.
If they did, the military would have taken down Al Capone, not the IRS.
"Why is he taking so long?"
It had been a full half-hour since "David Abbot's" call, and Sonny Black still hadn't seen a trace of Clown.
This made Sonny pull out his phone, debating whether to call David Abbot to confirm. But he worried calling might tip off Clown, so he hesitated.
After another ten minutes or so, just as Sonny finally decided to make the call, several objects smashed through the upper windows and dropped inside.
Sonny Black looked down and saw cylindrical objects perfectly sized for a hand. They looked exactly like the grenades he saw on TV.
Next second, a blinding flash erupted, instantly blinding everyone in the warehouse, including the tied-up Phil and Dennis.
Sonny Black was absolutely dumbfounded. Those were clearly flashbangs.
And street gangs absolutely did not have access to tactical gear like flashbangs.
At that moment, only one thought crossed Sonny Black's mind: How am I worthy?
"S.W.A.T! Drop your weapons immediately!"
Hearing the warning from the breaching tactical officers, Sonny Black quickly dropped his gun and hit the deck.
SWAT did not fuck around. They were a specialized unit explicitly designed to handle terrorists and hyper-violent criminals.
And "violent criminals" didn't mean goons like Sonny Black carrying handguns—standard LAPD handled that. It meant super-criminals wearing full body armor and wielding AK-47s to rob banks.
(1997 North Hollywood shootout, where robbers outgunned the LAPD on live TV, later adapted into a movie)
In the end, SWAT didn't fire a single bullet while securing all six Bonanno family members, including Sonny Black.
After confirming the area was clear, the tactical commander radioed the perimeter.
"Agent Arthur, suspects secured. Hostages are safe."
"Copy that. Coming in now."
Sean clipped his radio and prepared to enter the warehouse with Jane.
Right then, Sean suddenly felt a piercing gaze watching him. But when he scanned the area, he saw nothing but the pitch-black night.
"Sir, is everything alright?"
"I just felt like someone was nearby... Never mind, let's go inside!"