Chapter 736 The Signal Weakens

Jordan froze for a moment, then realized he had been overthinking. He straightened his face at once. “Yes, sir.”

Wyatt opened the car door and slid into the seat. A gust of foul air escaped, and he frowned.

Jordan climbed in from the other side. Wyatt asked immediately, “Do you smell that?”

Jordan took a deep breath, gagged, and nearly retched before clamping a hand over his mouth. “Wyatt, it’s your clothes. You’re marinated in garbage…”

Wyatt’s expression didn’t change. A man like him had seen worse, been through worse. He said flatly, “Drive. IRS.”

Then he pulled alcohol wipes from the glove box and began scrubbing his hands and arms.

Jordan kept sneaking looks at him, thinking, For all his talk about not caring, he sure does. If he finds Madam first and she throws her arms around him, only to get a noseful of this stench, wouldn’t that ruin the moment?

At the IRS complex, Jordan stared up at the towering buildings. “Where do we start?”

Wyatt tilted his head back, a cold smile on his lips. “Idiot. She’s using a jammer, isn’t she?”

Where the signal was dead, that was where she’d be.

Jordan quickly traced the line of weakest reception. “Should we split up?”

They did, each watching their phone’s signal strength as they moved.

Wyatt glanced up at a balcony where clothes hung to dry. Without hesitation, he gripped the air conditioner pipes and drainage line, climbing smoothly up the exterior wall. He pulled down a shirt, considered, then tossed a handful of cash through the open window as payment.

Clinging to the wall, he noticed a security guard passing below, so he vaulted onto the balcony.

The apartment was empty.

Crossing the living room, he snagged a bottle of mineral water off the table, exited through the front door, and stepped into the corridor.

As he walked, he unscrewed the cap and poured the water over his head, soaking his hair. He slicked it back with his hand, stripped off his reeking shirt, and slipped into the stolen jacket.

By the time he climbed higher, his phone’s signal was already weakening.

His eyes narrowed. Slowly, he rotated the device, gauging the shift in strength with every angle.

The signal was almost gone. He didn’t notify Jordan in the other building – he pressed on alone toward the weakest point.

Wouldn’t other residents have noticed the blackout?

Or was the jammed zone entirely Margaret’s domain?

Either way, Wyatt was certain now: he was close to Yunice.

He didn’t rush in. Instead, he lingered in a blind spot. There had to be surveillance Margaret had set up.

Leaning against the wall, he stared at the three apartments ahead.

If he moved carelessly, Margaret would sense it, and Yunice would become her shield.

Then his boot struck something.

He looked down. A pearl, wedged in a crack between tiles, untouched by the cleaners.

Wyatt pinched it between his fingers, and a grim, determined smile spread across his face.

Yunice had left him a trail.

He turned back, leaving without stirring Margaret’s suspicion.

“Wyatt, there’s no signal on my side either–” Jordan hurried over, but Wyatt lifted a hand, cutting him off.

In a low voice he ordered, “Get me a banned dog breed. Dose it with a laxative.”

Jordan didn’t understand, but he obeyed.

Ten minutes later, a Rottweiler with no leash burst out of the elevator, running the length of the floor while leaving messes everywhere.

It wasn’t long before security called the police.

The officers went door to door, asking whose dog it was.

Residents denied ownership and complained in the building’s chat group. Soon, someone noted that the dog had been lingering on the thirtieth floor – but not relieving itself there. Odd, wasn’t it?

Speculation grew heated, and consensus formed: the dog must belong to someone on the thirtieth.

Police went up and knocked.

Three apartments, no response.

The property manager arrived with keys. “I remember the thirtieth floor has always been empty. All keys were left with us. Could we be wrong?”

The police knocked again – no answer.

The manager checked the water and electricity meters. “Neither has moved. Officers, this floor really is unoccupied. The dog must not belong here. You might as well take it away.”