Ramirez didn’t linger; he conducted an inspection, gave a few instructions to the guards, and then left with Carlos. The warehouse returned to silence.

MacLaine’s team continued their surveillance for another half hour, confirming safety before quietly retreating.

Back at the base, MacLaine immediately reported the situation to McTavish, accompanied by photos and recordings (captured with miniature devices).

"Radioactive material, the target is our iconic building or project." McTavish’s voice over the phone carried suppressed anger, "Ramirez surely has someone behind him. He couldn’t manage this alone, nor is there a need to do it in Scotland. Investigate his finances, check the logistics, especially the Eastern Europe route. I want to know who is funding him and what they intend to do."

"Do we need to inform Mexico?"

MacLaine asked, "After all, Ramirez is Mexican, and the target might also involve their investment projects."

McTavish fell silent for a moment. Informing Mexico could gain assistance but also meant admitting his inability to handle internal security, and would hand them more leverage.

"Not for now." He finally said, "We’ll handle it ourselves. Deploy trusted engineers and chemical defense personnel from the Self-defense Army, prepare covertly. Meanwhile, tighten the encirclement around Ramirez and his network. Wait for the next delivery, or when the ’crucial items’ arrive, capture them all together. I want him alive; I need his words."

Hanging up the phone, McTavish gazed out at the nightscape of Edinburgh. The road to independence was paved with thorns and traps at every step. There were external schemes from London and business from Mexico, and internally the shadows of drug traffickers and potential terrorists. He had to be fiercer and more decisive than anyone.

England, Liverpool.

Sarah Kent’s "bounty for clues" had an effect but also brought unexpected trouble.

The informant was no righteous citizen, but an old pickpocket who’d been mingling in the dock area for years, desperate due to high-interest loans.

His clues were specific: Zone B Seventh Warehouse, every Wednesday and Friday at dawn, there would be ships unloading "special goods," taken over by several people who "don’t speak English and have dark skin," then repacked into different trucks for transport. He had seen a delivery once and smelled a "sickly sweet" scent, similar to the street rumors of "Black Pearl." 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

The clues were valuable, but the problem was, the old pickpocket was found dead in his usual cheap motel less than half a day after providing them, overdose, with highly pure "Black Pearl" scattered around him. The police’s preliminary conclusion was "drug overdose," but Sarah and Allen knew it was a silencing.

"The information has leaked." Allen said calmly but with sharp eyes in the temporary office to Sarah, "There is a breach within, or... someone on the police side tipped them off."

"Our people are all volunteers..." Sarah felt a cold shiver.

"Volunteers can also be bribed or accidentally let something slip." Allen analyzed, "More importantly, this proves the opponent’s reach is deep and reacts quickly. Zone B Seventh Warehouse... it’s one of the largest storage companies in the Old Dock District, complex background, reportedly connected to several local city council members. Moving there would involve many people."

"So what? Give up?" Sarah was unwilling.

"No." Allen shook his head, "But the approach needs to change. We can’t rush in directly; that’d be suicidal and alert them. We can anonymously provide the clues to higher-ups or... the media."

"The media?"

"Yes. Find a prominent national newspaper or investigative journalist, package the clue as ’investigative findings,’ and expose it. The public outcry will force the police to act, at least superficially. Also, this will test the rot within Liverpool’s police system, to see who is protecting these drug traffickers." A calculated gleam flashed in Allen’s eyes, "Moreover, through media exposure, we can position the ’conference’ as a ’reveal of darkness, promoting justice’ civilian force, garnering more support from middle-ground citizens."

Sarah considered; indeed, it was smarter and safer than direct confrontation. "Which media should we approach? Will they believe us?"

"I have some channels." Allen did not elaborate, "I need you to sort out the clue details again, objectively, like an investigative report. Additionally, we can ’incidentally’ let a local priest or community leader dissatisfied with security issues also ’discover’ some clues, increasing credibility."

The plan was swiftly executed. Two days later, The Guardian’s online edition published an investigative report titled "Liverpool Dock Area: A New Drug Smuggling Route?", which, although not explicitly naming "Black Pearl," detailed the suspicious unloading activities at Zone B Seventh Warehouse provided by an anonymous informant and quoted "local community activists" on concerns about deteriorating security and new drug proliferation. The report was accompanied by a blurred photo of the night-time dock area, capturing the mood well.

The report sparked a ripple; Liverpool police were compelled to issue a statement saying they "had noticed the related report and would investigate." The city council also had members demanding a "thorough investigation." The storage company at Zone B Seventh Warehouse vehemently denied it, accusing the report of being "irresponsible and damaging to commercial reputation."

Surface pressure had formed, but Sarah and Allen knew the real struggle was in the shadows. They monitored the activity in the dock area through their channels. On the evening of the report, Zone B Seventh Warehouse indeed showed movement; several trucks transferred some goods to other locations overnight. The police’s "investigation" was sluggish, only symbolically visiting the warehouse the next afternoon, naturally "finding nothing unusual."