Chapter 2999: Leisure Time (33)

Some things seem perfectly logical when you don't question them, but once you start to doubt, you can find a myriad of inconsistencies.

First of all, the sashimi brought by the blind lawyer, Matt, was actually more than enough for these few people to eat, even as a main course, let alone considering that Steve and Jason had brought a large amount of meat as well.

In such circumstances, at the busiest time in Los Angeles, there was something rather deliberate about Shiller still having to drive miles to the supermarket to buy ingredients and cook, despite it all.

He had obviously arranged this with Matt beforehand and couldn't possibly be unaware that Matt would bring enough ingredients. Besides, sashimi becomes less fresh over time. Between shopping for ingredients and the time spent starting a fire and frying, too much time was wasted—it didn't seem like a true enthusiast's behavior.

Furthermore, and most importantly, the Cantonese cuisine Shiller cooked wasn't really that tasty, at least it couldn't compare to what they were eating at this particular restaurant.

To be blunt, the dishes Shiller stir-fried all had a sweet soy sauce taste. They weren't bad, but they were far from impressive.

If Tim had never eaten at this restaurant before, he might have thought it was pretty good. Indeed, that's what he had thought the night before because he had never had authentic fare and so believed that Shiller's cooking wasn't bad either.

But after having a taste today, he knew immediately that something was off.

Of course, it's not to say Shiller couldn't be a bad cook, more adept at eating than cooking, but Tim carefully thought about it—Shiller himself scarcely touched his own dishes the previous evening. He knew the food wasn't good. So why bother cooking at all?

Obviously, it was to deceive people.

This was a series of scams. Along the way to buy ingredients, Shiller also made a point of emphasizing his preference for light flavors and mentioned how he stopped patronizing a particular restaurant after a change in staff, deliberately highlighting his culinary preferences and fastidious nature.

Then, he used those ingredients to prepare a big table of dishes, acting as if he couldn't wait even a single day longer.

Of course, if anyone had had authentic Cantonese cuisine, they'd realize the quality wasn't great, but no one at the table had much experience with fine dining. They tasted it and thought it was not bad, certainly better than sandwiches, and did not suspect a thing.

All these observations confirmed for Tim that his earlier investigations were correct—Shiller had actually targeted the Cantonese cuisine chef hired for the banquet.

Wait, Shiller's intended decoy might not have been himself, Tim realized, or, more precisely, he might have been using himself to mislead others.

Who had he contacted in the course of his investigation? Jason—and Jason was now Steve's assistant, meaning Shiller's chain of deceptions was in fact aimed at making Steve mistakenly believe he was targeting the Cantonese chef for the banquet.

Which meant his actual goal must be something else.

What could that be? Tim was puzzled.

What was Steve doing here? Tim then remembered that the Federal Bureau of Investigation had mentioned there might be an assassination attempt on a congressman at the banquet, which was why Steve had come to oversee security.

Could Shiller be the assassin targeting the congressman?

This was getting interesting, Tim thought excitedly. Shiller attempting to assassinate the congressman?

With such big excitement brewing, he wouldn't miss it for the world—he wouldn't be Tim Drake if he did!

But the issue was that there were so many people here now, he couldn't leave. Even if he drove there, he might not make it in time.

Just then, Harry stretched and said, "I'm feeling a bit sleepy; I want to go back and take a nap."

Tim turned the steering wheel and said, "Alright, I'll take you home."

"No need, Barry."

With a flash of golden light, the two of them disappeared.

At that moment, Peter rolled down the car window, resting One Hand outside. Tim glanced in the rearview mirror and to his surprise, he saw Peter wearing a ring exactly like Shiller's.

The ring that could open a teleportation portal.

"Peter, if I say Doctor Schiller's purpose for going to the banquet was not so innocent, what would you think?"

"Every person at every banquet has ulterior motives," Peter replied. "Or what kind of purpose for attending a banquet would you call innocent? Just going there to eat?"

"You sound like a philosopher," Tim commented.

"What's your point?"

"I want to go see the excitement," Tim said with a grin. "I have a feeling there's going to be quite a show at the banquet. Do you want to go?"

Through the rearview mirror, Peter stared at Tim, then shook his head with a reluctant smile and said, "Even if I say I don't want to, you'd still go."

"That ring on your hand, it can open a teleportation portal, right?"

"Yes, it can. Do you want me to take you there?"

"Yes."

"Then what are you prepared to offer?"

"What?"

"My magic power is precious, and it's not cheap to use it once, how much do you plan to pay?"

"You really are the most vicious Spider Man I've ever seen," Tim said with the same evaluation he always used.

"Next time I see Bruce, I'll tell him what you think of others... Maybe it'll be Alfred?"

"No! Damn it, how does everyone know so much about the Batman Family?!"

Peter laughed and said, "You guys are really famous, anyone who comes into contact with one of you can imagine what the others must be like."

"People from our cosmos are different from others... Alright, what do you want?"

"I've given my Spider abilities to someone else and now I'm finding it hard to cope with Battleworld; do you have any good equipment blueprints?"

"I can go and look for you, but I can't guarantee you can make it in this universe."

"That's not for you to worry about," Peter said with a push of his glasses.

They returned to the hot springs cottage, opened the Teleportation Portal in the backyard, and after passing through it, Tim found himself behind a utility room, less than ten meters from a well.

Clearly, this wasn't the city anymore, for turning past the utility room revealed unharvested ridges of fields and several large rain collection barrels, exuding a damp smell.

Tim sniffed, and just as he was about to walk forward, Peter grabbed him and asked, "Where are you going?"

Tim pointed toward the farmhouse in front of them. It was a stone house, but unlike the small and simple ones commonly seen on farms, it looked more modern, even with floor-to-ceiling windows, obviously built later on.

"You'll be discovered," Peter said. "If Matt is there too, you'll be detected within fifty meters of him."

"What?"

"Actually, that's when he's not paying attention. His superpower is 'Heart Eye'; at full capability, he has everything within a kilometer under his control."

"What the hell?!" Tim cursed.

"At the banquet, he can't focus entirely, so as long as we stay far enough away, we'll be fine," Peter said.

"There's also Captain America," Tim said with a headache brewing. "He and those Federal Bureau of Investigation agents will probably be here soon, so where will we hide then?"

"No worries, they won't dare to come in. In terms of personal safety, people inside are probably more worried about the FBI eavesdropping on their nutrition-less social pleasantries, so the agents won't get too close."

"I want to know what's happening inside the house," Tim said after thinking it over. "If Matt isn't fully focused, as long as we don't make too much noise, we should be fine, right?"

As he said this, he realized Peter had disappeared, and upon turning around, a pair of boots was handed over. Peter, who was holding a broom and a bucket, said, "He usually relies on the sound of footsteps to identify the physical characteristics of the people approaching. We can put on the boots and disguise ourselves as cleaners; that should work."

Tim recalled that when he and Pamela were eavesdropping around the corner, they hadn't paid attention to the footsteps at all, since they were quite far away and separated by a wall. Being slightly lighter on one's feet was already considered respectful; who could have thought someone could detect an intruder by such faint sounds?

He put on the boots, donned the coat of the cleaning staff uniform, picked up the bucket and broom, and followed Peter, striding confidently forward.

Sure enough, nobody noticed them, even the politician who came out of the house dressed in a suit for a smoke didn't give them a second glance, merely seeing them as regular cleaners.

Tim knew why this was the case; typically, the logistics personnel summoned for such gatherings were extensive, with cleaners needed for garbage collection during the event and kitchen waste recovery afterward. Cleaners were the essential logistics staff.

Because there wasn't a gathering every day, cleaners were generally hired temporarily just before the event started, and since everyone was unfamiliar with each other, there naturally wouldn't be any familiar faces.

Theoretically, personnel should be checked for an event of such importance.

But the assassination itself was orchestrated by the Federal Bureau of Investigation and the politicians; they knew the truth and didn't believe there could be a real assassin among the staff, so they probably didn't check thoroughly.

The two pretended to go change the water and made their way to the back of the house. They hadn't located Schiller yet when Tim first heard Matt's voice.

He felt a bit nervous, but Peter gave him a look and shook his head. Their footsteps remained steady as they walked to the backyard faucet, turned it on to fill the bucket, and used the sound of the water to converse quietly.

As Tim passed the window, he saw Matt and another young man together, likely his student, the quite popular internet lawyer. As for the person across from them, he didn't recognize him, but based on the room's stance, he must be someone significant.

Without seeing Schiller in the room and after filling the bucket with water, Tim gestured towards the second floor; Peter didn't object, and the two picked up the bucket and mop and headed inside the house.

They were predictably stopped, but Peter acted cluelessly, saying, "Wasn't someone's juice spilled? Don't you need us to clean up? If not, we'll just..."

The person obviously just made a token gesture to stop them and didn't genuinely call to confirm whether the juice had been spilled before letting them pass.

Tim shook his head, internally remarking on the lax security. If Schiller succeeded, the organizers of the gathering would bear the brunt of the responsibility.

The two strode boldly to the second floor and soon found traces of Schiller; the trouble was Schiller was pretending to smoke on the second-floor balcony, and he wasn't the only one there; it wasn't easy for the two of them to approach.

Peter waved at Tim, who moved towards him; they pretended to mop the hallway and went into the nearby bathroom. Tim saw a balcony off the bathroom; he climbed out and moved from one balcony to the other, which allowed him to hear the voices on the balcony where Schiller was situated, just around the corner.

Schiller was on the phone.

"Where are you guys now? ... Okay, try not to be late; the feast is about to begin."