THE WHITE...
When I leave the presidential residence, Peter, the driver, has already parked the Tesla under the marquee. He gets out of the car as I approach and hands me the key card. As soon as I take the card and get in the car, I feel my cell phone vibrate in my pants pocket. It's an unknown number, but since I only gave it to one person in America, I know who it is.
"Detective", I salute.
- Mr. Campbell,” mutters Kevin Pierce.
I hear the noise from the police station through the cell phone. Phones are constantly ringing, side conversations and computer keys are being pressed. I can be stressed just by idealizing the environment.
"New doubts have emerged in the investigation into the attack," he informs.
I start the car and leave the Donneli estate.
“Then yo
