Chapter 463: If you walk too much at night, you will be in hell
In the confession room, Russell hung up the phone and began to persuade her: "Sir, I know you are very sad because you lost your wife, but you keep smiling like this..."
"It's not me, it's my friend!"
The man on the other side of the board became alert, thinking Russell might have discovered the truth.
Since his wife disappeared "inexplicably", he was so excited that he couldn't sleep at night. He wanted to find someone to talk to but was afraid of being seen. He couldn't hold it in any longer, so he came to the church to find the priest. But now he saw that the priest seemed a little unreliable.
Spectrum!
"Well, your friend's wife is lost and you are very sad..."
"It's not me, it's my friend who lost his wife, and he is the one who is sad." At this point, the man regretted a little, got up and left.
"Wait a minute, sir, I have a message for your friend. Since you are so sad, why not take advantage of the time and eat all the fun and food. Don't worry about whether it's money or not. You won't need it in the future anyway.
superior……"
Before Russell could finish his words, the man opposite him had already fled. He sighed, opened the door and walked towards the church door.
It has been almost a week since he came to the Los Angeles headquarters. At first, he was thinking that the world mission might be triggered in the church, but now he has given up.
Outside the door, Sister Medellin was sweeping the fallen leaves with a broom. She did this every day, as if she couldn't finish the sweeping.
"Child, are you leaving?" Sister Medellin asked with a smile.
Russell was stunned when he heard this and shook his head: "No, I'm tired from sitting, so I came out to do some exercise."
"What a coincidence, I happened to be tired from all the activities and wanted to sit down for a while." Sister Medellin showed an amiable smile and handed over the broom.
Russell wordlessly took the broom and swept up the fallen leaves on the ground. Sister Ma Dajindao of Medellin sat on the stone steps, took out a red and white Marlboro, and began to puff away the smoke.
Russell pretended not to notice that Sister Medellin had devoted her life to her faith and was a respectable person. A few flaws were harmless.
"Good boy, would you like one?"
"Uh, okay!" Russell wanted to refuse, but the cigarette had already been handed over and he could only take it in his hand.
Five seconds later, white smoke appeared, an old man and a young man sat side by side, and the broom was thrown on the ground.
"Sister Medellin, are there any demons or evil spirits in Los Angeles?" Russell began to talk. The old nun was very experienced and she didn't seem to be a fool like Jacob. She might know something.
Sister Medellin held the cigarette between her fingers and said solemnly: "There are two devils in Los Angeles who are good at beguiling people's hearts and making them willing to fall into hell. Even the Lord can do nothing to them."
"Who are they? Where are they?" Russell asked impatiently.
"Here!"
Sister Medellin raised her hand and tapped her chest: "One is called power, the other is called money. Faith is vulnerable to these two devils."
Russell: "..."
Sister Medellin threw away the cigarette butt, raised her foot and stamped it out, picked up the broom and continued to sweep the fallen leaves: "Child, if you want to go out for a walk, go ahead, but remember to come back early, the nights in Los Angeles are very dangerous."
"OK!"
Russell turned back three times with each step, looking at Sister Medellin suspiciously. Is this intelligence?
Probably so!
…
The church is located northwest of downtown Los Angeles, very close to the famous Hollywood. Russell drove there and visited the Avenue of Stars and Universal Studios.
I wasn't very lucky and didn't meet any beautiful stars. I probably reviewed the script at the director and investor's house.
Of course, just because there are no beautiful celebrities, it doesn't mean that there are no beauties. This is Hollywood after all, and there is no shortage of beauties in this place.
Russell ordered a glass of ice water in the cafe, and a blonde beauty walked by the window. She had a tall figure like a model and had a high rate of turning heads. But her companion was a bit out of place, an old Chinese man wearing a hat, and the two of them walked together.
While quarreling, it seemed... the relationship was very good!?
Russell's eyes followed the two of them, until they disappeared around the corner of the street, and then he slowly looked back. Where he couldn't see, the blonde beauty was leaning against the wall, wiping the cold sweat from her forehead.
"What's wrong, Bao Bao?" the old Chinese man asked doubtfully. His partner's face looked pale, as if he had a heat stroke.
Recalling the sight from behind, the blonde beauty was still frightened: "Cruz, after this case is handled, return to Boston as soon as possible. Los Angeles is too dangerous."
Russell sat in the cafe for two hours, and did not leave until nightfall and the street lights flashed. He did not return to the church, but drove around and gradually approached the city center.
Sister Medellin said that the night in Los Angeles is very dangerous. Russell decided to try to see how dangerous it is. Will he see ghosts when walking at night?
He took out his Terminator sunglasses and put them on to cover the blue light in his eyes. The second-hand car avoided the brightly lit streets and drove on the dimly lit side roads.
In the middle of the night, Russell found nothing and stopped at a gas station to refuel. After a few hours, he realized that the danger was indeed there, but it was not the kind he imagined. 911 could solve it.
At this time, three or five motorcycles with loud sound came to the gas station. They were full of tough guy style, but the riders were not tough guys. They were all red and blue, and they looked like the godfather of the murderous god of the family.
Very strong.
The tattooed woman sitting in the back seat saw Russell wearing sunglasses to show off at night, and gave him an internationally recognized gesture. Russell smiled shyly and rolled up the window silently.
…
On the streets of Los Angeles at night, the colorful lights are confusing, and the people who have been built up by the devil are like walking zombies, empty shells without faith wandering back and forth, looking for the loneliness of the other half, and spending the unbearable emptiness of the night.
Several motorcycles roared past, and the loud music made passers-by frown. They lined up in a row, screaming at the top of their lungs, or howling like ghosts and wolves along with the music.
They didn't notice at all, a second-hand junk car was weaving in and out of the traffic, following them leisurely.
Russell was very lucky tonight. He saw a ghost late at night, and it was the same type of ugly ghost as the one in the Mexican border town.
Ten minutes later, the motorcycle turned a corner and drove into a deep alley. Members of the Buried Love family knocked on the large steel door embedded in the wall, took out a bunch of wrinkled American knives, and were released by the black security guard in a tight vest.
Go in.
Russell stopped the car and adjusted his collar in the rearview mirror. He looked like a dog and felt very safe. Then he opened the car door and walked towards the big steel door.
Painted *** lights hung above large iron gates at both ends of the street, and next to them was a large, smelly trash can.
Russell knocked on the iron door. When the black and tough security guard saw his priest's clothes, he frowned: "Sorry, we don't accept clergy here."
Russell didn't say anything, but took out five Franklin cards and spread them out in front of the security guard like poker cards.
The security guard swallowed: "Sir, this has nothing to do with money, it's a matter of principle!"
"Stop making trouble, brother, I heard that there is a masquerade party here just for priests..." Russell pointed out the street: "Also, the rules here are too rigid. I will buy some clothes and change into them.
It only takes five minutes, why bother?”
"No way, the rules are the rules..."
"Yes, you are indeed a principled person."
Russell adjusted his sunglasses and added two more Franklins: "Except for the entrance fee, the rest is yours."
Hearing such words that questioned professionalism, the black security guard's expression suddenly changed, he grabbed Franklin in front of him and threw it...in his pocket.
“Welcome!”
After letting Russell go in, the security guard turned cold and took out his walkie-talkie: "Head, the surveillance cameras on No. 2-3 are in a bad state..."