Seventy one.

“What is it? Can't you let me be?" Johnson yelled, exasperated. The caller's calm voice was a stark contrast to Johnson's ire.

"Chill, Johnson. I have something you're looking for."

Johnson's anger paused, his curiosity piqued. "What are you talking about?" he asked, his tone slightly softer.

"I'll send you an address to meet up, and you'll come alone," the voice said.

Johnson responded, "Why should I come to your location? How do I know you're not the one I'm searching for?"

The voice let out a loud laughter, which ended abruptly. "You're amusing," the caller said. "If I was the kidnapper, you'd already be dead."

A shiver ran down Johnson's spine. "Are you still there?" the caller asked, breaking the silence.

Johnson composed himself, his voice firm. "Yes."

The caller's tone was direct. "Are you in or not?"

Johnson hesitated, glancing at Don and the tracker, who were watching him intently. He knew he had to find his father's killer quickly.

"I'm in," he said, his decision made.

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