Chapter 13 Chapter Eleven Finding Another Way Out

I opened the front door a little, then slammed it shut, giving the ball king a run for his money.I went down the back stairs into the back yard and climbed over the fence.I don't have time for my family, and news travels fast in the bureau, especially with such gossip.I turned off my phone and headed straight to headquarters, trying to ask for leave before my superiors asked me to. George was a big, near-retirement man with a slack, tired face like a toy dachshund.We all love him, and even suspects often fall in love with the wrong person. "Well," said George, rising from his chair when he saw me at the door, "Franco," he said, holding out his hand across the table, "thank you."

"We're not very close," I said, giving him a firm grip, "but it was a surprise." "They said it looked like a possible suicide." "Well," I echoed, watching him sit back in his seat, a sharp scrutiny flashed across his eyes. "That's what they say. It's really nerve-wracking. Boss, I've got a lot of leave. If you don't mind, I want to use a few days, starting immediately." George stroked the bald part of his head with one hand, looked sentimental, and pretended to consider my request. "Won't the vacation delay the case in your hand?"

"Not at all," I said.He had known this for a long time: reading letters backwards was a useful skill in life, and the file in front of him was mine. "It's not a critical stage yet, close observation is enough. I only need an hour or two to process the paper data, and then I can hand it over at any time." "Okay," George said with a sigh, "why not? Leave it to Yeats. His drug mission in the south needs to be put on hold temporarily, and there is a spare time." Ye Ci is very good, our undercover team has no waste. "I'll get him in as soon as possible," I replied, "Thanks, boss."

"You just take a few weeks off and let your mind clear. What are you going to do? Spend time with your family?" Meaning, do you want to walk around a murder scene, asking questions?I said, "I'm thinking of going out of town for a while, perhaps to Wexford. I've heard the coast there is beautiful at the time of the year." George massaged his forehead, as if wrinkles would hurt, "Early this morning, a big mouth in the crime squad came to bother me and complained about you. Kennedy, Canney or something. Said that you hindered him from handling the case."

That bastard tortoise egg. "He's just on his period," I said, "just send him flowers and he'll be fine." "You can give me whatever you want, as long as you don't call him again. Before drinking tea, I don't like loud mouths to quarrel with me, which makes my stomach upset." "I'm going to Wexford, boss, remember? I don't have time to hang out with the little girl from the Homicide Unit even if I wanted to. I've got a few things done—" I thumbed my The office said, "Just pat your ass and leave, don't block everyone's way."

George looked at me with downcast eyes, then waved his big weary hand and said, "Go ahead, take your time." "Thanks, boss," I said.So we all love George.One of the secrets to being a good boss is knowing when you don't want to know. "See you in a few weeks." I was about to step out the door when he called, "Franco." "What's the matter, boss?" "Where can the group donate to, in your brother's name? Like a charity or a football team?" I was shot again, as if someone had punched me in the throat, and I was speechless for a moment.Although I don't think so, I don't know if Xiao Kai has joined the sports club.

I think there should be a charity like this, just for the shit I'm seeing right now, a fund for young people to go snorkeling in the Great Barrier Reef and paragliding in the Grand Canyon before it's the last day of their lives. "Just donate to the homicide victim group," I said, "thank you, boss, I appreciate it, and thank the rest of my colleagues for me." All the undercover agents are more or less convinced that the serious crime team is a group of big girls.Of course there are exceptions, minor crimes are like professional boxers, they fight hard, but at the end of the day, they have gloves and mouthguards, and the referee rings the bell when they want to catch their breath or wipe their wounds.Our undercover agents fought thousands of times on the street with our bare hands until one fell down.If the ball king wanted to enter the suspect's house, he had to fill out a one-square-mile official document, wait for someone to stamp it, and must gather enough people to avoid injury.As for me, I don't have this kind of trouble, just make up a way to break in.If the suspect wants to beat me up, I can only wish for luck.

I think that's fine.The ball king is used to doing things according to the rules, so he naturally thinks that I am the same.It will take him a while to understand that my rules are totally different from his. I spread out a stack of files on my desk in case someone happened to pass by and wanted to see me busy with the handover.Next, I called my friend in the records team and asked him to email the personal files of all the supporting detectives who worked on Rosie Daly's murder.He muttered something about it being classified, but his daughter dodged drug possession charges two or three years ago because someone accidentally put three packets of cocaine and her statement in the wrong file, so I think he at least Owe me two big ones and four small ones.And although he muttered, he knew it well.I could hear his voice, and it seemed like his stomach ulcer was getting worse, but the file arrived before we were done talking on the phone.

The King of Balls recruited five police detectives to support him, and worked hard for an old case, which was beyond my expectation.I think he and his 80-something detection rate are obviously very popular in the serious crime team. I fell in love with the fourth one, Stephen, Moran, 26 years old, who lives in the North Wall District, graduated from high school with excellent grades, and was directly admitted to Temple Mo Police Academy. His duty evaluation was very dazzling. He only left his police career three months ago , transferred to duty support.In the photo he is thin, with shaggy red hair and alert gray eyes.A Dublin boy from a blue-collar background, he is smart and courageous, he climbs fast, and (God really favors the rookie) is too tender, he is not convinced by what the senior crime squad says.Boy Stephen and I must have a good time.

I stuffed Stephen's data into my pocket, deleted all emails, spent two hours sorting out the case at hand, and prepared to hand it over to Yeats.I don't want to get a call from him in an emergency, asking me to explain this and that.We handled the handover cleanly - Yeats was very conceptual, and he didn't show any sympathy except to pat me on the shoulder and promise to take care of everything.I put away my things, locked the office, and set off for Dublin Castle, where the Crime Squad is located, to find Stephen Moran. If there was someone else as the detective in charge, Stephen might be more difficult to find.He might call it a day at six, seven, or eight. If someone is outside, he might not be too lazy to go back to the group to run documents before leaving get off work.But I know the man who is the king of the ball.As long as the superiors work overtime, they will be excited, and they will climax when they read the official documents, so the ball king must make his scouts clock in at five o'clock on time, and get all the official documents before leaving get off work.I found a bench in the castle garden, where I could see the door clearly, and there were bushes to prevent the king from discovering it.I lit a cigarette and waited. It didn't even rain today, which was my lucky day.

Something suddenly swept across my mind.Kevin didn't have a flashlight on him.If there are words, the king of the ball will definitely mention them, so as to support his suicide theory.And Kevin never takes chances unless he has a very good reason, "There's something in Shaw" is something Shay and I believe.Even if he drank all the Guinness in Dublin, he wouldn't just hang around in the dark on the 16th just for fun. Kevin must have seen or heard something as he passed by, and he had to go in to find out (this matter should be too urgent for him to ask for help, and too secretive for others to notice).Or someone called him from the house, and the man knew magically that he would pass the end of the field of allegiance at that time.Otherwise, he lied to Jieqi, he actually made an appointment to go to the sixteenth to meet the person waiting for him there. As night fell, there was a small pile of cigarette butts at my feet.Sure enough, as soon as five o'clock arrived, I saw the ball king and his followers coming out of the door and walking towards the parking lot.The ball king swaggered, his briefcase rocked back and forth, and he said something that made the ferret-faced kid laugh along with him. Before they were gone, my Stephen appeared, fiddling with a cell phone, backpack, bike helmet, and a long scarf.He was taller than I thought, and his voice was lower with a husky tinge, making him sound younger than he really was.He was wearing a gray trench coat, which was of very good texture and very new.He must have spent a lot of money to get up to the level of the serious crime team. I took advantage of it.Stephen might have cared about schmoozing with the victim's brother, but I bet he wasn't warned to stay away from me.Cooper is an exception, but the death of the king of the ball will not let the underlings find out that he is.Afraid of me this guy.The class concept of the king of the ball is deeply rooted, but it did me a favor.In his eyes, grassroots police officers are responsible for running errands and supporting detectives to follow orders. Only detectives deserve respect.This kind of attitude is bad. It may not only waste talents, but also make yourself vulnerable.And as I said before, I'm born to poach people's weaknesses. After Stephen finished speaking, he stuffed the phone back into his pocket.I threw the cigarette away, walked out of the garden and said to him, "Stephen." "You are?" "Franco Mackey," I said, holding out a hand, "undercover." I saw his eyes widen, just a little, maybe out of respect or fear or both.I've embellished a lot of legends on myself over the years, some true, some not, but they're all useful, so I keep them all.Still, Stephen at least tried to restrain himself, which I appreciate. "I'm Stephen Moran, general duty group." He shook my hand with a little strength as he spoke, and his eyes met for a longer time.This kid is trying to please me. "Nice to meet you, sir." "Just call me Franco, not the undercover team, sir. I've been watching you for a while, Stephen, and you've had a lot of compliments on you." He tried his best to suppress his blushing and curiosity. "It's always nice to hear that." I'm starting to like this kid. I said, "Let's go." Then I turned back into the garden, because at any moment other policemen or detectives would come out of the station. "Tell me, Stephen, you just got promoted to detective three months ago, didn't you?" He walked like a teenager, as if he had an inexhaustible amount of energy in him, and his steps were long and fast. "yes." "There is yours. Maybe I'm wrong, but I don't think you're the kind of person who would spend your whole life in the general service unit and always do what the detectives in the serious crime unit do. That's too much talent. You hope to be able to handle cases on your own ,Right?" "That's my plan." "Which group do you want to be in?" This time he couldn't hold back any longer, and his face flushed slightly. "Crime crime team or undercover team." "Good choice," I said with a grin. "So detectives, homicide must be like a dream come true for you? Do you think it's fun?" Stephen replied cautiously: "I have learned a lot." I laughed out loud. "A lot of it. That means that Kennedy guy only thinks of you as his. What does he want from you? Make coffee? Get him the dry cleaning? Sew a torn sock?" Stephen couldn't help but twitched the corner of his mouth slightly. "Type eyewitness statements into written testimony." "Handsome, how many words can you type per minute?" "It doesn't matter. I mean, I'm the best, you know? Everyone else has years of seniority, and someone has to do—" He was desperately trying to find the right answer. "Stephen," I said, "take a deep breath, this is not a test. Your paperwork is a waste. You and I know that. If the ball king spends ten minutes reading your file, he will know it too." I pointed to a bench under the streetlight, so I could see his expression without being spotted by the people in the main passage. "sit down." Stephen put his backpack and bicycle helmet on the ground and sat down.Although startled by the flattering talisman, his eyes are still cautious, which is good. "We're both very busy people," I said, sitting down beside him, "so I'll cut it short. I'd love to hear your take on this case, from your point of view, not Detective Kennedy, Because we both know his opinions are useless. You can say what you want without bureaucracy, and our conversations will be kept completely private and only you and I will know." I could see he was scrambling, but the poker face was so well placed I couldn't tell which side he was leaning on.He said, "What do you mean by listening to my opinion?" "It means we meet occasionally, maybe I'll buy you a drink or two, listen to what you've done in the past few days, what's your opinion on the investigation, and what would you do if you were to handle the case, etc., and then I How do you feel about what I think about what you've done?" Stephen picked up a dead leaf from a chair and folded it carefully along the veins. "Can I just talk straight? Like after get off work, two men talking?" I spread my hands and said, "We are off work, Brother Stephen, didn't you notice?" "I mean--" "I know what you mean. Take it easy, brother, just say what you want, and it doesn't hurt to say it straight." He looked away from the dead leaves, and looked at me with a pair of gray mischievous eyes: "I heard that you are particularly interested in this case based on personal factors. There was only one reason, but now there are two." "It's not a state secret, so what?" "It sounds," Stephen replied, "that I have the feeling that you want me to be your informant, monitoring the progress of the case and reporting back to you." I said happily: "You can think so if you want." "I'm not very angry." "Interesting," I took out my cigarette, "do you smoke?" "No, thanks." It seems that he is not as young as written in the file.Although this kid wants to score points in front of me, he can't think about it, but he won't let others slaughter him.I usually appreciate that, but in that moment I wasn't in the mood to idle away and soften him up.I lit a cigarette and blew a few smoke rings towards the yellow light of the street lamp. "Steven," I said, "you've got to think things through, and I guess you should worry about three things: how time-consuming it is, whether you should, and the possible consequences. Not necessarily in that order, but I say right?" "Forget it, almost." "Then let's start with the level of effort. I'm not going to ask you to report in detail what happened every day, but to ask very specific questions that can be answered with little time and effort. Meaning two or three meetings a week, if you There is something to be busy, and it will not exceed fifteen minutes at a time, plus about half an hour to prepare before the meeting. Assuming this is the case, do you think you can handle it?" After a while, Stephen nodded: "As long as there is nothing else to do one by one" "Good man. Next, possible consequences. True, Detective Kennedy would probably be pissed off if he found out you'd met me, but we've got no reason to let him know. You know, I'm pretty good at keeping my mouth shut. How about you?" " "I'm not a big mouth." "I think so. In other words, the chances of you getting caught by Detective Kennedy are slim to none. And, Stephen? Don't forget that's not the only consequence, there are many things that could follow Come." I waited for him to ask, "For example?" "I said you have potential, not flattery. Don't forget, the case can't go on forever. As long as the case is closed, you have to return to the construction. Do you want to go back?" He shrugged and said, "Only in this way can you ascend, and you have to do it if you don't want to." "Tracking down stolen cars and broken windows, waiting for someone like Ball King to whistle at you, ordering the moon, telling you to buy sandwiches every day. Yes, you have to do it if you don't want to, but some people only do it for a year, while others don't. I've been busy for twenty years. If you could choose, how long would you like to leave?" "Of course, the sooner the better." "I think so. I promise you, as I just said, I will watch your performance carefully. Whenever there is a vacancy in our group, the first thing I think of is the person who helped me. I can't guarantee that I will The same goes for my friend Ball King. Tell me, just the two of us: Does he know your last name?" Stephen didn't answer. "So," I said, "I guess the possible consequences are sorted out, right? Then there's just the moral question. Did I ask you to do anything that might get in the way of your case?" "nothing now." "I don't intend to do this either. At any time, as long as you feel that my existence interferes with you and prevents you from concentrating on the tasks assigned by your superiors, just ask me, and I will disappear from your eyes immediately. I promise you." Always remember Give them the freedom to leave, even if they never use it. "Is it fair enough?" His tone was not very sure: "Yes." "Did I ask you to disobey other people's orders?" "That's nitpicking. Well, Detective Kennedy didn't stop me from talking to you, but that's because he never thought I'd do it." "So? The king of the ball should think about it. If not, it's his problem, not yours or mine. You don't owe him anything." Stephen reached out to brush his hair. "But I do owe him," he said, "who brought me on this case. He's my boss now, and the rule is that I take orders from him, and only from him." My jaw almost dropped. "Rules? What are you doing... I thought you said you wanted to join the undercover team. Were you messing with me just now? I don't like being fucked by men, Stephen, I really don't like it." He immediately sat up straight: "No, of course I—you're talking—Of course I want to be an undercover agent!" "Do you think an undercover agent has the time to hold a rule book all day long? Do you think I spent three years infiltrating a drug cartel just by following the rules? Tell me you're just joking, boy, come on. Your file, tell me I'm not wasting my time." "I didn't ask you to read my file. As far as I know, it never occurred to you to look at my file this week until you were looking for an eyeliner." This kid has a set. "Steven, the opportunity I'm giving you now is the dream of every support detective in the department, every guy who trained at the same time as you or you will see on the team tomorrow, even if they asked them to sell their grandmother, they would say nothing. No. And now you are going to throw away the opportunity just because I didn't pay enough attention to you?" Stephen's freckles were flushed, but he stood his ground. "No, I just want to do the right thing." God, it really is a young man. "Brother, if you don't know by now, you'd better write it down and keep it in your heart: what's right isn't always the same as what the rule book tells you to do. I'm giving you the An undercover mission. Undercover is bound to run into moral gray areas, and if you can't do it, you'd better figure it out now." "It's different. The undercover you want me to do is to deal with my own people." "Good boy, it will scare you to death when you find out how often this happens. As I said, if you can't do it, not only you need to know, but I need to know too. We may all have to re-evaluate your Career Planning." Stephen pursed his lips. "If I don't do it," he said, "there's no need to go undercover?" "I mean no harm, boy, just don't lie to yourself. Even if it's a guy who fucks my sister and my sister and uploads the footage to You Tube, I'm happy to work with him if I think he can get things done. But if you let I think you're obviously not suitable for undercover, so I'm sorry, but I wouldn't recommend you. Call me crazy if you want, but that's it." "Can I think about it for a while?" "No," I said, flicking my cigarette away, "if you can't make up your mind, don't even think about it. I've got places to go and people to see, and I'm sure you will too. All in all, Stephen, the next few weeks You can continue to be Kennedy's typist, or you can be my detective. Which sounds more like what you want to do?" Stephen bit his lower lip tightly, and wrapped around the end of the scarf with one hand. "If we do this," he said, "I said if, what aspect of things would you want to know? Just an example." "Just an example. For example, if the fingerprints are identified, I will be very happy to know whose fingerprints are on the suitcase, the things in the box, the two notes or the window where Kevin fell from the building. I would also like to know who It is best to add pictures and autopsy reports. These should be enough to be busy for a while, maybe it will be enough to know these in the end, who knows. I think the results will be available in two days, isn't it? ?" After a while, Stephen let out a long sigh, pulling out a stream of white mist in the cold air.He looked up and said: "I don't mean to be offensive, but I want to see the documents before I reveal the inside story of the murder to a complete stranger." I laughed out loud. "Stephen," I said, pulling out my police ID, "you really are in my heart. You and I, we'll get along very well." "Yeah," Stephen said, his tone a little cold, "preferably." I watched him bend his red-haired disheveled head to check his ID, and at that moment, under the incomparable sense of superiority (fuck you, King, he It's mine now), I feel a little affection for this child.It feels so good to have someone on my side.