Officer Ferren had worked at the Port Precinct for seven or eight years. His house had moved from the remote northwest corner of the city to a neighborhood closer to downtown.
Many people thought the port wasn’t a place with much money to be made; the best precincts were considered to be the two downtown precincts and the Bay Area precinct.
But in reality, there was plenty of money here.
Because there were so many people, and many operators around these workers.
Elsewhere, they might charge merchants 30 or 40 bucks for “security fees,” but in the port area, it was only about 10 to 20 bucks.
Though the fees were half as much, the sheer number of businesses meant everyone still had enough money.
And the port was also the place with the highest concentration of gray-area industries.
The downtown and Bay Area precincts dared not collect fees from nightclubs backed by powerful people.
But in the Bay Area, those bars and streetwalkers had to pay honestly, or they couldn’t stay there at all!
Even if a woman only gave them one dollar a day, according to incomplete statistics, at least two thousand people in the port area worked in this industry.
This didn’t include those not counted but still paying!
Sometimes, they also extorted merchants by other means. Of course, “extortion” was too harsh a word—it was more like “negotiation.”
Just five minutes ago, he planned to squeeze a few dozen bucks out of the boss of some “Wanli Labor Services,” but now he just hoped to get out safely.
This was the wildest time for gangs. Not long ago, Polly had sprayed the street with a submachine gun in broad daylight just a few blocks away, and yet he was still unpunished, sitting in his office smoking fine cigars and drinking expensive liquor.
This was the Federation.
Fortunately, the young man sitting opposite him wasn’t a crazy person like big Polly. That relieved him a bit.
Lance didn’t understand why Officer Ferren was so nervous but politely opened the cigarette pack on the table, signaling he could smoke.
Looking at the cigarettes, Officer Ferren hesitated but took one, then pulled out a lighter and looked at Lance.
Lance froze for a moment, then smiled wider. He took a cigarette, put it in his mouth, and his hand seemed to be searching for a lighter in his pocket but was actually just waiting.
“I have fire.” Officer Ferren stood, leaned forward, and lit the cigarette.
At this time, lighters were almost all kerosene lighters, which smelled when lit. Some people didn’t like the kerosene smell.
Lance didn’t like it either. He preferred to carry matches rather than smell like kerosene.
But some people liked that smell because it made them feel more manly, so they favored kerosene lighters.
Lance stood and leaned slightly across the table so the flame curled under his cigarette. He took two puffs, then patted Officer Ferren’s hand, “Thanks.”
Officer Ferren lit his own cigarette, and they both sat back down. This felt less like an interrogation and more like catching up.
Smoking seemed to relax Officer Ferren somewhat. He carefully asked, “Mr. Lance, do you know a man named Hammer?”
“A dock worker. Last night someone said your people were looking for him everywhere.”
Lance nodded, “Yes, I know him, but I haven’t found him.”
“You can ask around. Last night he beat up my friend outside the dock for no reason, and my friend had to have surgery.”
“All the expenses added up to over five thousand. I want to find him and get that money back.”
Officer Ferren hadn’t expected that. He quickly took out his notebook and wrote down the details, including Elvin’s situation.
“So you’re looking for him because he first assaulted your friend and caused the injury, right?”
Lance nodded, “Yeah, it’s several thousand. My friend… you know, has some identity issues, so this money can’t go through insurance.”
“Even if he can’t pay all of it, he has to pay at least half. Don’t you think so?”
“Many people saw it. You just ask around.”
Officer Ferren nodded. He would verify it. “Mr. Lance, Hammer is missing, and some think you might be involved.”
Lance showed a disdainful expression. “That’s typical slander. I want to find him more than you do—after all, that’s five thousand bucks!”
“I think he probably ran off to avoid this mess. I heard he doesn’t have much money either.”
Officer Ferren made a few more notes. “So you haven’t seen him.”
Lance nodded. “If any of you can give me a lead to catch him, I’ll give two hundred.”
“If you bring him here, I’ll give one thousand.”
“Whether it’s you, your colleagues,”—he gestured at the officer standing by the door—“or your friends or family, anyone can claim this reward from me.”
Ferren wasn’t sure if Lance had really never seen Hammer, but he didn’t care much. Even if he was dead, so what?
Aren’t headless cases in Golden Port City common every year?
“Can you tell me where you were last night?”
Lance briefly explained, “At first, I was working here. Then I heard my friend got seriously injured, so I went to the hospital.”
“You can find the doctors there. By the way, we invited doctors from the Bay Area to do the surgery. They can testify for me.”
“Later, we couldn’t find Hammer, so we went back. My friends can all testify to this.”
“Until you came to see me.”
“By the way, if we still can’t find him, I’ll sue him directly.”
Officer Ferren recorded the whole story, though these testimonies couldn’t be verified. Everyone who could confirm was somehow connected to Lance.
He knew he wouldn’t get much from Lance and didn’t want to stay longer. He soon said goodbye.
Lance suddenly remembered something. “Sorry, I thought you’d stay longer. I even forgot to have them bring two cups of coffee.”
Just as Officer Ferren was about to explain, Lance opened a drawer, took out four five-dollar bills, and placed them on the table. “My treat. You and your partner should get a drink. It’s too hot.”
Ferren wanted to refuse, but before he could, Lance spoke first.
“Don’t refuse too quickly. I know you’ve been working hard under the blazing sun. Police work isn’t easy.”
“Those office workers won’t understand, but I do.”
“The coffee next door is good. You should try it.”
Officer Ferren glanced at his partner. They exchanged looks, and he raised an eyebrow with a “You got me” expression.
“All right, thanks for your generosity, Mr. Lance!”
Lance extended his hand. “You keep us safe. I buy you coffee. What’s wrong with that?”
Officer Ferren put the money in his pocket, smiling. “Yes, yes, no one can say anything.”
Lance shook his hand. “Contact me if there’s news.” He took a business card from the table and handed it over. “I know many officers well. We’re good friends. I think we can be good friends too.”
Officer Ferren fully understood Lance’s meaning and replied warmly, “Definitely!”
“Well then…”
“We’ll continue the investigation, Mr. Lance. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye!”
The two left the office. Officer Ferren’s partner whistled, “He’s a good man.” For twenty bucks.
In fact, Lance didn’t need to give them money. The gangsters before had made it clear this wasn’t some shop they could extort.
And the fact that Lance said he was friends with many cops guaranteed he had people speaking up for him inside the police system.
This kind of person who’s not easy to mess with still gave them twenty bucks. This wasn’t just money; it was about dignity.
Mr. Lance was a man of dignity, so they had to act decently too.
Officer Ferren raised an eyebrow, holding his notebook. “So we have to verify if what he said is true. I don’t want the port area to lose a good man and gain a bad one.”
As for those intimidating people and weapons on the table, he didn’t care at all.
This was the damn Federation. The constitution allowed people to carry weapons. If carrying weapons was a crime, seventy percent of Federation citizens should be hanged!
The investigation went smoother than expected. Many saw Hammer beating Elvin, and some saw Elvin being sent to the hospital by Lance’s people.
Officer Ferren asked around many places. Everyone said they hadn’t seen Hammer. Lance’s men also searched Hammer’s home and found no direct contact.
Ferren took the evidence and testimonies back to the precinct and handed everything with his conclusions to his superior.
A sergeant in charge looked over the materials and asked, “So you think Hammer ran?”
Ferren nodded. “From what I heard at the hospital, Lance’s friend has no insurance, and the surgery plus aftercare cost about 5,200. Hammer probably realized he was in big trouble and hid.”
The sergeant put the files down and glanced over them again. “A typical impulsive idiot. Now the consequences are beyond what he can handle.”
He shook his head and tossed the files into the basket with other Hammer-related cases. “Go tell his wife if the victim wants to sue but they can’t pay, they might have to auction their house.”
“Better have her try to contact Hammer. You can’t run away from some things. You have to face them.”
No matter what happened to Hammer—whether he ran or was dead—the sergeant knew one thing.
Without solid proof Hammer was dead, like finding a body, this case wouldn’t reach the threshold for criminal prosecution.
The criminal division wouldn’t get involved. The regular cops would continue handling it, but with so many cases daily in the port, they couldn’t watch this case every day.
So chances were, this case would become another unsolved one that nobody paid attention to after a while.
As for going all the way to Angel Lake to open blind boxes for a bottom-tier guy?
Forget it!
Isn’t it better to live?
(End of chapter)
TN: Translation Change
Jinggang City -> Golden Port City