“Sit.”
The chief of the Golden Port City Police Department motioned for Officer Lukar to sit down. The latter walked to the opposite side of the desk, pulled out a chair, and sat down.
The chief’s office had no sofa, no bar, just a simple office.
He appeared to be around sixty years old and had been in this position for over ten years.
Starting as a patrol officer and working his way up to Chief of the City Police Department, he was considered a legend in the Golden Port police force.
The old chief’s name was Charlie, a very common Federal name. He looked clean, without the usual untidiness common in old men.
“The President’s office has decided to form the Tobacco, Alcohol, and Hazardous Goods Administration, do you know about it?” It was a simple opening, but it gave Officer Lukar a signal.
He already had a premonition. “I’ve heard of it, but what does that have to do with me?”
Charlie spoke slowly and softly, which seemed inconsistent with his decades of police “background.”
Many who had heard of him thought he should be a strong old man, whose voice, when speaking, would be as hard as two steel beams rubbing together.
But in reality, he spoke very gently, at a slow pace, allowing people to calm down.
“The Department of Justice, the Treasury Department, the Tax Bureau, and reportedly the Federal Bureau of Investigation also plan to get involved. But in any case, to make Prohibition more than just a success on paper, they will definitely establish this new agency.”
“This agency has great power; it has what we have.”
“And what we don’t have, it has even more!”
“An old friend from the state told me there will be a special Department of Justice office, on duty 24 hours a day, just to facilitate its access to various legal documents.”
“It’s too powerful, Lukar. I don’t reject the presence of more law enforcement agencies in our lives.”
“The FBI, the Drug Enforcement Administration, I don’t object to them; their presence will make our lives better.”
“But this time is an exception!” Chief Charlie took out his pipe, then his tobacco pouch, and pulled out some moist tobacco to stuff into the pipe.
Officer Lukar smelled a strong alcoholic scent; the tobacco might have been sprayed or soaked in strong liquor.
After stuffing it, Chief Charlie used a small silver tool to press the tobacco down, then picked up a long-stemmed match—it was about ten centimeters long and quite thick, and each one could burn for a long time.
As the flame was continuously drawn into the pipe, the moist tobacco was also ignited.
It wasn’t burning in the usual sense, but it was indeed ignited.
He took two puffs, then looked at Officer Lukar. “Its power is too great. I actually share the same view as many people, that Prohibition is a bullshit policy.”
“We’ve been drinking our whole lives, and suddenly they tell us drinking is a crime. The people who peddled this idea in Congress should be sent to the electric chair!”
Officer Lukar couldn’t help but chuckle twice. “Yes, they should be electrocuted!”
Chief Charlie said thank you. “It’s good that you can understand how I feel.”
“Because these people desperately hope to prove their proposals are correct through Prohibition, the next period might be very bad.”
“Golden Port is not some remote small place; it’s a metropolis, connected to the world.”
“Urban gangs, the five families, I don’t want those people to mess things up the first day they arrive here!”
“Lukar, I want to offer you a new job, at this Administration.”
He took another puff of his pipe. The tobacco in this pipe was raw, with other ingredients added to make its flavor more complex.
Some people even added chili powder and peppercorns!
Everyone’s tobacco enjoyment was different. The smoke emanating from Chief Charlie’s pipe didn’t smell as irritating, possibly because of his age.
“A powerful new law enforcement department, to be promoted nationwide, must leverage local forces to be quickly established.”
“I received some information that the first batch of mid-level law enforcers will be recommended by local authorities.”
“I will recommend you.”
“Detective Chief, or Senior Agent, or even Special Agent, it depends on how they arrange it, but I can guarantee you’ll lead a task force independently.”
“Besides your formal work, you have one more thing to do,” he said several sentences, holding the pipe to his mouth and taking another puff.
Chief Charlie stared into his eyes. The moment he opened his mouth to speak, the smoke he had just inhaled came out with his voice. “Don’t let them mess around in this city!”
Officer Lukar didn’t immediately agree. After thinking for a while, he asked, “Why me?”
Chief Charlie seemed to know he would ask this and praised him with a slightly commendatory tone, “Because you have principles, and others…” He forced a very fake smile, and both understood his meaning.
He had actually already agreed, mentally, but there was still something he was reluctant to let go of. “I still have some cases unfinished.”
“About crime or gangs?”
“Both.”
“Then you have even less to worry about, Lukar. You should be very clear that for those criminal organizations, the more fiercely we prohibit, the higher their profits.”
“These wild dogs, smelling blood, will not give up this highly profitable illegal business; they will certainly get involved.”
“You can still investigate them, and you’ll have greater authority!”
After a long silence, Officer Lukar agreed. “I have no problem.”
The old chief smiled with satisfaction; he knew it would be this way. “Then I’ll write a report shortly. You should be mentally prepared, as the transfer might be very quick.”
“And before that, you might have to undergo a period of training.”
“As for the cases you’re handling, I can help you transfer them, but I stand by what I said: don’t let them mess around in this city. If you have any news, inform me immediately!”
Officer Lukar agreed, then left the office. The old chief leaned back in his chair, smiling contentedly, basking in the sunlight.
Casually reaching for his pipe, a golden glint flashed from his cuff.
Having principles means being able to be exploited by those principles.
For Chief Charlie, Officer Lukar might not have been the best choice, but he was the most suitable.
Sending those corrupt police officers to a department with greater power?
Given the financial assault from capitalists and the five families, he didn’t believe those corrupt officers could hold out for long.
For instance, the assistant chief of the Port District sub-bureau, nicknamed “Vulture”—even Chief Charlie had heard that before he took office, he had thoroughly plundered his patrol area.
Such a person, if they went to the Tobacco, Alcohol, and Hazardous Goods Administration, would only corrupt faster and align with those people, forgetting him quickly.
On the other hand, Officer Lukar, who had principles and had not yet bowed to society, would be his most suitable choice at this time.
Officer Lukar rarely took illicit money and remained vigilant towards capitalists, the five families, and criminal organizations. These excellent virtues and professional ethics left him with little reliable support in this city.
If you don’t take money, how can capitalists feel at ease helping you become more powerful?
If you don’t collude with the five major families and criminal organizations, these criminal organizations will be insecure, fearing that you might meddle and cause them losses!
If you don’t stand with them, if you don’t wear a false mask and socialize with them in the arena of fame and fortune, how can you become friends?
If you’re not even friends, how can you expect these people to help you?
Especially when there’s a chance you might investigate them.
So, after Officer Lukar went to the new administration, his greatest reliance would actually be his old superior.
He didn’t know what officials and law enforcement agencies in other regions were thinking, but in his opinion, it was terrible!
A law enforcement agency capable of challenging the old order was being born.
In the afternoon, Mr. Jobav’s assistant’s nephew had just left his uncle, who told him to go into hiding for a while.
Going back to the Empire was definitely not an option; if he went back, he would be sent to the front lines.
Going to other countries… seemed like a good choice, which was also his uncle’s idea, for example, going to Summurian Island for a vacation, or visiting Glede to see the so-called origin of the Federation.
In fact, going further south to countries near Yalan for a tour seemed appealing. There were many beautiful women there, and it was said that if you only promised to take them away from their terrible countries and bring them to the Federation.
Then those passionate and fiery beauties could do anything for you, anywhere!
These were all good choices, but ultimately, the assistant’s nephew chose to stay within the Federation.
Because he wasn’t familiar with those countries at all; he had lived here since he could remember.
He never considered himself an immigrant or a second-generation immigrant; he considered himself a Federal citizen, even though the Federal citizens didn’t acknowledge this.
He was very familiar with this place, and the familiar environment gave him more security. Even if he knew there were dangers, at least he needed it.
Going to other countries would be simple, but in those unfamiliar countries, if he encountered trouble, he wouldn’t even know who to ask for help.
Coupled with language barriers and communication difficulties, if he truly encountered trouble, he might not be able to return.
So he decided not to go anywhere, not even to leave the city.
He was very familiar with this place, and he could definitely hide successfully.
After returning home, he simply packed some things, bid farewell to his family, and then went to Xilin District. This area was north of the city center, the oldest district in Golden Port City, and a district with a strong sense of everyday life.
As the city developed, its vitality clearly couldn’t keep up with the times, gradually becoming a relatively slow-paced place.
Some old Empire immigrants lived here, but most were elderly, with younger people moving to more vibrant and youthful areas.
Here, you often saw old people sitting on rattan chairs along the roadsides, chatting, reading newspapers, or dozing off in the afternoon.
You wouldn’t even know if they were sleeping or had suddenly died.
With old shops and goods unpopular with young people, life here was so simple.
Mr. Jobav’s assistant had bought two houses here, but they had always remained empty, unused.
He always felt they would be useful someday, and now, that time had come.
Before this, he had people routinely clean all the houses, just as always, cleaning the rooms on schedule, so no one would suspect anything.
Under the cover of night, the assistant’s nephew arrived at one of the houses.
Upon arriving at this place, the house had already been cleaned. Although not as grand as his villa, it was at least very safe here.
The house wasn’t large, a two-story building by the roadside, totaling about one hundred and fifty square meters.
Such houses were common in the old district; they were all very old buildings.
Despite the small size of the house, he liked it. When a person was in danger, a smaller environment brought more security.
After settling down, he picked up the phone and dialed his uncle’s number.
“I’ve settled in. Everything is safe. The quilts and sheets are new and smell of flowers.”
The assistant was silent for a long time. “There’s a statue of the Virgin Mary in the attic. Move it aside, and there will be a lion pattern on the base. Twist it, and a box will drop out from under the base.”
“Inside, there’s a handgun, two magazines, and two boxes of bullets.”
The nephew was somewhat surprised. “I don’t need these right now.”
The assistant’s voice grew louder. “No, you do.”
“Remember, find it and carry it until I call you again.”
The nephew didn’t resist further. “Okay, I understand, Uncle.”
The assistant was silent for a while again. “Protect yourself, and… I love you.”
“I love you too.”
After hanging up, the nephew sat in a daze for a while, then went up to the attic as his uncle had instructed and found the statue of the Virgin Mary.
She was so compassionate, as if she couldn’t tolerate even a hint of cruelty. After looking at the statue for a while, he apologized and moved the Virgin Mary from her base.
Then he found the lion pattern his uncle mentioned, a frontal lion’s head sticking out, only about a centimeter high, with incised lines next to it.
He didn’t twist it at first, but after pressing down, he twisted it.
Then he heard a click, and the base dropped down.
He saw the pistol, magazines, and bullets his uncle mentioned. Considering he wasn’t exactly safe at the moment, he took the pistol with him.
It was very safe here, with enough food stocked. He could easily stay here for two or three weeks without going out.
What to do?
He thought, but there seemed to be nothing much to do. Reading might be one of his few options.
He had brought a few books with him.
Opening the book Experiencing Hardship, his emotions and thoughts began to fluctuate with the protagonist’s difficult experiences.
On the other end of the phone line, the assistant hunched over, covering his face with his hands, his voice choked.
Mr. Jobav stood beside him, patting his shoulder. “I killed them. They could have gotten more money, but they refused.”
“If money could solve this, you know me, I wouldn’t be stingy with a little money.”
“But they don’t want money.”
Mr. Jobav asked Pete to talk to Polly. The feedback was terrible: Polly told him that either his assistant or his assistant’s nephew had to die!
Giving money was useless; this had nothing to do with money!
If every person who failed to assassinate him and his subordinates was given tens of thousands of dollars, then starting tomorrow, the line of assassins would stretch from his company’s door in the port district all the way to his villa in the bay area!
This wasn’t about giving Mr. Jobav face; this was a bottom line, a principle. Someone had to pay the price with their life.
Moreover, this was already being lenient, considering the mayor and Mr. Pete. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have been such a minor figure who died, but Mr. Jobav himself.
Ultimately, he compromised. Between the assistant and the assistant’s nephew, he chose the fool.
Of course, inwardly, he also felt some displeasure and anger. To botch such a simple matter, perhaps his death was self-inflicted.
But he wouldn’t show it. He tried his best to save the young man’s life, but unfortunately, he couldn’t.
The assistant was still weeping in grief. He had no sons of his own, so this nephew was like his own son, cherished by him. Now, this relative, like his son, was about to leave this world, and his sorrow flowed uncontrollably.
Perhaps associating his own fate with the assistant’s cries, Mr. Jobav also felt very sad due to empathy.
However, this was not the time for him to be sad. He patted the assistant’s shoulder. “We will get our revenge!”
The assistant wiped away his tears and looked at him. “Can we get revenge?”
Mr. Jobav nodded definitively. “Definitely!”
A few minutes later, Polly hung up the phone and handed the note in front of him to Jimmy. “This is where that Imperial bastard is hiding now. Keep it quiet.”
Jimmy looked at the note, put it in his pocket, then stood up. “I’ll take care of this.”
Polly raised his hand, signaling he could leave. Jimmy immediately called a few people and left together by car.
Although losing some money was regrettable, regaining face and venting some anger was also good.
As for who gave Polly this address, and how it was confirmed that this person lived in this house, he didn’t care; this wasn’t his concern.
The car drove straight through the entire Empire District. He couldn’t see Mr. Jobav and his assistant’s grief in a building on a certain street. His mind was only on the impending revenge and the fear that single shot had instilled in him.
Around 8 PM, the nephew, who had already eaten, was lying in bed, already feeling drowsy.
He had a habit of going to the bathroom before bed, emptying his bladder, and then washing his face.
This allowed him to sleep soundly.
He went into the bathroom, whistling, and watching the water ripple in the toilet. He suddenly remembered an interesting piece of news he had seen earlier.
In a certain state, after dark, you were not only forbidden to pee standing up but also forbidden to whistle in the toilet.
Federation people are truly sick in the head!
He chuckled twice, shook himself, flushed the toilet, then turned to look at himself in the mirror. He looked a bit haggard.
He filled the sink with water, then bent down, splashing water onto his face with his hands. He splashed several times before rubbing vigorously.
When he looked up again, his gaze was suddenly drawn to the person standing behind him in the mirror.
The dim light in the bathroom flickered…