The atmosphere in the room was bizarre. Robert Downs continued to kowtow until his forehead bled.
Luke remained silent. Perhaps to stop the blood from staining the floor, or for some other reason, Luke finally stood up and walked over to him.
"Honestly, I don't understand why you came to beg me."
"According to the Constitution, your previous actions constitute only economic fraud and forced transaction crimes. At most, you'd be sentenced to seven years, and with good behavior, you could be out in five. It's not that long; why beg me?"
"I can't go in! Falcone will kill me. They will definitely kill me!"
Luke shook his head. "Falcone is too busy saving himself to bother with you. Besides, you're going to Gotham Prison. I've heard things about that place. Given your looks and intelligence, if you just learn to relax your body and slightly change your sexual orientation, you'll be fine."
Robert involuntarily shivered. Imagining a cell full of burly men, tears streamed down his face.
"Boss, save me! I know you have a way. Please!"
Luke poured a glass of water and placed it in front of him.
"Everyone has value, but this value isn't inherent; it's relative. A person, by themselves, has no value. Value is always relative to others. Take me, for example. My existence can make my family, my friends, and even the world better. That is my value in their eyes, and that's what I'm proud of."
"What about you, Robert? Where is your value?"
Robert understood the implication and quickly said,
"I can testify as a state's witness! I can help you make money, lots of money!"
Seeing that Luke was unmoved, he gritted his teeth.
"I can help you deal with the Redwood Group and Thomas Elliott."
Luke sighed and returned to his swivel chair.
"Your anger has destroyed your common sense. You can't even see the most basic business forms. Yes, the Redwood Group is after ShowMe, but don't ignore this point: they are using legitimate channels and haven't resorted to illegal means. This means that we haven't burned the bridge; there's still a chance for cooperation."
"Business wars don't have to be a fight to the death. In many cases, win-win is the kingly way. You should know that much!"
Robert's face twitched violently. He hung his head and remained silent.
"It seems our conversation is unnecessary. Charlie, show him out."
"Wait!"
Robert gritted his teeth, saying slowly, word for word,
"There's also Roger Consius. I was his mole inside ShowMe. If you need it, I can help you deal with him."
Hearing this, Charlie, standing by the door, froze. His eyes were wide with shock.
The FBI actually planted an informant inside ShowMe.
Luke waved him out.
"Roger Consius's mole? Do you have proof?"
"I have recordings of our conversations. If you don't believe me, I can present them."
Luke waved his hands repeatedly. "Absolutely do not show them to me. I don't want to get involved with the FBI."
"But I am curious. Since you're an FBI asset, why come begging me? Why not just go to them?"
Robert snarled, "That son of a bitch, Roger Consius! He turned his back on me completely! When he heard I was in trouble, he ignored me and blocked my number. I can't even reach him!"
"I see!" Luke looked at him apathetically. "He won't save you, so you came to me."
"No... no, I didn't..."
"Enough."
Luke waved his hand dismissively. "You are an FBI informant, an external intelligence operative for the highest judicial body. With that status, you don't need to beg me; you can solve this yourself."
"But he won't admit it!"
Luke smiled, saying pointedly, "If he doesn't admit it, does that mean you are not one?"
Robert froze, a flash of insight striking him.
That's right!
What does it matter what he admits to?
As long as I have the evidence, whether Roger Consius admits it or not, I'm his asset. Since he's the boss, all actions are naturally the FBI's, and I'm just the executor. Even if there's guilt, it's Roger Consius's problem, not mine.
In that instant, he understood everything.
Robert was both shocked and overjoyed. He repeatedly thanked Luke and, before leaving, even used his suit jacket to wipe the blood off the floor.
Consius Gets What He Deserves
The police were downstairs. When Robert saw them, he didn't avoid them as he used to. Instead, he marched right over.
"I need to see Mr. Gordon. I have something important to discuss with him."
Four hours later, Roger Consius, who was drowning his sorrows in a bar, received a call from Mike Gray. He was cursed out for no reason, and the line was cut before he could understand what happened.
"Damn it!"
Roger furiously slammed his glass on the floor and rushed out.
When he arrived at the police station, Mike Gray, Jim Gordon, Ramirez, and the recently arrived Emily were all there. They stared at him expressionlessly, their eyes filled with scrutiny.
Mike Gray suppressed his rage.
"Mr. Gordon, may I speak with him alone?"
"No problem, but don't take too long."
Jim Gordon agreed without hesitation. Passing by Roger, he frowned.
"Mr. Consius, drinking and driving is a crime."
He then raised his hand and left with the other officers. Emily also left, but not before giving Roger Consius a vicious glare that made him tremble.
Once the others had gone, Mike Gray exploded. Pointing his finger at Consius's nose, he yelled,
"Tell me! Is Robert Downs your informant or not?"
Roger flinched. He instinctively wanted to deny it, but realizing the coldness in Mike Gray's eyes, he quickly nodded.
"He was indeed my asset inside ShowMe. I have my reasons for this, please let me explain."
"I don't want an explanation! I just want to know: Did you arrange those things for him to do?"
Roger didn't know what "those things" were, and he cautiously asked,
"What things are you referring to?"
Mike Gray took a deep breath. "The matter of Robert colluding with Sidney to force ShowMe into signing the investment contract—did you know about that?"
Roger Consius's heart sank. All the color drained from his face instantly.
Seeing that face, Mike Gray, with decades of agent experience, didn't need any further explanation.
"I'll ask you again. Robert was instructed by Falcone to demand that ShowMe delete the Batman account—did you know about that?"
"I... I..."
"You knew all of it, didn't you?"
"You fool!"
SLAP!
A palm strike across the face left five bright red finger marks.
"You're an FBI supervisor! You knew this was illegal, yet you didn't stop it! Who do you think you are—the mastermind?"
Roger Consius ignored the stinging on his face and stammered, "Mr. Gray, please let me explain! I was doing this to observe the subsequent developments. ShowMe is dangerous; we must..."
"Shut up! Robert Downs confessed everything! He said you orchestrated all of it! He said you had a personal grudge against Luke Shaw, the owner of ShowMe, and were trying to use this opportunity to ruin him!"
"Idiot! You've completely disgraced the FBI!"
SLAP!
He couldn't help but strike him again.
Roger was stunned, his head ringing. He couldn't think straight.
Mike Gray, still furious, kicked him onto the floor. "Everything you learned at the FBI academy was eaten by dogs! Why didn't you help Robert Downs when he got into trouble? Did you think he was toilet paper, to be tossed away after wiping your ass?"
"What is the FBI's informant protocol? You must guarantee the informant's safety, or they could betray you at any time!"
"Did your instructors not teach you these things?"
Roger Consius finally understood. Everything became clear.
"I was framed! That wasn't me! I didn't ask him to do those things! He's framing me, Mr. Gray! Believe me, I absolutely did not tell him to break the law!"
"I know you wouldn't break the law, but let me ask you: Were you the one who knew about it?"
Roger: "..."
Mike Gray didn't want to waste any more energy on this fool.
"You are relieved of all responsibilities regarding Gotham and Metropolis affairs. When you get back, write a letter of self-criticism. Effective immediately, you are suspended from all duties, pending review."
With that, he turned and left, leaving a pale Roger Consius slumped on the floor.
It's over. Everything is over.
Why did it turn out like this?
Who is doing this to me?
The Madman and the Mole
After leaving the office, Mike Gray found Jim Gordon. They talked for a long time, and then Gray met with Robert Downs. It's unclear what agreement they reached, but when Gray left the precinct, he had an audiotape in his hand.
Shortly thereafter, Robert was released. He happily stepped out of the police station doors and saw Roger Consius by the side of the road.
The two stared at each other in silence.
On the second floor of the precinct, Ramirez asked confusedly, "Captain, you're just letting them go?"
Jim Gordon put the document recording the incident into the shredder. Once the papers were minced into tiny strips, he replied,
"Gotham can't handle any more scandals. Let the FBI handle their own people."
Ramirez scoffed dismissively. "It's laughable that such an idiot could become a supervisor."
Jim shook his head. "I don't think the matter is that simple."
Just then, an officer rushed in.
"Mr. Gordon, Sidney! We found Dominic Sidney!"
Jim was both surprised and delighted. "Where is he?"
"East End, near the docks. We've got him secured."
"Excellent!"
Jim Gordon couldn't wait another moment and rushed to the East End docks that very night.
The cleanup operation was nearly ninety percent complete. All that was missing was the big fish, Falcone. Frustratingly, after searching for days, his whereabouts were unknown.
Sidney was different. As the second-in-command of the Falcone family, he was highly likely to know Falcone's hiding place.
Filled with anticipation, Gordon arrived at the East End precinct, only to be met with disappointment.
Staring at the mentally disabled old man squatting in the corner and counting ants, Gordon angrily clenched his fist.
"What is this? Are you sure he is Dominic Sidney, and not a decoy?"
"The DNA confirmed it. It's him."
"Why is he like this?"
Hank, who was temporarily in charge of security in the East End, shook his head. "That's what puzzles us. The forensic team did a complete check. Aside from scars on his wrists, there were no other injuries on his body."
"What about his head?"
"His brain activity is normal. No signs of severe impact."
"What is this supposed to be?"
Jim Gordon threw up his hands, nearly hysterical. "No head injury, yet the man is like this! Don't tell me he took too many drugs!"
Ramirez tugged on his captain's sleeve and whispered,
"He might be faking it!"
Jim instantly understood. In Gotham City, faking insanity was too common. Why else was Arkham Asylum doing such good business? Because all the criminals became "mentally ill."
Having figured that out, Jim Gordon quickly calmed down, a cold smile on his face.
"Faking madness? Fine. We'll send you to Falcone. Let's see if you keep pretending then."
🗒️Note:
Support me on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/c/MistaQuartz
Explore up to 20 chapters in advance!