"Oh… oh… oh…"
Jay groaned angrily, one hand covering his face, the other fumbling blindly on the bedside table. He finally grabbed the loudly blaring phone and fiercely terminated the call.
In less than ten seconds, the ringtone started again.
"FUCK, I'm supposed to be on leave. Why am I waking up earlier than when I work?"
Muttering curses, he brought the phone to his eyes. The screen displayed the caller ID: Fat Bob.
"Shit!" He heavily exhaled, hitting the answer button.
"Hello, Boss, you remember I'm on vacation, right?!"
"I do, but we have a problem. You'd better get down to my office." Bob's voice was low. "Now. Don't worry, it won't take long."
"… Fine, Boss. See you in a bit."
Jay sighed. He couldn't exactly admit that he already knew about the prisoner transport case, so he reluctantly threw off the blanket.
The moment his body hit the cold air outside the covers, goosebumps erupted all over him. He instantly darted back under the blanket.
"What the hell! It's freezing!" He rolled himself up in the blanket and tip-toed to the window. Not a single snowflake was visible outside. He then hopped over to the radiator and touched it—it was ice-cold.
"Damn it, I paid for heat!"
He pounded the radiator a few times, but the "Russian repair method" didn't work. Gritting his teeth, he quickly and breathlessly pulled on his clothes.
Before he could run downstairs, the phone rang again.
"Stop rushing me, I'm not Superman!" He pulled out the phone irritably, but the name displayed was Clark.
Speak of the devil and he shall appear… Wait, I wonder who runs faster, him or the actual devil?
"Hi, Clark," he answered the phone. "Any good news?"
"Hi, can you bring the boy to Metropolis this afternoon at three? Metropolis Stadium. We contacted the Metropolis Suns team for him. Mr. Daynes, the owner, said he'd be willing to take a look."
"That is really great news." Jay sighed in relief. "See you this afternoon. I'll make sure he gets there. Thank you, Clark, I really owe you."
This was indeed good news. Putting everything else aside, even if all their efforts failed and Waylon Jones still became Killer Croc, in Gotham he would be an opponent that even Batman would find difficult to deal with. In Metropolis…?
It would be nothing more than a single slap from Superman. But it was best not to let it come to that…
Most people hadn't arrived when he stepped into the precinct. A few bored officers were leaning back in their seats reading newspapers. He headed straight for the Chief's office, knocked briefly, and pushed the door open.
"Holy hell, did you host a bonfire party in here last night?"
The room was still choked with acrid smoke.
Bob was slumped in his big chair, his eyes bloodshot.
Seeing Jay enter, he knocked on the desk, signaled him to sit in the chair opposite, stared at him in silence for a moment, and then said: "The Major Crimes Unit at HQ is sending the prison transport case back to the East Precinct."
Jay nodded. "And?"
"You don't sound surprised at all?" Bob exhaled a smoke ring, his face momentarily obscured by the swirling smoke. "Don't worry, having your own sources is a good thing."
"I don't have any damn sources!" Jay shrugged. "You haven't told me the whole story yet. It's not yet the part where I should be surprised."
"Okay, my mistake." Bob puffed out another heavy cloud of smoke. "According to the interrogation results from HQ, those robbers were under Fish Mooney, and the prisoner, Hargrove, is an expert bomb-maker. They were trying to spring him to blow open Falcone's vault."
Ah…
Jay thought back, recalling that name from a TV series, but too much time had passed. He only remembered the scene of money raining down at the end of the vault bombing plot.
"Hmm… Fish Mooney is one of Falcone's lieutenants, right?" Seeing Bob confirm this, Jay pondered for a few seconds. "She's going rogue? And the HQ doesn't want to offend either side?"
"More than that." Bob let out a frustrated growl from deep in his throat. "Do you know how many eyes the Roman has inside the police department? This news probably got out instantly. Damn it, if I had known earlier, I could have at least gotten fifty grand from Mr. Falcone."
He slammed his fist on the desk. "Those sons of bitches at HQ, they took the benefit and now they're making the East Precinct clean up their mess!"
"And Fish Mooney probably knows she's been exposed, too," Jay added. "She has her own sources."
"Exactly. Don't think for a minute that because I mind my own business, I can't see their schemes." Bob stabbed out his cigarette. "Gordon's partner, Harvey, might even be colluding with Fish."
"So what? Did you call me in just because you missed out on an informant fee?"
"So what?" Bob lit another cigarette. "That surviving robber is evidence. The Roman wants him alive, and Fish wants him dead. HQ is claiming it was just a regular robbery and that the East Precinct is responsible for the entire case, including the prisoner."
"Can't you just refuse? Major Crimes signed the handover documents when we gave them the case."
"They claim the East Precinct is the crime scene and that East Precinct officers responded and engaged in the firefight.
Then they said Gordon overstepped his bounds, violating regulations and wasting resources, and kicked him off Major Crimes.
They've also stalled all our personnel and resource approvals. Damn it!" Bob grew angrier as he spoke, pacing back and forth in the room. "You should have just let those Blackgate idiots die that day."
"Then why don't you let Fish Mooney negotiate with Falcone and just tell us the outcome?"
"No, you have to understand, that woman is crazy and stupid. Or rather, all women are like that; giving them power will eventually lead to chaos." Bob shook his head. "They always think having a boss title means they can do whatever they want, and everyone should revolve around them.
They don't understand that the essence of power is the exchange of interests and compromise. She'll just demand we hand the witness over or kill him. Otherwise…"
(The above content is purely for plot and character development and does not reflect the author's personal views!)
"Otherwise what?" Jay spread his hands. "Is she going to attack the East Precinct?"
"Oh, my clever boy, congratulations, you got it right." Bob gave an ugly smile. "She actually might."
"So… who's harder to deal with—her or Falcone? Cough, cough…" Jay took a deep breath and immediately coughed. "Damn it, can't you smoke a little less?"
"Mr. Falcone, of course. No one can stand up to the Roman." A hint of fear flashed in Bob's eyes. "He just wants us to hand the man over to assert his fairness and justice. Fish Mooney is also afraid that once Falcone gets the evidence, he will move immediately to clean house."
"In that case, what's there to hesitate about?
Fish Mooney doesn't have the strength to fight Falcone. This whole thing was an accidental leak.
Otherwise, she wouldn't have needed to sneak around to blow up the vault; she could have just blown up the Roman's toilet directly." Jay thought for a moment, moved his chair closer, and said in a near whisper, "We back the Roman.
We use this situation to demand favors from HQ and favors from Falcone. As for Fish Mooney, we can't please everyone, so let's fight her!"
"Wow, good boy! I love the energy and drive of you young people." Bob's face lit up with delight. "I knew you could do this. Look at those bastards outside, just waiting to retire, timid and useless. You are the future of this precinct."
He staggered over and gave Jay a hug. "I've already spoken to HQ. You and Wilson will go pick up the prisoner tomorrow afternoon."
"FUCK, that's beyond outrageous! It's only the fourth day of my leave!" Jay pushed Bob away. "And for a case this huge?! You planned this all along, didn't you? Do you even remember if you're a Police Chief or a capitalist?"
"You should remember the precinct regulations," Bob sat back down at his desk. "In case of emergency or personnel shortage, I have the right to interrupt an officer's leave, with compensatory time off or overtime pay to be given afterward."
"Then what's the benefit?" Jay sneered. "This isn't ordinary overtime. Don't even think about it without a decent benefit package."
"Damn it, you shrewd little fox." Bob shot him a gloomy look. "Let me be clear, I don't have a lot of money to give you."
"A payoff is one thing, but what's urgently needed is: I need two automatic or semi-automatic long guns and ammunition, 50 rounds of slugs, body armor with Level III plates, a discretionary fund, and…"
"Hey! Hey! I don't have a red coat or reindeer, and I can't fulfill your Christmas wishlist." Bob interrupted, knocking on the table in displeasure. "Ask for something practical."
"No, this is very practical." Jay shook his head. "If Fish Mooney is as crazy as you say, she might make her move the moment we leave HQ tomorrow. I don't want to be turned into a sieve instantly."
"I know, but HQ will never approve that much equipment for us." Bob felt he had sighed more today than in his whole life combined. "Loeb is much dirtier than I am."
"You need to shift your mindset. Don't think of this as us asking HQ for approval for equipment, requesting their permission."
Jay leaned over the desk, speaking in a near-whisper. "This is us solving their problem for them. They should provide everything.
Not just the things I listed, but you can ask for more: a brand-new armored patrol vehicle, more autonomy over personnel and resource approval, double the budget and funding, extra bonuses, and a mobile task force…"
"Wait, wait, wait, but why would they agree to all of that?" Bob's breathing quickened, and he raised a hand to stop Jay. "That sounds great, but there's no way they'd agree."
"Why not?" Jay smiled. "Because losing everything is better than a single win. If they don't agree, we walk away. Let them deal with Falcone themselves. Do you think Grogan or Loeb would dare take that risk?"
He grinned, showing his pale teeth. "Besides, even if they refuse to give us anything, and we still have to take the case, how is that different from the current situation? What else do we have to lose?"
"I wasn't wrong at all. You truly are a treacherous little fox." A smile slowly spread across Bob's face. "But isn't that a bit much? We need to be realistic."
"What does it matter? They'll bargain down anyway. As long as you're not planning to kick Loeb out and take his job, everything is negotiable. The more audacious you are in this kind of negotiation, the higher your success rate. I have faith in you."
Jay stood up, dusting off the cigarette ash. "But you need to be quick. We need that gear secured by tomorrow morning."
"Ha? You just don't respect me at all." Bob leaned back into his wide chair and waved his hand dismissively. "Now get out of here. I need to figure out how to write this report."
——————
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