"Are you Chelsea Wood?" Art looked at Chelsea with a trace of contempt. In his eyes, she was a little girl who didn't know much about him. "I remember when I visited your father more than ten years ago. Don't you recognize me?"
"I don't really remember that visit," Chelsea said, trying to keep her voice calm and even. "But at the moment, your son is a suspect. I need to take him to record his confession. Please excuse me."
"Oh, wait a moment. Why are you in such a hurry?" Art showed a little dissatisfaction.
She was just how his sister, Julian's mother, had described the previous night. She had a one-track mind and didn't give up easily.
His head tilted slightly. The man standing behind him walked toward her. He was Art's best lawyer.
The lawyer said, "Officer Wood, as far as I know, you only have notes regarding what Saul said to you at the scene. There is no written evidence. You haven't taken an official statement from him. You're not building a strong case here."
"I'll call my colleague who looks after Saul." She took out her phone and called the officers guarding Saul at the hospital.
"You need to put Saul on the phone. I want to talk to him now," she said.
"We can't right now. Saul's operation was over at six this morning, and he's still under anesthesia," said the officer.
Hearing this, she couldn't help but feel depressed. She glared at Art's lawyer.
"What's his condition?" she asked.
"According to the doctor, the situation is still good. The five bullets in his body weren't in key positions, and all have been removed. After a few days, his mind will be clear. We can record his confession in the hospital," said the officer.
"Okay, you two keep a good watch over Saul. If anything happens, please report to me at once." She hung up her phone.
"Officer Wood, we are prepared to pay bail for our client. We're going to take him now. Do you have any questions?" asked the lawyer, smiling.
She didn't want to ask him anything. She didn't want to pay any attention to him or let him distract her from dealing with Chris. She looked at Chris and said, "If you're guilty, I'll take you back to the police station with my own hands."
"Good!" Chris approached her, smiling. He whispered, "Let's see you try. But don't forget what I told you before. I tried to warn you. If you wrong me, I'll make you pay for it."
He winked at her and laughed softly.
Art took his son out of the police station.
He got into a Toyota at the station's gate. Although he was rich, he wasn't the sort to indulge in luxury cars or other frivolous purchases.
The lawyer said goodbye to his clients and left.
As soon as he got into the car, Art's face became very gloomy. Chris, who was sitting in the front passenger seat, was very upset and didn't dare open his mouth to speak to his father.
His father drove in silence to a high-end residential area in Baltimore.
Although this community wasn't luxurious, it belonged to the upper-middle class. Like many other people of his status, Art didn't always like to show off his wealth. But he also didn't pretend to be poor and live in low-end neighbourhoods.
After he had walked into the house, Art took off his coat and handed it to the housekeeper.
"You come with me," he said sternly with a glance at his son. Chris followed him into the study fearfully.
Chris closed the door and turned around. His father had still not said much.
Suddenly, Art slapped him heavily across the face. His ears were ringing, and his face felt hot.
"I want you to be careful. You want to ruin my reputation, don't you?" his father angrily scolded as he stared at Chris.
Although he had been calm at the police station, he let his fury show now.
He was a senior official. If his son were exposed to committing such a big crime, his hard-earned career would collapse overnight.
"Dad, I'm sorry. This is my fault. I promise I won't make the same mistake again," Chris said.
"If you make the same mistake again, I'll kill you!" Art said angrily.
He sat in the swivel chair behind his desk and rested his head on his hands. He lifted his black hair neatly from his head.
Art had started to lose his hair when he was thirty years old, so he had simply shaved it off. As his status in Baltimore had grown, he had bought himself a wig. Almost none of his colleagues knew that he was bald.
He reached for a cigar box on his metal desk and took out a big cigar.
Art lit it and took a deep draw of the smoke. He needed the nicotine to help calm him down. A wisp of light smoke came out from his lips, and his nerves began to settle.
"There can't be any problems in this matter. Do you have any ideas on how to solve this?" he asked Chris. He was no longer as agitated as he had been previously.
"Dad, don't worry. I can solve this problem," Chris said, feeling slightly relieved. "Saul has information that isn't good for me. Just let me find a way to shut him up forever."
"Well, do it as soon as possible, and do it well," Art ordered. The incident had been so sudden that he had hardly been able to respond to it effectively. He didn't like being taken by surprise.
"Yes, I know," Chris said.
"There was news from the Blood Brothers gang yesterday," Art said, "They agreed to my request. Once we challenge the Clifton family to a showdown, they will send fighters to help us defeat that family in one fell swoop." He thought back to the conversation he had had on the phone with the gang's leader the previous day.
Art had been planning to seize the underground world of Baltimore from the Clifton family. He had planned carefully, not wanting to start a fight unless he was sure he could win. Over the past few years, the underground forces that were controlled by the Steadman family had been developing. In the last two years, he felt that the opportunity had come for his family to replace the Cliftons.
He had begun to communicate with the gang several months ago, and he had asked them to help him with his plan. The Blood Brothers tended to be quite secretive. He knew that they were probably taking time to assess his family and decide whether or not he was worth supporting.
The previous day, when he had called the gang's leader, Tyson Slade, he had finally gotten the answer he had wanted. Tyson had made it clear that he supported the Steadman family in seizing Baltimore's underground world. If Art issued a challenge to the Clifton family, the gang would help him.
"That's great news the gang agreed!" Chris exclaimed in surprise. He knew that his father had been communicating with them.
"You should deal with this matter first, and then go and negotiate with Jessop. Just tell him what I told you before." Art smoked his cigar and thought about the negotiation between Chris and Jessop.
"Dad, is it really that urgent?" Chris asked, feeling a little confused.
"Urgent?" Art gave Chris a stern look. "I always taught you that time was fleeting. Our strength is at its fullest, so, with the support of this gang, this is the best time. We don't know when we'll get an opportunity like this again. You can't let these things go by. You must be decisive. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Dad, you're right. I'm too hesitant. As soon as I've solved the problem with Saul, I'll go see Jessop," he said.
"Well, you go now and think about what you have to do." He waved his hand for his son to go. Chris left the study as quickly as he could.
**
The next day, at six in the morning, Saul was still asleep in his bed at the Baltimore General Hospital.
Outside of Saul's room, two police officers were sitting in chairs. Although they were guarding him, they had leaned back and closed their eyes. Since they couldn't sleep in a bed, they were very tired. They were almost snoring.
A small cart slowly rolled down the hall, its wheels clicking on the tiles.
When the cart passed in front of the officers, they both woke up and looked at the person pushing the cart.
The cart was about three feet high and made of stainless steel. It contained a blue garbage can, green water bucket, broom, and mop. It was being pushed by an old woman with a wrinkled face and bent figure.
Hearing the officer wake up, the old woman was startled and held her chest in fear.
"I clean in the hospital. Every morning I come to clean. If I can't finish cleaning this floor before seven, the hospital will fire me," said the old woman quickly to the officers.
She looked at Saul's room and said, "I heard that there's a murderer in there. I'm afraid to go in. If you say that this room doesn't need to be cleaned, I can get out of doing it. But you need to go to the hospital's management office to help me tell them. This way my boss won't deduct it from my salary."
The officers looked at each other. If they left their post and went to the office, they would have to go around in a big circle through the halls. They didn't want to leave the room that they were guarding.
"Well, Grandma, you can go in and clean it. Don't worry, the man is still unconscious and handcuffed. It's impossible for him to hurt you. So, go ahead," said one of the officers.
"Okay," she sighed. She pushed the cleaning cart into Saul's room. The officers leaned back into their chairs again and began to snooze.