There's a dirty business in every business, and the FBI is notoriously dirty, so it makes perfect sense that there would be some undisclosed criminal consultants.
If you commit a crime before you become an FBI agent, you're a criminal consultant.
If you commit a crime after you become an FBI agent, then you're a real FBI agent.
Of course, that's if you haven't done anything too big, if you've got backing, if you haven't offended someone with more backing.
When there was speculation that there was a suspected fugitive who seemed to be an unclean criminal consultant, it meant that the case, which had never been filed, had come to an end.
The reasoning given by the FBI executives was very strong: while the case of six consecutive deaths was still open, all personnel had to take responsibility for the FBI's name, and everything was based on solving the case, while other minor cases of no importance could be put aside for the time being.
And that was the end of it.
This was the first time an FBI investigator made an impression on Ichijō Mirai.
On Halloween, a night so festive it overshadowed any unpleasantness in the White Stripes.
The second impression was made on Thanksgiving.
Thanksgiving was a time for family reunions, which had nothing to do with Jodie, who calmly went to work as usual when she received a call from the investigator at 2:00 PM.
"Hello, Ms. Jodie," the investigator's voice was lowered, 'I've seen the 'crime consultant' who was at the apartment."
"He's on Fifth Avenue!"
"With, with a wanted man."
"Looks like."
Jodie could hear that the investigator was trying to relay the scene in a calm tone, but wasn't quite able to, so her words stumbled a bit, "Shopping?"
"Uh, it may sound like an April Fool's joke, but I swear, it's absolutely true, the 'crime counselor' was picking out clothes, and the wanted man was following behind, attentively carrying them."
"Actually, I don't quite recognize it," Said the investigator, still in the tone of a whisperer, honestly confessing, "that seems to be the wanted man, it seems to be James."
"-Yeah, that's James the highway robber."
"The asshole who robbed money and randomly killed people, who's been wanted for more than three months, who still has no trace, and who occasionally pops up for roadblocks!"
He was still young, he had just joined the FBI, he hadn't yet learned to camouflage his emotions, his voice was a bit more indignant, the volume was a bit louder, and then immediately lowered it after he reacted, "But, uh, but he... his face wasn't hurt, was it?"
"At least when the victim of the last roadblock robbery described it, his face was unharmed, right?"
"Now, he's got a bit of a head injury, one swollen eye, I don't know if he's blind or just temporarily unable to open it, it's red, purple, blue and black, and there's a cut on the right side of his face, it's a big one, it doesn't look like a dagger cut, it looks like a corner of a table or something."
"But it was stitched up."
"...It seems to be an ordinary needle and thread."
"...I think it's just ordinary needle and thread... He covers his face with a bag, but when he responds to the 'crime counselor', he brings the bag to him and smiles curtly."
The more closely he examined the description, the more the investigator stumbled and became confused, "He seems to have injured his leg and is limping when he walks fast."
"Uh, I don't know how to say this, it's just that, uh, when I first saw it I felt like the guy was running away from us, and now,"
"Now,"
He's silent.
Jodie: "..."
This investigator was the one who participated in the interrogation of the blonde Inuo and took down the statement, and was impressed by Akai Shūichi's contact with him during his work.
After a brief silence, she first corrected, "Not 'crime counselor'."
There is no official certification.
In recent times, Jodie had heard of several fights between her supervisor and people from other departments, both at work and after work, but she hadn't been able to find out a single thing about the 'crime counselor's' origins or temperament.
He only found out that no important criminals have escaped from any prison recently.
He's really tight-lipped.
Sometimes the calls were recorded and listened to, more or less, and Jodie could only keep a tight lid on it, insisting, believe it or not, that the person in question was in no way a criminal consultant.
But, "You're very descriptive, I hear you."
The next words were, "Run!"
If you're describing it in detail, you must have been observing it very closely, right?
The person being observed is not stupid!
The investigator reacted for a moment, realizing the importance of the question and the extent of his own stupidity, and his voice rose sharply, "Yes!"
The next second, his urgent voice morphs, "They're gone?!"
He immediately started the vehicle and said sharply, "I'm on my way..."
Suddenly, there was a knock on the trunk.
There were a few dull knocks, followed by a knock on the rear window and the sound of snow stomping in close proximity.
The voices passed through her cell phone and into Jodie's ears, and she blanched, immediately going to her desk phone to find out where the investigator was today, and muting her own movements so her voice wouldn't carry over.
She heard the sound of knocking on the front window, and a male voice that had no trace of the highway robbery's vigor, but only a scowl and some vague hesitation, "That, hello."
"Can I buy you a cup of coffee?"
It was the voice of James, the roadblock robber and murderer, some time ago, because of the nature of the case, a large portion of the FBI knew his reputation and the general course of the case, some of the FBI officers involved in the investigation have even seen the car video and security footage, and have heard his voice.
Jodie was one of them.
She remembers the arrogant criminal's condescending tone when he was disdaining the FBI, and she hears his now-cowardly, meek voice, "It's Thanksgiving, man. It's snowing like crazy out there. You must be waiting for your wife if you don't go inside and stay in the car, right?"
"Haha, me too, know it all, too hard to serve."
It sounded like he was trying to make a mocking and unspoken complaint.
But it came out stiff.
Without realizing it, James persisted: "It must be cold with all this snow, have a cup of coffee."
Investigator: "..."
Jodie, sullen, quickly explains over the phone the specifics of an FBI investigator being targeted by a criminal, while hearing the investigator take a deep breath and try to pretend he doesn't recognize the criminal's reply.
"I don't think so," He said, "my wife doesn't like me to drink coffee."
He didn't even roll down the window.
It was a wary attitude, but James understood, and he stiffened his face to soften his tone, even to the point of pleading, "I know I look scary, and it's normal for you to be wary, but, uh,"
"But my master thinks you're working really hard and would like to buy you a hot cup of coffee, please."
"All you have to do is open the window a crack and I'll pass it in, or I'll leave it in the front of the car and you can get out and get it when I'm far away?"
"Really, please, 'knock on the trunk, then on the rear window, then on the front window, smile, and gently hand a cup of coffee to a gentleman who's working hard on a snowy Thanksgiving', I'll do it."
He smiled, but it didn't really mean anything like a smile, it was more like a cry, because of the bruises and the big cuts, it meant something horrible.
"I'll die, you won't promise me death, please," James begged, repeating the safe thing to do, "I'll take a sip, leave the coffee in front of the car, and you can get it when I'm far away, okay?"
"Please, help me, I really don't want to die, I don't want to experience anything worse than death."
He moved his body, hesitantly about to fall to his knees, "Sir!"
FBI Investigator: "..."