Jack hammered the last nail into the cabinet under the sink and collapsed onto the floor, feeling accomplished with today's progress.
"Next time, remember to aim for the head. Criminals won't just shoot at your legs. I don't have many friends, and I hope all of you will still be around when I retire."
John laughed heartily. "Then I'll have to stay healthy, especially keeping a good relationship with my dentist. I don't want to be unable to chew your delicious stew when I'm in my seventies."
"No worries, I have plenty of recipes suitable for seniors. Even without teeth, you can still enjoy them."
Of course, you have to treat your help well. For lunch, they had a simple pasta dish with Jack's homemade tomato sauce, topped with minced meat and a dash of black pepper, which had John singing its praises.
For dinner, Jack made a chestnut-braised chicken, adding extra sugar to cater to American tastes, along with oyster sauce Chinese broccoli and fragrant rice. John was so full he couldn't stop hiccupping.
After seeing a satisfied John off, Jack was about to start his routine workout when his phone rang. Seeing the unknown number on the screen, his expression turned serious.
"Jack Tavoler, LAPD Wilshire Division patrol officer, just finished your internship after half a year, and your record is impressive. You've killed five criminals in less than six months."
Jack remained composed. The familiar electronic synthesized female voice gave him a good idea of who it was. He calmly responded.
"Thank you for the compliment, but investigating someone's background isn't very polite. Are you a friend of the man in the suit from the other day?"
The other end was silent for a moment, seemingly puzzled by Jack's calm attitude. After about a minute, the synthesized female voice spoke again.
"What do you know?"
"I don't know anything, but like you, I'm very interested in you."
Silence again. The caller seemed uncomfortable with losing control of the conversation. After a long pause, the call was suddenly cut off.
Jack put away his phone and, after some consideration, quickly grabbed a travel bag and left his house, heading for LAX.
Seven hours later, stepping out of Chicago Airport, Jack pulled out a disposable phone purchased at a convenience store before his flight and called a car rental company. Soon, a pre-arranged blue Ford sedan pulled up in front of him.
Taking the keys from the driver, Jack called the Gothic girl Abby Sciuto: "Did you find it? Give me the address."
Before 9 AM, the blue Ford sedan parked at a small shopping center on Wabash Road in Plainfield. Jack got out and found one of the numerous signs hanging on the front of the mall.
[ZZZ Accounting Firm]
With a satisfied smile, he gently knocked on the office door.
"Come in."
Hearing the deep male voice inside, Jack walked into the office. Behind the desk sat a burly white man in a suit and thin-framed black glasses, holding a P14 handgun equipped with an Osprey suppressor, aimed at him.
"Isn't this a bit unfriendly for greeting a friend?"
Jack put down his travel bag from his shoulder, casually dropping it on the floor by the door, and slowly opened his coat to show he was unarmed.
"I just got off a plane. The FAA wouldn't allow a regular LAPD patrol officer to carry a weapon on board."
"Who are you?" The "Batman" was confused by Jack's calm demeanor, his gaze wavering. Not good at dealing with people, he was now at a loss with this strange young officer.
"Jack Tavoler, LAPD Wilshire Division patrol officer. Didn't your friend already investigate me? Mr. Christian Wolff."
Jack sat down in front of the desk, looking directly at the other man until he averted his gaze.
"Your friend called me yesterday, but I prefer face-to-face conversations, so I came to visit."
Christian Wolff put away the P14, awkwardly loosening his blue tie.
"How did you spot me then? I checked the sunlight angle; you couldn't have seen the glint from the scope."
Jack smiled slightly. "Everyone has their secrets, right? Just like you. Think of it as me having an extraordinary sixth sense."
He pulled out five dimes from his pocket, placing them one by one on the desk, heads up, with George Washington's face on them. He arranged them neatly, even turning Washington's head to face Christian. When he placed the last one, it was slightly off.
Christian Wolff was visibly uncomfortable, resisting the urge to correct it, his fists clenched under the table.
"See, I'm not the only one with hacker friends. Now we're even."
Jack adjusted the misaligned coin. "Now, can you tell me what you want from me?"
The accountant's tense nerves relaxed, and his complexion improved.
"We originally thought you were just an ordinary officer, looking to form a mutually beneficial partnership. But now it seems you don't need it."
Jack waved his hand. "No, no, you misunderstand. I am indeed just an ordinary LAPD officer. Can you elaborate on the partnership your friend mentioned?"
Though Christian's face remained expressionless, his eyes showed a hint of doubt. Nonetheless, he began to explain calmly.
"I've done some accounting work for several drug cartels and have some intelligence. So, I need some friends to cooperate with me."
"What kind of cooperation?" Jack was puzzled.
"Taking down those drug lords or sending them to prison."
"Can't you do it yourself? Like you did the other day?"
Christian shook his head. "I can't take down every bad guy who hires me for bookkeeping or laundering money. It would ruin my reputation in the underworld."
Jack laughed. "So, you acted personally because..."
"That Cole tried to secretly take pictures of me, and he was the most foolish gang leader I've ever met."
Alright, although he didn't understand all the details, Jack could sense some personal vendetta from the accountant's tone.
"Why did you think of collaborating with me? Just because my extraordinary sixth sense let me spot you from hundreds of meters away?"
Jack was still puzzled, unable to figure out why the accountant sought him out.
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