(The Chinese word "见鬼" can mean a cathartic tone of denial as "damn it" in English, or it can mean seeing a ghost or devil. Generally speaking, Chinese people tend to use it to mean the former. However, the protagonist of the story I have recorded used it for more than just catharsis. And this time, he seems to have actually met ghost and devil.)
In the police holding cell, Martin looked at the ceiling and was full of thoughts. He wondered how he could get out of the dark place like this. To be here now is unhelpful, uninteresting, and against the course of his career.
In Martin's line of work, it is most taboo to have anything to do with the police -- for which he secretly grumbled. In fact, Mr Martin prides himself on being the best in his business. He has done his job well and cleanly for years. At the end of each successful task, he enjoys his own leisure: elegant and necessarily quiet places, such as tasting brandy or tequila cocktails in some of the finest pubs in Somerset ,enjoying the tune of something that could be called a classic. and lights a cigarette. He was not addicted to cigarettes, but at the moment, he would smoke a small Geston cigarette, even if he could have an unaesthetic and vulgar cigar. Now he was concerned with the dissipation of his leisure time through the curling smoke.
However, now that he has lost his freedom of movement, he has to stay in such a no-shit place. Reflecting on the experience of those hours, Martin could say that he had been grotesquely embarrassed.
Policeman: "Why are you in a street fight?" Martin: "A fight?"
Policeman: "Yes, you and that middle-aged man, in the street, and beat each other up." Martin: "I didn't fight. I acted in self-defense."
Policeman: "How did you defend yourself? You knocked people out."
Martin was silent, wondering how he could put off the dutiful policeman. After a while he began to answer, "Well, that's right, sir. This man is involved in slander against me. He said I had knock down and injured his father. I didn't do that. I was just helping the old man -- I saw an old man fall to the ground. But before that, I had never even touched him. But this so-called son of his, he would not let me go, and said that I wanted to run away. I wondered, if this act of concern on my part was physical, did his pulling on me also constitute physical attack?"
The policeman thought for a moment. "Is that so? But the old man also said that you hit him while walking. By the way, do you have any witnesses?"
Martin recalled on memory: "I think so. There were a lot of onlookers, and the street wasn't empty."
The policeman scratched his forehead at this point: "There are some problems, you need someone to prove it for you. Did you record a video on your mobile phone?"
Unconsciously, Martin touched his pocket. 'No. I didn't think of it at the time, but do you have cameras there? I remember there were cameras in a lot of places on this side of the street. A look at the cameras will prove I'm telling the truth." The policeman touched his uneven beard and said, "We don't have cameras there... That's a problem. If they sue you, you may need to get a lawyer." Martin is keeping his usual calm, but put on an expression of disbelief and widened his eyes.
"What, lawyer, this is ridiculous! I've done a good deed, and now I'm being accused of it?"
The policeman shook his head thoughtfully and helplessly, "This is really very troublesome, but the situation is obviously not good for you!"
Martin: "Why aren't there any cameras there? Isn't that a problem?"
Policeman: "It's not a place where you have to have cameras. You can't expect everything to be monitored by satellites." With this obvious shirk of responsibility, the policeman cleared his throat again and rubs his temples.
Seeing the policeman, Martin surmised that there might be a little storm going on inside the guy's head at the moment.
Even if the situation seemed more relaxed, Martin's hand, which had been open, was now clenched into a fist -- he realized that he was in real trouble.
It was Martin's style to keep calm at all times. Over the course of his career, he has relied on that extraordinary composure to pull himself out of danger and accomplish tasks that none of his predecessors could. That calmness that allowed him to survive the sheer brutality of the bullets fired by the murderous psychopaths. That allows him to elude what seem to be the most elaborate traps and still take a life. Mostly these tasks terrify his competitors. He was, after all, a ruthless professional killer, and he had long enjoyed a reputation as one of the best at his craft.
Martin pondered his immediate response:
First, his first goal was to get out of here safely. He knew that in the event of a fight, these guards aim to subdue their opponent as they trained mostly. That makes his lethal skills were almost unbeatable. At the same time, Martin was well aware that their advantage here lay in their numbers. Even after he had escaped, it would be difficult to move freely and undetected in a city which is famous with the top safety in the world in such a garrison, such as cameras everywhere and the crowds of people passing through the streets. He seems to feel a bit out of luck -- the rules of his business require, first and foremost, that professional killers remain hidden at all times. So, even if the mission is not going well, he can walk away without a scratch. Although the crowds may at times be a good cover for his movements, he always feels that they are not reliable. In particular, there may well be someone who stands up as some of the name of justice, particularly, the habit of these citizens of recording the video by phone and upload to Internet will add to the problems of his covert. Even if he could make an exception for wearing a mask -- that would be against his proud sense of professional artistry. Also, he felt that doing so would also encounter certain uncertainties.
The second option was to call the organization's headquarters and ask them to arrange for a lawyer to represent him, or he could find a competent lawyer among his former contacts. Doing so, though, might cost him what he would have otherwise spent on several EDWARD SEXTON suits. However, he does not like this muddled way of doing things. To some extent, it went against his usual stealthy, dictatorial style. And it would make him very visible to the local judiciary. That's a taboo for a killer who must hide his tracks at all times.
He thought of another, more direct, and more effective way -- to pay some money up front to the accuser who had almost landed him in jail this time. Then, in his usual way, he would get the money back again. B: That sounds like a good idea. He thought about the balance of his money, and he reckoned that if he spent 'tens of thousands of dollars', he might be able to settle it.
After a moment's thought, Martin had decided on the third option, and then he closed his
Eyes, and paid no attention to the nagging car thieves beside him. When he first saw their ghostly and embarrassed appearance, he had no intention of saying another word to them -- they were nothing to mention. He was supposed to be on his way out of here soon, and was now waiting to meet the police again the next day, in order to coordinate with the parties as he had planed.
As he closed his eyes, he could not help thinking back to an experience he had three months earlier. Although he did not think he had done a good job, the result was satisfactory.