Jimmy resumed his patrol. During the day, there were more vehicles on the highway, and he was able to follow the flow of traffic normally. It was easy for him to determine whether the surrounding vehicles were speeding based on his own speed. Since the police car's livery and lights were very conspicuous, other drivers generally drove very cautiously when they saw a police car on the road, absolutely not giving the police car a chance to pull them over.
Jimmy was proceeding normally when he suddenly felt his vehicle lurch forward. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he realized he had been rear-ended.
Jimmy activated his lights and siren, stopped his car at the roadside, and, grinding his teeth, got out to approach the vehicle behind him. After inspecting his own car's rear end, he saw the damage was minor; there was a slight dent but the paint was mostly intact. He estimated that a bit of bodywork and a touch-up at the repair shop would take care of it.
As Jimmy approached the other car, a man was groaning in the seat, clutching his forehead. Jimmy knocked on the car window, "Sir, are you okay?"
Jimmy tugged at the car door, which did not open, "Sir, please open the door," he continued, knocking on the window.
The driver reached out and opened the door, and Jimmy, leaning beside it, said, "Do you need an ambulance?" The driver shook his head. Jimmy continued, "Please show me your driver's license, vehicle registration card, and insurance policy, thank you."
Jimmy returned to the patrol car, contacted the dispatch center with the radio to check the vehicle and driver's information, pulled out a form to record the insurance company and policy number, along with the driver's personal information, then took a camera from the trunk and photographed all around both vehicles.
Jimmy handed back the license and other documents to the driver, "Sir, I have recorded the information. Go through your insurance company's process, you can leave now."
For minor traffic incidents like this, it is often settled privately right away, but this guy was unlucky, rear-ending a police car. Jimmy had no thoughts of privately settling for US dollars. If it was discovered, it would lead to endless trouble.
After dealing with this unfortunate rear-end collision, Jimmy continued patrolling the roads. Such minor damage was routine for a police car; there was no need to head straight to the repair shop. It was better to accumulate a period of damages and handle them all at once.
After driving for a while, Jimmy noticed that something was off with the two cars ahead. The lead car seemed to be driving normally, but the following car was acting strangely, changing lanes and occasionally trailing other cars for a stretch, never overtaking.
Jimmy followed for a few minutes, confident the latter car was tracking the former, then turned on his lights and siren, signaling the cars to pull over.
Jimmy got out and approached, touching the rear taillight of the car as he passed. Through the window, he saw the driver had both hands above the steering wheel, empty, clearly experienced.
"Sir, please show me your driver's license and vehicle registration card." The driver pulled down the sun visor with his left hand to retrieve the vehicle registration card, and from his right trouser pocket, he took out a wallet and handed over his driver's license to Jimmy.
Jimmy only noticed a badge on the wallet but the driver had flipped through it too quickly for him to identify which agency it belonged to.
"Please wait."
With the driver's license in hand, Jimmy returned to the police car to check in with the dispatch center. The identity posed no issue, but the plates showed that the car was registered to a chemical plant, a company vehicle.
"Sir, please step out of the car, open the door, and put your hands on the roof. Do you have any weapons on you?"
Following procedure, Jimmy instructed the driver to get out for a brief search.
"I'm an FBI federal agent; I have a gun on my right side. Please be careful not to touch it. My wallet and credential are in the right pocket. May I take them out?"
"Wait a moment, you are being detained temporarily, hands behind your back." As soon as Jimmy heard the man had a gun, he had drawn his own as a precaution. Safety first; whether the other was truly FBI could be verified later. He handcuffed the agent and took the wallet from the right pocket. Upon opening the wallet, there was an FBI eagle insignia, alongside an ID card.
"I won't touch your gun, but I need to verify your identity with my superiors. Please stand with your back against the rear of the car."
Jimmy obtained the driver's identification and immediately dialed the sheriff's number on his cellphone.
"Sheriff James, I've pulled over a car on the road that was following someone else. The driver claims he is an FBI agent, and I've got his identification. Can you confirm this for me?"
"Hold on, let me record this. Give me the identification number and I'll have someone verify it."
Jimmy reported the identification number and name. A few minutes later, Sheriff James called back.
"Jimmy, the identification checks out fine." "Alright, I'll let him go immediately."
"Sorry, sir, we've verified it, and I'm going to unlock your handcuffs now," Jimmy apologized as he unlocked the handcuffs.
"I noticed you were following the car ahead on the road, and for crime prevention purposes, I had to stop you. And because the car wasn't registered to you personally, that's why I had to check it out. Here's your ID, please keep it safe."
The agent took his ID back without a word, got straight into his car, and drove off.
Jimmy was also helpless, nobody wanted such an embarrassing misunderstanding to happen, but he was just unlucky enough to run into one. He hoped the agent wouldn't hold it against him.
Although the Federation agents and the county police aren't affiliated, there was no need to worry about getting in trouble, interdepartmental cooperation is often unavoidable, and usually, everyone gets along fine, except when it comes to competing for cases.
Unfortunately, there was no dashcam in the car, and since the FBI agent had been following the car in front, it probably wasn't a small-time player. Now that the agent had been delayed by Jimmy for a few minutes, the suspect had probably long since gotten away.
Jimmy went back into town for a meal and a short rest until the afternoon, when he continued his patrol. He had just gotten back onto the highway when he received a notification from the dispatch center.
"Adam28, gunfire at the abandoned factory in Northern Adi Town, town police already in position, switch to channel 8 upon arrival."
"Adam28 received."
Jimmy turned around and sped toward the destination. He had just been to Adi Town a few days ago, and the incident from that day had been left unresolved. Now there was gunfire, he wondered if it was related.
Jimmy arrived in Adi Town and switched his radio to the proper channel. He got out of his car and took out a shotgun from the trunk because he wasn't skilled with rifles, he hadn't requested an M16, and only had the shotgun.
"Plaskey County Police Jimmy on the scene, who is in command?" Jimmy radioed in, putting on his headset and walking towards the abandoned factory with his shotgun.
This was an abandoned lumber factory, the factory walls were still intact, and the courtyard was littered with equipment and scattered wood, which made the visibility poor and provided many potential hiding spots.
"Jimmy, this is Sam. I'm the only one on duty today. A drug runner hit a utility pole and ran in here to hide. I'm still outside the factory keeping watch, preventing him from escaping."
"Sam, did the suspect fire any shots? The dispatch center mentioned gunfire."
"Yep, I fired back, but I didn't hit him. He had a handgun."
"OK, I'm going to search inside." Jimmy slung the shotgun over his back and drew his handgun, carefully moving along the wall inside. The lumber factory wasn't very large, about an acre, which is roughly 6 acres by Chinese standards, or a little over 4,000 square meters. With so many obstructions, Jimmy began a methodical search starting from the main entrance.