"I'm Bill Hughes from the New York Regional Interrogation Unit," the chief said, stepping in personally, as Jack's only request was to meet with a senior officer. "Listen, Jack, let my people out for medical treatment first, and I promise we'll negotiate."
"Medical treatment?" Jack shook his head, leaning against the door of the interrogation room. He opened the small observation window on the door, revealing the slumped officers inside. "Take a look yourself. No one's life is in danger. All I want is an answer: what are you going to do about police brutality and falsified confessions?"
Bill took a glance at the scene through the window and then turned to his deputy, Daniels, frowning. "What's this about falsified confessions?"
Daniels sighed, lowered his voice, and explained the entire situation.
"Damn it!" Bill cursed in frustration. "How could you let something like that fall into his hands?"
"We didn't think he'd be able to break out of the handcuffs like a trained operative," Daniels replied helplessly. "We were so stunned at the time that we just instinctively jumped on him."
"And now your uniforms are shredded like rags." Bill shook his head and returned to the door, attempting once again to mediate. "Jack, we will handle this fairly. Please trust the system."
"Trust?" Jack sneered. "Where's justice? Where are human rights?"
Damn it! Bill's patience was running thin. "Don't push your luck, kid!"
"Push my luck?" Jack stared coldly at him. "I'm not asking for much. I just want an explanation."
Bill gritted his teeth and muttered to Daniels, "Can we contact his family?"
"We have his phone, but the only meaningful contact is labeled 'Supervisor,'" Daniels said, handing over the confiscated, blood-stained phone. "Could be a parent or his boss."
"Fine, call it." Bill nodded.
Daniels dialed the number and handed the phone to Bill. After a few rings, a calm, feminine voice answered. "Hello?"
"Hello." Bill began cautiously. "Are you Jack's superior, or…?"
"Jack?" The woman's voice carried a hint of confusion. "Did something happen to him, or did he make something happen?"
Listen to that tone! The officers monitoring the call exchanged furious glances.
"I'm Bill Hughes from the New York Police Department's Interrogation Unit," Bill said seriously. "Jack has been detained for involvement in a fight. More importantly, he resisted arrest, injured several officers, and is now holding hostages in defiance of the government."
But to his surprise, the woman on the other end remained unbothered, her tone still indifferent. "Oh, I see. I'll reprimand him later and make sure he covers the medical expenses and apologizes. Will that suffice?"
What? Bill blinked in disbelief, then asked, "And who exactly are you to him?"
"I'm his supervisor, Lillian," the woman replied, sounding as if she were stifling a yawn. "Homeland Security. Just transfer the case to us. Federal agents will handle it tomorrow."
"Homeland Security?" Bill felt a chill run down his spine. "Jack is a federal agent?"
"Yes, he's one of my operatives," she replied, now sounding slightly impatient. "This isn't your jurisdiction. Pass the case to the Feds."
Bill hung up the phone and immediately erupted into a string of expletives. "Who the hell nabbed a Homeland Security agent without telling me?!" He was so furious he nearly threw the phone. "These people, who care the least about human rights, have the audacity to preach about them! Damn it all!"
"Chief, we found something at his residence." A few minutes later, one of the officers who had been sent to search Jack's home called in, his voice brimming with excitement.
"What is it?"
"His Homeland Security credentials and federal investigative badge!"
Bill nearly dropped the phone. "We're screwed. This is a major problem."
In reality, the U.S. federal system does not have an agency officially named the "National Security Bureau." The term is a colloquialism often used to refer to local branches, while the Department of Homeland Security is the nation's highest public intelligence authority.
"Chief Jack, here's the situation," Bill relayed the details to his superior over the phone, then cautiously added, "What do we do?"
"Do? There's no 'do!'" Despite the name similarities, Homeland Security and local police departments were far from being close allies. If this escalated to accusations of police misconduct and fabricated evidence, the NYPD would be in a world of trouble.
Even though rumors suggested Homeland Security's methods were just as harsh, the chief decided to take a conciliatory approach. He issued an emergency directive: "Do whatever it takes to keep him calm. As long as he walks out with the evidence and doesn't press charges, you've done your job!"
Bill returned to the interrogation room door. "Mr. Jack?"
Jack sneered. "Don't. I'm just a class enemy. 'Confess and you'll be forgiven; resist and you'll be punished' suits me better."
"That's enough!" The chief reluctantly patted the door. "Come on out. Your supervisor has already requested to transfer the case."
"Transfer?" Jack, unfamiliar with the procedure, frowned. "Transfer to where?"
"It's true." The chief, mistaking Jack's tone for smugness, responded with thinly veiled impatience. "We've confirmed that it was a group of thugs causing trouble, and you were only acting in self-defense. As for our personnel's inappropriate behavior during the interrogation, on their behalf..." He sighed heavily. "I sincerely apologize. Federal inspectors are already on their way."
"I only know that my friends and I have been labeled as part of a thug group," Jack said, raising the transcript in his hand. "They're probably at a hospital nearby, right?"
"Nonsense!" The chief shot an angry glare at one of the older officers. "Have you forgotten that our duty is to prioritize the people's interests? Cancel this nonsense immediately and release them!"
"It wasn't officially filed," the older officer muttered internally. "There's nothing to cancel..." Out loud, though, he nodded deferentially. "Understood!"
"I don't care who you're trying to protect," Jack said through the small window, his gaze fixed on the chief. "But Ryan and his crew need to be held accountable."
The chief nodded. "By the day after tomorrow, you'll see the results."
Jack turned to a female officer standing nearby, giving her a faint smile. "One last thing: some officers here could really use better professional training and education."
In the hospital, Julie and a heavily bandaged Bell felt as though they were dreaming. At 5 a.m., just as dawn began to break, a group of officers entered their room with unusually polite demeanors. They announced the investigation was over, confirmed their actions were self-defense, and told them they could leave the hospital immediately.
Julie glanced at Emily and Bell, who seemed completely unperturbed, as if they had anticipated everything. She couldn't help but start questioning Jack's background.
But she and Sofia wouldn't get the chance to ask. After saying their goodbyes, Jack and Emily climbed into a shiny new Tesla and left the NYPD precinct.
"What kind of family background does your friend have?" Julie asked, tugging at Bell's sleeve.
Bell shrugged. "I don't know." He glanced at Sofia and Julie. "Really, I don't."
Jack didn't come from a prominent family. The truth was, he was the one with connections. While in the car, he received a call from Lillian.
"Jack? You got out so quickly? Come to the office later."
Jack dropped Emily off at her place, snuck back to his own apartment, took a shower, changed clothes, and disposed of his bloodied outfit. Feeling refreshed, he headed to the Homeland Security office.
"Captain! Jack reporting for duty!" he announced cheerfully.
"Cut the crap. Sit down." Lillian, rarely seen in her formal uniform, was seated behind her desk. She gestured with her chin toward a chair opposite her, her expression stern. "I have some questions for you."
Jack sat down, suddenly uneasy. "Captain, ask away."
"Who were you fighting last night?" Lillian asked, holding a pen, her posture indicating she intended to take notes. The sight made Jack's heart sink.
Federal agents weren't under local police jurisdiction, but Lillian could certainly interrogate him. Not daring to withhold anything, Jack recounted the entire incident in painstaking detail.
"So, you were acting in self-defense?" Lillian's expression relaxed slightly. "And did you show them your federal credentials?"
"No!" Jack shook his head vehemently. "I didn't even have them on me. I never revealed my identity."
"Good." Lillian nodded, but her face darkened almost immediately. "However, do you realize you broke protocol?"
Jack froze. "What?"
This couldn't be happening. Despite his best efforts to tread carefully, he was being accused of violating regulations.
Lillian's demeanor turned icy, her tone dropping to a low growl. "You got into a fight, using your status as a federal agent to bypass standard local police procedures. Do you have any idea what kind of offense that is?"
Jack immediately protested. "I never used my status! Not once! They found my credentials at my apartment on their own! And wasn't it because they called you that they released me?"
Lillian's cold smirk made his stomach churn. "I never ordered them to release you. That was their decision."
"Then..." Jack's eyes widened in disbelief. "Then how is this my fault?"
Lillian twirled her pen with an air of practiced elegance. "You can save that argument for the military inspection team. Let me warn you—they excel at 'soul-crushing inquiries.'"
Jack turned pale and shot to his feet. "What? How can this be happening?"
He glared at Lillian, who met his gaze without flinching. After a few tense seconds, she suddenly smiled. "Sit down. From now on, don't get yourself into unnecessary trouble. I was able to smooth this over for you this time, but next time, I might not be able to."
Jack, utterly bewildered, stared at her. "Are you saying I can't even defend myself if someone attacks me?"
"Of course, you can. Just don't flash your credentials while doing it." Lillian removed her uniform hat and set it on the desk, letting out a long sigh. "It creates unnecessary complications. Next time, if you get into a situation, call me first. I'll handle it. But remember—" She leaned forward slightly, her eyes locking onto Jack's. "If you make a big mess, like committing arson or murder, not even I can save you. Those military inspectors are utterly ruthless."
Jack muttered internally, I wasn't planning on going that far...
Lillian, apparently reading his thoughts, gave a faint smile. "Be grateful I'm still cleaning up after you. Now go."
"Clean up what?" Jack asked, clearly irritated by the phrasing.
"Did you think federal agents can get into brawls without being investigated?" Lillian shot him a look. "The local police investigate the incident; the military inspectors investigate you. Now, get into your uniform. The inspectors from the military tribunal will be here at eleven."
"The inspectors?" Jack donned his uniform, returned to his seat, and stared blankly. "Aren't they just military police?"
"Local police handle civilians. Internal affairs handle the police. The military tribunal handles the armed forces, federal agencies, and us. So yes, the inspectors are essentially military police." Lillian sighed. "You just love causing problems, don't you? Let's hope whoever's coming today isn't too harsh."
By 10:50 a.m., two black SUVs bearing military plates pulled into the Homeland Security parking lot. A deputy director greeted the arrivals personally.
Five inspectors stepped out, each wearing pristine uniforms, white helmets, and armbands embroidered with "Inspector." Leading them was a major with a badge signifying the military tribunal. He saluted crisply and handed over his credentials.
"I'm Major John Wilson from the Domestic Security Inspection Division under the Military Tribunal. I'm here to investigate a case involving Agent Jack.