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    “This is the Golden Port City Police Department dispatch radio. I repeat, this is the Golden Port City Police Department dispatch radio, now announcing the following situation.”

    “Ten minutes ago, the ‘Kodak Club’ in the Starlight District was robbed. The perpetrators were all wearing ski masks, and no facial features can be provided.”

    “They were all wearing grey, factory-style work clothes. They are proceeding from east to west along… street. All patrol vehicles in the city are to mobilize immediately and search for information related to the robbers.”

    “The robbers’ convoy consists of five vehicles, among which…”

    In the city center, two patrol officers listened to the dispatch information on the radio while eating hot dogs and fries.

    For Golden Port, there were only four areas that required night patrols: the City Center, Priliccia District, Starlight District, and the Bay Area.

    The City Center had a large number of high-end shops, office buildings, and the offices of many companies.

    As for the other three districts, they each had their own reasons for needing stable public order.

    To ensure the security of these four districts, the city police department publicly announced that police cars would patrol 24 hours a day without interruption.

    Of course, this was the official line from the police department. In reality, police cars did not actually patrol 24/7, just as they weren’t now.

    The officers on patrol duty had bought a large bag of food from a late-night fast-food restaurant, then found a wide alley to park their car, hiding in the darkness.

    Then they would chat while enjoying their late-night meal.

    If they finished too quickly, they might even choose to take a nap after eating—just for a little while.

    After all, they still had to patrol.

    This situation was very common. No one criticized the officers for not working hard enough. After all, their legal income was only about 40.

    No one would risk their life for 40, and no one would stay up all night for 40.

    Both officers were slightly overweight; the night shift was good for putting on pounds. Listening to the police radio, they couldn’t help but discuss the situation.

    “I remember the Kodak Club is the Kodak Family’s property. Someone actually dares to rob their casino?”

    “It sounds like something that would happen in the last century!”

    The officer driving took small bites of the bread on the sides of his hot dog. He had a habit of eating the parts he disliked first, saving his favorite part for last.

    The bread was his least favorite part. The hot dog sausage, however—he absolutely loved that thing.

    The officer in the passenger seat pursed his lips. “It was probably the Lance Family.”

    His partner turned to look at him. “Why do you say that?”

    The officer in the passenger seat shrugged. “That’s what everyone is saying. They have a feud.”

    The driver didn’t quite agree with this view. “The Five Families have become the Four Families. Maybe it was one of their own people. The Lance Family has risen quickly, but haven’t you noticed?”

    “They don’t just go around starting trouble.”

    He had already nibbled away most of the bread around the sausage, leaving only the sausage itself and the thick sauce on it.

    Next was the moment he had been waiting for.

    He would stuff the entire sausage into his mouth, filling his oral cavity, and then chew with force.

    That way, with every chew, he could feel the wonderful sensation of the sausage being cut and squeezed in his mouth, while the meat juices and sauce mixed together—a flavor delicious enough to make one forget all their troubles.

    Just as he was about to put the sausage in his mouth, his movement suddenly froze. He saw a five-car convoy, closely matching the description on the radio, speed past on the street in front of them.

    His beloved hot dog sausage inadvertently rolled onto his lap. He snapped back to his senses, his hand already on the siren’s control switch.

    But at the same time, his partner’s hand also pressed down on his, and then slowly shook his head.

    The two looked at each other in the darkness, the faint light allowing them to see each other’s eyes.

    Confusion, refusal, warning, understanding, relief, acceptance…

    These complex emotions were expressed without the need for any inadequate words.

    The officer in the passenger seat released his hand. “You dropped your sausage.”

    The officer in the driver’s seat also removed his hand from the siren switch. He looked down at the sausage in his lap. He had once fantasized about having something this thick, this big, this long.

    He was silent for a moment, then picked it up, stuffed it in his mouth, and chewed forcefully.

    “We didn’t do anything wrong. We just don’t want any trouble.”

    What followed was a silence filled only with the sound of chewing.

    After about two minutes, the officer in the driver’s seat swallowed all the food in his mouth and said softly, “Sorry, I almost… got us killed.”

    Two patrol officers, armed only with their service revolvers, facing off against ruthless bandits who dared to rob the Kodak Family…

    Perhaps the moment the siren was sounded, the countdown on their lives would have begun.

    Although the officer in the driver’s seat had a momentary surge of some sense of justice, wanting to give chase, his partner had fortunately saved him, and saved both their families.

    His partner patted his shoulder and shared his onion rings. “It’s okay, we’re partners.”

    “Here, try my honey mustard onion rings.”

    The two quickly became engrossed in their food, seemingly having forgotten that just a short while ago, the wanted convoy had brazenly driven right past them.

    This sort of thing was not an isolated incident. Those assigned to night patrol by the police department were basically marginal figures in their respective precincts.

    They often did the most tiring and dirtiest work for a not-so-high income.

    Some might have a sense of justice, but in the face of death, that sense of justice doesn’t always hold up.

    The convoy returned to the Empire District without any trouble. After getting out of the cars, Lance and the others transferred the stolen money and gold bars, then had someone go destroy the vehicles.

    The five drivers drove the cars directly towards Angel Lake. There was no better place than Angel Lake to destroy evidence and make things disappear.

    No one wanted to touch Angel Lake, because no one could be sure if what they dredged up would be the criminal evidence they were looking for, or oil drums that had already become a huge problem.

    After hiding the money and gold bars, Lance and the others returned to the villa.

    Twenty minutes later, a large number of police cars surrounded Lance’s villa. Hunter had directly called upon his own officers, not those from the Empire District.

    The choice for the new chief of the Empire District precinct had already been made, but he had yet to take office.

    This precinct and the Port District precinct were already completely in Lance’s grasp. Changing the chief couldn’t snatch them back from Lance’s hands, so the new chiefs for these two precincts had not taken up their posts, but were waiting.

    Waiting for Lance to be arrested and sentenced.

    Waiting for the Lance Family to be wiped out in one go, so they could get what they wanted.

    Hunter knew that if he called on the officers from these two precincts, the first thing they would do would be to call Lance and tip him off. So this time, he used his own men.

    A large number of police officers surrounded Lance’s villa. These men were not only carrying handguns but also a good number of rifles.

    They were afraid that if Lance opened fire, they would be at a huge disadvantage with only handguns.

    In fact, for Hunter and the officers here, the best situation right now would be if Lance wasn’t here.

    If he wasn’t here, it would make him more suspicious, which would provide more opportunities and reasons to investigate him.

    Chief Hunter stood by his dedicated police car, holding a megaphone. “Listen up inside! We are the Federal Police. We need your cooperation in the investigation of a robbery…”

    Soon, all the lights in the villa came on, and then, from the wired intercom at the villa’s gate, came Lance’s voice—

    “If you can’t give me an explanation, you’re going to be in a lot of trouble.”

    Hunter breathed a sigh of relief. Being able to communicate at least meant that the conflict wouldn’t escalate rapidly to an unmanageable point.

    “Where were you just now?”

    Lance’s slightly weary voice came through the intercom’s speaker. “I was in my fucking bed, of course. Where the hell did you think I was?”

    Hunter was taken aback by this. In fact, he knew before he came that this trip would be pointless because they had no evidence.

    If Lance were a minor character, then framing him would be simple.

    He had done similar things for the gentlemen of the Bay Area before—framing someone.

    He had drugged an opinionated fool with chemicals, then faked a murder scene, solving both the problem of framing someone and getting rid of a body from the Bay Area.

    Then the unlucky bastard couldn’t defend himself; all the evidence pointed to him killing a girl for money and sex.

    Although some of the evidence was weak, it was pushed through by powerful people. He had a private talk with the framed man.

    If he pleaded guilty, he could ask the judge for a lighter sentence—he’d be out in five or six years.

    If the framed guy insisted on his innocence, he would very likely be hanged.

    In the end, he signed the confession and was sent away for twenty years.

    A plea for leniency?

    A reduced sentence?

    No, such a heinous case had to be punished severely to appease public anger.

    Ultimately, the man died in a prison brawl, and people quickly forgot about him, forgot about the case…

    He was able to do that because the man was just middle-class, an ordinary person in the eyes of the Bay Area.

    He had no capital to resist. But Lance was different. He could resist, and his resistance would be strong.

    So, framing him was out of the question. As long as there was no evidence, even if they took him to the police station, he would be released soon enough.

    However, this had little to do with him. Bandy’s intention was to get him to bring Lance to the police station, for twenty-four hours, or maybe a little more.

    He snapped out of his daze and looked at Lance. “Someone said they saw you outside, driving a modified vehicle and robbing the vault of the Kodak Club.”

    Lance’s impatient voice came through the intercom. “Go tell that to my fucking lawyer!”

    Hunter was unfazed. “We need to take you in for questioning.”

    “Wait for my lawyer!” Lance directly ended the call. Hunter glanced at the faintly visible armed men in the villa and ultimately chose to give up on breaking in.

    The Territory Law had been implemented in the Federation two centuries ago. Its core content was that if someone forcibly entered your private territory without your consent, then to protect your personal safety and property, you had the legal right to use weapons to expel or kill the intruder, and you would not be held responsible.

    The passage of this law was related to the social environment at the time.

    Runaway slaves, slave catchers, fugitives, thieves, bandits, robbers…

    There were too many bad people.

    So the Federation passed this law, making the cost of trespassing extremely high. At the time, it played a very important role in maintaining social order.

    It has been applied to this day, and Likalai State is one of the regions that supports this law.

    According to past cases, even the police could not invade private territory without a search warrant, arrest warrant, or other legal permission, otherwise they could face retaliation.

    If it were an ordinary person, Hunter could guarantee they would never dare to open fire, because an ordinary person couldn’t bear the consequences, even if the law allowed them to do so.

    But the guy in front of him was Lance and the Lance Family. He had a feeling that if he led his men in, gun barrels would stick out from many places and turn him into a human beehive.

    Then, for the first half of the year, people would be discussing whether the Territory Law was appropriate.

    They waited at the gate for about ten minutes before Roben the lawyer drove up.

    The moment Hunter saw Roben, he knew that what came next would be a session of buck-passing.

    Roben entered the villa and saw Lance, who had already changed his clothes. “Mr. Lance, may I know what happened?”

    Lance told him. After hearing Lance’s account, Roben fell silent.

    He knew Lance was bold, and he knew his abilities… were very strong, but he never expected this case to be so big.

    Although Lance claimed that these matters had nothing to do with him and that he had been sleeping in the villa the whole time, Roben’s talent and instincts told him that this was, in fact, Lance’s fucking doing.

    But as a lawyer, his job now was to clear Lance of suspicion—for the sake of the money, and for the sake of the connections.

    He had already heard that Lance’s case in New Golden City involved high-level officials from the Department of Justice. His contact in the department had even specifically asked him about the situation here.

    The better Lance developed, the more beneficial it was for him. He would only support, not refuse.

    After thinking for a moment, he said in a low voice, “No matter who asks you, you must say this, and memorize it forwards and backwards.”

    “They will likely use strategies to question you repeatedly, out of order, when you are fatigued.”

    “Once you answer incorrectly, it could have disastrous consequences.”

    When a person is fatigued and answers the same question too many times, they might let something slip. It’s like constantly telling yourself “1+1=3”.

    When you are physically and mentally exhausted, and people keep asking you various math problems, all of which are familiar and correct, such as “1+2=3”, they might suddenly ask “1+1=?” when your consciousness is beginning to be controlled by your subconscious.

    If you don’t react in time, you might blurt out the answer.

    Lance glanced at Roben. “I think you’re implying something.”

    Roben smiled. “Just a well-intentioned reminder!”

    Soon, after they had discussed how to handle the situation, Lance and Roben, together in Lance’s car, headed to the city police department.

    Being summoned was in line with the Federation’s judicial process. As long as someone insisted that the robber was Lance, the law supported Lance being summoned and questioned.

    Hiding or refusing to be summoned was pointless. In the Federation, the judicial process was the most important core.

    For safety, Lance rode in a bulletproof car, and he was accompanied by many people.

    This was Lance’s first time at the city police department. It looked more solemn and dignified than the other precincts.

    The huge police emblem and the sign “Golden Port City Police Department” gave off an inexplicably serious feeling, along with a slight sense of tension.

    Lance and Roben were led to an interrogation room. Several police officers came in together and began to ask Lance various questions.

    Roben’s job was to find the loopholes in these questions. After the police finished questioning, he would analyze the question and then tell Lance whether he could answer or not, to avoid potential interrogation traps.

    Hunter and Charlie were in another room observing the situation. Hunter, as a semi-expert in interrogation, held no hope for the current situation.

    “If we don’t get rid of that lawyer, we’ll never get the answers we want.”

    Charlie stood to the side, watching quietly. “If you can’t get it, you can’t get it. Do you really expect him to confess in the police station?”

    He shook his head as he spoke. “Anyone might confess, but Lance will absolutely never confess!”

    As he was speaking, an officer knocked on the door. After Hunter said “Come in,” the two turned to look at the officer at the door.

    The officer seemed a bit… uneasy, or some other emotion. He licked his lips. “A lot of people have shown up outside.”

    Charlie frowned. “Are they reporters?”

    “Don’t let them in. Also, have someone watch to see if any of our people are in contact with reporters. It’s best not to release some news yet…”

    The officer interrupted him. “Charlie… sir, it’s not like that. The people who came are from the Lance Family.”

    “There are a lot of them. They’ve already surrounded the entrance to the police station.”

    Charlie and Hunter exchanged a look and immediately went to a place where they could see the street outside.

    Then they both gasped.

    Outside, at least dozens of cars were parked, completely blocking the road in front of the police station. Countless men stood in front of the headlights, creating a very oppressive feeling.

    (End of Chapter)

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