Sonny Malewski's move may seem unexpected, but it makes sense.

He once killed the son of the NYPD boss with his own hands, or as a police officer, and now that the matter is exposed, he said that he didn't dare to bet on Frank's mercy, and whether he chose or not was actually a dead end.

Even in the best of the best cases, Frank does nothing and just watches him thrown into prison, and what awaits him will be worse than death, knowing which of the prisoners in the prison does not hate the police.

The rest of the policemen who were imprisoned for their crimes might have been able to hide their identities, and maybe five or six out of ten would survive, but Malefski was definitely dead and would have been tortured before he died.

There is no shortage of motivated people anywhere in the world, and there is no need for Frank to speak, there are people who are willing to sell his favor, spread some news to go to prison, and even directly arrange one or two outlaws.

Malewski is a veteran cop for almost 20 years, and he understands this very well, and Frank, who has been in the NYPD for almost 40 years, understands it even better.

"We're all going to die, Sonny, it's just a matter of time." Mr. Director did not mean to dissuade him in the slightest, but just sighed.

"Bang!" Red and white objects splattered out of Malevsky's celestial lid and painted the walls.

"Danny, take off these people's badges." Frank's face twitched slightly, and he didn't even glance at the corpse on the ground, and turned to leave.

——

"Go back and get a good night's sleep, you don't have to go to work tomorrow, I'll make your favorite sweet and sour short ribs." Jack smacked Hannah's pink lips and told her to go back to rest first, and waved goodbye to Jubal who was driving.

He himself walked slowly to a street lamp, where Frank was in his right pocket, and in his left hand a cigar, a little red flickering in the not-so-bright light.

Danny and James were still busy at the club, searching and handcuffing the black cops with ESU.

"Thank you, Jack, and I don't know how to show you how to express my gratitude." Frank didn't look back, speaking in a thick, nasal voice.

"Just borrow a fire." Jack groped his whole body with a cigar in his mouth for a long time, only to find that he had just pulled the lighter on the car.

Frank smiled dumbly, not bothering to hide his red and swollen eyes, turned around and took a match from his pocket and lit his cigar himself.

"If there is ever someone who goes to those poor streets, it must be someone who has a righteous heart, who is neither afraid of being defiled, nor fearless. (Down these mean streets a man must go who is not himself mean, who is neither tarnished nor afraid.)" Jack said as he exhaled a smoke ring.

"Raymond Chandler?" Frank was slightly stunned.

Raymond Chandler is a famous American detective writer in the first half of the last century, and his tough-guy private investigator Philip Marlowe is even more famous in this country than Sherlock Holmes to some extent.

The passage that Jack was reciting at the moment was from his pen, and as someone's reading skyrocketed, he could now quote the occasional passage.

"I think he's probably talking about someone like Joey." Jack sighed, he thought he was a small person and couldn't do this kind of work, but this did not prevent him from respecting those who took the initiative to do undercover work just to fight against evil.

Under the rendering of some literary and artistic works, when the people of the world begin to have a faint contempt and even hostility towards people who are accompanied by words such as lies and betrayal, they ignore the spirit of righteousness they uphold.

Literary and artistic works are increasingly inclined to portray the moral dilemmas they face, as if an undercover agent without inner struggles and without smearing himself in the mud is not enough to shock people.

"I have a feeling that he is right next to me tonight, watching all of this." After Frank finished speaking, he rubbed his face vigorously and returned to his previous style of being a big guy.

——

"What 'Blue Temple' has been completely solved?" Dana Moge, who had just returned from Washington, D.C., was somewhat shocked by the speed with which the NYPD was processed.

To be honest, Jack was also surprised, although he rarely followed up on the judicial process after the case was solved, and at most supplemented a few reports according to the requirements of the local prosecutor, but in terms of Lao Mei's extremely cumbersome and lengthy judicial process, the efficiency of sending everyone to prison in less than two weeks was simply amazing.

"It was said that some private deal was struck that they would serve their sentences in a relatively 'safe' prison, so a plea agreement was quickly signed."

Because the FBI New York office and the big guys on both sides of the NYPD have reached some tacit understanding, this time both Jack and Jubal and Hannah, who later helped, and the two analysts are considered to be working day jobs.

I can't say that there is no credit at all, but at least there will not be too many traces of the FBI in the file of this case, and fortunately, the NYPD is not completely unindicated.

The NYPD Police Union provided non-field agents in the FBI's New York office with a list of parking lots, which was originally an exclusive benefit for NYPD officers.

It's no secret that New Yorkers' driver's license ownership rate of less than 30 percent is inverted from the country's usual impression because of traffic congestion and the availability of parking spaces.

The NYPD's Transportation Authority, which is unable to solve the traffic congestion problem, has been doing its best to secure parking lots for its own police officers' private cars, and the police union will periodically survey the vacant lots and submit applications to the municipality to obtain the right to use the space once it finds a site that can be used.

Now the NYPD has shared these sites with the FBI's New York office, which means that even non-field agents, as long as they are not afraid of traffic jams, can safely and boldly buy themselves a private car at least a place to park.

Well, in fact, the number of people who really benefited may be counted on both hands, but this kind of proactive attitude is really worth affirming.

As a result, Jack can now proudly boast about his game with a well-known best-selling author, Rick Cassel, who, Senior Agent Jack Tawer, single-handedly helped the FBI dramatically improve its relationship with the two local police departments, the largest in the nation (NYPD) and the second largest in the United States (LAPD).

Of course, the real change in the relationship between the two sides is not limited to the surface, and even Jack has no way of knowing how many cooperation intentions have been reached between Frank Reagan and Dana Moger.

But everyone in the operations center can really feel it, for example, in the last few weeks, everyone can see Dana Moge walking into the office every day with a spring breeze on her face.

It's a pity that the good mood of the female boss didn't last long, seeing that Thanksgiving was approaching and the temperature in New York was dropping day by day, Jack and Hannah were called out of the warm bed by a phone call in the early morning and rushed to the war center.

"Out of what. Sneeze, sneeze! Storming into the office with a puff of cold air, Jack's question was stimulated by the temperature difference between the outdoor and indoor temperatures in the 20s and sneezed several times in a row.

"God bless you." Jubal subconsciously said this, but he also looked confused, he also hurried after receiving the call, and he didn't have time to take off his coat.

"Da Da Da" There was a rush of footsteps with high heels hitting the ground, followed by the female boss's long hair was messy and her face was without makeup, and the sharp-eyed Jack could even see the lipstick marks that had not been wiped off after the corners of her mouth flew away, looking very embarrassed.

"Just now, a school bus with 26 schoolchildren on it went missing in West Chestershire!"

(End of chapter)