London Metropolitan Police Headquarters, 4 Whitehall Street, Westminster, London.

Colonel Charles Rowan, the head of the Greater London Metropolitan Police, leaned back in his leather chair, his right hand pressed against the desk, and under the palm of his hand were several letters and some of the archival documents that had just been retrieved from the archives.

Sitting across from his large desk was Superintendent Taylor Clemens, sweaty but still calm.

Director Rowan picked up the pipe in front of the desk and put it in his mouth, lit it and took a few puffs, and the smoke instantly obscured his face clearly.

All you could hear in the office was Director Rowan's spotless and terrifying voice: "Clemens." ”

"Yes, sir!"

"Go and open the window for me."

Clemens stood up at this, and then walked to the window with a steady step, and he stretched out his hand to open the window when he heard a whistling wind behind him.

He heard a thud, and a throwing knife stuck impartially into the wall beside him.

Clemens paused slightly, but he didn't look back, but opened the window, and then stood upright by it.

Behind him, the voice of Director Rowan tapping the table with his fingers came: "Do you need me to introduce to you, what are these things on my desk?" ”

Clemens was silent, in fact, he had already sensed that something was wrong.

But people, before the bad thing is officially confirmed, there will always be some unrealistic hopes in their hearts.

Director Rowan pushed away his chair and slowly got up from his chair.

"Don't speak? If you don't speak, do you think I'll be when you don't know?

To tell you the truth, on my left is the report letter sent by Fred to Scotland Yard and the relevant evidence of your corruption for more than half a year.

To my right are the formal protests of the Huskison MPs to the Metropolitan Police of Greater London, as well as the internal documents of Sir Peel calling for serious investigation into malfeasance. ”

Director Rowan walked slowly behind Clemens, he raised his arm on his subordinate's shoulder, and said, "Tell me, if you are in my position, what do you think I should do with these things after I receive them?" ”

Clemens' throat twitched slightly, and he replied aloud: "Report! Handled according to internal regulations! ”

"Internal regulations?" Director Luo Wan leaned against the wall with his hands folded: "Are you talking about the regulations written on the duty manual, or the rules that we have agreed on?" ”

Director Rowan's eagle-sharp eyes stared at Clemens, and he saw a bead of sweat on Clemens' sideburns sliding down his cheek.

Director Luo Wan's eyes widened little by little, and he asked word by word: "You, no, know, Dao?" You don't know what to do, and you dare to do such a thing? ”

Clemens stood straight, like a marble statue, but he still didn't answer.

Director Rowan looked at him like this, and he didn't reprimand much. With a thrust of his back, he got up from the side of the wall and spoke.

"I'll give you two options now. First, now, immediately, jump off here! If you don't fall to your death after jumping, bite my tongue and kill yourself. I swear by honor that your family will receive a pension. ”

Director Rowan raised his arm to look at his watch and patted Clemens on the shoulder.

"I'll give you a minute to think about it."

He returned to his desk and sat down, pulled one out of the thick pile of papers and began to read, working as he normally would.

It seemed that in his eyes, there was no Clemens here, and the man standing by the window was nothing more than a ball of air.

Director Rowan finished reading the special document from the Ministry of Internal Affairs and looked up at the title again.

Consultation on the proposed promotion of Superintendent Arthur Hastings, Superintendent of Greenwich Police District, East London Metropolitan Police Force, to Superintendent of East London Region, Metropolitan Police Force

Director Rowan exhaled softly, he looked up at Clemens, who was standing motionless by the window, snorted lightly in his nose, and then quite skillfully picked up the quill inserted in the inkwell, and wrote a line of text under the document.

— Charles Rowan, Colonel, Army of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, Acting Director of the Greater London Metropolitan Police and Inspector General of the London Metropolitan Police, seconded the motion.

After signing the letter, Director Rowan threw the quill pen on the table, then crossed his hands on his knees, and leaned back in his chair and said coldly.

"Looks like you're trying to deal with it internally? Okay, since you choose that, that's fine. In the next two days, I will pack up the returned stolen goods and money, and I will send someone to take it back to the bureau, and this is the end of Fred's matter, and no one will mention it again.

Also, for the sake of Mr. Heskison, and for the sake of the Home Office, and for the reputation of Scotland Yard, I will see your letter of resignation on my desk in the office early tomorrow morning, for our superintendent's position has never been rich. ”

Clemens turned around and saluted Director Rowan.

When Director Rowan saw this, the corners of his mouth suddenly twitched, and he suddenly burst out, picked up the white porcelain teacup in his hand and smashed it into Clemens's face.

"Get out of here, idiot!"

A trail of blood hung from the corner of Clemens' face, and the shattered porcelain scraped open the corners of his eyes, but it didn't change his expression.

He stood up and shouted, "Goodbye, sir! ”

He walked out of the office with heavy steps, only to hear a click, and the office door was gently closed by him.

Director Rowan looked at the door, his face was angry: "it! The whole fucking fool out of the Guards Cavalry Regiment! ”

……

Meanwhile, in the police station of Greenwich Police District.

In the dreary confinement room, Sheriff Jones stared blankly at the dark roof.

Since arriving in London, his mind has never been more tranquil.

Quietly, there is no flattering flattery from street vendors, and there is no need to whisper courtesy in front of your superiors.

Even if he yelled, no one would respond.

It's like it's cut off from the human world.

Alone, without companions, and without having to play against enemies.

It was dark and there was no light to see, but being here made Jones feel at ease.

Suddenly, he heard a ticking sound, and Jones pressed his ear lightly against the cold wall tiles.

He listened quietly for a while, and suddenly a smile appeared on his face, and it was raining in London.

Just like the day he and his wife first arrived in London, it rained again.

On that day, he and his wife could not even afford an umbrella, nor could they rent a suitable house, so they were reluctant to spend money on a hotel, so they had to spend the night in a bridge cave under London Bridge.

He remembered that night, there were a lot of mosquitoes under the bridge, and he had to keep an eye out for thieves and homeless people lurking in the dark.

So, that night, he didn't sleep very well.

However, his wife and children slept peacefully.

Thinking of this, Jones felt as if his heart was being pounded by someone, and he remembered what had happened next.

By chance, he joined Scotland Yard, patrolled day and night on the front line, and then was spotted by Superintendent Clemens and transferred to the headquarters as his personal assistant.

In the past six months or so, he has come into contact with many people and dealt with a lot of things.

He knew that many things were not good, and he could deceive his wife, but he could not deceive his conscience.

Clemens wasn't a good thing, of course he knew it, but he had to rely on this big man with no conscience to survive.

For the first time in his life, Jones prayed for Clemens in his heart, even if he didn't believe that God would heed the blessings he had made for the wicked.

As Jones knelt on the ground and muttered a prayer, a second voice rang in his ears besides the sound of rain.

It sounded like the sound of water-stained riding boots on the floor.

The speed of the march is not too fast, nor too slow, so I can't hear the mood of the owner of the riding boots at this time.

The door of the confinement chamber was opened with a hula, and in front of the light was a majestic and broad figure.

Jones couldn't help but raise his hand to cover his eyes, and after getting used to the darkness, he couldn't stand such a strong light.

He couldn't see the face of the person who came, only the red dots that flickered on the corners of his mouth.

As a white mist rose, Jones's ears rang with a voice he never wanted to hear.

"Most of the police officers at Scotland Yard, including me, were destined to hell. Jones, even if you want to go to heaven on your own, but you are praying to God now, is it a little too late? ”

(End of chapter)