18: Chapter 18 You want to search me? Search me however you like.

Murphy's hands were heavy, smelling of tobacco and sweat, as he patted down Chen Mo's waist roughly.

"Hands up!"

Murphy roared, his spit flying everywhere.

Like a rabid dog catching the scent of meat, his fingers frantically searched Chen Mo's tactical vest, pants pockets, and even the inside of his thighs.

Chen Mo remained expressionless, his hands raised high, looking like a terrified rookie.

The black capsule flash drive was currently resting quietly inside the system's storage space.

Let alone Murphy searching him by hand—even if he stripped Chen Mo naked and stuffed him into an X-ray machine, he would only see a healthy, explosive physique.

"Damn it... Damn it!"

Murphy's hands moved faster and faster, his actions growing more aggressive, even ripping open the velcro on Chen Mo's bulletproof vest with a sharp tearing sound.

It was completely empty.

Aside from the police-issue glock held as "evidence" and a few empty magazines, Chen Mo was as clean as a blank sheet of paper.

"Sir, what are you looking for?" Chen Mo's voice carried just the right amount of trembling and confusion.

"I've already turned in my service weapon. If you're looking for Marcus's..."

"Shut up!"

Murphy shoved Chen Mo hard, slamming him against a greasy steel pillar.

The veteran detective's chest heaved violently, his eyes bloodshot.

He didn't believe it. That bastard Marcus had said he kept it on him. Now Marcus was dead, and the item was gone.

Either Marcus had lied, or...

Murphy stared intently into Chen Mo's eyes.

The dim lights of the auto repair shop were reflected in those dark pupils, which looked clear, innocent, and held a trace of fear toward an angry superior.

He couldn't spot a single flaw.

"Wooo— Wooo—"

The wail of sirens echoed from the distance. Judging by the sound, at least four or five police cars were closing in from different directions—backup had arrived.

Murphy's expression instantly froze.

He only had these last few dozen seconds.

Without evidence, he couldn't make a move on Chen Mo right now.

Chen Mo had just gunned down Brooklyn's most wanted; he was a hero now.

Murphy took a deep breath, the muscles in his face twitching. The murderous intent receded like the tide, replaced by a stiff, forced display of concern.

He reached out to adjust Chen Mo's crooked collar.

"Good job, kid." Murphy patted Chen Mo's shoulder, hitting him hard enough to bruise.

"I was just... checking to see if you were hurt. After all, that bastard Marcus was dangerous."

"Thank you for your concern, Sir." Chen Mo stood at attention and saluted, his eyes filled with gratitude. "It's all thanks to your usual guidance."

Murphy's mouth twitched, looking as if he had swallowed a fly.

A large group of heavily armed patrol officers rushed into the auto repair shop.

"FBI, nobody move... Oh, it's one of ours."

The leader was another sergeant from the precinct. Seeing the body on the ground and Chen Mo standing there, he let out a whistle.

"My God, is that Marcus? Robert, you kid actually took down Marcus?"

Camera flashes began to blink as forensics team entered.

Chen Mo was surrounded by several colleagues, receiving pats on the back and praise.

He responded with a smile, but his peripheral vision remained locked on Murphy.

Murphy stood in the shadows, lighting a cigarette, his hands shaking constantly.

...

It was already three in the morning by the time they returned to the 127th Precinct.

After finishing his statement and handing over his gun, Chen Mo locked himself inside the most secluded men's restroom on the second floor.

Sitting on the toilet lid, he retrieved the warm, black flash drive from his system space.

This thing had been in Marcus's hands just moments ago, but now it was a nuclear bomb capable of blowing the entire NYPD sky-high.

He pulled out a cheap card reader bought from the black market and plugged it into a secondhand phone without a SIM card.

The screen lit up, and rows of data cascaded down like a waterfall.

It was a ledger.

Every single entry was shocking.

"May 12, Red Hook District dock container release. Recipient: Chief Brian. Amount: $50,000."

"June 4, cleared eyewitnesses of the 4th Block shooting. Executor: Murphy. Recipient: $20,000."

...

The audio files were even more spectacular. Chief Brian's raspy, duck-like voice was exceptionally clear in the recordings.

"Tell Marcus I want another twenty percent of this district's cut, or I'll have the DEA raid his hideout."

Chen Mo stared at the screen, the faint blue light reflecting off his cold, stern face.

This was the price of power.

Human lives, justice, and the law were all clearly priced in this flash drive.

Murphy was finished.

Chief Brian was finished too.

Chen Mo unplugged the flash drive, his fingers gently tracing its rough plastic casing.

He didn't feel the boiling blood of someone about to uphold justice; instead, his heart was as calm as a pool of stagnant water.

Hand it over directly to Internal Affairs? No, the people in Internal Affairs often played golf with Chief Brian.

Hand it over to the media? The owners of those newspapers slept in the same bed as the city councilors.

Chen Mo put away his phone and pushed open the restroom stall door.

The young man in the mirror wore a blood-stained police uniform, fatigue visible in the corners of his eyes, but the corners of his mouth were slightly curled upward.

"If you're going to bite, you have to find the most vicious dog."