93: Chapter 93 Miller's Doubt and Compromise

At noon the next day, the sky over Brooklyn was gloomy, looking as if it were about to rain.

Inside the OCCB (Organized Crime Control Bureau) office, the stale, musty smell seemed even stronger.

Sergeant Miller sat behind his desk, holding a case closure report that had just been printed out.

His brow was furrowed like a piece of dried tangerine peel, and he didn't even notice that the cigarette in his hand had burned down to the filter.

The report made it very clear: Detective Second Grade Robert Chen raided 404 West Street in Sunset Park last night, busting an illegal underground casino and shooting four armed thugs to death.

Among them was "Dreadlocks" Pedro, a local minor boss of the 18th Street Gang, with two kilograms of heroin and some cash seized.

There were no police casualties at the scene.

Not even a single police shell casing was left behind—except for the ones inside the dead men's heads.

"Execution-style enforcement," Miller said, throwing the cigarette butt into the overflowing ashtray, his voice low as if squeezed from his chest.

Chen Mo sat across from him, unhurriedly eating a Subway sandwich.

He had already changed out of his dirty clothes and was wearing his elegant suit again, though this time he wasn't wearing a tie, and his shirt collar was open, giving him a somewhat casual look.

"That was self-defense, Sergeant," Chen Mo said, swallowing a mouthful of tuna and picking up a napkin to wipe his mouth.

"They had AK-47s and grenades. If I hadn't shot first, I'd be the one lying in the morgue right now."

"Four people, all headshots," Miller said, staring into Chen Mo's eyes, his fingers tapping unconsciously on the desk.

"And according to the medical examiner's preliminary assessment, the shooting distance was within five meters for all of them. You're telling me that's self-defense?"

"Maybe my marksmanship is just that good?" Chen Mo smiled.

He pulled the gold police badge from his pocket and spun it between his fingers. "Or maybe, God is on the side of justice."

"Cut the crap with me!" Miller slammed his hand on the desk, making the coffee cup next to him jump.

"Do you know how Internal Affairs will investigate if this report is submitted? They will strip you down to your underwear. This isn't law enforcement, it's a massacre!"

Instead of being intimidated, Chen Mo leaned forward and lowered his voice.

"Sergeant, the 18th Street Gang has been entrenched in Sunset Park for three years. The previous two detectives couldn't even get close to them, and got their legs broken instead."

"Now that the cancer has been cut out, the residents on that street can at least sleep soundly. Isn't that what we're supposed to do?"

Miller fell silent.

He looked at the young man in front of him, whose eyes still held that unsettling calmness.

That was the problem.

Miller was an old-school cop.

He believed in the law, he believed in procedure. Although he sometimes had to do some dirty work, he had a line he wouldn't cross.

But Chen Mo... this guy was like an emotionless machine, or perhaps something even more terrifying.

"What about the money?" Miller asked suddenly. "The report says five thousand dollars was seized, but I know that bastard Pedro couldn't have had only that much."

"Maybe the gamblers snatched it in the chaos," Chen Mo said without changing his expression.

"The scene was too chaotic, Sergeant. You know how those places are—even the rats would steal things."

Miller stared intently at Chen Mo, as if trying to catch even a single flaw on his face.

Just then, the red telephone on the desk rang.

It was Chief Sullivan's direct line.

Miller picked up the phone, listened for a few moments, and his expression grew increasingly grim.

In the end, he only said, "Understood, sir," and hung up heavily.

The office fell into a dead silence.

"What did the higher-ups say?" Chen Mo asked, knowing full well the answer.

Miller took a deep breath, as if swallowing down all his anger.

"The Mayor's Office called. They are... highly satisfied with this operation."

Miller grit his teeth, spitting out each word, "You are the star of this week's press conference, to commend you for your... bravery in fighting crime."

Chen Mo smiled, a genuine smile this time.

He knew Ava's PR money hadn't been spent in vain.

In New York, justice could sometimes be bought with just a check.

"It seems God really is on my side." Chen Mo stood up and adjusted his collar.

"Listen, Robert," Miller said, suddenly standing up and grabbing Chen Mo's collar across the desk, pulling him close.

His stubble-covered old face was almost pressed against Chen Mo's nose.

"I don't care who is backing you, and I don't care what methods you used."

"But on my turf, if you cross that line... if I find out you've become trash just like them, I will personally blow you away, even if it costs me my badge."

Miller's eyes held a ferocity like that of an old wolf.

Looking at these cloudy yet resolute eyes, Chen Mo actually felt a hint of respect rise in his heart.

Although the old man was stubborn, he was at least a real cop.

"Don't worry, Sergeant." Chen Mo gently brushed Miller's hand away. "I know my limits. Just because I clean up trash doesn't mean I want to become trash."

He turned to walk toward the door, but stopped halfway.

"By the way, the gambler whose leg I broke mentioned something. The source of that shipment of drugs isn't in Brooklyn."

Miller frowned. "Where?"

"A cold storage facility in Queens. I want to apply for a cross-precinct joint investigation."

Miller stared at him for a few seconds, then waved his hand in irritation.

"Get lost, and don't die over there."

Chen Mo walked out of the office, the smile instantly vanishing from his lips.

Miller was a good cop, but in this day and age, good cops usually don't live long.

To survive in this muddy swamp, having a sense of justice alone was useless.

You needed to be worse than the bad guys, and more brutal than the devils.

He pulled out his phone and sent an encrypted text message.

[Get ready to work. Target: Queens, meat freezing plant.]