My Beauty Collection: Starting from Banshee Town

Chapter 386 Informant
"Adles Dias."

Antonio found the photo of the octopus from the database and printed it out. Irene and Horstead confirmed that it happened to be the one who opened the door for them.

He pulled a whiteboard and placed it in front of the sheriff's office.

Posting the photo on the whiteboard, Antonio wrote his name with a marker: "Dual Colombian and American Citizenship."

"Nickname: Eight Claws."

"Julie and I approached him five years ago when he was a street thug trying to figure out his way up."

"That's right." Hank sat down on a table:

"I remember his name, did he kill two people?"

"Yes."

Julie took over: "Two key witnesses were killed."

"Did he get into the habit of beheading at that time?" Irene opened a pack of snacks, stuffed potato chips into her mouth, and crunched.

Ethan noticed Hank looking at him, and turned his pen calmly.

"No."

Julie shook her head: "It should be a new method he learned in Columbia later."

"What kind of player is he?"

Horstead grabbed a handful of potato chips from the bag in Erin's hand: "Which neighborhoods does he hang out in? Where can we find him?"

"This is where the problem lies."

Antonio put on a pen and tapped on the photo of the octopus: "He doesn't belong to any gang, and few people know his specific situation."

"He's only in it for money and violence."

Ethan leaned back in his chair, resting his feet on the table, staring at the person on the whiteboard.

From the appearance, this octopus looks a bit like Pablo, the legendary Colombian lord.

Although Ethan has not been here for a long time, he also knows that this kind of talent without a fixed territory is the most difficult to deal with.

"Now I know the name." Hank clapped his hands:
"Everyone, get moving and contact your informants. I suspect it's a competition for the exclusive product market. There will definitely be news on the road."

After several other people got busy, Hank walked to Ethan's desk:

"Come on, let's go out for a walk."

The Cadillac SUV is speeding through the streets of Chicago.

"Basically, we rely on informants a lot of the time." Hank said as he turned the steering wheel:
"These people can be prostitutes, drug addicts or even people on the road."

"Through a certain exchange of benefits, we can obtain effective intelligence faster, and the bureau has a sum of money to buy informants every year."

"Of course, it doesn't have to be money. Sometimes favors are also useful."

"We are going to meet one of my informants now. He is the leader of a local black gang. He should be helpful."

With the driving of vehicles, the neighborhood environment gradually deteriorated.

Rubbish is everywhere on the ground and street vendors are everywhere.

Soon came under a viaduct, and the subway roared past from above, which was quite beautiful.

It is a bit difficult to say that it is a subway.

The Chicago subway is very distinctive, and most of it travels on the ground and half-empty viaducts.

On the contrary, there are relatively few road sections that actually travel underground.

On some sections of the road, trains even run between high-rise buildings, and commuters can sometimes look up and see the subway rumbling past.

"Let me do the talking."

Hank stopped the car and pulled out the key: "You just need to watch."

Beside the tall bridge pillars, there are a few old sofas, and a few old men wearing flower headscarves are sitting on the sofas talking and laughing.

A plastic basket was upside down in the middle of the sofa, on which were several bottles of beer and a radio.

On the radio, gangster music blared.

"Hey."

Hank swaggered over and said hello: "How are you doing, Morris."

Seeing someone approaching, those gang members who were wearing uniform patterned scarves under their peaked caps first touched their backs, and when they saw someone approaching, they quickly put their hands down.

"Let me guess."

A big man in a black leather jacket stood up, and a dull voice sounded: "Rafe is dead?"

Hank smiled and nodded slightly.

"A person who doesn't know how much he weighs, and who wants to be the boss."

The big black man named Morris put one hand in his trouser pocket and said mockingly: "These idiots want to run before they learn to walk."

"Which separatist group does he cooperate with?" Hank kept looking around.

"Who is this guy?"

Morris pointed to Ethan and asked warily, "I've never seen him before."

"It has nothing to do with you."

Hank raised his chin: "You just need to answer my question."

Morris glanced at Ethan, his eyes flickering. After hesitating for a while, he said, "People from Columbia."

Hank asked: "Have you ever heard of the name Octopus?"

"No."

"Who among Rafe's men knows the situation better?"

"There's a guy who does distribution for Rafe, a white guy named Cooper, maybe he knows something?"

"Surname or first name, tell me his name."

Morris spread his hands and said with a smile, "Please, I can't take all your fun, you always have a little work to do?"

"Do I look like I'm joking with you now?"

Hank looked down and said coldly: "Three teenagers overdosed and died. These people have gone too far. I need to cut this line."

"Eric Cooper."

Morris shook his head and said the name helplessly.

"Thank you."

Hank bumped fists with him, turned around and was about to leave.

"Wait a minute." Morris stopped Hank, then glanced at Ethan.

Hank pressed the car key, and the Cadillac lights flashed:
"Go back to the car and wait for me, contact Antonio and let him find the address of Eric Cooper."

Glancing at the two of them, Ethan turned and walked towards the car.

He had already added the contact information of his colleagues in the group, and Ethan immediately called Antonio when he got in the Cadillac.

After he finished the phone call, Hank's affairs were also finished.

After leaving the viaduct and finding a quiet place, Hank stopped the car again and lit a cigarette.

After tapping the steering wheel, he said:
"It's not that I didn't trust you just now. I didn't allow you to participate in some things, just to avoid trouble for you."

"Phillips told me you own a stake in an Aboriginal casino, right?"

"Yes."

I don't know why he suddenly mentioned this, but this is an aboveboard business, and he is not afraid of being investigated.

"I know you have money."

Hank took out a bundle of money rolled into a cylinder from his pocket: "But you are one of your own, this is the one I gave you."

"That Morris accepted my protection just now, and I will give him some convenience."

"In addition to Morris, there are other people who pay me some fees every week."

Hank untied the rubber band that tied the money, counted a wad of money and handed it to Ethan:

"Here is five points. You are the same as Olinsky. Many people are sharing the money. I have ten points. Don't think it is too little."

(End of this chapter)