Invasion of America

Chapter 24 Part-time Worker

Late at night, the dirty streets seemed to be covered by gauze, fine mist slowly spread out, and the dim street lights emitted a faint light.

Shrouded in fog, a ragged homeless man, carrying a bag on his back, was struggling to rummage through a roadside trash can.

In order to search more conveniently, he used both hands to overturn the entire trash can to the ground.

With a clang, rotten food scraps and discarded cardboard boxes mixed together, emitting a disgusting smell.

In the darkness about ten meters away from the homeless man, Zhou Qingfeng hid in it, his figure blending into the night.

He watched quietly and coldly for more than half an hour, and was only sure of one thing: the homeless man had no intention of picking up anything, he was just wreaking havoc.

Dirty garbage was scattered everywhere, making the already untidy streets even worse.

The streets of this immigrant community are like a chaotic and disorderly little world.

In addition to this crazy tramp, there are all kinds of people moving around, sneaking around like ghosts.

Some people were writing graffiti on the walls along the street; some were screaming like crazy; and some were drunk and urinated without any scruples in any corner.

Even worse, a group of thugs formed a circle in the middle of the street and lit a gasoline barrel. The flames danced wildly in the night wind, illuminating the faces filled with anger.

Soon, the pungent stench of marijuana drifted with the night wind, adding a touch of decadence to this chaotic area.

Zhou Qingfeng was in the middle of it, his hand unconsciously pressed on the holster at his waist, scanning everything vigilantly, and unable to sleep tonight.
-
The neon sign of the car wash had long been off and the owner was asleep.

Only the inconspicuous mobile operating vehicle was left parked in the corner, with the light from inside the vehicle casting a faint light through the gaps.

Inside the car, after a three-hour operation, the broken bones and flesh in Carl's head were cleaned up and the wounds were sutured.

The 'corpse collector' took off his blood-stained gloves and breathed a sigh of relief.

Although Inspector Carl was shot for no reason, the bones in his cheek and jaw were shattered and half of his tongue was rotten.

But fortunately, the bullet passed through and did not cause any particularly serious secondary damage.

"He won't die for now." The 'corpse collector' handed the finishing work to the nurse's wife, stepped out of the operating cart, and said tiredly and indifferently:
"In eight to ten hours, he'll be awake. Our deal is over."

This meant that Zhou Qingfeng had to pick up the unconscious Inspector Carl. A 'corpse collector' wouldn't carry his 'customers' around with him.

After the operation, the inspector's face was as pale as paper, his breathing was weak but steady, and some dark red blood seeped out of the bandage on his head.

The IV drip on his arm slowly dripped medicine, as if silently counting the passage of time.

"Doctor, I need to hire your nurses to continue taking care of the patients." Zhou Qingfeng looked directly at the 'corpse collector'.

The 'Corpse Collector' shook his head in displeasure, his tone cold: "I don't know what kind of trouble you've gotten into, and I'm not interested in knowing. But I can't always take care of your people."

Zhou Qingfeng did not flinch. He knew that without professional medical care, the unconscious Karl could be in danger at any time.

He took a deep breath and said more firmly, "I can pay you, by the day. Name your price."

The corpse collector frowned slightly, as if he was a little hesitant, but he finally shook his head: "That's my wife, I don't want her to take this risk."

"Three thousand dollars a day." Zhou Qingfeng made the offer without hesitation.

"No means no." The 'corpse collector' still shook his head, speaking with impatience.

Zhou Qingfeng turned his gaze behind the 'corpse collector' and continued to increase the offer: "Five thousand dollars a day. You earn high-risk money, why not consider it?"

The 'corpse collector' continued to shake his head, but his wife suddenly spoke up, "Ten thousand dollars a day. I can take care of this wounded man."

Zhou Qingfeng nodded without hesitation and said, "Deal."

The corpse collector was stunned for a moment, then looked back at his wife, then at Zhou Qingfeng, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes: "Boy, are you rich?"

Zhou Qingfeng reached out and patted the corpse collector's shoulder. "Don't worry, I'm not interested in a forty-something woman. I just need her professional skills, and I'm willing to spend money on it."

The 'Corpse Collector' was silent for a moment, and finally said coldly: "Okay, but I warn you, if anything happens to my wife, I will make you pay the price. I know who you are."

Zhou Qingfeng did not respond, but just nodded.

A few minutes later, Inspector Carl and the stretcher were carefully transferred to the back seat of Zhou Qingfeng's dilapidated pickup truck.

The 'corpse collector's' wife got into the car silently, her eyes focused on Karl's vital signs, as if everything around her had nothing to do with her.

Zhou Qingfeng started the pickup truck and the engine made a low roar.

As the car slowly drove away, he rolled down the window and waved to the 'corpse collector': "You can keep in touch with me through 'Gray Shark'."

The 'corpse collector' had a stern face outside the window, and then walked towards his own operating cart.

The pickup truck was on the road, and there was silence in the car. Only the faint breathing of Inspector Carl and the dripping sound of the IV bottle echoed in the air.

After the car drove a few kilometers, the 'corpse collector's' wife broke the silence, her voice cold and direct: "Who did you offend?"

Zhou Qingfeng glanced at her in the rearview mirror and refused calmly: "Don't ask, I don't want to answer."

Extra information could bring unnecessary trouble. He simply gripped the steering wheel tightly, stared straight ahead, and continued driving through the night.

At one o'clock in the morning, the pickup truck finally arrived at the community where Teacher Helen lived.

The streets here are much cleaner than those in the previous immigrant communities.

Although it was quiet all around, the light of the street lamps was exceptionally bright, as if they had carved out a safe passage in the darkness.

Teacher Helen's house is located deep in the community, surrounded by tall trees and is very quiet.

Zhou Qingfeng called a few minutes in advance to remind her that he was coming.

When the pickup truck approached, the graceful high school female teacher was standing on the side of the road with her arms folded, having been waiting for a while.

She was wearing a thin, light-colored coat, the corners of which swayed gently in the night breeze. Her hair was blown messy, making her figure look particularly frail.

The halo of the street lamp shone on her, casting a faint glow, as if her entire body was shrouded in soft tranquility.

Zhou Qingfeng slowly parked the car in front of her, rolled down the window, met her eyes, and said apologetically, "I'm sorry, teacher, for disturbing you so late."

Teacher Helen gently smoothed her wind-blown hair, a gentle smile appeared on the corner of her mouth, and concern was revealed in her eyes: "It's okay, come in. The car can be driven into the garage."

"No, wait a moment." Zhou Qingfeng shook his head, pushed open the car door and walked down.

The garage was too narrow, so he and the 'corpse collector's' wife had to carefully move the stretcher down from the back seat.

When Teacher Helen's eyes fell on the stretcher, her pupils suddenly contracted and her breathing stagnated slightly.

The IV bottle was hanging high, and the medicine dropped drop by drop. Inspector Carl's head was wrapped in a thick bandage, and bloodstains were faintly visible.

She subconsciously covered her mouth and let out a low cry of surprise, only then realizing what kind of storm she had inadvertently gotten herself into.

"Wait, who is he?"

Zhou Qingfeng noticed Helen's uneasiness and quickly walked to the teacher's side, saying in a calm tone, "Teacher, don't worry."

He took out Carl's ID from his pocket and handed it to Helen, "This is Carl Vinson, a senior agent of the FBI.

We've been betrayed by someone on the inside, and we need to find a safe place to hide for now. Believe me, once he wakes up, everything will be resolved. We'll only be here for a day or two at most."

"FBI? Betrayal?" Teacher Helen was confused. She took the ID, her fingers trembling slightly, unable to understand.

She looked down at the photo on the ID, then looked up at Karl, who was unconscious on the stretcher, took a deep breath, and tried to calm herself down.

At this point, no amount of surprise would help. She nodded, her voice still a little shaky, but she had regained her composure.
"Okay, I understand. I will do my best to cooperate. Let's go in through the back door, it's more convenient there." Helen led the way and signaled Zhou Qingfeng and the "corpse collector's" wife to push the stretcher from the front yard to the back yard.

The pickup truck was then driven into the garage, and the moment the door closed, it seemed to temporarily isolate the danger from the outside world.

The four of them entered the room. Teacher Helen was a little at a loss. Her eyes moved back and forth between Zhou Qingfeng and Karl, still a little flustered. "Is there anything else I can do?"

Zhou Qingfeng said calmly, "No need, just stay calm. If possible, give us some drinks and food."

He looked down at his clothes, which were covered in dust and blood, and frowned. "Besides, I need a shower."

"Okay, the toilet is on the first floor and the bathroom is on the second floor. I'll get you some food." Helen trotted to the kitchen.
-
After taking a shower, Zhou Qingfeng finally had a chance to catch his breath.

The warm water washed away his fatigue and tension, but the doubts in his heart still lingered.

The clothes he had taken off were spinning in the washing machine. He changed into clean pajamas and walked out of the bathroom, feeling the oppressive tranquility in the air of the house.

Inspector Carl was placed in a guest room on the first floor. A nurse slept on the floor next to him. Regular waveforms were beating on the screen of a portable electrocardiogram monitor, showing his vital signs.

Teacher Helen took Zhou Qingfeng to the second floor, made his bed, and brought him a simple midnight snack - a few slices of toast and a cup of hot milk.

With obvious worry on her face, she asked softly, "Victor, what on earth is going on with you?"

Zhou Qingfeng took the milk, took a sip, relaxed a little, and shook his head with a wry smile: "I'm not sure either."

Although he didn't tell the truth, his mind was indeed full of questions.

Who sent the gunman? Who did Carl's partner obey? Was Congers really the blackmailer? These questions were like a tangled mess, entangled in his thoughts.

After finally convincing Helen to go get some rest, his cell phone rang.

It was Gray Shark calling. He was boasting, "I asked some friends, and they found out the two gunmen who attacked you at night weren't going after you, but Congers.

White Beach is an important contraband distribution center in Miami and a transit point for smuggling and human trafficking.

It's almost a semi-open secret.

There must be someone in this town working with the gangs.

Even if Congers wasn't involved, he must have known about it. The FBI investigation alerted the people behind him, and they wanted to silence him."

Zhou Qingfeng was silent for a moment, and quickly sorted out the information in his mind: "So there are three situations now.

First, I won the jackpot, which triggered an FBI investigation and implicated Congers, who had a problem with "violent law enforcement."

Congers was taken away by the FBI. His accomplices or gangsters were worried that he would reveal the secrets, so they attacked him on the way and tried to kill him, but he escaped.

The gang sent gunmen to Congers' house, and I ran into them. Then Carl and his partner from the FBI came to investigate and also ran into the gunfight between the gang gunmen and me.

In addition, because of the blackmailer's report, the FBI deputy director also targeted me and wanted to take me back. So he ordered the killing of Carl and framed me.

By the way, the voice of the person who made the ransom call was restored to match Congers's."

Gray Shark hummed a few times on the other end of the phone, indicating that Zhou Qingfeng's speculation was generally correct, and at most some details needed to be corrected.

"Oh, right," Gray Shark suddenly remembered something, "Have you contacted the part-time helper I found for you?"

"No." Zhou Qingfeng shook his head. He indeed had not received any contact from the 'hourly worker'.

Gray Shark sighed in frustration. "That old guy's been dragging his feet. I've already urged him several times. I'm not going to assign him any more work."

Zhou Qingfeng was a little curious: "You found an old guy to be my 'hourly worker'? How old is he?"

Gray Shark explained: "Generally, part-time workers only know how to fight and kill. Like the two gunmen you met, they have no brains and are not suitable for you.

The 'hourly worker' I'm sending you is the kind that charges cheaply, is experienced, and works with skill, and he's right here in Miami.

The only problem is that he is a bit old, already in his seventies."

"He's over seventy and still working as a part-time worker?" Zhou Qingfeng felt that people of this age should be in a wheelchair in a nursing home.

Gray Shark smiled helplessly: "There's nothing we can do. Most people in this industry are just newbies. They make a living by working hard for a few years and then die.

Few people can work for half their lives. I can’t find anyone to replace him now, so I can only contact him again and push for the order.”

"Can this also urge the order?" Zhou Qingfeng couldn't help laughing, but there was bitterness in his laughter.

After hanging up the phone, Zhou Qingfeng had just put the phone down when the ringtone suddenly rang again.

He glanced at the screen and saw an unfamiliar number flashing. His finger paused on the answer button for a second, but finally pressed it.

"Hey?"

"Are you Victor?" There was an old voice on the other end of the phone, hoarse and slow, as if coming from some distant corner.

"It's me." Zhou Qingfeng responded briefly, his brows furrowed even more tightly.

"Great, kid, I finally dialed the right number."

The old man's voice was filled with relief. "My name is Hammer, and I'm your part-time worker. I'm in trouble now. Can you come pick me up?"

"Why?" Zhou Qingfeng asked impatiently.

"I'm lost." The old man said with a helpless and embarrassed tone.

"Lost?" Zhou Qingfeng rubbed his temples, surprised and disappointed, wondering what the reason was.

"I'm sorry, but I can't leave my shelter right now and can't come pick you up. Otherwise, cancel the order. I'll still pay you the fee."

"Oh..." There was silence for a few seconds on the other end of the phone, followed by a heavy sigh. "No, I should be the one to say sorry. I'm indeed too late, so let's forget the fees.

I'm probably getting old, and I've been forgetting things lately. My memory isn't as good as yours, young people. I'm sorry I couldn't help, I'm really sorry."

After hanging up the phone, Zhou Qingfeng threw the phone aside and collapsed on the bed, feeling tired like a tide.

The day was filled with misfortunes that had consumed him so much that he casually pulled the blanket over himself, covered himself with it, closed his eyes, and tried to fall into a deep sleep.

However, there was a knock on the door, breaking the silence of the night.

"Who?" Zhou Qingfeng suddenly opened his eyes, quickly reached under the pillow, and grasped the cold gun handle.

"It's me." Teacher Helen's voice came from outside the door, soft but uneasy, "Victor, can I come in?"

Zhou Qingfeng didn't turn on the light. He held the gun in one hand and put it behind his back. He got up from the bed, took a few steps quietly, and opened the door sideways.

In the darkness, Teacher Helen came in wearing a thin nightgown, wrapped in a fragrant breeze. Her hair was disheveled and she looked helpless.

"Victor, I'm a little scared. Can I sleep with you?" Her voice was so low that it was almost inaudible, as if she was afraid of disturbing something.

"Okay." Zhou Qingfeng didn't refuse and took Helen's hand and walked towards the bed. Just as they were about to lie down, the phone rang again.

Zhou Qingfeng picked up his phone and saw it was the same number. He answered the call with obvious impatience: "Hello?"

"Are you Victor? My name is Hammer, and I'm your 'hourly worker'. I'm in a little trouble now. Can you come and pick me up?"

It was still the same old voice, and the same question.

Zhou Qingfeng couldn't hold his temper anymore, and his irritation instantly erupted. He couldn't help but curse, "Mr. Hourly Worker, do you have Alzheimer's?"

The old voice hesitated again. "Yes, yes. I think so. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

(End of this chapter)