The real life of an American police officer: Winning over others with virtue

Chapter 152 Cleaning up
As dusk fell, the setting sun cast its last orange-red rays among the chimneys of the factory district.

The factory district, which should have been deathly silent, was now bustling with noise because of a luncheon meat factory.

Police cars were parked in front of the factory gate. LAPD officers in uniforms weaved through the crowd, escorting a group of handcuffed suspects.

Nearby, several people wearing FBI jackets were pointing and gesturing.

This bustling scene was observed by the people inside the two Toyota Sienna cars that had just arrived and were parked on the outermost edge.

"what should we do?"

The Russian in the back seat looked at Nick in the passenger seat and asked a question.

They just came from another hideout, and whichever hideout it was, it's now basically surrounded by the police.

Nick didn't answer his subordinate in the back seat, but instead looked down at the photo in his hand.

The subject of the photo is McCall, but there are other employees in the picture who are chatting happily with him.

As Nick flipped through the photos of McCall talking to his employees, he couldn't help but sneer.

A guy who would go to such lengths for a complete stranger who is also a prostitute is undoubtedly a complete pushover.

Thinking of this, Nick put away the photos, looked at the chaotic scene outside the car, and calmly said, "Let's go, it's time for us to take the initiative. These people in the photos should be able to lure out that bug hiding in the shadows."

As soon as he finished speaking, the two Toyota Siennas slowly started, turned, and drove away.

Their departure caught the attention of FBI agent Brady, who was directing operations at the luncheon meat plant.

He glanced at it again, frowned slightly, but didn't think much of it.

At this moment, his colleague leaned over and asked curiously, "All the surveillance footage has been wiped clean. That 'good guy' didn't leave any trace. Who do you think he is?"

Bragi looked away, glanced at his colleague, and then looked back at the chaotic scene.

"No matter who this 'good guy' is, it won't stop us from getting to work."

My colleague nodded: "That's true, but what happened here feels like it's related to the Rusty Harbor gang case from before, because it gives me a very familiar feeling."

Bragi's mind flashed back to the two Toyota Siennas that had just left and the Rusty Harbor gang's case.

He walked away, not caring about anything else; he just wanted to do his job.

————————————————————————

"Sir, where to?" the driver asked.

“The intersection of Lincoln Avenue and Broadway,” Eric replied without looking up, pulling out his phone and falling into thought.

"Okay, sir."

After receiving the address, the driver slowly started the car. He glanced at Eric, who was staring at his phone, through the rearview mirror, but didn't dare to say anything and focused on driving.

Eric stared silently at his phone, recalling the information he had previously read about that group of people, a hint of hesitation flashing in his eyes.

His assigned task involved dealing with minor enemies, which wasn't particularly difficult.

McCall, on the other hand, was facing a group of tough guys who were former special forces soldiers and well-trained.

"I wonder if he can handle it." Eric shook his head inwardly and decided to give up the idea of ​​asking.

Since the two have already agreed on their roles and responsibilities, it's best not to interfere with each other to avoid disrupting each other's rhythm.

His mission is complete, and his response has been given.

Now we just need to wait for McCall's signal.

Then we can consider how to completely solve the problem at its source.

Eric put away his phone, stretched his neck, and looked out the window.

Night was slowly falling, and Los Angeles seemed to awaken. Giant billboards lit up one after another, the dazzling LED lights casting the shadows of pedestrians onto the asphalt, sometimes elongating, sometimes shortening. He had to go to work again tomorrow night.

Eric looked out the window at the passing scenery, his mind flashing through his recent work. He twitched his lips and muttered to himself, "A life of toil."

Fortunately, Los Angeles Police Department patrol officers are not on duty every day.

According to the union agreement, they only need to complete either three 12-hour night shifts or four 10-hour day shifts per week.

After completing their shifts for the week, the remaining time is for rest.

The agreement also stipulates that after completing a 12-hour shift, one must rest for 36 hours, and a continuous 10-hour shift cannot exceed 5 days.

Compared to some grueling workplaces, this treatment is indeed much better.

Once his night shift ends tomorrow night, he'll have four days off this week.

That's why he decided to go see Tifa.

"Just think of it as a short vacation to relax," Eric thought to himself.

----------------------

Silent all night.

A hazy, fish-belly white light appeared on the horizon.

Eric, who had endured a day and a night, suddenly opened his eyes and reached for his phone on the bedside table.

There was still no news from McCall. Eric raised an eyebrow, not paying any attention.

Guys like McCall, who can escape from an 'organization' unscathed and live such a carefree life, are as tough as cockroaches; they're not so easy to kill.

Eric glanced at the time: [08:00].

His biological clock, which is as precise as an alarm clock, remains accurate to the second.

Eric casually tossed his phone aside and stretched out a big yawn.

I feel completely refreshed; the fatigue I had accumulated from staying up all day and night yesterday has long since vanished.

"Alright, time to go clean up those lathes in the warehouse." Eric shook his head and walked towards the bathroom next door.

A short while later, when she came out, she had changed out of her pajamas and was wearing casual clothes.

Arriving at the backyard warehouse, Eric looked at the stored lathe equipment and suddenly felt a bit overwhelmed.

These lathes are mostly measured in tons, and even if they can be disassembled, the parts are still extremely heavy.

But he had no choice; he needed a more secluded environment.

“It’s not like there’s no way.” Eric shook his head and began to work.

He had anticipated this day when he was building the basement, so he prepared in advance how to deal with these problems.

Today, the first step is naturally to move the equipment in sections: disassemble the equipment into smaller, lighter parts, transport them down to the basement in batches, and then reassemble them.

The basement stairs are not a problem; either a temporary ramp can be built, or his already prepared heavy stair climber can be used.

In this way, Eric used a segmented transport method, along with a heavy-duty stair-climbing machine, to move all the disassembled control cabinets, motors, brackets, and other parts into the basement one by one.

This busy work lasted from morning until 1 p.m., during which time he did not eat a single bite of food.

But as Eric stood in the spacious basement, looking at the neatly arranged parts, the sense of satisfaction he felt had long since made his hunger disappear without a trace.

He didn't even have time to eat; he immediately started assembling the parts that had been moved down.

Finally, two lathes were erected in the spacious basement, giving it the initial shape of a DIY modification studio.

(End of this chapter)