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

Chapter 351 Ridiculous
Each time Rhys uttered a name, his emotions would surge, clearly because they were all people he knew.

Eric remained silent, waiting for Rhys to calm down. Anyone who suffers an undeserved misfortune, witnesses their brothers die one by one before their eyes, or has their wife and daughters implicated, would experience emotional turmoil.

If it were him, he would have already started killing. Letting the enemy live one more day is just another day of torment for himself.

“I’m sorry, Rhys, although I don’t know their specific plan, why they drugged you, or what their purpose was,” Eric said, breaking the silence.

"But we can't go any further for now."

Rhys shook his head, his voice hoarse and low with exhaustion and lingering fear:
"No, you've helped enough. I'm the one who should apologize. It's my fault for dragging you into this. Eric, I owe you far more than just a life."

Rist paused, then continued, "This morning, when I learned that another assassin had infiltrated, I truly felt fear."

If it weren't for you, Lauren and Jenny, my whole world, including myself, would probably cease to exist.

Eric remained silent for a moment, looking into Reese's eyes, and understood some of Reese's unspoken plans. His judgment of Reese was correct.

"What are you going to do next?"

“They don’t want me to live, and I don’t intend to let them go either,” Rhys said calmly, glancing at the laptop screen and looking at the silent Eric.

"eye for eye!"

He didn't think Eric would stop him; that night at his house, he had already seen Eric's unconventional and lawless nature hidden beneath the surface of rules.

"First I have to get Lauren and Jenny out."

At this point, Rhys made no attempt to hide anything from Eric, even though Eric didn't ask, he muttered to himself.

“It would be dangerous for them to stay here. I have a trustworthy friend in Mexico who has a private security team.”

At this point, Rhys immediately pulled out his phone. While Eric thought he was going to contact his friend in person, he simply swiped the screen to light up, the dim light reflecting on his expressionless face:
"Also, Ben may no longer be here."

Eric's brow furrowed suddenly. The CIA really was swift and ruthless, not delaying even overnight.

But it was this ruthlessness that caused a cold, murderous glint to flash in Eric's eyes.

With a sharp weapon in the body, the murderous heart starts from the beginning.

Being secretly watched by such a person, this insecure man couldn't sleep.

“He left me a message before he left.” Rhys tried his best to keep his voice calm, but his eyes became even more gloomy.

He said that if there was no news of him within twelve hours, it meant that something had happened to him.

Remembering Ben, who could still crack jokes from time to time that night, Eric sighed inwardly and picked up a pen and a piece of paper from the table:

“This is my account, Reese.”

Reese looked at Eric.

"I'm a person who doesn't feel secure," Eric said calmly, sensing Rhys's doubt.

“From the moment they attacked Tifa, they were my enemies. We are now on the same side. You are not fighting alone.”

Reese paused for a moment, looked at the paper Eric handed him, saw the Threema account on it, took the paper, silently wrote it down, then tore it up and threw it directly into his mouth.

Upon seeing this, Eric's lips twitched slightly; Reese was exaggerating a bit.

However, this also shows that Rhys is a cautious person and understands the situation of this account, so he can rest assured.

In addition, Threema's anonymity greatly reduces the likelihood of him being exposed after contact.

After all, Threema doesn't require binding any personal information during registration; it directly generates a random ID, ensuring anonymity.

Moreover, the server is located in Switzerland and is protected by Switzerland's strict privacy laws. Metadata is cleaned up regularly, making it difficult for law enforcement agencies to obtain data at will.

All messages, files, and status messages are end-to-end encrypted by default, making them unreadable by the server.

The core code is open source and undergoes independent security audits, which reduces the possibility of backdoors.

As for the so-called CIA directly hacking into the phone to read the software, that won't work on him, because his account was registered using a prepaid phone and a one-time gift card.

“I’ll introduce you to a friend later; she’s a pilot,” Reese said.

“Okay.” Eric nodded. He didn’t mind getting to know more people with special skills.

Having many friends is definitely beneficial, just like how he knows so many patrol officers.

As soon as he finished speaking, light footsteps echoed down the corridor, approaching from afar.

“Daddy! Eric!” Little Jenny’s clear voice was like a ray of sunshine, instantly dispelling the heavy atmosphere in the room.

She carefully carried two paper bags in both hands and ran in first, her face beaming with excitement at finding delicious food.

Lauren followed behind her, carrying a tray with several cups of coffee, a tired but gentle smile on her face.
But the moment Lauren stepped into the room, she could still feel the tension in the air and the undisguised heaviness on Rhys's face.

Her smile froze almost imperceptibly.

"We're back."

Lauren tried to keep her voice calm as she placed the coffee on the table.

"The hospital cafeteria didn't have many options; I could only buy some sandwiches and bagels."

Jenny had already eagerly climbed to Reese's side and handed him the paper bag like a treasure:
"Dad, I chose the biggest one for you!"

As Jenny spoke, she didn't even forget Eric, reaching out to hand him another paper bag.

"Eric, you're the oldest too!"

Eric smiled and took it. "Thank you, Jenny." It was good that the little girl wasn't affected.

The gloom on Rhys's face vanished the moment he saw his wife and daughter. He reached out and pulled his daughter into his arms, the tighter than usual, and his voice became incredibly gentle:

"Thank you, my little angel."

He took the paper bag, then looked up at Lauren, giving her a reassuring look, and said in as calm a tone as possible:

“Perfect timing, Lauren, we need to talk.”

Lauren paused slightly in her coffee cup. She glanced at Reese, then at the silent Eric beside her, and a growing sense of unease crept into her heart.

She nodded, sat down beside Rhys, and responded softly:
"it is good."

"I'll go out and take a look." Seeing this, Eric also took the opportunity to get up and walk out, leaving the Reese family alone.

Eric sat down on a bench in the hospital corridor, tore open a paper bag, took a bite of his bagel, chewed mechanically, his gaze fixed on the empty window in front of him, and listened to the conversation inside.

At the same time, he was mentally rehearsing the situation Tifa might be facing at this moment.

He wasn't worried about Tifa's safety; those people had already used the rules to get rid of Tifa, so assassination would be pointless.

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

Los Angeles FBI office.

The atmosphere in the small meeting room was somewhat somber.

Tifa sat on one side of the long table, opposite Agent Carl, who was wearing a Naval Crime Investigation Service (NCIS) uniform.

This guy.
And Jared Koffman, head of the FBI's Los Angeles office.

Her position was the same as her supervisor, Aaron: Assistant Director.
However, the other party's implicit power is greater than that of Ayron. After all, the Los Angeles FBI field office is one of the largest and most important field offices of the FBI in the United States, and it has a great deal of autonomy and influence.

Jared nodded to Tifa; he had naturally heard of Tifa's reputation.

With outstanding talent and extensive connections at headquarters, he has the support of the Assistant Director (AD) and the backing of the Executive Assistant Director (EAD), and his future is limitless.

Carl glanced at the silent Tifa and pushed a thin folder in front of her.

“Agent Allison, our investigation has reached a conclusion regarding the motive behind the attack on your three Marines,” Carl said.

"Soldier Lean Montgomery has recently faced internal disciplinary action for multiple misconduct incidents. A mental health evaluation revealed that he has severe emotional control problems and exhibits clear antisocial personality tendencies."

He, along with two other soldiers, Cortez and Lee, attempted to stage a shocking attack on FBI agents to create a horrific tragedy.

Tifa scoffed at what Carl said.

Even when dealing with her supposed truth, they were so perfunctory; those people really look down on her!

Tifa tapped her fingers on the folder without opening it, looked up at Karl, and smiled:
"So, this was an isolated, isolated attack? Unrelated to any other incident or person? Is that all the NCIS investigation has to do?"

“The chain of evidence is complete, Agent Allison,” Carl said coldly.

"This is a regrettable isolated incident, and Camp Pendleton will deal seriously with the individuals involved and their direct commanders."

A hint of sarcasm flashed across Tifa's face. She wanted to say something sarcastic, at least to embarrass this annoying and disgusting guy, but Jared, the head of the FBI's Los Angeles office, interrupted her.

"Tifa".

Seeing Jared shake his head, Tifa took a deep breath, suppressed her emotions, and remained silent.

Seeing this, Jared breathed a sigh of relief: "Tifa, I understand how you feel. Anyone would be upset if they were attacked, but NCIS has already given its conclusion and promised to conduct internal reforms."

In this case, we continue to delve deeper…

Before Jared could finish speaking, Tifa picked up a pen, signed her name at the end of the document, and stared at Carl for a moment.

"I'll be keeping an eye on you, believe me." After saying that, she didn't look at Carl again, nodded slightly to Jared, and turned to leave the conference room.

The door closed behind her. Tifa closed her eyes, suppressed the lump in her chest, and headed straight for the exit.

Just then, her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. Tifa picked it up, and the caller was Aaron.

It must have been Jared who informed Aaron after she left.

Tifa pressed the answer button and put the phone to her ear.

"Tifa, is it over?" Aaron's voice rang out.

“It just ended,” Tifa said.

"Aaron, have you finished reading the file I sent you?"

There was a moment of silence on the phone.

Aaron glanced at the computer screen, which displayed the report that Tifa had sent that morning.

The report not only contains the equity structure table of Vertex Industries, but also all the shady dealings involved.

It was through this report that he learned what Tifa had been investigating recently, and how deep the waters were.

Aaron looked helpless; Tifa had really given him a problem:
“I’ve read it, but Tifa, we have to follow the rules. Do you know what happened when you uploaded the report?”

Tifa frowned. "What?" "It's not that I disagree, but I discovered that the Pentagon just issued a document approving this drug trial," Aaron said, pursing his lips.

"The experiment, named RD4895, was described in the documents as an experiment conducted to address the prevalence of PTSD among veterans," Aaron said, shaking his head as he spoke.

"Of course it's an emergency use authorization, but that also means they have no loopholes in the rules. To be honest, even Quintus can't get involved in this."

Listening to Aaron's description, Tifa chuckled and said, "Okay, you're quick. I understand."

Aaron could tell from Tifa's tone that she was still somewhat unwilling, and sighed.

“The BAU has an internal training program next month on the analysis of patterns in cross-regional serial violent crimes, and I need a reliable person to lead it. The location is in Virginia.”

After a pause, Aaron continued, "You can take this opportunity to access the national database resources to conduct some academic research. When you return, your salary grade will be upgraded to GS-14."

"Is this the reward they're giving me?" Tifa laughed.

“All I can say is seize the opportunity, Tifa,” Aaron said earnestly.

"GS-14's permissions allow you to bypass many local office barriers and see the real patterns that are obscured by local conclusions."

Some patterns can only be fully understood from a higher perspective. Learning to assess the situation and act accordingly is more important than forcing things and achieving nothing.

I know you're not that kind of person, but it's good to learn from Quintus occasionally.
"Look at him, he's already the Executive Assistant Director (EAD). I even believe that one day in the future, it wouldn't be surprising if this guy became our director."

Tifa sensed the sincerity in Aaron's rambling, and she naturally understood his underlying meaning.

"I understand."

Hearing this, Aaron breathed a sigh of relief; he was really afraid that Tifa would be stubborn and want to clash with someone.

The world is cruel. Even the FBI doesn't have a completely just person. A completely just person would have been eliminated long ago.

“OK!” Aaron said.

"I'll give you a month's leave. You can go directly to Virginia to lead the training program then."

Fearing that Tifa might say something else, Aaron quickly added, "You don't need to worry about the department. We don't have many cases on hand lately, and you're not the only profiler in the department."

Tifa nodded and said, "Okay."

After the call ended, Tifa stood there for a moment staring at her silent phone. Then, as she quickly walked out of the FBI building and into the afternoon sun of Los Angeles, she found Eric's number and dialed it.

The phone was answered after only one ring.

“Darling!” Tifa said.

"Hmm? Is it over?" Eric's voice came through, and just hearing his steady tone made Tifa's tense nerves relax a little.

“It’s over.” Tifa walked to the car, opened the door, and got into the driver’s seat.

"In exchange, I received a month's leave and a cushy job of overseeing training in Virginia afterward. When I returned, my clearance level would be upgraded to GS-14."

"There wasn't any for me," Eric laughed.

"Too deceiving!"

Hearing Eric say this, Tifa felt a warmth in her heart, knowing that he was comforting her in his own way, and she smiled.

"Darling, you can bully me."

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

The afternoon sun shone on the secluded private airport runway, and a Cessna Citation aircraft reflected a blinding light.

The air was thick with the heat of rising asphalt, which slightly distorted the scene before us.

“The timing is perfect.” A middle-aged woman in a well-tailored pilot’s uniform nodded to Rhys, and her gaze softened instantly when she saw little Jenny sleeping in Rhys’s arms.

Then he looked at Eric beside him with a scrutinizing gaze.

Although they knew that this young man had saved the Rhys family more than once, his appearance was too prominent here, his youth was dazzling.

“Liz, my former comrade in the army, the best pilot,” Reese introduced to Eric, then said to Liz:

"Eric, one of us."

“Just call me Liz! Although I know you don’t need to thank me, Rhys has expressed his gratitude more than once.” Liz extended her hand and said sincerely.

"But I still want to say thank you for everything you've done for this family. If you need to go anywhere, feel free to contact me anytime."

Eric glanced at the conspicuous Cessna Citation aircraft, nodded, and shook hands with Liz, smiling.

"it is good."

He naturally wouldn't refuse Liz's goodwill; having more friends meant having more options.

Liz smiled, then nodded to Lauren beside her, before turning to Reese: "Alright, the funeral is about to start, time is of the essence."

Rhys nodded and gently handed little Jenny to Liz.

Startled, the little girl groggily opened her eyes, saw Liz, and softly called out, "Godmother."

“Sweetie, Jenny.” Liz affectionately pressed her forehead against the girl’s forehead: “Godmother will take you and Mommy to a fun place.”

Lauren stood to the side, holding Reese's arm: "Reese." All her emotions were contained in her words.

Rhys pulled Lauren into his arms and whispered in her ear, "I promise, I'll come find you after I've dealt with things here."

Eric, standing to the side, shrugged slightly, his gaze sweeping around. Wild grass swayed along the edge of the runway, and the rusty hangar metal hummed softly in the wind.

He never imagined that such a forgotten corner was hidden within the bustling city of Los Angeles.

"It's a good place to practice shooting," Eric thought to himself.

He followed along, not for any particular reason; his purpose was quite simple.

Let me try out a sniper rifle and get some practice.

He may look very strong, but he's actually never even touched a sniper rifle before; he's still a complete novice.

So you really can't not try it out before you start, because sniping is not something that ordinary people can master. It involves many aspects, such as ballistics, optics and meteorology, materials science and mechanics, etc., and it's incredibly complex.

This is why snipers are so rare and highly valued.

Rhys, who was originally a sniper, has a private armory here, where he keeps several meticulously maintained sniper rifles.

With Tifa's safety assured and the matter settled, before Rhys went to the funeral, he could take this opportunity to test whether the skill panel also included sniping.

Also, I met Liz along the way.

The hugs and conversations before boarding ended.

Liz looked at Reese and Eric and said seriously:

"I will get them there safely."

Rhys nodded: "Thank you for your help."

Liz shook her head and smiled, holding the drowsy little Jenny in her arms while guiding the reluctant Lauren onto the plane.

Reese and Eric stood there, watching them go, until the cabin door closed, the engines started, the plane slowly taxied to the runway, and finally turned into a silver dot in the sky, disappearing completely into the clouds.

The last trace of warmth on Reese's face vanished, and he turned to Eric.

"follow me."

Eric nodded and followed.

The two walked straight to a rusty iron door at the back of the hangar.

A heavy combination lock hung on the door. Rhys quickly entered a string of numbers, and with a dull click, he pushed the door open forcefully.

A unique smell, a mixture of gun oil, metal, and dust, wafted over.

Eric glanced around; the space wasn't large, more like a sophisticated workshop.

A lone energy-saving light bulb hangs from the ceiling; on the metal gun rack against the wall, various long and short weapons are clearly categorized and kept gleaming like new.

From the classic M4 carbine to the more intimidating HK417, they have it all.

The most eye-catching items were the two meticulously maintained sniper rifles placed separately in the center of the workbench.

Remington MSR, Remington M700.

"Looks like you weren't exaggerating." Eric's gaze swept across the entire armory, his tone tinged with envy. His armory was still at zero progress; he didn't have time!
Rhys pursed his lips, walked to the workbench, picked up the Remington M700, and gently stroked the barrel as if touching an old friend.

“Time is short, the funeral will begin in an hour,” he said, looking at Eric.

Where would you like to start?

Despite Eric's seemingly amateurish joke about wanting to handle a sniper rifle to warm up, given his past experience as a sniper, Eric's request was clearly made without any real expertise.

But since it was Eric's request, he chose to comply.

"Let's learn some relevant data knowledge first," Eric said calmly.

"Rhys, could I see the training records and ballistic data you mentioned before?"

Rhys paused slightly, his gaze towards Eric now holding a more scrutinizing look.

He paused for a moment, his voice carrying a hint of confirmation.

"First time handling a sniper rifle?"

Eric met Reese's incredulous gaze, nodded calmly, and said earnestly:

"This is the first time I've had systematic contact with someone like this," he thought to himself.

"And some I've only ever touched in the game."

Reiss's grey-blue eyes lingered on Eric's face for a long time, finally confirming that there was no joking in Eric's eyes, but rather a serious one.

He silently walked to a heavy metal cabinet, took out several leather notebooks with worn edges and a stack of printed paper, which were densely filled with formulas, charts and handwritten notes.

"It's all here: my records from the past ten years on windage correction, the effects of temperature and humidity on ballistics, and shooting parameters at different altitudes."

"And there's the modified model I developed in the mountains of Afghanistan, specifically for complex mountain airflow patterns."

As he spoke, Rhys's voice gradually lowered, and he stopped talking, because he suddenly felt a strong sense of absurdity welling up in his heart. He looked at Eric hesitantly.

"These are things that would take an average sniper several years to fully understand. Are you sure you want to see them?"

(End of this chapter)