1960: My uncle is the FBI Director

Chapter 240 Are you also an FBI agent?

This means that the registration records in the waste disposal area are practically useless, and whether or not to register depends entirely on self-discipline.

The registration records are completely incapable of providing the filtering and screening functions they should be providing.

Nevertheless, Bernie requested that the shipyard provide the registration record.

This demand sparked collective opposition from union representatives, union lawyers, shipyard lawyers, and administrative executives.

The administrative manager appeared to be in a difficult position.

He sincerely explained that he didn't mean to make things difficult for Theodore and his team, but rather that the registration records Bernie was asking for were actually confidential information.

Leaking them is tantamount to leaking government secrets.

Especially during sensitive periods when shipyards were rushing to complete naval orders, he dared to take the initiative to hand over the registration records, and the navy and shipyard dared to hold him accountable.

The same principle applies not only to the registration records in the waste storage area, but to any other paper document.

He hoped that Theodore and his team could obtain formal authorization before accessing the documents.

Theodore stared at him for a moment, then asked him:
"Sir, do you know Charles Ambrose Dougherty?"

The administrative supervisor, puzzled, thought for a moment and shook his head.
"Excuse me, I don't remember knowing anyone named Charles Ambrose Dougherty. Who is he?"

Theodore was about to answer his questions when Bernie interrupted him.

Bernie seriously steered the conversation back to the case.

He took out two paper bags and pushed them across the street.

A faint, pungent odor immediately filled the conference room, causing everyone to wrinkle their brows.

The executive director, no longer concerned with who Charles Ambrose Dougherty was, frowned and looked at Bernie with a questioning gaze.

Bernie opened the paper bag and poured the knotted rope and a piece of waterproof tarpaulin onto the table:

"This hemp rope is Manila hemp rope, S-twist, and has been soaked in tar."

"This cloth is waxed cotton canvas, which is waterproof."

"Are these the supplies your factory purchased?"

The young worker wanted to say something, but then remembered the lessons he had learned and looked at the union representative.

The union representative sat upright, holding his breath and remaining completely still.

The administrative supervisor peeked over and remained silent.

The middle-aged worker used a paper bag as a pad, picked up the rope, looked at it, and then quickly threw it back on the table.

"Judging by its thickness, it should be used for bundling and hoisting, not like a cable."

He then pointed to the waterproof tarpaulin:
"This thing is everywhere; the factory often uses it as tarpaulin."

Bernie immediately pressed on:

Which departments use this type of hemp rope?

After obtaining permission from the union representative, the middle-aged worker counted almost all the departments in the shipyard on his fingers.

The administrative supervisor also chimed in:

"To prevent safety accidents, shipyards have regulations that require the replacement of hemp ropes used for hoisting, binding, etc., with new ropes after a period of use."

"Most of the hemp ropes that were replaced were still in good condition, and sometimes the workers would take them home to use."

The union representative nodded:
"This is the benefit that the union fought for for the workers."

"Workers must have a safe working environment."

"They used to use cheaper, thicker hemp ropes."

"Later, through our efforts, the shipyard replaced the large hemp rope with Manila hemp rope, but that was not enough."

“Manila hemp rope is stronger than tamarind or silsa hemp, but it is not indestructible.”

"In the past, there have been several accidents in the factory caused by old hoisting ropes."

"One of our workers had both legs broken when a piece of equipment was being hoisted down."

"To prevent such a tragedy from happening again, we..."

The meeting room door was pushed open, interrupting the union representative's speech.

Everyone looked towards the doorway.

A tall, muscular middle-aged man was standing there.

The middle-aged man was wearing a dark, custom-made, high-end suit. The suit was conservative and old-fashioned, which made him look even more dignified.

He had short, silver-white hair, neatly combed and glossy.

The administrative supervisor secretly breathed a sigh of relief, then immediately stood up like a spring:
"Mr. Vaughn."

Richard Dick Vaughn gently placed his hand on the executive director's shoulder, gesturing for him to sit down, while his gaze swept across the room, finally settling on Theodore:

"Sorry to interrupt."

"I am Richard Dick Vaughn, and I am in charge of the company's security affairs."

“I just heard that some of our old parts are involved in a serious case, Agent Hoover. Thank you for coming in person to handle this.”

The middle-aged man gave Theodore a friendly smile, then turned to the lawyers, administrators, union members, and workers:
"Gentlemen, this matter is now under the control of the security department. You may leave."

"All the assistance you provided was invaluable, thank you."

The administrative manager, the shipyard lawyer, two workers, the union representative, and the union lawyer silently got up and left.

The meeting room quickly became empty.

Richard Dick Vaughn looked at Theodore:

“My colleagues may have been overly cautious with the procedures. I hope you can understand that this is just their job and they did not mean to make things difficult.”

He paused, then continued:

"Before I came here, I spoke with Alex, who told me that you were investigating a major incident concerning justice and public safety, and that the Alexandria Shipyard would cooperate fully with the FBI investigation."

Theodore asked him curiously:

"Do you know Manager Rosen?"

Richard Dick Vaughn smiled:
"We know each other; we play cards together every weekend."

"Unfortunately, he's been working overtime lately and has missed three games in a row."

He gestured for everyone to leave:

“This meeting room is too small and not quiet enough. I’ve prepared a private office for your team upstairs, complete with a dedicated line and filing cabinets.”

“My assistant is upstairs. You can tell him if you need anything, and he will cooperate with you.”

On the way, Richard Dick Vaughn brought up Director Rosen and revealed that he and Director Rosen had once been partners in the same group.

This surprised everyone, and they all looked at him.

Richard Dick Vaughn joined the FBI in the late 1930s, working alongside Director Rosen under Director Hoover.

Later, while the supervisor Rosen stayed at headquarters, he was sent to Chicago to establish a branch office.

He was the first director of the Chicago branch.

In the early 1950s, he left the FBI and, leveraging his security background, joined the Department of the Navy, where he was responsible for security and confidentiality reviews of shipbuilding projects.

In this position, he gained extensive inside information about contractors and established close ties with companies such as the Alexandria Shipyard.

A few years ago, Alexandria Shipbuilding Company was acquired by Marina Industries, and he was poached by Marina Industries with a high salary and great power to take his current position.

He is now the Vice President and Chief Safety Officer of Alexandria Shipbuilding Company.

This position is specifically designed to handle "tricky issues," with a focus on company-wide security, confidentiality reviews, government relations, and liaison with law enforcement agencies.

Bernie and Richard Dick Vaughn had a very pleasant conversation along the way.

He stopped in his tracks upon arriving at the private office prepared by Richard Dick Vaughn:
"right here."

The private office looks like the office of a senior manager, and its size is about the same as the conference room below.

A middle-aged man who looked about Bernie's age was directing several young men to move things inside.

Richard Dick Vaughn called his assistant, introduced them to each other, and reiterated the need for unconditional cooperation with the FBI investigation. The assistant readily agreed and handed him a file folder from his briefcase.

"This is the waste disposal room's registration log for this month. I've already sent someone to retrieve the previous registration records; it may take a little while."

He checked the time:

"It will be ready in half an hour at most."

"Do you need records from a certain period of time, or the entire record?"

"The earliest record dates back seven years."

“If all records are needed, the volume might be quite large. We can provide a few clerical staff to help with the screening.”

Bernie looked at Theodore.

Theodore thought for a moment:

"Within two years."

Based on the rust and decay of the gears, ropes, and waterproof canvas, the FBI laboratory deduced that the earliest time the equipment entered the water was approximately one year ago.

This does not include the third package.

The third package was the most rotten due to its age, so Theodore did not unpack it at the dock but instead transported it directly to the Third Precinct.

It is currently still in the forensic lab of the Third Precinct.

Based on his estimations from the first two packages, Theodore believed the third package should not take more than two years.

Bernie added:

"Civilian staff don't need to."

The assistant nodded in agreement and sent someone to inform the archives.

The private office was quickly set up.

The large desk remained untouched, but some miscellaneous items were moved away and replaced with several filing cabinets.

Opposite the desk was a small conference table, and against the wall were several whiteboards.

The layout here is exactly the same as the small conference room at FBI headquarters.

Richard Dick Vaughn waved his hand, shooing the young men carrying things away, then turned to Theodore and his two companions, and said in a deep voice:
"If you need anything, just let us know, and we will do our best to help and cooperate with your investigation."

"My only request is that, where possible, the investigation be kept as discreet as possible."

"As you know, we have a top-secret Navy contract on our side. Any large-scale disturbance could be interpreted as a security breach, which would be very troublesome."

"It could even be exploited by our competitors, ultimately harming national interests."

He gave Theodore a final tap on the shoulder:

"Give my regards to your uncle."

Richard Dick Vaughn left and his assistant returned shortly after, in less than half an hour, in just over ten minutes.

The assistant knocked on the door first and entered the office only after receiving permission.

Behind him followed the young men who had gone out earlier, each carrying a registration book that smelled musty.

The assistant directed the young men to put the registration book into the filing cabinet, and before leaving, pointed to the door:

"I'm in this office on the left. You can come to me anytime if you need anything."

Billy Hawke and Bernie exchanged glances, then both looked at Theodore.

Theodore stared at them for a moment, then opened the file bag his assistant had handed them and took out a tattered register.

The register showed obvious signs of being soaked in water, appearing fluffy and soft, and the writing on it had blurred, making it impossible to recognize.

Bernie opened the filing cabinet, where the registers had already been neatly arranged by time.

He took out several books from inside and looked through them, finding that most of the registers had been soaked in water, some were covered with unidentified pollutants, and occasionally small pebbles and bird feathers could be shaken out of them.

For older books, the pages are stuck together and covered with green or black mold.

The only value of these registers is probably to prove that there is a registration process for entering and leaving the shipyard's scrap yard.

…………

Seventh Precinct, Deputy Superintendent's Office.

Deputy Superintendent Doherty arrived early today.

He first went to the patrol department and checked the police reports registered by the night shift officers the previous night.

Burglaries, shoplifting, and arguments and fights in bars and streets remain the norm, interspersed with some domestic disputes and the inevitable noise complaints.

No one is missing.

Deputy Superintendent Doherty then summoned the officer on duty to inquire about the situation.

The response received was consistent with the record.

Last night was just an ordinary Saturday night.

Deputy Superintendent Doherty was relieved.

He had just sat down in his office when there was a knock on the door.

Stan Watson slowly pushed open the door and entered.

Deputy Superintendent Doherty adjusted his posture and looked at Stan Watson.

Stan Watson pulled an envelope from his pocket and tossed it on the table.

Deputy Inspector Doherty nearly jumped off his chair as if he'd been burned.

He hurriedly stuffed the envelope into the drawer, glancing anxiously towards the door.

Stan Watson grinned, revealing a set of blackened teeth.

He quickly suppressed his smile and asked Deputy Superintendent Doherty in a deep voice:

"I heard that the guy from the FBI suggested yesterday that we increase the number of patrol officers?"

Deputy Superintendent Doherty, his face grim, nodded after a moment of silence.

Stan Watson followed up with:

"why?"

Deputy Superintendent Doherty curled his lip:
"He believes the murderer they are looking for will strike again soon."

"And their target is prostitutes."

Stan Watson continued to ask:
Did you increase it?

Deputy Superintendent Doherty glanced at him:
"I added it last night."

"I just came back from the patrol department."

"Nothing at all."

Stan Watson then asked:

"What about today?"

Deputy Superintendent Doherty checked the time; it was almost nine o'clock.

Inspector Frank Cassidy is about to arrive.

He waved his hand:
"never mind."

"Last night proved that the FBI's speculation was wrong. We were already short-handed, and because of his unfounded premonition, I've exhausted the brothers in the other patrol areas. If this continues, normal police work will come to a standstill."

"Everything as usual tonight."

Stan Watson reminded him:
"They went to the terminal bar and let the news slip."

"The girls are all saying that there's a serial killer who specializes in killing prostitutes and is roaming around."

"Increasing patrols will help them settle down and do business properly."

Deputy Superintendent Doherty didn't say anything, he just waved his hand to shoo the people away.

(End of this chapter)