You're a US police officer, what are you thinking about going back to the East for?

Chapter 273 My whole body aches right now

Rewind to a few hours earlier, when Leon had just finished exchanging intelligence with Alex at around 4 a.m. in Seattle.

The West End, a luxury apartment building in Lyon.

The rain outside hadn't stopped, and raindrops were hitting the French windows in the bedroom, making a dull pattering sound.

Leon put Mia on the bed. The moment she touched the mattress, she automatically curled up like a shrimp, buried half her face in the pillow, hummed, and then fell silent.

Leon stood by the bed, looking down at Mia lying on his bed.

On the way back from the church, he originally planned to take Mia back to her own apartment, but after briefly reviewing the situation that night, he turned the steering wheel all the way and drove back to his high-class safe house, which had been reimbursed by the police station.

After all, the Blood Gang had just been destroyed, and countless eyes were watching. Leaving a recently kidnapped office worker alone in an unsecured apartment was pure idiocy.

Mia's face was still pale, her abdomen was covered with the ointment given to her by Pastor Thomas, and the red marks on her wrists looked shocking.

Lyon glanced at the clock on the wall.

He has ten thousand things to deal with now.

Vic confessed to the three warehouses, the $1.4 million in cash and ledgers in the dry cleaner's basement, and the bowling alley's armory.

If possible, these items should be inventoried and guarded or moved before dawn.

Once daybreak, other fearless gangs will inevitably be drawn by the scent of blood and come over, which will lead to another messy battle. Moreover, there might still be remnants of the Blood Gang spying on the Blood Gang's stronghold.

He should leave immediately; he doesn't have time to stay here with the patient.

But the red marks on Mia's wrists from being tied up were clearly visible in the light of the bedside lamp.

Lyon hesitated for two seconds.

He unfolded the blanket at the foot of the bed and covered Mia with it.

Then Leon pulled over the chair in front of the desk, sat on the edge of the bed, and took out his phone to send Ray a text message.

I had just typed three words when the person on the bed stirred, and I heard a rustling sound of fabric rubbing together.

"hiss----"

An impatient and resentful gasp echoed in the quiet bedroom.

Mia rolled over, her face emerging from under the covers, and slowly opened her eyes.

Her gaze was unfocused for two seconds before it focused on Leon's face in the dim light of the bedside lamp.

Leon put his phone away and turned to look at her.

He had prepared a warm opening line, such as "How are you feeling?" or "Is there anything wrong?", but what he was met with was Mia's dead fish eyes, which had just opened, were bloodshot, and seemed to say "I want to kill someone".

This guy had obviously taken a nap after confirming that he was safe, so his energy level quickly returned to its original working-class mode.

"I'm in pain all over my body right now."

Mia stared at the ceiling, her tone devoid of any sense of relief at escaping death, but rather filled with a sense of decadent corporate slavehood and a "let's destroy it" attitude.

She tried to sit up, but the bruises on her abdomen were pulled, causing her to hiss and lie back down.

Mia closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then opened them.

"I think my intestines might have been tied into a bow by that idiot." She turned her neck with difficulty to look at Leon.

"You better tell me that the bastard who beat me up has been chopped up and fed to the dogs by you."

Leon's carefully cultivated emotions were immediately extinguished by Mia's complaint.

He walked to the bedside table, poured a glass of warm water, and handed it to Mia. "Don't worry, he's riddled with holes, and Alex is worried about how to piece him back together and put him in a body bag."

Mia took a sip of water from Leon's hand, and her dry throat felt a little better.

She leaned against the pillows, looking around the unfamiliar yet luxurious bedroom.

"Who did you fleece this safe house from this time?" Mia pouted, then looked back at Leon's face.

Sterling.

"I knew it."

Mia didn't seem surprised by the response. Her light gray eyes stared at Leon, her gaze suddenly becoming unusually clear and serious.

"Officer Vance, the hero-saves-the-damsel-in-distress act is over. Now it's time to get down to business."

Mia placed the water glass on the bedside table and gripped the edge of the blanket with her fingers.

Lyon didn't respond.

Mia stared at him for three seconds, then started counting on her fingers.

"I can understand the gang retaliating against me."

"After all, you've been causing a huge uproar in the West District lately. You're a thorn in their side. I'm close to you, so it makes sense that they're trying to blackmail me."

"But can you explain to me what those two guys dressed like Delta Force soldiers were all about tonight?"

"They are definitely not officers from our precinct."

"Those guys looked more like mercenaries who had just returned from fighting in the Middle East."

Leon blinked.

"A private security advisor sent by Chief Sterling."

"Private security consultant," Mia repeated the words, her tone very flat.

"The Sterling family's security consultants are all from Call of Duty, right?"

"Former Ranger and former SEAL," Leon said.

"The Sterling family has its own private army, and in this emergency, she assigned two men to me."

Mia tilted her head and narrowed her eyes.

"So now you're not only a level three police officer, but you can also get the precinct chief to send his family's private army to rescue your female secretary?"

"You're not a female secretary," Leon replied instinctively.

Mia raised an eyebrow. "That's not the point."

"The point is that your relationship with Sterling has reached this point, and your daughter—your administrative officer—is completely unaware of it."

Lyon thought to himself, "Your change of address is too abrupt."

"And another thing," Mia held up another finger, "who is that old pastor?"

Mia raised her hand and touched her abdomen. "I was awake for a little while and saw him looking like a butcher. I thought I had been kidnapped by the gang again."

"He used to be the head of cardiothoracic surgery at Engelwood Hospital in Sweden, a dual-specialty level position, not a butcher."

"Whatever."

"In short, the way he looked at you was off."

"When I was half asleep, I heard the two of you talking for a long time, your voices very low. I only caught words like 'community' and 'organization.'"

Do you usually go to church?

"I will go, but I am not religious."

"What were you talking about with a pastor in church late at night? How to manage a homeless community?"

Lyon remained silent.

It really is.

"Finally, you've been asking me to look up background information on homeless people. There must be several hundred by now."

"You said it was a task Sterling gave you, but after I was kidnapped today, the priest you called in to perform the surgery is obviously also connected to these homeless people."

"What exactly are you doing?"

"Don't try to fool me with that nonsense about 'maintaining order in the western district.'"

"I don't want to be eating a donut in the office one day and suddenly someone stuffs a sack in my pocket and throws me into the trunk of their car, not even knowing who caused it."

Mia lowered her hand, leaned against the headboard, and stared at Leon. Her gaze was not aggressive, but very direct.

She asked these questions today, of course, not to report them to the Ministry of the Interior.

But since Leon risked his life to rescue her tonight, it means that the two of them are now completely bound together, and she never considered options like leaving directly.

Now that she's on the same pirate ship, she has to know where it's headed, even if there's an iceberg ahead, she has to be mentally prepared.

"Leon, I know you're not an ordinary cop."

"Today, to save me, you stormed into a factory full of gangsters and killed dozens of fully armed men."

"I'm not stupid."

"But I don't want to—" Mia's voice suddenly paused, "I don't want to be a burden who was kidnapped for no reason."

The room was silent for a few seconds.

Leon looked at her face.

Her chin was still trembling slightly, and there was cold sweat on her forehead; clearly, her injuries were still hurting.

Lyon leaned back, the chair back creaking slightly.

He couldn't tell Mia too many details; these things were too shocking for a native-born American, and the more he knew, the faster he would die.

"I'm building a community."

Mia blinked.

"The homeless community in the West End."

"The people you did background checks for me before were a group of people I screened out from the mosque's relief center."

"They include construction workers, welders, veterans, and orphans who will freeze to death on the streets."

"I did this because I wanted to do more, beyond my identity as a police officer."

Leon didn't intend to reveal everything about RayFong and the Eastern side, but he could at least tell Mia what he could and couldn't do, what the benefits were, and what troubles it would cause.

"The pastor you mentioned is named Thomas."

"He owns a dilapidated church and is now the health director of my community."

""

Mia's eyebrows twitched, and a strange expression began to appear on her face.

"So, you have a former top surgeon stitching up a homeless person's wounds in a church, and where did the funding come from?"

"It's like two dogs eating each other," Leon said very naturally.

"I set up a gray organization on the street that obeys my commands. This organization can do a lot of things that are inconvenient for me to do as a police officer, and can also provide cover when I get into trouble."

"Of course, there will be even more benefits in the end," Leon added. Mia stared at Leon for a while.

She automatically filtered out the fluff like "mutual aid" and "charity" in Lyon's speech and extracted the core information directly.

Lyon is running a private gang, and it looks like it's getting quite big.

"So, you're now a beggar gang leader wearing a police badge?"

"That's one way to put it." Leon shrugged.

Mia sighed and rested her head back on the pillow.

"I knew it, following you would land me in federal prison sooner or later."

Is that all you can say?

That's all I can say.

Mia looked down at her hands.

"Well, I have a question," Mia looked up. "What do they eat every day in your run-down neighborhood? Where do they live? Do you have to pay them wages?"

Lyon paused for a moment, "Currently, we pay daily wages, with room and board included."

"So, how do you plan to deal with the IRS?"

"I haven't thought about it yet."

"Then your cash flow statement must be a mess." Mia rolled her eyes.

"Someone like you who only knows how to shoot and step on the gas, do you know anything about financial auditing? Do you know anything about tax avoidance?"

Lyon opened his mouth, then closed it again.

"You need an accountant."

"————" Lyon paused for a second, "We might actually need it."

"You definitely didn't do an audit either?" Mia pressed.

"without."

Mia took a deep breath and raised her hand to rub her forehead.

"I just dumped the police reports on those two idiots, Morris and Frank, and I haven't had a chance to relax for more than a few days."

Her tone was filled with the despair of a corporate slave being dominated by overtime work.

"Now you're telling me that you've secretly run an organization that requires accountants and auditors."

Lyon couldn't help but smile at her expression.

"You asked me that yourself."

"Ah, yes, yes, yes."

Mia sighed dejectedly and waved her hand.

"I'm destined to be a workaholic. I just had a few relaxing days at the police station, and now I have to work for you illegally, and it's definitely the kind of work without overtime pay."

"So you're just agreeing to do my work?" Leon said.

Mia glared at Leon for two seconds.

"Never mind, I won't say anything more." Leon waved his hand.

Mia rubbed her forehead and sighed.

"Are you in a hurry to go out and clean the floor?"

"Yes," Lyon said, "there are some things that need to be inventoried as soon as possible."

Mia shrank deeper into the pillow, buried her chin in the blanket, and raised her chin in disgust toward the door.

"Then hurry up and kiss me, then go do your dirty work."

Lyon couldn't help but smile at her disdainful yet arrogant expression.

He bent down and gently kissed Mia on the forehead.

"Get some rest, Miss Accountant."

Lyon straightened up.

"There are medicines in the bedside table. If you're hungry, go to the kitchen and find something to eat."

"Okay, okay." Mia waved her hand.

Lyon picked up his car keys and walked towards the door.

When the door was opened, Mia's muffled voice came from under the covers.

Be careful.

"Um."

The door clicked shut as Leon closed it.

The motion-sensor lights in the corridor turned on with the sound of Lyon's footsteps, casting a cold white glow.

As Lyon walked toward the elevator, he took a mask out of his windbreaker pocket, hooked the strap over his ears, and then pulled the brim of his black baseball cap down to cover his eyes.

When the elevator reached the underground parking lot, Seattle Police Department ACU team leader Leon Vance had disappeared; only Ray Fong, the community leader who operated in the gray area, emerged.

He walked up to the Toyota Camry that Big T had brought over, opened the door, and got in.

The carriage was cold, so Lyon didn't rush to start the engine. He took out his spare phone and dialed MacArthur's number first.

The phone rang once and was answered.

"Sir." MacArthur's voice showed no signs of fatigue even at four in the morning, clearly indicating that he had been waiting for instructions after the weapons were moved.

"Is the equipment all set up?" Leon asked.

"They've all been moved to the basement," MacArthur reported.

"Very good." Leon tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. "Now, split up with Walter and Elton."

"Go to the abandoned warehouses in Blocks 9 and 12. There are a dozen or so cars parked there. Have Walter jump-start them, by any means necessary, until all those cars are out before dawn."

"Where to move it?"

Lyon quickly ran through the map of the West End in his mind.

Lin Jianping's scrap yard is no longer suitable for parking too many conspicuous targets, as it would easily attract ICE flies. Big T's abandoned construction site would be a good choice, but Big T's men are not tight-lipped.

"First, disperse them to those unmanaged open-air parking lots at the border of the South and West districts," Lyon instructed.

"Remember, we need to be quick. News of the Blood Gang's demise will definitely spread by dawn. I don't want to see thugs from other neighborhoods running into our warehouse to scavenge for scraps."

"Understood. The company will depart immediately."

Lyon hung up the phone, tossed it onto the passenger seat, and sped out of the parking lot.

4:50 a.m.

The rain stopped sometime ago, but the puddles on the road were still reflecting light.

Lyon parked the car in the alley diagonally opposite the dry cleaner, turned off the engine, and removed the key.

-

This street belongs to 15th Street in the West End, an old commercial area where most shops close at 6 p.m.

It's not even 5 a.m. yet, and only a few streetlights and the light of a 24-hour convenience store are still on on the whole street.

The "Old Sailor" dry cleaner is sandwiched between a closed pawn shop and a nail salon with half of its sign missing.

Lyon walked to the entrance of the dry cleaner and looked up.

The shop's iron gate was tightly closed, and the stylish decorations on it were spray-painted.

Lyon bypassed the main entrance and went around to a fire lane filled with garbage at the back of the building.

He pulled out his military dagger, inserted it into the rusty keyhole of the back door, and with a forceful twist, the lock broke with a "click".

Leon slipped into the room and stood in the darkness for a few seconds to allow his eyes to adjust to the light.

The shop is small, about forty square meters.

On the left is a rack with suits and shirts that haven't been taken yet, and on the right are packed plastic bags. The counter is covered with a thick layer of dust.

The cash register drawer had been pried open, and coins were scattered all over the floor.

Vic said the safe was in the basement.

Leon went around to the back of the counter and found an iron door leading to the basement under the counter.

A brass lock hung on the iron gate, but it seemed to have been opened long ago.

A stronger musty smell wafted out from the darkness, along with a chilly dampness rising from below.

Leon pulled out his flashlight, aimed the beam forward, and then walked down the creaking wooden stairs into the basement.

After climbing only a few steps of the stairs, the beam of the flashlight illuminated the entire basement.

The basement was about ten square meters, with dozens of dusty cardboard boxes piled up in the corner.

Lyon casually opened a cardboard box, inside which were bundles of old T-shirts and strange, foreign red fabric.

He threw down the cardboard box and walked to a spot near the corner of the wall.

The flashlight beam swept across a steel safe, about half a person's height, entirely black, with several dents on the edges from being struck with a crowbar, but it couldn't be pried open.

Leon crouched down in front of the safe and switched the flashlight to his left hand.

The password Vic gave was three numbers: turn left twice to get 32, turn right to get 57, and then turn left again to get 19.

Leon rotated the cipher discs one by one, and after a final, dull metallic click, he gripped the handle and pulled.

The safe door was flung open with a bang.

He shone the flashlight into the cabinet.

On the first shelf were three suspicious handbags. Leon randomly opened one of them, and inside were neatly stacked hundred-dollar bills.

This one handbag alone looks to contain tens or hundreds of thousands of yuan.

Vic said there were 1.4 million on the USB drive here, and it seems he not only wasn't exaggerating, but also left out some details.

Lyon tied the bags together and then put the three bags into a black cloth bag.

The second compartment contains a dark gray plastic moisture-proof storage box.

Leon opened the storage box, and what was inside made him pause for two seconds.

Three USB flash drives and three anonymous offshore bank key cards, each the size of a bank card, were all wrapped in transparent sealed bags and then sealed with waterproof tape.

The password and the name of the bank were written on the back of the card; Marcus was quite meticulous.

This money might be just a failed options investment for Wall Street financial giants, but for a street gang like the Bloods, it's money that Marcus and Darrell cobbled together with countless lives, drugs, and loan sharks.

Now, it serves as development funding for the homeless community.

He put the storage box into the black coarse cloth bag and then turned it inside out.

Below are two hardcover ledgers with yellowed edges.

Lyon casually flipped open one of the books.

The document contains densely packed records of the names of several low-level politicians and city councilors in Seattle, along with the specific amounts of money they received from gangs during each election and details of vote-buying deals.

With this, he held the lifeline of certain people in the city hall in his hands.

There were some other odds and ends left, and inside the cabinet were several handguns wrapped in plastic bags and a small jewelry box.

Lyon slightly pried open the small jewelry box, revealing several glittering watches inside; some dials were still running, while others had stopped.

He dumped the gun and watch into the bag.

The safe was empty.

Lyon checked that there were no hidden compartments under the cabinet, then picked up the coarse cloth bag from the floor and carried it on his shoulder.

Just as he turned to leave, Leon paused for a moment.

He can't just empty the dry cleaning shop and walk away.

Chief Sterling will definitely get confirmation from the gossips that he wiped out the Blood Gang's West Division tonight.

Although she tacitly approved of Lyon's shady practices, she was by no means blind.

If a large gang that has been entrenched in the West Side for over a decade has left not a single penny of assets, Sterling would definitely become suspicious. If he wants to play cat and mouse with her, he must leave some smoke bombs.

Leon stared at the empty safe, his mind racing.

Those dozen or so armored vehicles and the automatic rifles in the bowling alley must not be handed over; they are the foundation of the outpost. The offshore account and this cash are the bottom line.

"We need to let her taste something sweet."

Lyon walked around the basement, his gaze finally settling on a dusty filing cabinet.

He walked over, pried open the cabinet with his dagger, and pulled out several stacks of loan records from the lower levels of the Blood Gang, as well as some scattered drug distribution network diagrams.

These things were worthless to Leon, because he had already killed all the loan sharks and drug dealers.

But for Sterling, these documents were enough to prove that she had "completely dismantled the West Side gang's criminal network," making for a beautiful and perfect report that could be presented to the media and the mayor.

Lyon took out the stacks of documents, threw some into the safe, and deliberately left the rest on the ground next to the safe, creating the illusion that he had only taken some of the confidential information in his haste.

Then, he pulled out two bundles of cash from the bag, about $20,000, and casually scattered them on the door of the open safe and on the stairs.

Greed is the best disguise.

When the branch office's internal affairs department or Sterling's confidants arrived, seeing the pried-open door, scattered cash, and leftover drug ledgers, their first reaction would be that Blood Gang remnants or other gangs had looted the place amidst the chaos of last night's shootout.

Sterling might suspect that Leon took a portion, but she could never have imagined, or at least not yet imagined, that Leon had swallowed up the entire Bloods' foundation, skin and bones.

She would only use those drug network diagrams to curry favor with the police foundation, and then blame the lost money on the gang's double-crossing.

After doing all this, Leon carried the bag, retraced his steps out of the basement, got into the car, and placed the bag at the feet of the passenger seat.

The moment he closed the car door, Leon unlocked his phone and dialed MacArthur's number.

"General, how's the situation on your end?"

MacArthur's voice came through the receiver; the ambient sound was clearly from an open outdoor area.

"I've arrived at the first warehouse; the coordinates match yours."

"We found two broken windows in the outer wall. After prying them open, we confirmed that there were eight vehicles inside: five with steel plates, one heavily modified SUV, one ordinary off-road vehicle, and one old Cadillac. They were all covered in dust but appeared to be in good condition."

"Is it running?"

"They're checking now. I had Walter go through them one by one. I estimate some of the fuel in the tanks has evaporated. These cars should all have a hidden fuel cut-off switch (a concealed fuel cut-off switch used to prevent theft or unauthorized starting of the vehicle). He's looking for it."

"Don't worry, this kid is more reliable than usual when it comes to something as critical as this."

"Move quickly, and absolutely no one can see any cars parked in the warehouse," Lyon said.

"We'll meet at the bowling alley; I'll head there first."

MacArthur responded, then yelled to the person beside him, "What the hell! Look at the accelerator of that old Cadillac, yes, under the steering wheel. Press it before turning the key, otherwise you won't be able to start it. It's a double-layered anti-theft design. Hurry up, it's almost dawn!"

Lyon hung up the phone.