Lynn didn't move her hand holding the paper cup.

"What is it?"

"The DEA pulled off a major operation at Hunts Point last week, overturning three containers full of generic drugs from India. Cephalosporins, lidocaine, and the like."

Miller took out his chewing gum, spat the chewed piece back into the wrapper, and then tore off a new one.

"It's said that Sikhs are behind it, clearing customs through Newark Port, and declaring it as spices."

He chewed twice and glanced at Lynn.

"You know how the DEA operates. They arrest three low-level thugs and then hold a press conference, but they haven't even gotten to the top. Only then do they start their in-depth investigation."

Lynn understood.

Miller wasn't talking to him about the news.

He was telling Lynn: New players have come to your territory, and they've attracted another group of officials.

"What does this have to do with me?" Lynn took a sip of her drink. "I don't sell medicine."

"Of course it has nothing to do with you."

Miller laughed. "I was just reminding you. Be careful."

He patted Lynn on the shoulder, with a light but firm touch.

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"You're one of my people. Don't let me see your name in someone else's case file."

This statement contains both concern and warning.

Most of them are warnings.

Lynn nodded: "I understand. My customers are all familiar faces that you and Joe introduced, mostly locals, and they have no connection with that line."

"Hmm." Miller looked away from Lynn's face.

Then, quite naturally, he turned around and faced the depths of the carriage.

He saw a cactus.

"Hey, who raised this?"

"Cassie."

"Only $3.99, what a bargain! And you don't even need to water it much." Cassie poked her head out from the driver's side.

"It's romantic."

Miller nodded; he quite liked this thrifty young girl.

His gaze shifted from the charging lamp next to the cactus to Cassie.

A white coat buttoned all the way up from the collar.

Cassie got goosebumps on her back from being stared at.

Sachi had taught her that the stupidest thing to do when targeted by hyenas is to run.

"Young lady, would you like a drink?" Miller raised the bottle.

"No, it's too strong, I can't drink it."

Cassie pulled a can of her near-expiry beer from the cup holder. "I have this."

"Ha, that's economical."

Miller took another sip of whiskey.

He walked a few steps in the carriage, from the control panel to the corner, and then walked back from the corner.

The entire stay lasted less than five minutes.

Nothing was turned over, no canvas was lifted, and no cabinets or drawers were opened.

Nothing was done.

I just glanced at it; it was like a friend coming over for a visit.

"Alright, I won't keep you from resting any longer." Miller jumped off the train, his trench coat fluttering in the night wind.

"Keep the wine, drink it slowly."

He walked over to Suboban and opened the car door.

Then it paused for a moment.

"By the way, Dr. Lin."

"Um?"

"Your little assistant," Miller turned his head, "is a girl living in a car. It must be tough, right?"

"She's used to it."

"Hmm." Miller nodded. "It's the dead of winter, be careful not to catch a cold. But your assistant is quite careful, buttoning his shirt up perfectly, more so than any doctor I've ever met."

He smiled.

Got in the car.

The sound of the engine gradually faded into the distance.

The gas station fell silent again.

Sachi stood up from the ground, dusted himself off, and walked to the carriage door.

None of the three spoke.

About thirty seconds later, Cassie unbuttoned his shirt, lifted it up, and pulled the notebook out of his waist.

The notebook was warm from my body heat, and a small patch of sweat had seeped onto the cover.

"He saw it." Cassie's voice was a little strained.

"Not necessarily," Sachi said.

"He definitely saw it."

Seeing that the buttons are neatly fastened is not the same as knowing that there is an account book hidden inside.

Sachi leaned against the doorframe and lit another cigarette.

"Some girls are just used to buttoning all their buttons up. He might just have been saying it casually."

"Lin should know best that girls in their country are very conservative."

"From now on, we can't bring the account books in the car," Lynn said.

"Where should I write that?"

"Keep it in your mind."

Cassie opened her mouth as if to say something, but then swallowed it back.

She looked down at the Starbucks notebook.

The blue pen records every income, and the red pen records every expenditure.

The handwriting is neat and tidy, like a primary school student's homework.

Cassie flipped to the last page of her notebook and glanced at the latest numbers.

She closed the notebook, hesitated for a moment, and didn't put it back in her pocket.

Instead, he stuffed it into his pillowcase, intending to burn it once he had memorized it and rely on his memory to remember it later.

She didn't want to give up something so joyful.

What could be more joyful than seeing your business thrive and your profits grow?

Lynn didn't rush to talk about the tracker. He first sorted out the conversation they had just had.

"His decision tonight wasn't impulsive."

Cassie and Sachi were both looking at him.

"The batch of Indian generic drugs seized by the DEA included ceftriaxone, metronidazole, and lidocaine."

Lynn glanced into the depths of the carriage, and there, hidden under the gray canvas, were exactly those three items.

"We are supplied with the same supply chain as Ah Jung."

Sachi stubbed out the cigarette halfway, then picked it up again and put it in his mouth.

"He's here to confirm whether you've gotten involved with that connection."

"Yes. He doesn't suspect me of doing business behind his back. He's afraid that when the DEA's bulldozers come over, they'll shovel me up too and bury him along with them."

Cassie understood half of it: "So he was actually... protecting us?"

"Protect him."

Lynn corrected her, "We are just part of his assets."

Cassie bit her lip and didn't say anything more.

Sachi suddenly raised his hand and made a scouting warning gesture.

He didn't get in the car. Instead, he turned around, walked to the front of the car, lay down on the oil-stained cement ground, turned on his phone's flashlight, and shone it along the undercarriage.

The light moved silently, like a snake.

Thirty seconds later, he emerged from behind the car, holding something in his fingers.

Black, thumb-sized, magnetic base.

Cassie's face, which had just regained some color, turned pale again: "What is this now...?"

"GPS tracker".

Sachi flipped it over and looked at the back. "The model is LandAirSea, FBI standard issue. Direct cellular network connection, refreshes every ten seconds, battery lasts two months."

"When was it installed?" Lynn asked.

"Before he got on the bus."

Sachi said, "I was less than two steps away from him when he banged on the car door. He switched the paper bag in his hand and groped under the car with his other hand. It was less than a second."

The carriage was deathly silent.

A veteran detective with 22 years of experience, taking advantage of the moment when small talk diverted everyone's attention, casually stuffed a pair of eyes into the chassis.

He can know exactly where the car goes just by sitting in his office.

"He talks about giving reminders, but he's secretly installing tracking devices." Lynn put down his whiskey glass.

This is Miller.

The words were true, and the methods were equally effective. They warned you of danger while simultaneously keeping you under their watchful eye. One action accomplished two things: a warning and monitoring, packaged and delivered efficiently.

"Then...then shall we secretly take it down and stick it on the metal pillar at the gas station?"

Cassie came up with an idea.

"no."

Lynn immediately dismissed the thought, "If we stay in the same place, we'll definitely be discovered."

Cassie deflated like a punctured balloon.

Sachi ran his thumb along the tracker's rubber coating: "Don't remove it, don't turn it off, don't move it. Let it keep transmitting."

Lynn's mind worked quickly: "Let's switch cars."

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