Law America, the Devil's Agent

As I left Gloria's row house, a light drizzle began to fall in Philadelphia.

Link sat in the back seat of the SUV from AnDun Company, Daniel started the engine, and the wipers drew a monotonous rhythm on the windshield.

He didn't let Daniel drive away immediately, but instead leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

"How is it?"

Daniel glanced at him in the rearview mirror.

"She agreed."

Link opened his eyes:

"Surprisingly, she still retains a shred of conscience. But she's terrified of DeSean, terrified to the core."

"That crazy bastard is definitely someone to be afraid of."

Daniel tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

"Based on the information we've gathered, this guy is a madman. You can tell from the fact that he dared to shoot at the ceiling in the living room just to scare a social worker."

But he was more than just a hoodlum.

He may still be one of Senator Clemons' black gloves in the North District.

Drug distribution, gun trafficking, violent election campaigning...

Things that Clemons couldn't handle, DeShawn and several other groups did for him.

Clemons was in Parliament and Paul Sean was not being targeted by law enforcement.

This is a relationship of mutual benefit and symbiosis.

Symbiotic relationship. Link murmured the word to himself.

  

Outside the car window, the streetscape of the northern district became blurred in the rain.

Beside the abandoned factory, under the graffiti-covered walls, groups of young people stood in twos and threes under the awnings to take shelter from the rain...

How many of these people are DeShawn's informants, and how many are Clemons' voter base?

His power must be considerable.

To rescue Ella, the chain of interests between DeShawn and Clemons must be severed.

To break this chain, evidence of their exchange of benefits must be found.

DeShawn's criminal record alone is not enough, nor is Clemons' political file alone.

What he needs to do is cut the thread that connects the two.

After thinking for a long time, Link opened his eyes again.

"Daniel, turn around. I need to see someone; let's go make an appointment now."

"Who?"

"Philadelphia City Council Member, James Clemons."

Daniel almost swerved into the opposite lane.

"What did you say?"

"I said I was going to see Clemens."

"Openly and honestly, as the Winthrop family's legal counsel, I'll schedule a formal meeting."

Daniel swallowed hard. "Why should we? You can't just see a congressman whenever you want."

Link's lips curled slightly upward as he waved the contract in his hand:

"Just for this, fund research at Gloria Washington’s North District Community College!"

This contract is the best ticket I have.

The project was launched in his constituency, with substantial research funding; he couldn't possibly refuse to meet with me.

Daniel was silent for a few seconds, then shook his head.

"But Link, isn't our plan to collect DeShawn's criminal record and then force Clemons to stand idly by?"

"That was the original plan."

Link said:

"But I'm going to see Clemons now, just to add an extra layer of insurance to this plan."

Verbal threats are one thing, but making him understand the consequences face-to-face is quite another.

Please contact Klaus and Mr. Samuel; I need their authorization.

……

The following day, Philadelphia City Hall, third floor.

James Clemons' office was more luxurious than Link had imagined.

Oak wainscoting, leather sofas, and limited-edition prints from the African American History Museum and several photos of him with local community leaders on the walls.

Every piece of furniture conveys the image of someone who came from the community and represents the interests of grassroots Black voters.

But the thickness of that mahogany desk, and the view overlooking downtown Philadelphia from the window, silently tell visitors another fact:

This legislator, who came from the slums, is in fact different from his compatriots who live in those run-down neighborhoods.

Clemons was forty-five or forty-six years old, with dark brown skin, and wearing a well-tailored dark gray suit.

He stood up from behind his desk and called out loudly:

"Hello, Attorney Link."

I've looked at the Winthrop Family Foundation's projects, and they're very meaningful.

Community college education in the northern district is a long-standing issue. Having independent project funding and making good progress in the future would greatly help in securing state funding.

I am extremely grateful.

"I'm glad you endorsed this project, Mr. Councilor. This is also my client's contribution to improving the city."

Link grasped his hand with just the right amount of pressure: "That's why I requested this meeting."

We need your in-depth insights into the constituency. A good report requires the support of people who truly understand this community.

Clemons flashed his standard politician's smile, and a hint of genuine satisfaction appeared in the corner of his eye.

He gestured for Link to sit down, and then instructed his assistant to bring two cups of coffee.

Link remained where he was, his eyelids lowered, and a subtle change occurred deep within his pupils.

A line of text slowly appeared above Clemens's head.

[Power Demon (Pure-blooded Demon): Power is his best food, performance is his way of obtaining food, and connections are his means of acquiring food.]

Everyone he helped owed him an insurmountable political debt, and everyone he abandoned was recorded in his ledger of "necessary costs."

(James Clemons: Is he the Winthrop family's lawyer?)

The timing of their visit, bringing with them a research contract for the constituency, was incredibly coincidental.

This is a white family, and they're on the red side, and now they're sending an Asian lawyer. Are they trying to bypass my political radar?

Or are you trying to tell me that they have secured endorsements from minority groups, so they don't care about racial issues?

Regardless of which one, try it out first.

My gut feeling told him that this person wasn't just there to deliver a contract.

The horizontal pupils in Link's eyes faded away.

He picked up his coffee, took a sip, and placed it back on the saucer with a crisp, light sound.

The two men stared at each other across a mahogany desk, a silent test already beginning to fill the air.

"Attorney Link."

Clemons spoke first, his tone still amiable:

"You said you were the legal counsel for the Winthrop Family Foundation."

However, my office has conducted a background check, and your primary practice areas are family law and criminal defense, not compliance matters for nonprofit foundations.

So I guess your real purpose for coming here today might not just be this budget research report.

Link did not deny it.

He leaned back in his chair, crossed his hands on his knees, relaxed but with a focused gaze.

"Mr. Congressman, the girl named Nancy Washington, the wife of your nephew Desean Washington, was originally named Ira Winthrop. She was a baby girl who was abducted from the Winthrop family eighteen years ago."

You know about this, right?

The air in the office seemed to freeze for a moment.

Clemons' expression remained unchanged, still that shrewd and focused politician's smile.

But his fingers, which had been tapping lightly on the armrest, slowly stopped.

Link narrowed his eyes, sensing the turmoil in his heart.

"I don't know, lawyer."

A politician is a politician after all; even though his heart was churning with turmoil, his tone remained as calm as if he were stating an agenda.

"But even if it is true, it is a family matter."

Nancy is DeSean's legally married wife with a marriage certificate. They have children, no history of domestic violence, and no legal issues.

I don't think this has anything to do with the work of the city hall.

Having a marriage certificate does not mean they are legal.

No history of domestic violence does not mean there was no domestic violence.

Link's voice slowly hardened, and he quickly pointed out the legal errors in his words:

"The reason why no one called the police may be because the victim simply did not know that calling the police was an option."

As far as I know, she was sold to the North District at eight months old, instilled with a false identity from childhood, and married a man she had never chosen before at the age of 16.

She was subjected to domestic violence and beatings, had her personal freedom restricted, and was deprived of her right to use communication tools after marriage.

She doesn't even know her own real name, how can she call the police?

Clemons' smile faded slightly.

"These allegations are serious, Attorney Link. Do you have any evidence?"

"Congressman, lawyers earn their living through evidence."

Link met his gaze:

"We now have her handwritten testimony, her application for a habeas corpus, and her DNA paternity test report."

And…records are being collected regarding all criminal cases involving DeSean Washington over the past five years.

When Clemons heard that they had collected information on DeShawn, his eyes flickered.

Link noticed that subtle change.

"Have you ever thought about this, Mr. Congressman?"

Seeing that he had been swayed, Link continued:

"In case one day, Ira Washington steps in front of the media and reveals her true identity."

For those media outlets frantically searching for news and trending topics, and for those social networking sites and self-media platforms eager for traffic...

Will they let this explosive moment slip by?

How do you think the media will report this story?

Clemens did not answer.

"Perhaps as they gradually uncover this, an article will be written about it:"

"North District councilors are protecting human trafficking and forced marriages involving minors."

"You! You're threatening me..."

Link answered for him: "No, Mr. Congressman. I'm not threatening you."

It is the media's subjective initiative.

They will continue to explore DeShawn's network and related connections.

"When they find out something like campaign funds, vote manipulation, gang activities..."

"Enough! Your accusations are getting more and more outrageous."

Clemens' voice turned cold.

"I haven't made any accusations, Mr. Congressman. I'm just describing how the media will write it."

Link's tone remained gentle, but the steel blade beneath that gentleness had already been revealed:

"The media doesn't need evidence, the media only needs stories. And Ira Winthrop's story is one that's enough to stir up a storm in Philadelphia's public discourse."

A white girl who was trafficked grew up in a Black community and was forced to marry a gang member, whose husband might just happen to be the nephew of a Black councilman in the North District.

This story contains all sorts of elements—class, race, gender, and politics.

It's practically a collection of headline-grabbing gossip, and who do you think the public will side with?

He leaned forward slightly, shortening the distance between them.

"Maybe someone will be on my side."

Clemons' voice remained steady, but with an added layer of coldness and hardness beneath.

"The North District is my constituency, Attorney Link. My constituents know me and trust me."

They won't abandon their chosen representatives just because of a lawyer of dubious origin and a family looking for their lost heirs.

"I agree."

Link did not refute:

"Your voters will support you. But judges are not voters. Juries are not voters."

Federal prosecutors are not voters.

When DeShawn's criminal record reached drugs, guns, interstate crime...

When these issues are presented in federal court, do you think the federal prosecutor will be loyal to your district or to the law?

Clemons pursed his lips slightly upon hearing this.

"This is a blatant threat against me, Attorney Link."

"No, if you're willing. What I just said might just be a dream, a ridiculous fantasy. Everything is negotiable."

Upon hearing this, Clemons' excitement subsided.

As long as there's room for negotiation, he doesn't need to resort to desperate measures.

We're giving you a chance.

Link took a USB drive out of his briefcase and placed it on the mahogany desk.

"A chance to make a dignified exit."

You don't need to admit anything, make public statements, or do anything that would damage your image in your constituency.

All you need to do is one thing: remain silent on your nephew's case.

Clemons looked at the USB drive but didn't reach for it.

"What's in here?"

"A document containing a great deal of information about us."

Link's voice replied confidently:

"You know, the Winthrop family can hire the best research firms to cross-reference data until they find that symbiotic node."

Everything about your symbiotic relationship with him is here.

Clemons stared at the USB drive as if it were a grenade without a pull ring.

"This is a conflict you can choose, sir."

Link straightened his tie and stood up:

"Do you choose to fight this battle with the Winthrop family, or do you choose to withdraw with minimal losses and remain uninvolved?"

A long silence followed in the office.

Clemons finally reached out and held the USB drive in his palm, as if weighing it.

"I need time."

"You have seventy-two hours."

"If I do not hear your commitment to remain silent seventy-two hours from now, the Winthrop family will assume you are joining this legal battle."

Link got up, straightened his clothes, and thoughtfully reminded him:

"At that point, you won't have a choice."

The door closed gently behind me.

Link strode out with his head held high, unimpeded.

When I came out of the city hall, the continuous rain had stopped.

The sky over Philadelphia was still gray, but a sliver of pale sunlight peeked through the gaps in the clouds.

Daniel leaned against the car and looked as if he had seen a ghost when he saw him come out.

"You really went in and saw him? And gave him that thing?"

"I actually saw it, and I laid it all out. Then the whole thing came out."

Linkla opened the car door and got into the passenger seat: "Let's go see Mr. Samuel. We need to prepare for the next step."

"Next step? What next step? Didn't you already hand over all the evidence to him?"

Daniel started the engine, drove out of the city hall parking lot, and turned onto the main road.

"That USB drive is empty."

"Holy shit!"

Daniel's hands stopped on the steering wheel.

The SUV came to a steady stop at the red light. He turned around and looked at Link with a completely unexpected and incredulous expression.

"What did you say?"

"I said, that USB drive is empty."

Link fastened his seatbelt and repeated in a flat tone:

"No files, no data, nothing at all. Just an empty USB drive."

Daniel opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again.

"You...you threatened the Philadelphia city councilor with an empty USB drive?"

"I did not threaten him."

I simply gave him room to imagine.

Link leaned back in his chair, watching the sky gradually clear outside the windshield:

"I think Clemons was afraid to plug the USB drive into the computer to confirm."

Because he didn't know what was inside.

He was afraid there were tracking programs inside, afraid there were things he really didn't want to see inside.

He could only assume that such evidence did exist:

Because everything I say is true.

DeShawn does have a criminal record.

It's true that some of the city hall's funding went to community organizations controlled by DeSean. I simply presented the facts and gave him a choice.

"But what if, contrary to your expectations, he actually plugged in the USB drive?"

"Then he'll only find an empty USB drive."

Link turned his head, a smile playing on his lips:

"Then he'll think—why did you give me an empty USB drive?"

Is he toying with me, or is he implying that "this is just the tip of the iceberg, and the real evidence is in his hands"?

Humans are animals that excel at using their imagination to scare themselves.

Especially politicians.

They spend every day imagining how many cards their opponents have; all I need to do is give them a starting point for that imagination.

Daniel remained silent for a long time.

When the red light turned green, he stepped on the gas, and the SUV accelerated smoothly.

"You're a devil," he finally said.

"To defeat the devil, you need the devil."

Link took out his phone and dialed Klaus's number:

"Mr. Klaus, things are all taken care of at the city hall."

Clemons will most likely remain silent—at least for the next 72 hours.

Now it's our turn to take action.

DeSean took our food stamps and gift certificates that were supposed to be distributed as welfare. They're definitely at the same place where those certificates are kept; it's time to close the net.

Klaus's deep, brief reply came from the other end of the phone: "Understood. Operation begins."

Link hung up the phone and put it back in his pocket.

The SUV drove through downtown Philadelphia, the streets glistening wetly in the sunlight after the rain.

"Let's go, Daniel."

Let's go see the villain brought to justice.