novelhk Chapter 35 The Mayor and the Army's Investigation
Chapter 35 The Mayor and the Army's Investigation
The city hall offices are well soundproofed.
Once the oak door was closed, no sound could be heard in the corridor, but the mayor had no intention of speaking in a low voice.
He braced himself on the desk with both hands, leaned forward, and pressed his fingers on the walnut wood surface.
On top lay today's *New York Gazette*—the front page headline featured a line of bold black text:
The Razor Gang was wiped out, and hundreds of corpses were found in the port.
The accompanying picture shows the red and blue lights of police lights at the entrance of a warehouse on West 35th Street, and blurry figures behind the police tape.
"Gallop, election day is just around the corner, why is there such a big commotion in Midtown Manhattan?"
Gallo stood two steps in front of the desk, his hands hanging down at his sides.
His epaulets bear the star of the New York City Police Commissioner.
But that star offers no protection in this office.
He just stood there, waiting for the mayor to raise his voice to its highest point, before swallowing back the phlegm that was stuck in his throat at the end of his sentence.
If the mayor in front of us hadn't given the order to leave the port alone, how could it have developed to its current scale?
Those gangs allocated berths, distributed containers, and made quarterly payments at the docks.
Every week, the mayor's office fax machine receives a port security briefing, which always states that there were no unusual events this week.
Even a few years ago, no gang dared to engage in human trafficking on such a large scale.
Because back then, the old guys at the docks still remembered the rules.
Now that the old guys are either dead, retired, or pushed into the Hudson River by the younger generation with guns pointed at their backs, the rules have sunk to the bottom.
Gallo knew all of this.
He simply stood there, waiting for the mayor to vent his anger.
The mayor glanced at Gallo's unmoving face, withdrew his hand from the table, and straightened his cuffs.
There's no point in continuing to yell at him.
The two of them had worked together in this office for four years, and they both knew where the other's bottom line was.
The mayor's bottom line is votes, while Gallo's bottom line is not to make the police department take the blame.
"What did the military say?"
The female assistant jogged over from the corner, her high heels making a soft tapping sound on the oak floor.
The phone in her hand was already connected, and the green icon for a call was lit up on the screen.
The mayor took the phone and held it to his ear.
"General Ross, is that man actually a member of the military?"
There was silence for a second or two on the other end of the line.
"It cannot be confirmed yet."
Ross's voice came through the phone, deep and steady.
"What do you mean by 'cannot be confirmed'?"
The mayor's voice rose a little, but he quickly lowered the volume of the second half of his sentence after he had spoken.
Ross is not Gallo, not a bureau chief.
Ross has troops, military funds, and the authority to freely enter and exit the Pentagon corridors.
The mayor switched the microphone to his other hand, and his tone lowered again.
"SWAT special operations uniforms have never been sold to the public."
"That guy not only has this set of equipment, but also such strong individual combat capabilities. You must have some clues."
Ross was silent for a moment on the other end of the phone.
His troops have indeed sold a considerable number of special operations uniforms in the Middle East.
Fighting in the desert is all about risking your life; reselling supplies and a few sets of combat uniforms is nothing unusual.
He hadn't directly handled such matters, but he knew very well where the missing equipment in the warehouse had gone, and he also knew whose account the money had ended up in.
He was the one who benefited the most from it.
However, this guy, who was wearing combat gear and had blown the heads off more than a hundred members of the Razor Gang, was indeed ridiculously strong in individual combat.
He was able to clear out the entire warehouse by himself, shooting every bullet between the eyebrows, using only Glock rifles without switching, and even cutting Jeremiah's razor in the end.
You can't find many people in the entire United States with this kind of combat capability.
"I'll handle it." Ross put the receiver back to his ear.
"That person is now in your hands. You must give the public an explanation."
Click! The mayor hung up the phone.
He handed the microphone to his female assistant and turned back to face Gallo.
His posture had changed from leaning forward at the desk to leaning back on the edge of the desk with his arms crossed in front of his chest.
"This time, your branch office at least stabilized the situation and received praise from the victims."
His tone softened, setting the stage for what he would say next.
"But this isn't going to end so easily. You know what to do, right?"
Gallo nodded.
"The Razor Claw Gang still has some peripheral members; they'll disappear soon."
"It's just about the Amick Group..."
The mayor lowered his hands from his chest and walked to the window.
Outside the window is the lawn in front of the city hall, the fountain is still spraying water as usual, and a few tourists are sitting on a bench eating sandwiches.
This port is not just a hub for human trafficking.
In the nearby Amick Group port, several containers were stacked with entire boxes of drugs.
Heroin, packaged in bricks, each wrapped in three layers of plastic film, stacked neatly.
The reporter named Ben used a telephoto lens to capture everything clearly from outside the police cordon.
It has already been published on page three of the New York Gazette.
The caption accompanying the photo reads: "The amount of drugs seized at the port is the highest in recent years."
It can't be covered up anymore.
"A reporter from the New York Gazette, huh." The mayor tapped his fingers twice on the windowsill.
The campaign funds that the Amick Group sends each year are not a small amount.
That money was used to print flyers, rent venues, and buy TV time slots, which helped him gain a few percentage points of votes every election season.
This year, competitors are still catching up to him, and the poll gap has narrowed to single digits.
Cutting off Amick Industries at this point is like throwing your own wallet into the trash.
"I'll have them figure something out regarding the Amick Group."
"Take care of the Razor Gang first, and let the guys at the port have some peace and quiet for a while."
The mayor waved his hand and sat back down in his swivel chair.
Gallo turned and walked toward the door.
Military base.
The fluorescent lights in the office made the cement walls appear bluish.
General Ross sat behind his iron-gray desk, on which lay a fax.
That was a copy of the preliminary forensic report from the New York Police Department, which he had already read.
His assessment of the report differed from Barron's:
He didn't want to call this person "the end"; he wanted to know who this person was.
More than a hundred people, all of them shot between the eyebrows, without exception.
The cartridge cases are 9mm Glock standard, and the magazine has been modified to hold at least thirty rounds.
Such shooting accuracy, combined with such sustained firepower, is unparalleled in conventional forces.
"Colonel, who do you think it could be?"
Ray Skunover stood in front of his desk, his military cap tucked under his arm, his spine ramrod straight.
He knew perfectly well that Ross wasn't asking him to solve a riddle.
Ross asked, "Who do you think should be blamed for this?"
"In the Marine Corps, I only know two people with this kind of individual combat capability."
Lei's voice was steady.
"Marine Corps Commandant Frank Castle and his deputy Billy Russell."
"but……"
"Our combat uniforms are not SWAT uniforms."
Ross leaned back in his chair and tapped his finger on the metal tabletop; the logo on the back could be changed.
He knew exactly where those combat uniforms had come from; only his troops in the entire United States had been able to obtain this type of equipment.
That's why when the mayor called, he didn't say it couldn't be someone from the military.
It's two different things to be someone who can't be in the military and to not let people know that someone is in the military.
"Go and finish up the mess quickly."
Ross gave him a meaningful look and said nothing more.
Some things aren't that you can't say them, but that even if you do, the person who hears them will pretend they didn't hear them.
Ray Skunover immediately bowed and withdrew.
The heel of the military boot made a crisp sound as it stood still, then it turned and walked towards the door.
General Ross didn't need to say anything more.
The moment he pushed open the iron door to his office, he had already laid out the timeline of his plan in his mind.
During this period, he had been planning to get rid of the uncooperative Frank Castle after the war ended.
After his final mission, Frank sent the operation report directly to the investigation committee.
The report details a particular unauthorized operation involving the handling of supplies.
That report is still sitting at the bottom of a drawer in an office at the Pentagon, but it will surface sooner or later.
We can't let it float to the surface.
Frank was the one who brought down the Razor Shields.
No, it is.
……