Blackstone Code

Chapter 9:

With a loud "bang," a chair shattered in Michael's hands. His partner hurriedly intervened between him and the "informant," trying to calm Michael down as much as possible.

Today's operation was a complete failure. Whether it was stopping and searching Lin Qi, who went to deliver goods, or searching his temporary residence, they found no abnormalities whatsoever.

They couldn't find the alleged five thousand bucks in loose change the informant mentioned, not even a single buck's loose change, neither on Lin Qi nor in the room.

A failed operation meant Michael would lose face in front of his colleagues. The internal hierarchy and job dynamics within the Federal Tax Bureau created an unimaginable level of competition within this specialized department.

Everyone wanted to be an "agent," not an "investigator," and Michael had a significant chance of promotion. However, if this failed operation disrupted the subsequent plans involving Lin Qi and Fox, he would become a laughingstock, with no hope of promotion for two to three years.

When most people encounter problems, they tend to shift the blame onto others. Like them, Michael attributed this failure to unreliable information provided by the informant.

So, he summoned the informant to this room and, amidst rage and roars, lifted the chair and slammed it hard onto the informant's back.

"Do you know how much I lost because of your false information?" he exclaimed in anger, pointing at the informant lying on the table in apparent pain.

The informant was a News Head. In Sabin City and other cities, major intelligence channels were controlled by specialized intelligence-gathering agencies and News Heads.

Newsboys would inform the News Heads about unusual occurrences they found. This was also another job of News Heads and newsboys.

News Heads might not necessarily reward the newsboys. Despite no money or incentives, the newsboys obediently did so, trading their service for favors.

Some clever investigators and detectives had similar informants, and one News Head might serve more than one client.

Everyone involved in trading information wasn't driven by justice or moral values; it was about money. They didn't need to portray themselves as noble.

People like Michael existed but were few. Taking the anger out on the informant was a foolish move.

The blow from the chair made the facial muscles of the News Head lying on the table twist in pain, his eyes glinting with hatred. However, this hatred soon turned submissive.

Michael had something on him.

He had previously done something to a young girl, and later, due to some events, it was coincidentally discovered by Michael.

Michael took away the girl afterwards and left behind some evidence, such as a recorded confession where he admitted guilt, a handwritten account of the crime with his fingerprints, and the details of the incident.

"I'm not lying. Just my boys alone gave him nearly fifteen hundred bucks. I swear I'm not lying!" he defended himself, praying for this terrifying situation to pass quickly.

He seemed to have forgotten that there was once a girl who prayed the same way but didn't get the outcome she hoped for.

Michael pushed away his partner and approached the table. Grabbing the News Head's hair, he punched him. His partner stood by, not intervening further.

As long as Michael didn't use any tools, his partner wouldn't interfere too much. Bare hands wouldn't kill, but holding something could. His actions were merely aimed at preventing any mishaps; it wasn't genuinely about preventing Michael from exhibiting violent behavior.

Of course, if someone were to lose their life, there were ways to deal with it, but it would be a bit troublesome. There were many arrangements to make.

Sabin was a small city. Whether it was the investigative bureau or the tax bureau, they were familiar with the people in the court. They wouldn't sentence a promising government employee to death for someone skirting the gray area.

There was a high likelihood of being acquitted immediately, as minor mishaps occurring during the pursuit of a fugitive could be deemed acceptable.

One punch, two punches, three punches...

Several punches landed before Michael finally stopped. Only when the News Head's cheeks were swollen and somewhat deformed did he let go of him.

Shaking his hands, he grabbed a cup of water from the table and poured it over the News Head.

The water trickled down his hair, instantly sobering up his somewhat blurry consciousness. Following that, intense pain and partial numbness mixed, leaving him feeling... bewildered.

It hurt a lot, but he couldn't pinpoint the exact location of the pain.

"Arrange for your people to deliver five thousand bucks in loose change to him this afternoon, and then we'll make the arrest!" Michael quickly devised a plan. He glanced back at his partner, who nodded slightly, agreeing to his plan.

From a judicial standpoint, this behavior of possibly "inducing a crime" was illegal, and any actions taken or evidence collected during the process wouldn't hold legal validity.

But this was a small town. Everyone knew each other, and there was no need for their faces to turn sour over things that wouldn't cause any commotion outside.

For frontline investigators, sometimes manipulating evidence slightly to ensure criminals faced justice was considered normal. Everyone was accustomed to it.

He yanked the News Head's hair again, pulling his head back, forcing him to raise his swollen face to gaze at him. "Understood?"

The News Head's evasive glance dissipated some of Michael's anger and other indescribable emotions. He was still the irresistible Michael, not the guy who suddenly became a bit timid and backed down.

"Yes... I understand..."

Michael released his grip. The damp hair left water stains on his palm. He wiped his hands back and forth on the News Head's clothes, then patted the swollen face before leaving with a slightly satisfied smile, amid the News Head's agonized screams.

The room returned to silence. The News Head's eyes shifted from brief hatred, resentment, and madness, gradually turning submissive again.

He slowly got up. Straightening his back immediately shot a piercing pain through him, causing him to hunch over. He grabbed his hat, pressed it onto his head, paused for a minute or two, and then left the room.

Meanwhile, Lin Qi, returning from the laundry to his temporary residence, observed the disheveled room and promptly decided to call the police.

Yes, the police. He didn't silently treat it as if nothing had happened, even though he knew what had occurred here.

Soon, the police arrived. After surveying the scene and Lin Qi mentioning his loss of five hundred bucks, it was evidently deemed a case of burglary, and the amount wasn't insignificant.

As for how they could solve it, that depended on Lin Qi's luck. As per the officer, nobody knew who had entered, and there were no witnesses nearby. If the culprit didn't commit another crime and was caught, it would be challenging for Lin Qi to recover the loss.

Basically, the case ended there.

As the police were about to leave, Lin Qi suddenly added some information, "Officer..."

The officer responsible for recording the scene redirected attention from his colleague toward Lin Qi at the door. He then looked at Lin Qi. "Yes?"

"I remembered... I also lost a gold ring. It was meant as a gift for my girlfriend, with 'My Dearest Catherine' engraved inside..." He sighed regretfully. "I should've kept it on me!"

The officer felt more sympathetic towards the young man. He jotted down this small detail at the bottom of the scene report, comforting, "This is an important clue. If that person is looking to sell it soon, we might catch them."

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