Chapter 7

Chapter 7: The Rogue Cop

The atmosphere in the office was explosive, nearly frozen over.

I weighed my options over and over in my mind, then finally summoned my courage and said, "I don't want to tell you."

Boss Drake's expression grew even colder. He slowly closed the wooden box and said softly, "If you don't tell me, do you think you'll leave here in one piece?"

My voice trembled as I spoke. "Boss Drake, stop trying to scare me. You said we had nothing to do with each other, but you're treating me like a fool. If I actually told you where the gold is, and you sent someone to retrieve it, once you had it in hand, who knows if I'd even walk out that door alive. And don't threaten my family—I can't even guarantee my own life right now."

I knew very well that I couldn't reveal the location. I had to suppress my fear. The gold's location was the only card keeping me alive, and once I lost that card, I'd become worthless.

Boss Drake fell silent for a moment, then said, "So what exactly do you want?"

"Since you won't let me earn a living, name your price—three million."

He heard this and let out a cold laugh. "You stole my stuff, and now you're turning around and demanding money from me?"

I shot back righteously, "I only took your stuff because your own people couldn't keep their hands clean. You're a businessman pulling a double-cross—those three million are compensation. Or are you telling me a whole box of gold bars isn't worth that? You can't manage your own people, you won't pay compensation—what kind of logic is that?"

I couldn't help raising my voice, and suddenly the door was pushed open. The men outside immediately pointed at me, shouting angrily.

"Watch your mouth!"

"You got a death wish?"

I pushed down my fear. "I came to do business with you, and I already helped you make a profit. In the end, you're the ones who broke trust—everything I did was for self-preservation. Now you're threatening and intimidating me? Is this how you operate? Fine, let's go down together—I'll give you my life, and you'll never get that gold!"

Their faces darkened with rage. Boss Drake suddenly waved his hand. "Enough, stop arguing with him. At the end of the day, we're the ones who broke trust. Whoever made this mess will clean it up themselves. Tiger, come in."

Tiger Lin must have been waiting outside; he came in immediately and said nervously, "Boss."

"This mess was made by your sister and you. Now you go with him and bring the gold back. This kid's main concern is that he won't make it out alive, so listen to his plan. In business, harmony brings wealth—if we can resolve this peacefully, we resolve it peacefully."

Tiger said respectfully, "Yes, whatever you say, Boss."

I started, "About the three million—"

Boss Drake's voice turned even icier. "Do you think I'd dare give it to you? Would you dare take it? In this world, if someone's stronger than you, they're stronger. If you're short, own up to it; if you're taking a beating, stand steady. You survived this long because you got lucky. Don't say we don't play fair—I'm not here to reason with you. Today I'm bullying you plain and simple, slapping you in the face. Can you swallow that or not?"

I hung my head and whispered, "I'll swallow it."

"Get out. We all know where your family lives. As long as you don't play games, your family stays safe."

My heart raced. What did he mean, don't play games? I absolutely had to play games—because I'd already handed the gold over to the police!

Tiger suddenly said, "Boss, my sister—"

"I took one of her hands. Considering how long you've been with me, I won't take her life. After I've given the client an explanation, I'll arrange for her to be taken to a hospital she knows. They'll reattach her hand, though it won't be as flexible as before."

Tiger's face flushed red. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out.

Boss Drake said coldly, "You know full well that if this had been anyone else, both of you siblings would have been buried long ago. I've turned a blind eye to plenty of what you've done ordinarily. Today, you brought this on yourselves—you couldn't even manage a proper double-cross."

"Yes, Boss is right."

Tiger let out a heavy sigh and dragged me out of the office.

Once we were outside, he couldn't hold back his tears, rubbing his eyes furiously as he choked out, "I want to fucking kill you. If it weren't for you, how would my sister be suffering like this?"

"Your moral compass is broken, isn't it? You came to rob me first, and now you're blaming me? Should I have cooperated cheerfully and said 'welcome, honorable robber?' With that kind of thinking, no wonder you've ended up where you are."

"I don't want to argue nonsense with you. Just tell me where the gold is."

"It's with a friend of mine."

He blanched. "Are you trying to fool me? That much gold, and you gave it to a friend?"

"I couldn't exactly carry all that gold around with me. It was way more than one person could handle. I didn't even have a working car at the time—was I supposed to bury it and wait for someone else to dig it up?" I said. "Don't worry. My friend is keeping the gold perfectly safe."

Tiger pulled out his phone impatiently. "Call him! Put it on speaker!"

I took his phone and dialed Detective Sullivan's number.

Tiger watched me dial, then said, "A local number? You're not worried about us tracking down his family?"

When the call connected, Sullivan's voice came through. "Hello, who is this?"

I said immediately, "Brother, it's me—Marcus! They came for the gold!"

"Let me talk—" Tiger took back the phone and said coldly, "Kid, he gave you that chest of stuff, right? If you don't want both of you buried in the mountains, hand it over right now."

Sullivan was silent for a moment, then said, "Who are you?"

"Don't worry about who I am. His life is in my hands. And now I have your phone number—believe me, I can track you down."

"Ooh, I'm so scared. Who are you affiliated with?"

"You little punk, you got some attitude on you. Hope you don't piss yourself when I show up at your door."

"Cut the crap. You're one of Monkey Drake's men, aren't you?"

Tiger was taken aback. "How do you know—"

"The only crew in this city that can move that many American gold bars—besides Monkey Drake, who else? What have you done to my brother?"

"From the sound of it, you know your way around. As long as the gold checks out, your friend won't have any problems. Name a time and place."

"Got it. Tonight at three, at the place where my brother and I handed off the gold. You bring extra people and I drive off immediately. Don't think I can't move the merchandise—I've got contacts across the city; I can sell it in batches just fine."

"I want the exact location!"

"Why should I tell you? If my brother here isn't valuable to you alive, will I even get to see him walk away? You talk too much. Hanging up."

"Little punk, I'm going to find you—"

Tiger didn't finish his sentence before the call was abruptly disconnected.

Sullivan was a true professional. In just a few sentences, he'd made clear my importance. By setting the meeting at the place where we'd originally exchanged the gold, he ensured my continued value—one simple statement that could save my life.

Tiger said to me, "Your buddy—is he in the business too?"

"If he were a law-abiding citizen, why would I give him illegal gold?"

"He's pretty cocky. He probably doesn't know who I am. If he knew who he was dealing with, he'd be shaking in his boots."

"He's... always been pretty cocky. Maybe he really isn't scared of you."

Tiger held his phone and pulled up WeChat, searching for the number.

My heart jumped—if Sullivan's WeChat was linked to his phone number, and his profile picture or nickname had even a hint of police about it, I'd be finished!

Sure enough, a WeChat account appeared—but no police elements. The profile picture was a puppy, and the name was "This Heart Like Snow."

Who knew Sullivan's WeChat name would be so... feminine, with a touch of teenage melodrama.

Tiger didn't add him as a friend. He asked me whether the meeting point was in the city or the countryside. I told him truthfully it was out in the country.

He nodded, called for two more men to help, and had me wait at the shop. Eventually, they loaded me into a delivery truck.

Once on the truck, they first drove to the vicinity of a shopping center, then Tiger had me hide in the deepest part of the cargo area. I was wondering what was happening when he crouched next to me, and someone began hefting garbage bins onto the truck.

Not garbage bins again...

Each bin carried a dull sloshing sound and a terrible stench.

He explained, "This is slop. Most of the time, trucks carry goods from the countryside into the city. Going from the city out to the countryside is suspicious, but slop is perfectly natural. Plus, these are legitimate commercial channels—this stuff really does go to feed pigs."

"You're wanted criminals, and this is how you get in and out of the city?"

"Yep. Can't handle it?"

I said, "I can handle it. I've experienced it before."

"Experienced what?"

"Nothing."

Once the slop was loaded, Tiger handed me a plastic bucket.

It was strange—the bottom had been cut out and fitted with a rubber ring, just large enough to fit over a person's head. I asked, "What's this?"

"When we're leaving the city, if the police set up a checkpoint, we might have to hide inside the bins. counting the time for document checks, it could take several minutes. If you can't hold your breath and pop your head up, you'll be spotted immediately."

I took the modified bucket in amazement. You had to give it to these professional escape artists—they had all the tricks.

The truck started moving, with Tiger's car following behind.

As we approached the city limits, sure enough, there was a police checkpoint. Tiger said, "Hide now! Unless one of us calls for you, don't surface even if you're suffocating. And don't even think about deliberately exposing yourself to the police unless you're certain you can get all of us arrested at once."

I could only stash my phone under the bucket, then grit my teeth and step into the slop-filled bin.

That greasy sensation clung to every inch of my skin, as if it were seeping into my flesh. As I went deeper, I could feel solid chunks and slimy liquid sliding over my hands—it was unbearable.

With the bucket over my head, I buried my face as low as possible, careful not to surface and be spotted.

I could feel the truck slowly coming to a stop—they must be undergoing a police check. The rubber ring at the base of the bucket was tight, keeping the liquid from seeping in.

My head trapped in this tiny bucket, I could clearly hear my own breathing. At first it was tolerable, but gradually my breath grew hotter and hotter. I tried to minimize my breathing, but over time, I still felt like I was suffocating.

No matter how hard I tried to breathe, my head spun from lack of oxygen. But I didn't know how long the police check would take, and I didn't dare surface. I knew I could simply lift my head and call for help from the officers—but if they didn't catch all of these criminals, what would happen to my family?

I held my breath as long as I could. After what felt like an eternity, the truck finally started moving again.

Someone poked me. I quickly sat up and yanked off the bucket, gasping for air. It was the driver—he'd opened the sliding window between the cargo area and the cab and was poking us with a stick.

After the truck cleared the city safely, we drove for a while longer before finally pulling over on a quiet mountain road.

Tiger had me get out. His car was parked alongside us, and the driver brought out large jugs of mineral water from the trunk, pouring it over us.

Tiger stripped off his clothes and said, "You should change too. There are spare clothes in the car—don't get mine dirty."

I nodded. I didn't want these clothes anyway. I quickly stripped and rinsed off, but still felt grimy. I asked if he had any soap or body wash, and he told me to get real.

After changing and getting into his car, I couldn't help sniffing myself. I smelled strange—like hot pot mixed with grilled fish.

Tiger told me to give directions. I shook my head. "I won't. When the time comes, I'll point the way."

"You insist on being mysterious?"

"If I tell you the location, I lose my value."

I said this and leaned back the seat, ignoring Tiger's furious expression. I checked the time—still over an hour before three o'clock.

Honestly, I was still anxious.

Sullivan had just met Tiger today. I was genuinely worried he'd be recognized. If Tiger realized he was dealing with a cop, he'd certainly take it out on me. I could only hope Sullivan would send someone else for the exchange.

After resting briefly, when the time was right, I began directing Tiger, leading him to the rafting scenic area.

A car was already parked near the storage lockers, its lights still on. Tiger pulled up facing it head-on and flashed his high beams.

I asked, "What's that for?"

"Street code—means the meeting can commence. You wouldn't understand," he said.

When the other car didn't respond, he flashed his high beams again.

The window rolled down, and I saw Sullivan lean out—but a completely different Sullivan from the one I knew.

Before, he'd looked clean-cut and upright. Now he slouched in his seat, one hand draped casually out the window with a lit cigarette between his fingers, his arm covered in simple English-letter tattoos. His hair was dyed silver, bangs falling across his brow, and he wore a black mask.

Were those... a wig and temporary tattoos?

Sullivan took a drag and said to Tiger, "What the hell are you flashing at?"

Tiger was stunned. He cursed, "Are you out of your mind? Don't you know the rules?"

Sullivan looked thoroughly annoyed. "If you want rules, go get a job. Stop grossing me out here. We're all in this life—what are you pretending to be, some kind of gangster? Should I speak some secret code for you?"

Tiger swore as he got out of the car, and I scrambled after him.

Sullivan seemed to have come alone. He didn't even get out, just sat behind the wheel smugly, cigarette clamped between his teeth. Tiger approached and lowered his voice. "Where's the merchandise?"

Sullivan glanced at him but ignored the question, asking me instead, "They didn't do anything to you, did they?"

"I'm fine."

Tiger grew agitated. "I said, the stuff I want—"

"Gold! Gold! You want gold!" Sullivan suddenly shouted, making Tiger flinch. "Is your throat broken? There's no one else here—why are you whispering?"

Tiger's face turned beet red—he'd clearly never dealt with anyone this unhinged. "Don't you know who I am? You've heard of Tiger Lin?"

"Why should I introduce myself? Are you under the impression you're famous?"

"I'll—"

"Where's the money?"

"What money?"

Sullivan pinched his cigarette butt and flicked it directly at Tiger. The sparks made Tiger jump as he slapped at his clothes frantically.

Sullivan said coolly, "Monkey Drake sends you to pick up the goods, but didn't bring money?"

Tiger sneered, "You want money too? If our boss hadn't been kind, your brother would be a corpse by now. You—"

"Then let him be a corpse."

Before Tiger could finish, Sullivan stepped on the gas and started driving away. Tiger panicked and ran after him, pounding on the window. "Hey! Hey!"

The car suddenly stopped.

From the window, a gun slowly extended.

It wasn't a police-issue weapon—it was a homemade pipe gun. Tiger's face went white as a sheet. Sullivan said icily: "My friend doesn't know better, but don't think I don't. I've tested this batch—it's worth thirty million. I'm not being greedy—I want ten million in cash. Wire transfer accepted."

Tiger swallowed hard. "I bet you don't have the guts to pull that trigger."

"Looks like you'd lose that bet."

Sullivan's finger moved toward the trigger. Tiger's legs gave out and he dropped to his knees. "Don't shoot!"

"Call your boss right now. On speaker."

Under enormous pressure, Tiger could only fumble for his phone with trembling hands. He made a call, and when the other end connected, he stammered, "The situation's gotten complicated. I ran into a psycho. Put the boss on."

Sullivan smirked. "Pretty cautious—told you to call your boss, but you called someone else instead. Afraid of revealing your boss's identity?"

A moment later, Monkey Drake's voice came through. "What's wrong?"

"Boss, it's on speaker. Someone's pointing a gun at my head."

A sigh came from the phone. "You really are more trouble than you're worth."

Sullivan took the phone. "Boss Drake, was it? I'll skip the pleasantries—I don't want to repeat myself. Ten million. You try to haggle, and I put a bullet in your man's head."

"Kid, you're pretty bold. Take it from your elders—you—"

Bang!

Sullivan fired the gun.

A spray of buckshot hit the empty ground next to Tiger, who screamed and scrambled backward on his hands and knees.

I'll admit—even I jolted in fear.

When Monkey Drake heard the gunshot, he went silent. Sullivan asked, "What kind of elder are you? Call you 'Boss Drake' out of respect—without that respect, what are you?"

"Who exactly are you?"

"You talk too much."

"Kid, I see your number is local. You're not afraid of your family being found?"

"Ooh, I'm so scared. Shaking in my boots."

"You're pretty cocky."

"Monkey Drake, can you cut the crap? Everyone in this city knows you and your crew are cowards who only dare to play dirty from the shadows—" Sullivan said calmly. "Push me hard enough and I'll take one of you with me. What are you squawking about? Name a time and place—ten million."

"Fine. We'll meet outside the city, four-thirty AM, at the old ancestral hall in Shiqiao Village. Kid, I dare to give it—do you dare to take it?"

"Cowards always talk too much. See you there."

Sullivan hung up and glanced at Tiger. "What are you still doing here? Get lost."

Tiger scrambled to his feet and ran for his car, but just as he was about to reach it, Sullivan reloaded and aimed at him. "Who said you could drive away? Touch that door and I'll shoot you where you stand."

Tiger swallowed hard, abandoned the car, and ran off on trembling legs. Sullivan nodded approvingly. "That's right—run along. You were so cocky a minute ago, and now you're scampering like a little dog."