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Chapter 37: This is Felton
"Get lost!"
Perhaps the wind at this altitude was too strong, causing Roy's face to distort. At this moment, he looked even more ferocious.
"You lowlifes! Inferiors! Get out of the way! Get lost!"
He yelled, swaying his body as he charged toward the workers.
Under the workers' indifferent gaze, his body swayed more and more violently.
Amidst creaking sounds, he could no longer control his balance.
Amidst gasps of surprise, Roy's feet found nothing but air. Those disgusting, ugly, hateful faces rapidly shrank away, and he felt as if he were flying.
He didn't like this feeling, it made him feel completely out of control.
Roy plummeted from the high altitude, bouncing a few times like a broken sack on the ground before lying spread-eagle. He was then struck by the guardrail and other objects that fell after him.
This complicated matters for the forensic team.
The forensic team was personally brought by Wenner, and on-site command had already been transferred to him.
Wenner ordered the oil well's financial records to be seized but didn't have anyone interrogated.
Soon, people from the oil company rushed to the scene after hearing the news. They began negotiating with Wenner, wanting control of the scene returned to them.
Before long, people from the Oil Workers Union also arrived. While organizing personnel to rescue the trapped workers, they also pestered the oil company representatives, demanding a safe working environment.
There were three parties at the scene, and it quickly devolved into chaos.
Wenner invited the representatives from the union and the oil company into the building for negotiations.
Those outside had no way of knowing how they negotiated, but in the end, after they emerged, the detained financial personnel were handed over to the oil company. The union representative then announced to the workers that the oil company would purchase safety insurance for all workers.
The union representative reminded the workers that anyone who had not received safety insurance must report it to the union, and they would help handle it.
At this time, union management was entirely composed of internal industry personnel, with very few professional managers hired. They truly represented the interests of the union members, not the interests of the 'union' itself.
On the way back to the bureau, the three of them discussed the reasons for Roy killing Hank and Billy, all talking at once.
Theodore believed that Roy had used substandard materials during procurement and was discovered by the two veteran workers, leading to blackmail.
Hank's appetite grew larger and larger, and the blackmail amounts became higher and higher. Eventually, Roy was overwhelmed and took drastic measures.
He even speculated that Roy was seen by Billy the night he killed Hank.
His reasoning was simple: after Hank died, Roy gave Billy Hank's hush money.
Bernie thought Theodore's speculation was too far-fetched. Sam, however, admitted that part of Theodore's speculation was correct.
Two days later, the assessment results from the oil company's expert team confirmed Theodore's speculation.
They found structural safety risks in the oil well derrick and recommended reinforcing the derrick before resuming operations.
"So this is a homicide triggered by cutting corners."
Bernie summarized the case in one sentence, sealing its conclusion.
As closing time approached, Sam finished writing the case report, organized all the materials, stacked them on the desk, and called Theodore and Bernie to go to the bar to celebrate.
He was in charge of this case; Theodore and Bernie were helping out.
Theodore and Bernie didn't refuse. The three of them chose Old Gun Bar as their destination.
The bar owner was happy to see them arrive and treated them to the first round of drinks for free.
After a few rounds of drinks, Sam was a little drunk and gradually loosened up.
The topic of conversation unconsciously shifted to Sam's partner who was about to return.
Sam expressed envy for his partner's choice and admiration for his partner's courage in making that choice.
Bernie wasn't fond of his partner, considering him a traitor who was solely focused on getting into the FBI.
A drunken detective at the next table overheard their conversation and slurred, "That's the FBI! Buddy! Who wouldn't want to go to the FBI!"
Bernie's gaze briefly lingered on the man's protruding belly, and he shook his head, saying, "You probably can't."
Hoover required FBI agents to wear conservative dark suits, white shirts, and ties, maintaining a neat and clean appearance to establish an "elite law enforcement officer" image.
He also prohibited agents from drinking heavily, gambling, or participating in activities that could damage the FBI's reputation. He required agents to have no criminal record or moral blemishes; agents needed to report their marriages in advance.
The detective was a bit embarrassed and started yelling loudly. Soon, the surrounding drunkards were attracted and joined the discussion.
They divided into two factions: one believed that participating in the FBI selection was a sign of ambition, while the other believed it was betrayal.
Neither side could convince the other, so they started playing darts, billiards, spring horses, arm wrestling, and drinking contests.
At first, the competition between the two sides still revolved around the core conflict of the argument, but gradually fewer and fewer people mentioned it.
In the end, everyone was drunk and had forgotten what they were initially arguing about. They only knew to stare at the other side and pour drinks down their throats, cheering every time someone on the opposite side threw up.
This revelry lasted until after 2 AM. Not a single person was left standing in the bar.
Looking at the drunkards scattered across the floor, the bar owner limped around, sorting through the crowd. He was familiar with most of the people there.
He put those who insisted on going home together, called nearby patrol officers to drive them home, and arranged for the others to sleep on tables for the night in the bar.
Upstairs at Old Gun Bar.
It was very quiet here, unlike the chaotic scene downstairs.
Chief Widdek, Cahill, Wenner, and a silver badge member from headquarters were gathered together.
"The oil company is very unhappy," the member from headquarters said. "They had to compromise with the Oil Workers Union and promise to purchase safety insurance for the workers."
"They're pressuring the city government, demanding that we hand over two important people to take responsibility."
As soon as this person finished speaking, Cahill jumped up. "That's impossible!"
"Why should we have to hand over people just because they say so? That's impossible!"
The silver badge member from headquarters tapped the table. "Because this is Felton."
Cahill looked as if his neck was being choked. He looked at Wenner. "Julian, say something! They're all your subordinates!"
Wenner didn't even look at Cahill. He just said, "They're all members of the FOP."
He took off his silver badge and placed it on the table. "If this is the FOP's decision, I respect it."
Seeing Wenner stand up, Chief Widdek waved his hand, telling him to sit down. He then brought up another matter.
"I was just about to apply to headquarters to have you come here and serve as Deputy Police Chief..."
After seeing off the person from headquarters, Widdek chatted with Wenner.
"You think highly of that young man?"
Wenner nodded. "He's someone I'm focusing on cultivating. He's very talented."
He considered his words carefully, and finally said, "It's as if he was born for this."
Widdek looked back at Cahill, who was drinking by himself, and turned his head to say:
"I hope you're right. That position was originally reserved for you."
Wenner drained the wine in his glass. "You won't be disappointed."
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