The Bronx can be considered New York's industrial district, home to numerous garment and shoe factories, as well as electrical and electronic equipment, machinery manufacturing, chemicals, and munitions industries.
Like other New York boroughs, the security situation here varies. Emerging entrepreneurial districts and older industrial areas can be separated by just a street, creating an unbreakable divide between the haves and have-nots.
Because they were taking a detour from Staten Island to reach this northernmost borough, the two vehicles arrived one after the other to find the area already enclosed by yellow police tape and surrounded by NYPD officers.
For both the NYPD and LAPD, the shooting of one of their own officers is a top priority, and nearly all nearby night patrol officers on duty rushed to the scene.
Newcomer Jim Aubrey, who had also received the news and rushed from his home in upper Manhattan, arrived early and was crouching beside a body covered in a white sheet on the side of the road, assessing the situation.
Jack and Hannah got out of the car. Danny, who had parked in front of them, was already scrambling to find the police officers on the scene to learn what had happened.
Seeing the two, Aubrey lifted a corner of the white sheet covering the body, his expression somewhat grim. "He died before the ambulance arrived."
On the ground lay a helmeted motorcycle police officer, a Latino man in his early 30s. His trachea and carotid artery had been punctured.
Blood flowed down the road into the gutter beside the road. A police flashlight, crushed by the wheels, lay there, its shattered glass reflecting a crimson glow.
The officer clutched his wounded neck with his left hand as he died, his right hand clutching his sidearm. It was clear he'd realized something was wrong, but it was too late. He'd been attacked the moment he'd drawn his weapon.
"He was probably conducting a nighttime traffic stop when it happened. His last communication with the main station mentioned stopping a car, but I don't understand why he didn't report the license plate beforehand," Aubrey said, puzzled.
"Because if it's just a minor violation, not reporting the license plate beforehand is perfectly normal. Was he wearing a body camera?" Jack and Hannah exchanged glances. Both LAPD veterans, they had some experience in this area.
"When I arrived, the NYPD technicians had just removed the body camera from his chest. They should be downloading the data right now."
Aubrey replaced the white sheet. Danny, a look of grief on his face, approached from the direction of several officers. "His name is Tony Sanchez. He survived two tours of Afghanistan, but lost his life writing a traffic ticket."
Jack instinctively glanced at the hand still clutching his sidearm beneath the sheet. A single shot had taken out a seasoned veteran. Although it was a surprise attack, the opponent was clearly no ordinary man.
He sighed, unsure how to offer comfort. "Are there any witnesses?"
"Only one, and he was also the caller."
Danny pointed to a middle-aged African American man standing outside the cordon. Two officers were taking his statement with pen and paper.
"Let's go together," Jack patted his shoulder. Knowing Danny was also a veteran, he couldn't help but feel a pang of affection.
"I'm on the night shift tonight, and my desk is right next to that window," the middle-aged African American man pointed to an office building down the road. "After I heard the gunshot, I looked out the window and saw the police officer collapsed on the side of the road."
"So you didn't actually see the shooting?" Hannah asked.
"No, I called 911 immediately. By the time I ran out of the building, the car had already driven away. The police officer was clutching his neck, still gasping for breath. I tried to stop the bleeding, but..."
Jack glanced at the blood on his hand and nodded slightly.
The middle-aged African American man, dressed somewhat worn-down, was in his forties and looked like an ordinary blue-collar worker, yet he possessed a rare warmth of heart. Most people wouldn't have dared to rush out of the building to save someone in such a situation, even if the person shot was a police officer.
"Can you describe the car?" Danny's face showed reluctance, and he subconsciously glanced at the body covered in a white sheet.
"Of course, it's a black car with black film on the windows, so you can't see inside clearly. It looks very high-end, but the paint style is a bit strange. It looks like a car from a company that specializes in luxury car rentals. Do you understand what I mean?"
Jack said. "Did you see the license plate clearly? Even a partial one would be very helpful to us."
A hint of embarrassment crossed the African-American man's face. "Sorry, it was dark, and I was nervous. I only remember it had the letters KFC on it, just like Kentucky Fried Chicken."
After a few more questions and the customary witness contact information, they let him go.
Jack turned to Danny. "It doesn't look like a premeditated attack, nor does it look like a hate crime against the police. Do you want to come back to the operations center with us?" Danny shook his head. "I hope it's not an attack on the police. Recently, due to the policies implemented by some bastards, the relationship between the NYPD and minorities has been very tense. The old man is worried that the antagonism between the two sides will be further intensified, so he immediately asked the FBI to intervene.
I will also stay on the scene to retrieve the surrounding traffic surveillance. The NYPD liaison officer has already rushed to 26 Federal Plaza. The data from the body camera will be sent to you as soon as it is extracted."
26 Federal Plaza is, of course, the federal building that houses the FBI's New York office. Although the building also houses many other federal agencies, this address is usually referred to as the FBI.
It's like when New Yorkers say "Island," they mean Manhattan, while "Street" generally refers to Wall Street.
After bidding Danny adieu, Jack and the others drove back to the operations center, where the lights were already on. Jubal had recalled nearly half the analysts and technicians, and the remaining half would take over the remaining work tomorrow.
Steaming cups of coffee were placed on everyone's desks, and everyone was on high alert. Photos of the fallen police officers and photos just sent back from the scene were already playing on the big screen.
Seeing the three men enter the large office, Jubal put down his coffee cup, nodded, and greeted them. "How's the scene?"
Jack sighed. "Although the identity of the killer is still unknown, the NYPD is furious. Fortunately, they have a calm and rational chief. The scene doesn't look like a sniper attack on the police. Have you sent the body camera footage?"
Jubal pointed to an Asian man sitting in front of him. "Just received it. They're processing it. We hope to get a clear frontal shot of the killer."
Jack glanced at the analysts and technicians around him, but couldn't spot the beautiful single mother, Alice Taylor. No wonder these nerds were so dependent on strong coffee.
Of course, this was just a joke, but Hannah had interacted with her a few times recently and seemed to have a nice personality and was very thorough. The problem was that she was a federal employee. Although she worked for the FBI, she didn't seem to have any aspirations of becoming an FBI agent.
This conflicted with Jack's original idea. There was a difference between an employee and a regular agent, just like the difference between a regular police officer and an auxiliary officer. Whether or not one carried a gun was secondary; the problem was that employees didn't have law enforcement powers.
While Jack didn't expect every one of his officers to be a fighter, he still hoped to have a full-time agent stationed back home. After all, including himself, there would only be six agents, all on 24/7 call.
In case someone called in for leave or an emergency arose, an agent with enforcement powers would be useful.
However, Jack had only tentative ideas, so he asked Hannah to test the waters. He hadn't made a final decision yet. If she truly wasn't interested, he'd just have to keep looking through resumes.
"The image processing is complete," the Asian man said, projecting the footage onto the large screen. "He activated the camera when he reached the car door, so the license plate wasn't captured, but the image is clear enough. We've captured the driver's head for facial recognition."
The body camera shot from a first-person perspective. In the upper left corner of the frame, the hand of the attacked officer appeared, holding a flashlight as he cautiously approached a black Lincoln sedan.
The first 15 seconds of the NYPD body camera footage were silent, so they couldn't hear the conversation clearly. However, it was clear the officer didn't notice anything unusual.
The driver then lowered the window, and the camera began recording audio, allowing everyone to hear the conversation. The officer, in a businesslike manner, asked the driver to produce his driver's license and vehicle registration, as one of the Lincoln's taillights wasn't working.
(End of Chapter)