After seeing Danny and Cheng Hao off, Jack cleaned up the house, re-dusted the furniture and sofas, and emptied the refrigerator. He cooked all the raw ingredients inside and rushed to the Wilshire Police Station in the evening before the patrol officers got off work.
He was planning to fly back to New York the next day, and the fresh ingredients Braxton had prepared for him couldn't go to waste.
Playing the role of belated Santa Claus, Jack was about to call his old friends for a drink when he arrived at the locker room door and was met with a gloomy look on John's face. He couldn't help but feel puzzled.
This man had just performed a great deed, helping federal agents apprehend a deranged woman attempting a terrorist attack at a crucial moment. He didn't seem to be wearing such an expression right now.
On his way here, Jack received a message from Chris, informing him that he would provide the LAPD with a donation of at least $500,000 annually over the next few years to establish a regional police-community mental health program.
"So, what's going on?"
John forced a smile at Jack's question. "Nothing, I can handle this myself."
Jack occasionally kept things in suspense, but that didn't mean he enjoyed it. Although John meant to avoid further trouble, his curiosity couldn't help but turn his head to Tim, who had also just left the locker room.
"Okay, here's what's going on. Lieutenant Landon Briggs, uh, the LAPD union president, just came to me angrily,"
John said, handing over a newspaper.
"The City Council will vote on allocating part of the LAPD precinct's budget to mental health programs,"
Jack read from the newspaper. "So he didn't know the money was actually a donation you arranged? He thought you'd contacted a dedicated council member to propose this?"
Tim, watching from the sidelines, was clearly in the know. "That's not important. Briggs's mad because, as the union president, he didn't know anything about this beforehand, which makes him look stupid."
"Aha, a self-righteous 'big shot' gets slapped in the face by a small-time officer and becomes furious?" Jack said with a gloating expression.
He hadn't forgotten John's previous complaint about approaching the union president, only to be dealt a dirty trick with official rhetoric.
"Of course you don't have to worry about a 'big shot' like that, Supervisory Agent Tawalla from the FBI."
Tim rolled his eyes at Jack and put his hand on John's shoulder. "Offending the union president is a real hassle. It means he'll try every possible means to get you out of your position as union representative and make things difficult for you."
As the saying goes, a toad crawling on someone's instep won't bite, but it's annoying. John's superiors were Tim, the superintendent, and Gray, the now-commissioned superintendent. But a union president who wanted to target an ordinary officer would certainly have plenty of ways to do so.
John's face twitched. "I'm just trying to do something for everyone. This union president has successfully made me feel a strong nausea and aversion to politics."
"Perhaps you should consider going the extra mile and getting rid of this union president and taking the reins yourself. We all know you're an optimistic person, and you wouldn't let that kind of idiot get in your way."
Jack chuckled, not taking the matter too seriously. After all, it was just a minor incident, one that didn't even require him to do anything.
When the Shangri-La Group and the Wilshire Police Department hold a press conference to announce the specific donation details, we can call John to the stage and give special thanks to this initiator.
Even if the union president, Landon Briggs, was still confused, he should have come to his senses by then.
They then went to a police bar they used to frequent, and soon Angela, Lucy, and Nyla Harper, the black police officer who had once worked with Jack, arrived.
Last to arrive was Wade Gray. The once sullen Superintendent, after being promoted to Superintendent and succeeding Zoe as Chief of the Wilshire Precinct, had become even more wiry, with a noticeable beer belly.
After greeting Jack, Gray sat down in front of John, uncharacteristically hesitant and fidgeting.
"You look like you have something to tell me?" John asked, puzzled. Everyone frowned, especially Jack and Tim, who had a sense of foreboding.
Gray sighed softly. "Just before I left work, I received a formal request to transfer you to another police station."
"Wow, this is my first 'day in the hole,'" he said . "
That sounds cool." John, now a cheerful and cheerful man, hadn't quite come to his senses until he noticed Gray's face darkening. The smile on his face slowly faded.
"So it's not cool?"
"Not at all." Gray shook his bald head. "The request is for a full week, starting tomorrow, and most importantly, the location: a remote police station in Detroit."
"This is my punishment for offending the union president, and he's so impatient?" John suddenly realized.
"Wait, this doesn't make sense. Even if there's a 'Day in the Hole' where they have to request support and help from other police departments due to gaps in staffing, it's usually limited to Los Angeles County and only lasts for one day.
What the hell is Detroit? It's far away in Michigan, and it lasts for a week."
Tim was the first to question it, and Angela also looked at Gray with a puzzled look, "Can't you stop this obviously unreasonable transfer order?"
"If there was anything I could do, I would have done it long ago. I don't know where Landon Briggs found a mutual assistance agreement between DPD (Detroit Police Department) and LAPD. This thing is at least 20 years old, but it has never been invalidated.
But if you refuse this transfer order without a reasonable reason, in fact, it now seems that even if there is a reasonable reason, the union will regard it as a deliberate violation of orders, depriving you of your union representative qualifications and even instructor qualifications."
Perhaps because he was unable to help, Gray's face showed a hint of guilt, and the others fell silent for a moment.
This was truly disgusting. While Detroit was dangerous and chaotic, it wasn't life-threatening. A mere union president wasn't capable of killing anyone over a trivial matter.
"What else can I say? Consider it another achievement. I may not have had the strange and dangerous experiences that Jack did, but I can still consider this an adventure."
John, facing the worried looks of the crowd, offered reassurance.
(End of Chapter)