The NYPD currently boasts a total force of 36,000 officers, including approximately 15,000 frontline patrol officers, and over 4,500 auxiliary and specialized officers.
Including the "HR" personnel previously identified by the FBI, who hold mid-level and even senior management positions, the total number does not exceed a hundred.
A few hundred corrupt cops, relative to the NYPD's total force, is not a significant proportion.
But just as the American Mafia, at its peak, numbered only a few tens of thousands nationwide, organized gang-style corruption is a completely different matter.
Even this seemingly meager number of less than a hundred individuals has prevented a director like Frank Reagan from trusting even his own Internal Affairs Department, and even, to avoid alerting the enemy, he has been unable to deploy the NYPD's ESU special forces.
These are the very forces he should have trusted most.
Sporadic corruption can be self-purified through various systems and institutions, but systemic corruption is like cancer: by the time you notice something's wrong, the cancer may have already spread throughout your body, taking root in every vital organ.
Therefore, upon realizing that the scale of "HR" had exceeded expectations, Director Reagan immediately chose to bring in external forces, allowing the FBI to do what they do best.
The atmosphere in the abandoned art warehouse was somewhat subdued.
Danny and Fusco took turns guarding a small street-facing window that faced the entrance to the warehouse complex. After making several unsuccessful phone calls, Moretti II, in a rage, nearly smashed his phone. He finally held his breath for a long time before putting it away and pacing the room.
Grifoni, the oldest of the three, was exhausted and snoring on the sofa. Zambrano, who had previously engaged in a verbal battle with Danny, seemed to have fully regained his bossy demeanor, even leisurely amusing himself at the pool table. "Looks like we have guests," Fusco, who had been staring outside, suddenly said.
Danny hurried to the small window and saw, as expected, several headlights radiating from the lampposts that turned into the main gate. Shock crossed his face. "Damn! How did they find this place?"
"How should I know? I'm sure no one was following us before," Fusco said, his face innocent, playing along.
Before anyone could react, Danny's phone rang.
"Hello, Detective Reagan. Although we've never met, you should be able to guess who I am." The voice on the other end was gentle and calm.
Danny snored, a heavy weight lifted from his heart, but he remained calm. "Is it Leah?"
As soon as the name came out, it seemed as if some magic had taken hold. Moretti II stopped walking, and Zambrano at the pool table put down his cue and listened. Only Grifoni remained unaware, still snoring loudly on the sofa.
"Yes, Detective Reagan. A bit surprised, aren't you?" On the other end of the line, Leah spoke in a friendly voice, as if chatting with a friend. "I always thought the Reagan family considered themselves the protectors of this city. Do you know what you're doing now?"
"Of course, we're preventing gang warfare and protecting innocent citizens from your influence," Danny replied matter-of-factly.
"Yes, but you're supposed to be protecting ordinary people, not demons, right?" Leah spoke like a teacher, giving a lecture to a student.
"Let me tell you what Zambrano did. He made a living by selling all kinds of illegal drugs and cocaine to students.
Grifoni's men controlled the largest illegal gun smuggling channel in New York, selling to whoever offered the highest price.
And my hypocritical half-brother, he not only controlled the pill business in those nightclubs, but also engaged in human trafficking and forced those girls into the flesh trade."
Danny was not moved at all, and even sneered, "So? You kill them and then integrate their territory, and these crimes will never happen again "?"
Leah seemed to be choked and evaded the main point, "At least I can make the entire LCN run efficiently. There will be no more internal strife and no one fighting for territory, making your work easier.
Maybe one day I can also hold a national conference like 'Lucky Boy' Charlie Luciano and ban LCN from participating in the drug business."
Danny spat on the ground in a very uncivilized manner, "Is this how you teach history to your students at the high school podium?
The American Mafia has never given up the drug business since the decline of the bootlegging business. "I mean, back then, Luciano's statement of staying out of the drug business wasn't about forbidding his subordinates from selling drugs, but about not getting involved with him. He kept every penny of the profits."
Even after his rhetoric was exposed, Iria remained calm and cheerful, saying, "It seems like you Reagans always like to be the pebble that blocks the wheel of history. In reality, no matter what you do, LCN will become an evolved crime syndicate under my leadership.
Why can't we just be friends?
Detective Reagan, you have a bright future. Maybe one day you'll become a NYPD member like your father." "PD Chief, there's no need to die for this. Your Reagan family has already sacrificed a son for this city. Think about your wife and children."
Although his tone was gentle, even a fool could hear the threat in Leah's words. Danny's response was straightforward, "Then come on."
Seeing Danny hang up, Moretti II breathed a sigh of relief and then hurriedly asked, "They'll find us soon. Call for backup."
However, Fusco, holding the police walkie-talkie, looked dazed. "I can't reach the main station."
"Call your father! He's the Chief of the NYPD!" Moretti II shouted at Danny with a distorted voice, even waking the snoring Grifoni. Zambrano also approached with concern.
"It seems my phone has suddenly lost signal." Danny slapped his phone hard, his face irritated.
The others also hurriedly pulled out their phones, only to find that none of them had signal.
Sweat broke out on Fusco's forehead. "Damn it! They must have destroyed the nearby signal tower."
"So what do we do now? Is there still time for us to evacuate?" Zambrano asked hastily.
Danny swallowed, collected himself, and replied, "It's too late, but it's not a big deal. This iron door is specially made, and there's no way anyone from outside can open it anytime soon.
Only my father knows the location of this safe house. If I don't contact him before dawn, he'll send the ESU for support."
(End of Chapter)