Jay slammed the gas pedal to the floor and sped back to the police station like a bat out of hell.
Sure enough, the station was still brightly lit.
As he stepped into the main hall, he found that none of the old-timer detectives had managed to escape.
They were all sitting at their desks, dispiritedly pretending to study case files. Even the civilian staff in the back were holding stacks of documents, constantly moving in and out.
The Chief himself was standing in the center of the room, photo in hand, talking animatedly to a female reporter and a cameraman lugging heavy equipment.
"I have always emphasized that crimes against children must never be tolerated or condoned, and we must strengthen our focus on remote and impoverished areas. This time, it is a clear example of…"
So, these guys are all masters of this kind of self-serving, ceremonial rhetoric?
Jay suddenly felt that his own earlier speech wasn't so impressive anymore.
He was about to sneak past along the wall, but Bob had already spotted him.
"Look, our officer involved in the case is back! He was the one who, during a follow-up visit, discovered those two poor children who were nearly starved to death."
Instantly, the entire hall's gaze, like searchlights, fixed on Jay.
Most of the eyes were filled with the heavy resentment of 'overtime'—a feeling that would make even a demon retreat—while a very small portion showed curiosity, admiration, and professional scrutiny.
"Are you Officer Jay Li, the one Chief Bob mentioned? I'm Vicki Vale, a special correspondent for the Gotham Gazette and Gotham TV. Where are the two children now, what is their condition, and how did you discover them?"
"Their condition is very poor, and I have taken them to a clinic. Due to minors' privacy, we cannot disclose specific details at this time."
He was eager to sync stories with Bob, but Vale wasn't ready to end the interview.
"The fact that the children's situation became so severe before you noticed—does this indicate a serious dereliction of duty in your daily work?"
Alright, you asked for this…
Jay cleared his throat. "That is not the case. We strictly adhere to the two 'Insistences' and two 'Focuses' required by the Chief.
We insist on on-site visits, insist on long-term observation, focus on community environment, and focus on resource deployment. We have also adopted the following measures…"
Jay spoke at length for more than a quarter of an hour, and the heavy camera on the photographer's shoulder even started to droop.
When he got to "Article Nineteen: strengthening professional guidance and reinforcing subsequent team training," even Vale couldn't hold out any longer and quickly interrupted his speech.
"OK, just a moment, Officer. I think… we should still go to the clinic first to check on the children's condition. We'll interview you again when we have the chance. Goodbye!"
With that, she and the photographer bolted out the door, jumped into their news van, and vanished into the night.
"Alright, everyone who's off duty, go home." Bob waved his hand. A dark crowd immediately stood up, grumbling as they walked out.
He called Jay into his office, closed the door, and asked, "What the hell did you pull this time? You took two rookies out and managed to create a news story?"
"Initially, I was just worried those two kids would really starve to death at home, but then I had an idea."
Jay looked at the ceiling, reviewing his plan. "Right now, among the most attention-grabbing issues, things like high-level sex scandals, international affairs, AIDS, and racial conflict are not things we can easily interfere with.
But crimes against children almost always draw attention and are inherently righteous."
He looked uncertainly at Bob. "If we can take over… at least partially handle the aftermath, the boost to your and the department's reputation will be immeasurable."
"You're right, but it's not that easy." Bob thought for a moment and slowly shook his head. "Child Protective Services won't give up this piece of meat. You're prying at their foundation."
"That's why I want to start with these two children. I took them directly from their home to Dr. Thompkins' clinic, and she will provide the necessary certification."
"Occasionally, maybe. In the long run, absolutely not."
Bob stood up and went to the door, checking the lock again. He glanced out the window, then drew the blinds.
"Kid, you may have been born in Gotham, but you're still young. People my age know a nursery rhyme that has been passed down for generations in this city."
Beware of the Court of Owls
that watches all the time,
ruling Gotham from a shadowed perch
behind granite and lime.
They watch you at your hearth.
They watch you in your bed.
Speak not a whispered word of them…
Or they'll send the Talon for your head.
As he spoke the last few words, his voice became softer and softer, and he shivered uncontrollably.
"So…" Jay asked skeptically, "This… Court of Owls is behind CPS? Is there evidence?"
"No, just speculation. But what if it is?" Bob's expression returned to normal. "I might be a bit jumpy. My grandfather used to scare me with that rhyme when I was a kid."
He lit a cigarette and took a deep drag.
"Many unsolved mysteries have occurred in this city. People often link these unanswered events with old, bizarre legends. Even without evidence, my attitude is: better safe than sorry."
Huh?
Before the transmigration, Jay had read a little about the Court of Owls. But he only remembered them as a group of mysterious people in masks, who trained a bunch of Talons (who weren't very bright or emotionally intelligent), and seemed to worship some kind of dark cosmic god.
But… teaming up with CPS to be human traffickers? Isn't that a bit low-class?
He shook his head. "That's impossible."
Before Bob could ask, he pulled a blank piece of paper from the desk and started calculating.
"The placement subsidy for each abused child ranges from four thousand five hundred to six thousand dollars.
We'll take the high end: six thousand.
As for selling each child, if they were an extremely rare, premium child prostitute, they might fetch three thousand USD.
If sold as a slave, maybe only $300, with an average price of about five hundred USD per person.
Over the past five years, CPS has lost track of about twelve hundred children.
Even if they were all sold, and all subsidies were embezzled, without calculating any expenses, the total profit would be 7.8 million USD, averaging 1.56 million per year."
He spun the pen quickly between his fingers. "A good real estate agent in Gotham City often earns over a million annually, with the top ones reaching several million or even ten million.
If your theory is correct, Gotham's oldest and most terrifying organization probably earns less than a decent real estate broker."
He tossed the pen down and spread his hands to Bob. "Boss, the small villa you bought in the Diamond District might have been sold to you by the Court of Owls, who charged you a commission."
"Hiss!"
Bob gasped. "You calculated all that in an instant?? You Chinese people have a hell of a math ability! So, you're saying CPS and the Court of Owls have absolutely nothing to do with each other?"
"Of course not. In reality, the biggest backers of CPS are probably just a few corrupt officials. If you don't want to play hardball, they can offer money, and so can we."
"We can offer money too? You're not planning to sell the kids too, are you? Or…" His face suddenly changed. "Do you want me to pay again?"
"Don't worry, Boss." Jay flipped the paper over and wrote a big 1 on it.
"Step 1: We gather evidence and expose the corruption within CPS. This will help people understand and support the police department taking over.
Step 2: Our existing fund is for the families of injured/deceased officers; that remains unchanged.
After distributing it, we launch a fundraising drive among the officers specifically for these two children. Right now, there are only two, so we don't need much money."
He wrote a 3 on the paper.
"Step 3: We contact the newspapers and radio stations, inviting them to monitor the entire process and the use of the funds. You know the media and reporters love a story like this.
Next, we leverage this momentum to announce an expanded plan to take in more abused children.
Of course, we can't take everyone; we only accept the most severely homeless, keeping the scale around ten to twenty children."
"Once we reach this step, some foundations and philanthropists will donate to us. We will publicly thank those donors in the newspapers.
The public might forget who was thanked, but they definitely won't forget who didn't donate.
They will fiercely support you to attract funding. Once everyone has donated, those people will try to reach in and control the fund flow for profit. At that point…"
Jay chuckled. "Let them try to explain that to the media."
Bob remained silent, only nodding after finishing an entire cigarette.
"If it's just CPS, there's nothing to be afraid of. We just need to keep a close eye on them and get concrete evidence so we can do this above board."
He opened his drawer, pulled out an official document, scribbled a few lines, and stamped it.
"First thing tomorrow, go to the parking lot and meet the gear techs, the Fat and Skinny brothers. They modified your car.
Bring them a good bottle of liquor and five hundred dollars in cash. Then go get your friend out. It's time for him to earn his keep."
…
When he got to the parking garage, the sky was overcast with dark clouds.
He decided to buy two sandwiches and return to the station. Since he would be alone at home anyway, he might as well crash in the break room here for the night to avoid the commute.
As he passed through the hall, he casually grabbed a morning newspaper from someone's desk, planning to kill some time.
But after finishing his dinner and settling down for a break with some free coffee, he suddenly noticed that the front page news was no longer about the philanthropist Falcone, but a different, familiar name.
"Wayne Group CEO Bruce Wayne Returns After Years Missing! First Public Appearance to Be at City Hall Charity Welcome Gala!"
Holy cow! He jumped with a start.
Has that harbinger of disaster returned?
He remembered that before Batman appeared, the most serious crime in Gotham was organized gangs.
After Batman appeared, every kind of freak and villain jumped into the fray.
Those who had been dormant for years, sealed away, or dead all started climbing out of the ground like weeds, one after another.
Sigh…
Jay let out a long sigh, feeling the difficulty of life when the Didi-didi of his phone suddenly rang.
He checked the number. It was Clark Kent.
Hmm?
"Hi, Clark," he asked cautiously, "Is something wrong?"
"Hi, Jay, uh… it's good news," Clark's gentle voice came over the phone. "Waylon signed a temporary contract with the team for the remainder of this season today.
If he plays out the season, he can get $180,000.
If he performs well, he has a chance to land a five-year contract worth over ten million dollars in next year's draft."
"H-HOW MUCH!!?"
Jay leaped three feet in the air, his voice cracking.
The amount at the end was so unexpected that he completely disregarded the initial $180,000.
He had risked his life in gun battles for ten thousand dollars, and veteran opportunists like Bob only managed to greedily scheme for a few hundred thousand, yet the poor kid he'd sent away could casually earn…
OVER TEN MILLION!!!
OVER TEN MILLION!!!
OVER TEN MILLION!!!
He desperately covered the phone and shouted the figure several times in his frustration.
I am broken, people!
"…Mr. Danes also thinks he'll be a superstar. Hello? Hello? Jay? What's wrong? Did something happen?"
"No, nothing! It's just raining heavily here." Jay, feeling drained, slumped against the window and answered weakly as a pale flash of lightning streaked across the sky. "Alright, thanks, Clark. I appreciate it."
"Oh, no problem. Waylon also asked if he could call you. It sounded like you told him not to contact you?"
"Tell him to focus on training. I'll visit him in Metropolis when I have time. I have to hang up now. I need some quiet time!"
"Okay, you can call me if you need anything. Goodbye."
Clark's final farewell was drowned out by a deafening clap of thunder. Jay stared blankly out the window, his thoughts churning like the inky clouds in the sky.
Was that thunder? No, that was the sound of my heart breaking…
——————
Thanks for Reading
Dear readers,
Thank you for joining me on this literary journey. If you enjoy my novel and wantto keep reading, I invite you to support my work through Patreon. Your contributions will allow me to continue creating and sharing more exciting chapters.
I hope to count on your support and continue bringing you unforgettable stories!
https://www.patreon.com/c/Naughtypanda253