"I don't think his condition is very good...Should we call a doctor over?" Elaine looked away from the monitor and hesitated to ask her colleague Haydn. She is a gentle and quiet French-American blonde beauty, with pure blue eyes without any variegation, and there is a hidden worry at the moment.
She felt that the colleagues present had reached a certain consensus by coincidence. This may be a hint from above, or a private agreement, but it is illegal to do so, and there is no humanitarian spirit-they can't do this to a person. The bruises and bruises of the newly caught suspect turned a blind eye, as if the bruises, lacerations, blood stains, and suspected fractures did not exist at all.
Even death row prisoners can enjoy the right to survive before execution. The prison will send a doctor to treat any cold or flu, not to mention that he is only a suspect before the court's decision becomes effective! Why refuse to let him see a doctor? Elaine thought glumly.
"I think it's better for you to leave it alone." Haydn replied simply scribbled. He seemed to want to avoid talking about this question, but the girl he liked looked at him with persistence and pleading, which made him quickly defeated, and dragged her to his desk and whispered. : "He is not an ordinary suspect, do you know who he is?"
"Yes, I know." Elaine was affected by the tense atmosphere and lowered her voice. "The guy in charge of the case only said that he was suspected of at least twelve deliberate murders, but everyone knew that he was hanging on. The serial killer on the Federal Wanted List—'Known'!"
"Then you should know who caught him."
"I heard, it's Leo Lawrence, the head of the Criminal Division of the headquarters? What's even more amazing is that he caught him by the way when he solved another big case."
"Very well, Elaine, I know you are a smart girl, now please tell me, if you are the head of the bureau, you intend to praise a key agent who has done two great achievements in a row. Or was he punished because he missed a minor violation like a suspect?"
Elaine showed a look of enlightenment.
Haydn patted her waist boldly, and comforted: "Now you understand why everyone is silent, if this matter is spread out-no one wants to offend the future office manager. Gaudi is about to retire. Leo is his favorite cadre, and the recommendation letter attached to the leave report is still very convincing."
Elaine nodded and said, "I understand... But I have to call a doctor to see him. What if he dies in the conversation room?"
Haydn immediately retorted: "He is a killer, how easy it is to die! Do you know how many vicious serial murderers he has killed?'Ghouls','Park Road Butcher','Oregon Night Devils','Rose Killers', and a pair of professional police killers..."
"Hey, wait—" Elaine halted as many of Jiazhen's colleagues, and said a little surprised: "Are you also his, uh, fan?"
Haydn glanced around and smiled awkwardly.
"It's great, we have worked together for so long, apart from work, we finally have a common topic." Elaine said happily.
Haydn's heart moved: What does this mean? He got a rare opportunity? "If possible, let's find time to chat at noon tomorrow, and have lunch together?" he asked cautiously. After getting permission from the other party, he got up and turned around twice in excitement. He wanted to hold the monitor and kiss the suspect killer in the screen. Oh, if this could help him make a girlfriend, he would even risk offending his future boss. The risk of surreptitiously calling a doctor over.
Caleb and another agent were worried in front of the wall. According to the rules, they have to take photos and fingerprint the suspects, but this has never happened before—they can’t make a suspect who is so injured that they can’t stand up stand against the wall with their name badge, even if they call two people. Holding him, he couldn't measure his height.
And the other party's face and body were covered with blood. They hadn't received any notice about cleaning. What if the blood was evidence? However, fingerprints must be made with blue ink instead of blood handprints, which is also a rule.
-Can anyone tell them clearly that this obviously has to be taken directly to the emergency room instead of rubbing blood on the floor and walls to make the FBI office look like a suspect at the murder scene? What should they do with him
While hesitating, the savior finally arrived. Pushing the door, a brown-haired and green-eyed agent came in. Judging from the nameplate on his chest, his rank was higher than them. "Sir..." Caleb looked at him embarrassedly.
The latecomers waved their hands, beckoning them to go out first, then stepped forward and squatted down by the wall.
"Hi, Rob." The suspect sitting on the floor against the wall greeted nonchalantly.
Rob sighed silently, "What do I call you, Bi Qing, or is it clear?"
"Come on. Li Biqing has someone else. I should return the fraudulent name to him."
Rob was silent for a moment, and said: "Can we talk about it on the table and chairs, don't tease those rookies with this dying appearance, I know your injury is much lighter than it looks, Leo is a heavy hand. But no killer."
He gave a final laugh, got up and walked to the table to sit down. Although the movements were light and slow, they were not difficult. "It's a pity. Even so, you refused to send me to the hospital. This shows that the federal government does not value human rights as it has advertised."
"We can't risk being escaped by you. You know, you are considered a heavyweight to the entire judiciary." Rob said, pushing the paper and pen with the Miranda warning in front of him. "Usually We will try every means to induce the suspect to give up the right to silence and produce the necessary evidence in the absence of the lawyer. But I don’t want to circumvent you like other people. I suggest you don’t sign here and wait until the lawyer comes. Open your mouth and try not to use government-appointed lawyers."
"That's really a bit troublesome. I don't have a private lawyer, and I don't plan to contribute to the renovation cost of a lawyer's new villa. Since it is free, why not use it? However, I still have to thank you for your reminder." Answered thoughtfully.
Rob suddenly has a kind of irritation as a donkey's liver and lungs. For the young man in front of him, he always had a bit of affection between friends. Even if he now knows the true identity of the other party, the bits and pieces of the previous relationship are still as clear as yesterday, making him unable to resolutely and resolutely take the past like Leo. Emotions are cut off—maybe because he is not the person involved, and he didn't pay enough, the pain is not so deep.
Thinking of Leo as soon as he returned to the game to hand over the task, he took leave, and threw the follow-up part to him. He has not shown up so far. Rob's expression can't help but dimmed, and he threw angrily and contradictory: "It's up to you. Well, anyway, the conviction and sentencing are 100% impossible to escape. No lawyer can defend your innocence—you should be thankful that the federal government is prosecuting you, and the federal government does not have the death penalty."
He shrugged indifferently, "I never pin my hopes on others, especially those lawyers who are profiteering. As for the federal government, it is indeed the strongest opponent I have encountered in my life... Well, even if I can't beat it, it's fierce. If you respond to it, you can always do it, right?"
Rob was so angry that he pushed the table to stand up, and felt that he could understand Leo's mood now-this guy is simply a sharp blade without a handle, whoever cuts his hand, is completely different from the image of the gentle and elegant Li Biqing. Two people.
He hated it, and wanted to turn his head and leave, no matter what happened to this bastard, but at the same time sadly discovered that even so, the feeling of emotion in his heart still hasn't dissipated. In the end, he couldn't help but remind him: "Remember to consult the lawyer carefully about the content of the plea bargain." Then he opened the door and walked out.
The previous two detectives were still waiting outside, and Rob told him: "Call a few medical staff over, give him treatment, clean and change clothes, and the others follow the procedure."
"Send to the MCC (Federal Detention Center) tonight, or wait for tomorrow morning?" Caleb asked for details. Facing the legendary super killer, he was actually so nervous that his hands were shaking a while ago, and he kept holding the camera to alleviate this emotion.
Rob took a helpless look at the rookie, and decided to add to the annual recommendation that "newly recruited staff need to further strengthen business training, especially in terms of psychological endurance."
"If you don't send it to MCC, will it be sent to your house for the night?" he asked sternly.
The other party looked ashamed, "Hug, sorry sir... I'll call a doctor now."
This is a 20-storey high-rise building located in downtown New York. Its off-white walls and rhombus appearance make it seem unremarkable among countless high-rise buildings. Only by carefully looking at the rows of slightly smaller windows, and the dense steel fences revealing from the inside of the brown glass, can you feel that this is a special place where thousands of people are held—the Federal Metropolitan Detention Center.
Its official abbreviated name is MCC, but prisoners generally call it "White Tower". As one of the important federal detention centers in Washington, almost all detainees are untrial pending convicts, so that they can be tried in the nearby federal court.
At 11:30 in the night, the escort vehicle drove into the spacious forecourt of the MCC. The two suspects in shackles were escorted out of the vehicle by several FBI agents and handed over to the prison guards of the detention center.
"Hi, Jin." A prison guard asked with a smile while signing the bill, "Is it the last ticket for today, what kind of stuff?"
The small Korean agent raised his chin towards one of the Hispanics, who had a shawl and a beard and a strong physique: "A member of'Fifth Street', suspected of drug trafficking, kidnapping, and extortion."
The Hispanic turned his head and grinned sharply at them.
Scum. The prison guard identified in his stomach, and pointed with a pen to another suspect who was standing farther away: "What about that?"
He was an Asian young man, slender, tall and thin. His face was hidden in the darkness and the shadow of the backlight. He saw medical gauze on his forehead, and the bandages on his wrists and ankles outside his clothes seemed to hurt. Light, but still wearing double shackles, was held tightly by two detectives, with a cautious appearance that he was afraid that he would break the chain and fly away.
"I don't know this." Jin shrugged. "That guy is under special care and the relevant files are classified as A-class confidential. It is estimated that the upper party does not want to disclose his identity too soon. You know, the media is always pervasive, and they can be used as The gunner, naturally, can turn the gun tip and crash you."
"That's true, we are fed up with the noisy reporters and various human rights organizations at the gate of the prison." The prison guard said empathetically, returning the signed order to him.
Immediately, a small team of guards on standby came forward and escorted the two newly arrived suspects in.
The procedures for entering prison are step-by-step, like frozen fish on the assembly line. After filling out a pile of forms, they enter a white room. The prison guards said in a routine tone: "Take off your clothes and take off your clothes."
The Hispanic stripped his whole body cleanly, turning his head to look at the Asian youth who was undressing, shaking the strong chest and arm muscles of a bodybuilding coach as if showing off and provocatively, with obvious contempt in his eyes.
The Asian youth ignored him and silently changed into the underwear and brown one-piece prison clothes prepared by the detention center, and tied the middle row of buttons one by one.
Hispanics interpreted his silence and avoidance as fear, and became more and more triumphant.
A prison guard put their changed clothes and all their belongings into a cardboard box face to face, and the Asian youth suddenly said, "Sorry, sir, can I bring that amulet?"
"what?"
He pointed to a short silver-grey chain with a metal plate hanging from the box, "This is a very important amulet that was consecrated by the master of my religion."
The gray-haired old prison guard picked up the metal chain and looked at it for a moment. He couldn't see any clues from the weird patterns and patterns. He doubted: "I have seen wearing a cross, wearing a pentagram, and wearing a small Buddha. What religion is this? of?"
The Asian young man smiled slightly and said in Chinese: "The Tantric Kagyu Sect."
He repeated it in English. The syllables were like an alien language. The old prison guard rolled his eyes until the other concise summary: "A certain branch of Buddhism," and he showed a clear expression.
According to regulations, prisoners, including undecided prisoners, are allowed to wear religious jewelry. The prison guards who had a bad temper trampled on the prisoners’ religious jewelry. As a result, they were caught by the prisoner’s lawyers. The prison was brought to court, which made the prisoner very passive and embarrassed. Since then, the religious beliefs have been handled with care, and even the prayer blankets for Islamic prisoners are provided by the public.
The old prison guard did not find any hidden dangers in the short chain and the small sign, so he returned it to him casually, and said in a very humane: "Buddha bless you."
"Also bless you." The Asian youth answered politely, his eyes were gentle and calm, as if humans and animals were harmless.
The cartons were sealed with tape and paper, ready to be sent to the suspect’s home. Hispanic reported a list of addresses, but the Asian youth shook his head.
"Home address?" the old prison guard asked.
"No."
"Then fill in relatives and friends."
The Asian youth thought for a while and wrote an address: Leo, Apartment 103, East 86th Street, Manhattan, New York? Lawrence received.
Imagine what the black-haired detective would look like when he received a package from the prison and opened it and found his own underwear and belongings... He couldn't help laughing playfully and playfully.
Another suspect saw his smile, his eyes were a little bit more silly, gloating, and he muttered in Spanish: "Your ass will be blown up, little white face."
"Shut up and follow us." The guard waiting next to them handcuffed them again.
The lights on the seventh floor of the white building, which had already been turned off, suddenly turned on, and several prison guards crowded the two new prisoners into the cell area and entered a large room labeled 7R. This is a large cell of about 500 square meters. There are 30 iron frame beds arranged in three rows. The toilet, bathroom, dining table, vegetable room and tin cabinets for sundries are all in one space. There are 60 beds in total, and it is fluid. Very strong, generally used for temporary transition and saving space when the number of people is full. Almost all the beds are now occupied, only the upper bunk and the lower bunk in the corner are empty. Their former residents have just been transferred this afternoon.
A black prison guard with a big waist pointed to the vacant iron canopy bed and said to the new prisoner: "That's it, your bed."
The Hispanic looked around the room lined with bed frames and couldn't help complaining: "It's more crowded than I thought."
Another young white prison guard said, "The 7S is more crowded. There are 120 people in a room. Are you going there?"
"No, just here. If there is a double room available, don't forget to notify me." He said without looking back while walking towards the bed with the clothes distributed. When he found that the Asian youth was about to climb onto the bed frame, he stared and shouted fiercely: "Hey, get out, you yellow monkey! The upper bunk is mine!"
The white prison guard laughed and said to his colleague: "This guy thought he was on vacation."
The latter replied with a malicious look: "His roommates will teach him to recognize reality."
As soon as the voice fell, the prisoners who had been awakened by the lights and sounds and had been silently observing, as if they had received some kind of acquiescence, all laughed and jumped from their respective beds to surround the two newcomers.
A black man who was as tall as an iron tower held a pack of cigarettes in his hand, smiled and said to the Hispanic, "Sleep with me tonight, this is for you."
Immediately there were several hands of different skin tones, holding hard currencies such as cans and stamp albums, and enthusiastically stuffing the newcomers under their noses: "Sleep with me, sleep with me!" "This is valuable, take this!" "Don't grab anyone from Laozi! His ass is mine!"
In this rushing battle, the Hispanic turned pale, staggered back two steps, and was immediately caught by a few hands behind him. He turned his head back in shock, and saw six or seven bottles of shower gel and skin cream shaking in front of his eyes: "I have this, it doesn't hurt!" "Don't worry, this is very smooth."
"—Go away! Don't mess with me! Get out of me!" The Hispanic yelled and waved his arms, trying to stand out from the crowd, but was tightly trapped in place by the crowd.
Between pushing and shoving each other, many prisoners squeezed in front, shouting "queue, in order". I don't know who yelled: "ID, ID!" So the roaring crowd gradually formed two long lines according to the ID card numbers, raising the small gifts in their hands and screaming in excitement. The two black guys at the beginning quarreled: "I'm ahead! I'm the first!" "I'll come first, you go take a bath!"
Hispanic trembling lips, his face was earthy, cast his urgent eyes for help at the prison guard standing at the door, only to find that even the law enforcement officers were holding their arms with a smile on their faces, showing the excitement, and suddenly full of despair. It wasn't until the two black men reached an agreement to "go together" and took off his prison clothes to reveal his tangled upper body. He finally had a nervous breakdown, kneeling on the floor and crying incoherently, yelling incoherently for mercy.
The prisoners waiting in line in front of him were overjoyed and burst into laughter.
On the other side, a dozen prisoners surrounded by Asian youth looked at each other. Under the offensive of all kinds of obscene language, this handsome oriental man stood upright without expression, as if he could not understand a word. One of the most violent Hispanics complained to his comrades: "I said earlier that there is no need to waste words with the Chinese. They are either snakeheads or smugglers. Nine out of ten have language problems."
"If you don't understand, don't you still not understand?" His accomplices retorted, and at the same time stretched out their hands to pinch the newcomer's buttocks-even though they were wearing ugly prison clothes, they still couldn't cover the beautiful and well-proportioned figure of the other party, especially from the back. The waist to the legs are smooth, and the tight buttocks under the loose fabric are extremely sexy.
Before his fingers could touch the fabric, his wrist was strangled by a huge force, twisted and shaken, and suddenly screamed like a fracture. The Asian young man twisted his wrist and tilted his head to look at him. It seemed that he had appreciated enough of his cold sweat and twisted expression before letting go of his fingers and letting him bow and hug his hands, like a hot cooked prawn on the floor. The pain was jumping up and down.
The Hispanic was holding a can of tuna and was stunned. The Asian youth took away the can with ease, and then reached out a hand to the confined prisoners: "I accept the gift, and the others are forgotten. You don’t need to do this. polite."
After recovering, the Latino cursed in anger and anger: "Fuck, what the hell!" Then he rushed to grab the box of canned food.
In the next second, he slammed back more than two meters. The crowd onlookers only felt that the young man's left hand and shoulders seemed to sway, and they didn't even see the specific movements clearly, and saw the Latino with his head on the ground curled up and screamed.
The new prisoner smoked the cigarettes, noodle boxes, postal albums one by one from the stunned onlookers. Until he couldn't hold his hands, he smiled and nodded slightly, and said politely, "Thank you, guys."
"... Kung Fu!" A black man in the stunned crowd seemed to wake up suddenly and shouted in a changed voice: "Real Chinese Kung Fu!"
The prisoners rushed back a few steps, staring at the handsome young man with wounds with unbelievable expressions, as if he were the protagonist who had jumped out of those bizarre Oriental Kung Fu movies.
The guards who sensed that something was wrong came over with their batons, "Okay, it's almost done. Really, every newcomer has to play it again, and it's not too boring."
"Ha, don't you think they are so scared, kneeling down and begging for mercy, it's so funny no matter how many times you watch it?" The half-naked black man threw his clothes triumphantly, "This trick is really a trick! "
"Isn't there an exception?" The middle-aged black prison guard smiled, and tapped the Asian youth in the arm with the tip of a truncheon. "Good job Chinese boy, give these troublemakers a little bit of color."
The young white prison guard bent over and picked up a Hispanic face with tears and nose, and mockingly said: "Welcome to the'White House Orientation Party', are our residents enthusiastic enough?"
The Hispanic was stunned, as if he hadn't reacted to the horrible scene before, but it was just a prank spawned by the boredom of the prisoners and the help of the prison guards.
But behind this seemingly bad joke, there is still a prison-style detection and judgment of the strong and the weak, just like a group of hyenas biting each other's necks in chasing and fighting, not only for fun in the game , And even more to tear each other’s throat faster when the same kind is killing each other.
"Now I can sleep on the upper bunk." The Asian youth looked down at him, and there was no question in the question, and then climbed onto the bed frame with a pile of trophies.
"Well, the entertainment time is over here, all go to sleep. Whoever fools around, pull to'sit back!" The guard tapped the bed frame with a stick to warn, then locked the iron door, and the hard soles of the boots stepped on the floor. The voice gradually faded away.
Darkness reappeared in this overcrowded cell. The new Hispanic was lying uncomfortably on his bed. When he found a lot of gurgling whispers floating in the silence, he listened carefully, and it was clearly a mix of vulgar words in Spanish and English, like a beast about to move in the night. When he fought his minions, he shrank into a ball with more trepidation.
He just forgot one thing-in this prison jungle, once you emit the smell of prey, predators will continue to appear.
Asian youths piled presents on the corner of the bed against the wall and slept in their clothes. On the next bed, a face with obvious Germanic characteristics came over, brown hair, blue eyes, deep facial features, and extremely short hair showing a bit of wildness and roughness. "Hi," he hesitated for a moment, or greeted in a low voice, "My name is Alessio, Italian, what's your name?"
Silence without echo.
When he thought that the other party was unwilling to take care of him, and was anxiously about to fall asleep, the voice of the Asian youth permeated through the bed rails like a breeze and drizzle: "... Luo Yi? Li."