pjbooks Chapter 200 Shooting in the Poor Street
Chapter 200 Shooting in the Poor Street
Chapter 200 Shooting in the Poor Street
The FIB's autocratic and old-fashioned style fits Ma Jie's stereotype of them.
To put it bluntly, Steve may appear polite and friendly on the surface, treating everyone like brothers, but deep down, he has the mentality of ordering around a "dog".
Let alone the FBI, would any small company boss who issues orders genuinely respect the employees who work for him?
Anyone can put on an act; politicians will say "We are family," but is that really the case? All they care about is the votes in your pocket.
However, on the other hand, with the FIB's "protection," I won't have to worry so much about what I do in the future. Anyway, someone will clean up my mess, and I can stop being an honest person.
Essentially, this is making a deal with the devil. Take Old Mike for example: either he's accused of being a serious criminal and dies in prison, or he does favors for his superiors and gets the chance to reunite with his family.
If you were in that situation, what would you choose?
Of course, besides these two options, there is a third option. After all, everyone has two shoulders and one head. Let alone the FBI, even the president's skull is not much harder than anyone else's.
Whether humans are equal before God is debatable, but they are absolutely equal before peanuts and noodles, and no one, no matter how high their status, is an exception.
"Sir, no contraband found." After the search, the agent reported to Steve, who jumped off the hood of the Lamborghini, walked up to MaJack, and gave him a sly smile: "Young man, I admire your talent. Follow me, and you will have a bright future, but how long that future lasts is entirely up to you. You are a smart man, you should understand what I mean."
"Of course," Ma Jieke replied with a smile, without uttering a single unnecessary word.
Actually, he couldn't say it. After leaving the auto repair shop, he secretly spat the diamond ring he had been holding in his mouth into his palm and wiped the drool off on his clothes.
"Fuck you, what a piece of shit." As he got into Old Mac's Oberon Agent, MaJack spat at the repair shop entrance before the car drove away.
"Don't be angry, buddy. It's not worth it to deal with this kind of person." Mike gripped the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "At least for a long time, we can live freely. Of course, I know your temperament. You're not the kind of person who takes things lying down. But listen to my advice: temporary forbearance doesn't mean weakness, but rather a manifestation of survival wisdom. You're still young, don't cause trouble for yourself."
"Get into trouble?" Ma Jie couldn't help but laugh. "Do you think I'd blow up the FIB building or ambush him on his way home from get off work? Sorry, I won't do anything unless I feel that my efforts are not being rewarded. On this point, I hope we can reach a consensus."
"Haha, of course." Mike reached out and shook hands with him tightly. Their eyes met with an unspoken understanding.
After hitchhiking back to Los Angeles, Ma Jie didn't go home immediately, but instead went to a campsite.
Of course, he didn't go empty-handed. As usual, he prepared beer and late-night snacks for everyone. It didn't cost much, but it made the Beggars' Sect disciples truly feel that he, as the leader, was indeed a generous person.
Surprisingly, the camp is now almost twice the size of what it used to be, and you can see new faces everywhere you go.
Logically speaking, shouldn't having more people be a good thing?
But Ma Jieke doesn't necessarily think so, because there are only so many resources in the poor street, and the more people join the camp, the less money each person will end up with.
This means that he must find a way to expand outwards in order to support so many followers.
But what's even more outrageous is not the camp itself, but the number of street performers, which has more than tripled compared to before.
This situation arose for two reasons: first, Melly Carolyn, the editor-in-chief of the Los Angeles Times, wrote a feature article about Poor Street; second, she worked with Los Angeles Police Department Sergeant Dave to improve the level of law enforcement; and third, the article was filmed and disseminated by some social media influencers, which quickly sparked considerable discussion on the internet.
As a result, whether they are locals or tourists, they can't help but want to explore this place when they pass by.
After passing through the bustling and noisy Sixth Street, you arrive at a crowded city square.
This place was originally not famous; it was just a simple municipal facility for citizens to take walks and rest. It didn't even have a formal name. But as street performers gathered here, it suddenly became a popular spot for internet celebrities to take photos.
"Jack, I think we could build a few walls, close the gates, and sell tickets."
Jimmy was holding a super-sized hot latte he had just bought from Starbucks, looking like a money-grubber.
Seeing this, Ma Jie shamelessly snatched the food and took a sip, complaining as he walked away: "Are you still living in the Middle Ages, bro? The era of horse racing and land grabbing is over. Now help me find where Mia is. So many people gathered here, it's easy to attract the police. I don't know how she divided the performance area."
"Do we even need to look?" Jimmy pointed to the area where the largest crowd had gathered. "People prefer watching little girls dance to convincing close-up magic tricks and clowns who just throw juggling sticks."
After squeezing through the crowd with great difficulty, I finally saw Mia and her mentally challenged younger brother, Daniel, who suffers from chronic leukemia.
The girl, dressed in the same traditional bohemian style as before, was performing energetically barefoot.
A brightly colored printed headscarf was wrapped around her fluffy, wavy orange hair, and a gold coin hair chain jingled with her movements.
The skirt is sequined with sequins and bells, and every kick and spin brings a crisp rhythm and dazzling sparkle, like a secluded forest sprite.
The older sister dances while the younger brother plays the accompaniment. This unique and exotic performance style always attracts a large number of passersby.
I glanced at the guitar case she used to receive tips; it was practically overflowing with banknotes and coins, including quite a few $5 and $10 notes.
Large denominations of US dollars.
After the performance, the audience burst into applause. The siblings bowed and thanked the audience, hand in hand, while some kind-hearted people gave them coins as tips.
"Business is good, you two big stars." Someone walked up and greeted them.
"Brother Jack." Seeing Jack Ma coming over, Mia gave him a sweet smile: "Don't make fun of me, okay? I'm not some big star. Have you ever seen a big star who performs on the street to earn a living?"
"Look how hot you are, your forehead is covered in sweat, wipe it off." Ma Jie said, handing her a tissue. Then, his tone changed, and he said reproachfully, "Didn't I tell you to reorganize the performance area and arrange everyone in a suitable position to avoid crowding? It's really dangerous for so many people to gather in the performance area without any security to maintain order."
"Oh dear, look at my memory." Hearing Ma Jieke's scolding, the girl slapped her forehead: "I'm sorry, Brother Jack, as soon as I arrived today, there were a lot of audience members waiting for me. It seems that a big internet celebrity with millions of followers posted my performance video online, and it has a lot of views, so..."
"Alright, alright, no need to explain anymore. Since you're not up to the task, I'll have to find someone else to do it."
"No, I can do it."
As soon as Ma Jie finished speaking, Mia grabbed his arm and swayed back and forth like a cute little girl, saying, "I'm serious, Brother Jack, give me one more day, oh no, just half a day. I'll definitely come up with a solution that will satisfy everyone before dark today."
"Okay, then I'll trust you one more time."
The only preferential treatment Ma Jie could offer this European girl with a pitiful background was to let her help with some work that she could manage.
Her reward was that all the tips she earned from her performances were hers to keep, unlike other wandering artists who had to pay tribute to the gang leader.
The two were chatting casually when Mia suddenly seemed to remember something and took out a roll of banknotes tied with a rubber band from her backpack: "Oh right, Brother Jack, this is the nine hundred dollars I owed you before."
"So fast?" Ma Jie casually took it, looking dumbfounded. "It's only been a few days, and you've already earned nine hundred dollars? Are you sure you're not hiding it from me, doing another part-time job at Vanilla Unicorn?"
"How could that be? I had no choice that time, and I almost regretted it to death." Mia said, raising the corners of her mouth smugly. "Actually, the audience has suddenly surged recently, so I increased the performance time. Among them are quite a few wealthy people. I even received a huge tip of $100 yesterday, and I was so excited that I was thrilled all night."
"$100?" Hearing this number, Jimmy gritted his teeth in envy: "Jack, I'm thinking of changing careers. From today onwards, stop calling me the King of Jars, call me the All-Round King! I'm going to be a street performer!"
"The All-Round King?" Ma Jie rolled his eyes. "Excuse me for being blunt, buddy, but you won't attract anyone's interest unless you take your pants off and run around naked."
"Damn, I used to practice street dance, you know? I'll show you if you don't believe me."
As the young man spoke, he confidently began to demonstrate, while Ma Jieke's phone rang at an inopportune moment.
She glanced at the caller ID—Max—and immediately answered, saying jokingly, "What's up, Mommy? I'm talking to Jimmy right now..."
"Something's happened, Jack!" Max's voice sounded tense. "It's not convenient to talk on the phone. I'll be waiting for you at the 711-Eleven on Fifth Street. Don't dawdle, come over now."
Judging from her tone, she didn't seem to be joking, so after hanging up the phone, Ma Jie didn't dare to delay for a moment.
When they rushed over, a yellow warning tape had already been put up at the street corner not far from the convenience store, with the words "WARNING: KEEPQUT" written in black letters on it.
Outside the police cordon, a Chevrolet police car was parked, with a police officer standing inside making a phone call, and two trainee officers standing by on standby.
Seeing this, Ma Jie's heart sank. Just as he was about to go over to see what was going on, Max, who came out of the convenience store, blocked his way.
"Max, what happened?" He frowned. "What are the police doing here?"
"Last night, a homeless man was shot and killed." Max's voice trembled slightly as he finished the first part of his sentence. "It was one of our men."
"Who?" MaJack and Jimmy asked at the same time.
"Ethan." Max hesitated for a moment before uttering the familiar name.
"Which Ethan?" Jimmy's pupils suddenly dilated. "Is it the one I know?"
"No...that's right." Max lowered his head silently. "He was shot in the head and twice in the chest. His body was thrown in a trash can and was already dead when it was discovered."
Hearing the last part, Jimmy's legs went weak, and he collapsed to the ground, clutching his head in his hands. "Impossible! This is absolutely impossible! I ran into him on the street yesterday. He said his harvest was pretty good and he was planning to treat me to dinner and a movie. We even made plans for this weekend! How could this happen all of a sudden? Why?!"
Ma Jie walked over with an icy expression, pushed through the crowd to the front, where two trainee police officers, wearing white gloves, were lifting a person out of a trash can.
The crowd gasped in shock upon seeing the body. Clearly, many recognized the black man, as he had been in the slums for five or six years and was considered a veteran of the blue-haired squad.
At that moment, a uniformed police officer walked over; it was Sheriff Dave, who was in charge of the Poor Street area.
"Ma Jack," he greeted expressionlessly, beckoning her in, "Come in, I have something to tell you."
Amidst astonished stares, MaJack bent down and crawled through the police tape. Sheriff Dave pulled him into a corner and whispered, "Kid, it seems the peaceful kingdom you painstakingly built has been destroyed overnight."
"Any leads, Sheriff?" Ma Jie tried to keep his tone calm.
"A clue?" Dave's brow furrowed. "What kind of clue do you want? You think this was a premeditated murder? Listen, there were no bullets in the victim's body, only an overdose of illegal drugs. Anyway, most homeless deaths are caused by this. And what you need to do is get your people to trust the police unconditionally. In exchange, I can offer you some preferential treatment. Whether it's you or your men, if they offend me, I'll choose to turn a blind eye. But don't go too far. This special treatment only applies to minor offenses."
After hearing Sheriff Dave's request, MaJack couldn't help but sneer. Good heavens, that's really something.
Everyone else is thinking about how to solve the case, but you're thinking about how to change the nature of the case. Tell me, how many drugs would he have to take to make a hole in his head?
If all American police officers were as "dedicated" as you, this country would definitely become the safest country in the world.
However, Ma Jie doesn't believe that if it's treated as a murder case, the police will be able to bring the murderer to justice; it's more likely that the case will be shelved indefinitely.
After all, who would be so bored as to stand up for a homeless person? Would they get paid for it?
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