radicalducati Chapter 41 A Warning from the Director
Chapter 41 A Warning from the Director
Manhattan Police Department Precinct.
The hall was empty, with fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, illuminating the rows of empty desks in a white light.
At this time of day, there are usually at least a dozen people sitting here.
Now only Bright was left standing behind the police station, and behind the iron bars were the noisy detainees.
Brock pushed open the door, holding Frank David Castle's hand in one hand.
The boy had a brogue hat on his head, and the fluorescent light shone on his face, making the dried tear tracks appear as faint white lines.
Brock led him to Li En's workstation, pulled out a chair for him to sit down, then squatted down and gently pressed the hat down.
"Little cowboy, don't worry. Li En has never broken his promises. Your father will be fine."
Little Frank had his head down, his little hands clenched into fists and placed on his knees.
He didn't speak, he just nodded slightly.
Brock stood up, patted him on the shoulder twice, then walked over to Bright and lowered his voice.
"Is everything alright?"
The Central Park case resulted in the entire precinct being reassigned.
The order came from the mayor's office, and New York Police Commissioner Gallo personally led the team.
Even several veteran police officers who were always on sick leave were dragged out of their homes.
Only Bright was left to guard the prisoners.
"It's alright, those guys are all locked up." Bright glanced in the direction of the prison.
The dozen or so people behind the iron bars had been shouting for a long time and were now taking a break.
"But why did you bring a child back?"
"The child's mother and sister were killed by gangsters, and his father was shot in the head. We don't know if he can be saved."
Brock lowered his voice so that only the two of them could hear him, glancing out of the corner of his eye at the boy sitting at Lee Eun's workstation.
"Li En said there was something wrong with what happened at the park today, that someone might be trying to harm the child, and that he went to the hospital to protect the child's father."
"What?!" Bright's expression changed instantly. He took a half step forward upon hearing this, his eyes widened, and he raised his voice but then forcefully suppressed it.
"How old is this child? Seven? What a beast!"
Even Brett, who grew up in Hell's Kitchen, felt that harming a child who had just lost his family had crossed a line.
He had seen gang shootouts, drug trafficking, and port smuggling; he had been grazed by bullets on the shoulder since he was a child. But this was different.
Like Brock, Bright did not doubt Lee's judgment.
He gritted his teeth and pulled out his keys from his waist.
"Armory, let's go."
The two pushed open the iron gate of the armory.
On the gun rack, freshly coated with anti-rust oil, neatly arranged are the newly arrived M16A2 assault rifles.
Brock pulled two guns from the shelf, handed one to Bright, and then took several fully loaded magazines from the ammunition cabinet and stuffed them into the magazine pouch on his tactical belt.
The bulletproof helmet was fastened on the head, and the chin strap was tightened.
As the two walked out of the armory, a few whispers that had been coming from the direction of the prison fell silent instantly.
Those sitting behind the iron bars looked away when they saw two fully armed policemen standing in the center of the hall.
They've been on this street long enough to know when to shut up.
These police officers will shoot and kill people.
In the afternoon, Brock's phone rang.
The caller ID on the screen reads "Li En".
"Hello, Li En?"
"Have you checked Frank's information?"
Li En's voice came through the receiver, her tone steady, the background quiet, she was probably still sitting on a bench in the hospital corridor.
"I checked."
Brock held the phone between his shoulder and ear, reached out and pulled the keyboard closer; on the screen was a service record that had just been retrieved from the military database.
Frank Castle was born in Queens and is a third-generation member of an Italian Sicilian immigrant family.
My father was a dockworker, and my mother worked in the laundry.
He joined the Marine Corps at the age of eighteen and rose through the ranks from private to captain in a powerful reconnaissance company.
Four overseas deployments, each one filled with combat logs.
Medal of Honor, Navy Cross, Four Purple Hearts...
He scrolled down the list of medals on the screen, a long way.
Police and military are different systems, but Brock was also a veteran of the war.
He knew better than anyone how much hell a soldier had to endure and how strong his faith had to be to persevere and earn so many medals.
Frank Castle survived and brought those medals back.
And now, this soldier who has rendered countless meritorious services has lost his wife and daughter in a tragic death...
Brock looked at the photos on the screen.
A young man in a Marine Corps uniform, with short black hair and rows of medals on his chest.
"Lee En, Frank is an excellent soldier."
Brock's voice was much softer than before, and his finger swiped across the thumbnails of the medals on the screen.
"It must have been incredibly difficult for him to survive."
There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone.
"He's alive, but someone came and warned me not to stay at the hospital at night."
Brock's fingers stopped on the keyboard.
Gangsters will not threaten police officers in front of them.
The people who wanted to kill Frank were not gangsters.
"So... are you going to stay in the hospital?"
After asking the question, Brock realized that there was something extra in his voice.
"Ah. I'm not going home today, so David is in your care, Brock."
"Okay, leave it to me." Brock let out a heavy sigh as he hung up the phone.
pat.
The phone rang again as soon as I hung up.
Brock pressed the answer button: "Is there anything else?"
"It's me, Brock," came the voice of the Manhattan police chief on the other end of the phone.
"Chief, I didn't mean to slack off; there's a child who needs protection."
"Brock," the chief's voice was cold, "take Bright out for dinner later."
Brock took the phone off his ear, glanced at the screen, and then put it back on his ear.
He squinted, and slowly gathered his other hand on the table.
"Chief, what do you mean by this?"
"Brock, you know what this means."
"Who is it?" His gaze swept over the boy sitting at Lee Eun's workstation.
"Brock, you've been in Hell's Kitchen for so many years, it's almost time for you to retire."
The director's tone softened slightly.
"Isn't it good to have a peaceful death? Don't make the wrong choice at a time like this."
"Wrong choice?" Brock let out a short, almost breathy sound, which was hardly a laugh.
"Who is the bureau chief?"
"That's all I have to say." The phone call ended.
The busy tone lingered in Brock's ears for a long time.
"Fuck!" He slammed his phone on the table, screen down, with such force that the phone bounced and only stopped when it hit the edge of the keyboard.
"What's wrong?" Bright's hand was still gripping the automatic rifle at his feet, his eyes fixed on the police station entrance.
"Bright, if you get hungry later, you can take David out for lunch."
Brock turned his chair around and met Bright's gaze.
He didn't blink, and tilted his chin slightly towards little Frank.
Bright was taken aback for a moment, then he understood.
He was a kid who grew up in Hell's Kitchen and worked in the police department for two years; he could understand every word Brock said.
In this context, "taking David to lunch" means taking him away and hiding him.
Brock will stay here and hold them off.
Bright did not respond. He walked to the entrance of the police station, pushed the iron gate open a crack, and glanced sideways at both sides of the street.
A black SUV was parked at the intersection on the right, with all the windows blacked out and the front of the car angled towards the main entrance of the police station.
There was another car parked at the intersection on the left, the same model and the same color.
He stepped back, closed the door, and turned to walk towards Brock.
"It's too late, someone's waiting outside."
"Fuck," Brock cursed again.
"You can go eat; there's no need for you to get involved."
Bright pulled the rifle sling over his shoulder, revealing his teeth.
"Hey, Brock, I'm going to protect David."
Brock looked at him, nodded, then stood up, walked to Lee En's workstation, bent down, took Frank Jr.'s hand, and led him into the director's office.
The curtains in the director's office were drawn, making the room dark.
He crouched down, pushed the boy under the desk, and made him sit in the innermost corner of the desk with his knees tucked in and his back against the inside of the wooden tabletop.
"David, you'll hide here from now on, understand?"
Frank's lips moved slightly.
"dad?"
Frank has been successfully resuscitated.
"With Li En there, it's absolutely safe. He's a very capable policeman."
When Brock spoke of Lee En, his eyes shone brightly, which instantly reassured David.
Frank stared at Brock's face, then nodded.
He pulled his hat brim down a little further, shrinking himself into the deepest shadow under his desk.
Brock came out and left the door slightly ajar.
"Kid."
He walked over to Bright and switched the safety on his assault rifle from semi-automatic to fully automatic with a crisp click.
"It's probably more dangerous here than at the hospital."
"If they can't get past Li En, they'll use this kid as a backup plan."
"Those people outside aren't gangsters."
"Understood."
Bright's answer was only two words, and he tapped his finger twice lightly on the outside of the trigger guard.
The sky changed from gray-blue to dark purple, and then sank completely into darkness.
The streetlights across the street came on, their dim yellow light filtering through the glass windows and casting a row of rectangular bright spots on the ground.
Footsteps sounded from outside the gate.
Several pairs of leather boots stepped on the asphalt road at the same time, their rhythmic movements precise and without any pauses.
They stopped at the door.
……