Jimmy left the leather goods store and continued wandering the streets until he saw a church. Without much thought, he slipped inside. Fortunately, Jimmy looked decent, and no one suspected he was there to cause trouble.
Once inside, Jimmy realized there was a problem: it was an Eastern Orthodox church. How did Jimmy know? Because the cross had two additional crossbars above and below the main horizontal bar, with the lower bar slanting downwards.
Damn, he hadn't observed the place before entering; he just walked right in. It was a relief no acquaintances saw him, this lousy churchgoer accidentally walking into the wrong church would make a joke of himself.
After sitting briefly, Jimmy hurriedly left the church. Religious matters are sensitive, and it's best not to let others notice anything unusual to avoid trouble.
Busy all day, and the result was only one gun holster taken care of; the rest of the time was completely wasted. No apartment viewings, no finding of shops with shield insignias, no church visits to pray and pass the time—it felt like a day wasted. Jimmy grabbed some food outside and took a cab back to his apartment to rest.
The next day, Jimmy returned to the office earlier than the others because he and Jones lived a bit closer, and Jimmy was an early riser, so he was the first of their group to arrive.
After briefly tidying up his desk, Jimmy continued to pass the time reviewing case files, waiting for the others to arrive.
When working hours began, everyone else arrived, and Jimmy joined them in the conference room for the routine morning meeting.
Peter said, "Jones, let's start with your investigative findings."
Jones took over the projection, displaying his investigative results.
Jones said, "There's only one camera in the corner of the parking lot. We've retrieved the footage, but it's impossible to make out the person. Starting with Carlisle's entry into the parking lot and cross-referencing, he should have parked next to this black sedan. I then investigated the traffic cameras outside and followed this Nissan sedan, later matching the car plate information to find it was a counterfeit plate.
I tracked the sedan to a hotel in the Upper West Side. Traffic cameras show him turning; that's the entrance to the hotel's underground parking. We can't follow the video after that; there are too many Nissan sedans, he could change the plate, and no one would ever notice."
Peter said, "Did you contact the hotel?"
Jones replied, "Not yet, it was late when I found the records yesterday."
Peter said, "OK, we'll investigate this morning. Also, the second suspect, the Israeli—did you find him?"
Jones answered, "Number two can't be tracked anymore. When I went to check his information, I found out he had already left the country. We're one step late."
Peter stated, "OK, let's drop him. Now we only have this one lead left. Let's head out; if this one goes cold too, we'll have to put the case on hold."
Jones and Diana said, "Understood."
Peter directed, "Jones, give me a copy of the surveillance photos, then you and Jimmy stay here on standby. Diana, you're coming with me."
Peter and Diana left. As Jimmy watched them board the elevator, he turned to Jones and said, "Hey, why do we always have to stay behind? I'd really like to go out."
Jones said, "Forget it, you better not go out. Every time you leave, it's just more work for days for the rest of us."
Jimmy asked, "Why!"
Jones questioned, "What did you do on your day off yesterday?"
Jimmy replied, "What does that have to do with you guys being busy? I went to the Brooklyn District yesterday to see if there were any suitable apartments, thinking of buying one."
Jones slammed the case file he was holding onto the desk and said, "I should've known better than to ask. Great, you took a day off, while the rest of us didn't have the luxury. Someone had to cover our asses, looking into the background of those nine individuals, hoping for some breakthrough. The matter is still under wraps. If the media got hold of it, do you know how much trouble we'd be in?"
Jimmy remarked, "They attacked you; we were just defending ourselves."
Jones replied, "Self-defense is fine, and injuring them isn't a problem either, but the key point is, all nine are dead, and we didn't have a scratch. Those who know think we were lucky, that you have good marksmanship. Those who don't think we mobilized a special support unit and slaughtered them.
Ah, I've been called several times yesterday to be asked about the incident. I'm awaiting their message too, hoping for some good news."
Jimmy said, "Alright, I understand. I'll stay put at the station and won't go anywhere."
Jimmy turned and sat upright, continuing to review the case files before him—these were all cases that had been completed, mainly for familiarizing himself with the process of solving cases, something to learn from. He was already familiar with this from his time at the FBI Academy, where many courses involved retrospectives on past cases.
Jones's words suddenly reminded Jimmy of something: it seemed that apart from one event where he was ambushed on the road, 5 to 1, all the other incidents where he killed several people were in collaboration with federal agencies, the DEA and FBI. Most other cases were just one or two people.
Damn, is it my bad luck that I just happen to be involved with them during these big cases, or their bad luck that big things happen when they work with me?
Seems like I need to hold back in the future. If I keep this up, my FBI career might not last much longer before they kick me out, and I might end up demoted to a shooting instructor at the academy.
Thinking back now, Hughes giving me a day off the day before yesterday must've been because of this. The case was transferred to another team, keeping me out of it to protect me.
Jimmy glanced at the upstairs offices and then turned back to his paperwork. Hughes's usually stern face didn't seem so cold after all. Not a bad boss.
After thinking for a while, Jimmy still felt uneasy. He turned again to ask Jones, "Do you know who the case was transferred to? I'd like to ask about the progress too."
Jones replied gruffly, "Wait for the news. As soon as they inform me, I'll let you know the outcome. Just focus on your files."
Having hit a wall, Jimmy didn't wanna think about it anymore. What was done was done; it was just a waiting game now.
After waiting a bit, Jimmy put down the case files and headed downstairs, lighting up a cigarette he had casually bought while shopping in Chinatown. He'd taken the cigs out of their box to put into his own cigarette case, a method for a more pleasant view.
Speaking of the cigarette case, many people abroad use their own, metal, wooden, or plastic, because the images on the cigarette packaging are just too jarring. After buying cigarettes, they transfer them to their personal case, which looks a bit more pleasant to the eye.
Jimmy's cigarette case was a metal triple-compartment one, accommodating 14 cigarettes, slightly less than a full pack, but easier to carry. The case was coated black to avoid reflection, comfortable to hold, and as for the lighter, just an ordinary black matte Zippo, which had served him well since he started his police career, without any issues—it was perfectly handy.