Shadow of great britain

Metropolitan Police Headquarters, 4 Whitehall Street, Westminster, London.

Colonel Charles Rowan, Chief of the Metropolitan Police, leaned on the leather seat, his right hand pressed in front of the case. Under his palm were several letters and some archived documents that had just been retrieved from the archives.

Sitting across from his large desk was Superintendent Tyler Clemens, who was sweating on his forehead but still maintaining a calm expression.

Director Luo Wan picked up the pipe in front of the case and held it in his mouth. He lit it and took a few puffs. The smoke instantly obscured his face clearly.

The only thing that could be heard in the office was Director Rowan's frighteningly unchanging voice: "Clemens."

"Yes, sir!"

"Go and open the window for me."

Clemens stood up after hearing the words, and then walked to the window with steady steps. He stretched out his hand and was about to open the window when he heard a whistling wind behind him.

There was only a thud, and a flying knife was inserted into the wall at his hand.

Clemens paused slightly, but he still did not look back. Instead, he opened the window and stood at attention by the window.

Behind him came the sound of Director Luo Wan tapping the table with his fingers: "Do you need me to introduce to you what these things on my table are?"

Clemens remained silent. In fact, he had already sensed something was wrong.

But people, before bad things are officially confirmed, will always have some unrealistic hopes in their hearts.

Director Luo Wan pushed open the seat and slowly stood up from the chair.

"Don't speak? If you don't speak, do you think I will treat you as if you don't know?

To tell you the truth, what I have on my left is the report letter Fred sent to Scotland Yard and the relevant evidence of your corruption over the past six months.

What I have on my right are the formal protests lodged by the Huskisson MPs with the Metropolitan Police, as well as internal documents from Sir Peel calling for a serious investigation into the malfeasance. "

Director Rowan walked slowly behind Clemens. He raised his arm and put it on his subordinate's shoulder, and said: "Tell me, if you were in my position, what do you think I would receive from this?" What should I do with the stuff after it’s taken out?”

Clemens' Adam's apple twitched slightly, and he replied loudly: "Report! Handle according to internal regulations!"

"Internal regulations?" Director Luo Wan crossed his arms and leaned against the wall: "Are you talking about the regulations written in the duty manual, or the rules we have agreed upon?"

Director Rowan stared at Clemens with sharp eyes like a vulture. He saw a bead of sweat on Clemens's temples sliding down his cheeks.

Director Luo Wan's eyes widened little by little, and he asked word for word: "You don't know? You don't know how to deal with it, and you still dare to do such a thing?"

Clemens stood as straight as a marble statue, but he still didn't answer.

Director Luo Wan looked at him like this and didn't scold him much. With a sudden force on his back, he stood up from the wall, and then spoke.

"I give you two choices now. First, jump from here now, immediately! If you don't fall to death after jumping, bite your tongue and commit suicide. I swear on my honor, your family will receive pensions .”

Director Rowan raised his arm, looked at his watch, and patted Clemens on the shoulder.

"I'll give you a minute to think it over."

He returned to his desk and sat down, pulled out a document from the thick pile and started reading, just like working as usual.

It seemed that in his eyes, there was no Clemens here, and the man standing by the window was just a ball of air.

Director Luo Wan finished reading this special document from the Ministry of Internal Affairs and then looked up at the title.

"Consultation on Proposals for the Promotion of Superintendent Arthur Hastings of the Greenwich District of the London Metropolitan Police East London District to the Superintendent in Charge of the London Metropolitan Police East London District"

Director Rowan exhaled softly, looked up at Clemens who was standing motionless by the window, snorted softly, and then skillfully picked up the quill inserted in the ink bottle, He quickly wrote a line of text at the bottom of the document.

-- Charles Rowan, Colonel in the Army of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, Acting Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police, Chief Constable of the Metropolitan Police, seconded the motion.

Director Luo Wan finished signing, threw the quill on the table, then crossed his hands on his knees, leaned on his chair and said coldly.

"It seems that you want to handle it internally? Okay, since that's your choice, that's fine. Pack up the returned stolen goods and money in the next two days, and I will send someone to take it back to the bureau. Fred's matter ends here. No one will mention it again.

In addition, for the sake of Mr. Huskisson, and for the reputation of the Home Office and Scotland Yard, I will see your resignation letter on the desk in the office tomorrow morning. Our position of superintendent has never been rich. "

Clemens turned around and saluted Director Rowan.

When Director Rowan saw this, he suddenly twitched the corner of his mouth, suddenly became violent, picked up the white porcelain tea cup at hand and threw it at Clemens' face.

"Get out of here, you idiot!"

There was a string of blood drops hanging from the corners of Clemens's face, and the broken porcelain fragments scratched the corners of his eyes, but it did not change his expression.

He stood at attention and shouted, "Goodbye, sir!"

He walked out of the office with heavy steps, and only heard a click as the office door was gently closed by him.

Director Luo Wan looked at the door, his face still full of anger: "What a fucking idiot! All members of the Guards Cavalry are such idiots!"

…

At the same time, in the Greenwich Police District police station.

In the dull and lightless confinement room, Sheriff Jones stared blankly at the dark roof.

Since arriving in London, his mind had never been as peaceful as it was now.

It was quiet all around, and there was no need to hear the flattering compliments of street vendors, nor the need to be humble and courteous in front of the bosses.

No one would respond even if he yelled.

It's like being isolated from the human world here.

Alone, with no companions, and no need to play against the enemy.

Although it was dark here and no light could be seen, staying here made Jones feel at ease.

Suddenly, he heard the sound of ticking, and Jones gently pressed his ear against the cold wall tiles.

He listened quietly for a while, and suddenly a smile appeared on his face. It started to rain in London.

Just like the day he and his wife first came to London, it rained again.

That day, he and his wife couldn't even afford an umbrella, nor could they rent a suitable house. They were unwilling to spend money to stay in a hotel, so they had to spend the night in the tunnel under the London Bridge.

He remembered that there were a lot of mosquitoes under the bridge that night, and he had to always be wary of thieves and vagrants lurking in the dark.

So, that night, he didn't sleep very well.

However, his wife and children slept peacefully.

Thinking of this, Jones felt as if his heart was being squeezed violently by someone, and he thought of what happened next.

By chance, he joined Scotland Yard, patrolling the front line day and night, and then being spotted by Superintendent Clemens, who was transferred to the headquarters to serve as his personal assistant.

Over the past six months or so, he has come into contact with many people and dealt with many things.

He knew that many things he did were not good. He could lie to his wife, but he could not lie to his own conscience.

Clemens was not a good guy, of course he knew it, but he had to rely on this heartless big shot to survive.

For the first time in his life, Jones sincerely prayed for Clemens in his heart, even though he himself did not believe that God would pay attention to blessings for evil people.

Just as Jones was kneeling on the ground and reciting a prayer silently, a second sound besides the sound of rain rang in his ears.

The sound sounded like the sound of wet riding boots on the floor.

The speed of travel is neither too fast nor too slow, so it is impossible to hear the mood of the owner of the riding boots at this time.

The door of the confinement room opened with a roar, and what was covered in the light was a majestic and broad figure.

Jones couldn't help but raise his hands to cover his eyes. After getting used to the darkness, he could no longer stand such strong light.

He couldn't see the face of the person coming, and could only see the flickering red dots dotted around the corners of his mouth.

As a burst of white mist rose, Jones's ears rang with the voice he never wanted to hear.

"Most of the police at Scotland Yard, including me, are destined to go to hell. Jones, even if you want to go to heaven, but you are praying to God now, isn't it a little too late? "