You're a US police officer, what are you thinking about going back to the East for?

Lyon does indeed need to go back to the police headquarters today.

He came to headquarters tonight because Sterling had just come from a charity dinner and specifically called to say he had something to discuss with him in person.

Sterling originally planned to meet the next day, but since Lyon happened to be in the car, the two decided to meet at headquarters, which was nearby.

He walked through the entrance to the underground parking garage and onto the corridor of the floor where the ACU office area was located. When he pushed open the half-closed door, he saw Mia and Chloe sitting behind a desk and with their legs crossed in a swivel chair.

"What are you all staring at me for, waiting for me to pay your overtime?" Leon slammed the door shut behind him.

"I've been waiting for you." Mia stood up, ignoring his teasing remark.

"I didn't expect you to come back to headquarters from the East District. If you had come any later, I would have called you directly."

"Things have mostly calmed down in the East District tonight. I told Ray and the others to keep watch on the last few locations, and I came back to take care of some things." Leon walked to the water dispenser, poured himself a glass of water, and glanced at the sports drink bottle next to Chloe's feet.

When Eva revealed the shady dealings of the deep state government using living people to extract adrenaline, Chloe overheard everything clearly.

Leon didn't hide it from Mia afterwards, after all, she was someone in his inner circle who was in charge of tax filing and paperwork.

As for Sterling, Lyon has kept quiet about it for the time being.

He was also planning to take this opportunity to sound out the new director and, incidentally, discuss the potential threats posed by the deep state government. Chloe spoke first: "Let me tell you, I haven't caused you any trouble. I've been very good tonight, just staying here with your little accountant checking the forms."

She gestured towards Mia with her lip as she spoke, "Then she suddenly started tearing at the personnel transfer forms like she was possessed."

"I'm not possessed." Mia rolled her eyes at her, sat back down in her chair, and placed her pen on the folder.

"The recent flow of people in and out of this bureau has really reached the point where I can see something is wrong even with my eyes closed."

Lyon took a sip of water and leaned against an empty table: "Tell me about it."

Mia quickly listed the few anomalies she had noticed, and Leon's brows furrowed more and more as he listened.

"So, if it were just the union arranging for old guys to retire in Washington, I could tell, but it's obvious that not all of these are going there to retire."

Chloe stood up and leaned against the filing cabinet for a moment:

"I think it's pretty simple. Since we know there might be some spies in there, why not check all the people who have been transferred recently? If we can't find any, we can scare them. If we can't scare them, we can find a few of the most suspicious ones and beat them up first."

"If all else fails, we'll find a place to bury them alive and see who dares to talk back."

Leon neither said yes nor no, but simply finished the rest of the water in his glass, sighed, and looked serious.

"Say less, this is headquarters, not some wasteland on the mountain," Leon said, looking at Chloe. Mia sighed as well, her voice weary: "If it could really be done as you say, I wouldn't be having this headache all this time."

Leonko Mia raised her chin: "You explain it to her yourself."

Mia sighed again.

"First of all, a significant portion of these transfers are normal."

"Secondary transfers, support assignments, job changes before retirement, and union memberships are all things that happen every day."

"If you treat everyone as a mole and investigate them one by one, we don't have enough manpower, and the investigation won't be thorough."

"Secondly, can you guarantee that the person you planted will definitely reveal a flaw that we can spot at a glance?"

"Not everyone will wet their pants when they see C4. Some bribed guys have extremely strong mental fortitude. You can't force them into a chair. They'll just insist that they're just going through the motions to get the job."

"You might say, then beat them until they confess, but that won't work either."

"Because we can't confirm whether the other party is genuinely okay or faking it."

Mia raised her eyes, her brows furrowed. "Even if we only look for suspicious individuals, it's impossible to find out that everyone involved is a mole. Are you planning to execute everyone who was transferred normally just to find the mole?"

When Chloe heard the last sentence, she opened her mouth, then after a long pause, managed to say, "I didn't say I was going to kill them all." "That's what you meant," Mia said.

Chloe shrugged: "Fine, I admit it, I'm better at blowing up buildings than catching moles."

Lyon put the empty cup back next to the water dispenser and turned around.

"What Mia said is the layer that is relatively easy to discover. What really worries me is that these mobilizations themselves may be a smokescreen."

"We are now able to command headquarters thanks to Sterling's authorization, but in reality, we don't have much control over the frontline patrol officers and ordinary civilian police officers."

"The deep government could have avoided putting anyone into the bureau."

"As long as you take some money from outside, bribe a few veteran police officers who have been working here for seven or eight years, or give a sum of money to a clerk who happens to be short of cash, this informant will be silently planted in the headquarters."

"Those who were transferred out may have become their intelligence sources, while those transferred in may know nothing and are simply used to deliberately muddy the waters."

"They might use fifteen suspicious transfers to cover up one or two real informants. If we chase after each transfer, it will only create panic throughout the entire headquarters. How can we manage the team like that?"

As he said this, he suddenly remembered what MacArthur had told him earlier at the East Side Library, instructing him to put people in the police station.

As a result, no sooner had MacArthur finished speaking than he returned to headquarters, where even the movement of personnel was not entirely under the watchful eyes of his own people. The pressure of not having enough of his own people in the police department was immediately apparent.

She needed to get people into the police station as soon as possible. "What should I do?" Chloe scratched her hair, her golden curls getting a little messy.

"According to you, we can't investigate thoroughly, and we can't kill the right people. Are we just going to do nothing and let them make the first move?"

"It's not up to them to do as they please, but it's not your place to load everyone on the personnel list onto the truck," Lyon said.

"It's almost impossible to identify all the moles within the General Administration in a short period of time."

"The situation here is different from that in the East District. In the East District, there are traces of collusion between corrupt police and gangs, but there is no evidence yet to prove that there is a mole in headquarters."

"How can you investigate someone who's been sitting at a certain window for years, who might have just received money from someone last night?"

"The more thorough the investigation, the deeper the other party hides, and it might even drive away regular police officers."

After listening, Chloe didn't rush to speak this time. Instead, she leaned back in her chair and looked up at the sky.

"Isn't that like suffering a huge loss in silence? Knowing there's a problem but not being able to take action is worse than defusing a bomb."

"It's good that you feel uncomfortable," Leon said.

"This tactic shows that the other side doesn't intend to openly confront us; they want to slowly bleed us dry."

Mia, arms crossed, listened to him finish, then added softly, "That's why I felt increasingly uncomfortable while reviewing the orders yesterday, because even I couldn't completely distinguish who had left by chance and who had been persuaded to leave." Please remember the only official website address for this novel: www.deqixs.org. The website owner has only this one website; other websites may be discontinued at any time.

Lyon leaned back in his chair, his eyes half-closed.

"At times like this, we need to narrow the gap, add a second check at key locations, and then wait until they can't hold on any longer and reach out on their own before we make the arrest."

"Waiting for someone to make a mistake? How long will that take?" Chloe muttered.

"So I'm not going to just sit in the station and wait," Lyon said.

"Sterling asked me out tonight; he was planning to talk to me in person about something."

"She's the director now, so she can't be completely unaware of major personnel changes. I need to ask her what's going on, and also take this opportunity to plant our own people in the police station, otherwise we still don't have enough eyes and ears in the police station."

"Is Sterling coming tonight?" Mia asked.

"She just came from a charity gala and called me on the way to say she'd be there soon." As soon as Leon finished speaking, the sound of high heels clicking on the floor came from the direction of the corridor.

"Come in, we were just talking about you."

The glass door was pushed open, and Victoria Sterling walked in, wearing high heels.

She closed the door behind her, walked directly to the nearest empty desk, tossed her handbag onto the surface, and leaned back, pressing her temples with her hand. Leon had originally intended to discuss the personnel reshuffle first, but seeing the dark circles under her eyes, he swallowed his words.

He turned toward Sterling, resting his arms on the back of the chair.

"Judging from your appearance, did the campaign dinner outside take more energy than the gunfight in the East End?" Leon asked.

Sterling closed his eyes and rubbed his temples hard with his fingers.

"The gunfight only takes a few minutes, but at the dinner party you have to deal with those self-important tech elites, argue with them for hours, and remember all their bullshit environmental ideas."

She let out a long breath.

"This is much more tiring than getting shot."

"Since you're so tired, I'll tell you something to perk you up." Leon pointed to the pile of documents on Mia's desk.

"There have been quite a few personnel changes at the General Administration recently, and many of the departures and arrivals seem illogical."

Lyon looked at her.

"As the director-general, didn't you sense anything amiss when you approved these documents?"

Sterling opened her eyes, her gaze shifting between Leon and Mia before finally settling on the forms. She spread her hands with a hint of helplessness, not angry at the questioning.

"Lyon, I now spend eight hours a day dealing with reporters, and the rest of the time juggling various fundraising meetings and dealing with politicians."

She reached for a bottle of mineral water on the table, unscrewed the cap, and took a big gulp.

"Every day when I return to the office, there are mountains of official documents on my desk that require my signature."

"The personnel department sent over dozens of transfer orders mixed in with daily expenses and equipment applications. I simply didn't have time to check each name in the background check system."

"Arguing with other politicians about the distribution of profits and dealing with reporters has taken up all my brainpower."

Lyon nodded. This was indeed the norm for high-ranking American bureaucrats. In electoral politics, campaigning for votes was far more important than daily chores.

"I understand," Lyon said.

"However, these contracts can no longer be signed so casually."

"I think they are very likely from deep within the government, and someone is interested in my physical data."

He turned his head to look at Mia.

"From now on, have Mia review all the transfer documents submitted by the personnel department, especially those involving intelligence, archives, and the internal affairs department." "Her intuition for checking accounts and personnel is much more reliable than your group of clerks. Those unnecessary personnel transfers with unclear reasons should be blocked immediately."

When Sterling heard Lyon mention the Deep Government, she wasn't even that surprised, given her exhaustion. She already firmly believed in the existence of the Deep Government and knew that Lyon's physical abilities were far beyond those of an ordinary person.

Sterling glanced at Mia and nodded without hesitation.

"Okay, I'll have the HR department change the procedure tomorrow."

She now considers Leon one of her own, and by extension, she trusts Mia completely, having no time to consider whether this counts as a power grab.

"There's one more thing." Leon tapped his fingers twice on the back of the chair.

"In the East District, a number of corrupt police officers have been purged, and there is now a significant shortage of patrol officers."

"I plan to arrange for a group of people I trust to be directly added to the patrol team in the East District. I will give you the list in the next few days."

"When the time comes, you can talk to the administration and ask them to open a back door to speed up the onboarding process."

Sterling leaned against the edge of the table, his right foot tapping the carpet absently, his tone very casual.

"A minor issue."

"The East Side is already a mess. Raymond complains to me every day that there's no one available. If you have trustworthy people to fill the gaps, that's helping me out." She put the water bottle back on the table. "As long as they don't openly use drugs or rob people on the street, and keep their files clean, they can get their uniforms tomorrow."

Lyon was satisfied with the answer.

Putting homeless veterans in police uniforms not only solves the community's problem of generating income, but also directly cloaks the cloak of violence on its own people.

"So, you didn't come all the way to headquarters tonight just to hear me report on these administrative arrangements," Lyon steered the conversation back on track.

Sterling's weariness lessened slightly, and the sharpness of a politician returned to her eyes.

She straightened up and walked to another chair in front of Lyon, where she sat down.

"I encountered a somewhat troublesome question during a public media interview today."

Sterling placed his hands on his knees, folded over each other.

"A reporter from an independent channel, in front of a dozen cameras, suddenly asked me my views on Israel's role in conflicts in certain regions, and whether the Seattle police would strengthen their cooperation with Israeli security companies."

Lyon raised an eyebrow.

"What was your answer?"

"Of course, I brushed it off with a bunch of nonsense first," Sterling snorted. "I said the Seattle Police Department is committed to protecting the safety of citizens of all races and religious backgrounds and combats all forms of terrorism and hate crimes."

"It's watertight, but it's the same as saying nothing at all."

She paused for a moment, then leaned forward slightly.

"After the interview, I asked George to check the reporter's background."

"The biggest investor behind that channel is Isaiah Ross."

"Isaiah Ross?" Lyon had no recollection of the name.

"He is a co-founder of the Seattle-based Pioneer Aerospace Technology Foundation and a core donor to some of Washington State's largest super PACs," Sterling explained.

"He has a strong Israeli background."

"In a place like Seattle with advanced aviation technology, people with this background are basically openly identified as agents of Israeli intelligence agencies."

Sterling's expression turned very serious.

"In the United States, they are wielding huge amounts of political donations to support politicians who are willing to publicly express a pro-Israel stance."

"On the other hand, they use these groomed politicians and business executives to open doors in the aviation, defense, and technology sectors, gaining access to cutting-edge technologies that the United States is unwilling to share." "That reporter's question, unsurprisingly, was instigated by Isaiah Ross."

Sterling looked into Lyon's eyes.

"If I had expressed my support for Israel back then, or given a more positive response, I bet Isaiah's check would be in my office tomorrow."

"What follows is that they will ask me to give the green light to the people they want in security contracts for certain aircraft manufacturing companies or data sharing for port logistics."

She leaned back in her chair and let out a long sigh.

"This is a serious matter, and I'd like to discuss it with you."

"Answer it, why aren't you answering?"

Leon leaned back in his chair, his fingers interlaced in front of his abdomen, his tone calm.

"Take the money, collect the votes, and then give them a perfect hug in front of the camera."

Sterling frowned, staring at Lyon with obvious confusion in her eyes.

She sat up straight, placing her hands on the edge of the table. "Isaiah Ross is not a philanthropist."

"He poured millions of dollars into my campaign account in exchange for tax exemptions at the Port of Seattle and security rotation schedules at Boeing's research and development center."

"This is tantamount to me giving foreign intelligence agencies a backdoor."

"If my political enemies or the FBI find solid evidence against me, even if I become mayor, I will be immediately sent to federal prison, and the Sterling family's decades-old legacy will be wiped out."

"Don't be so nervous," Leon said.

He appeared calm on the surface, but his heart was far from at peace.

The former KGB of the Soviet Union, Eva the assassin from Eastern Europe, himself from the East, Israeli agents, Mexican drug traffickers, FBI and CIA informants, the veteran army he organized, the Democratic and Republican parties still fighting each other, and even people from the deep government.

This tiny Seattle is truly a gathering place for talents and hidden gems.

Perhaps this is the essence of immigrant countries and their diversity.

Lyon was well aware of Israel's character and knew they wouldn't actually get what they wanted, but he was also well aware of the current state of the United States, and knew he still had to maintain appearances.

"You are now running for mayor, taking the conservative route. In this country, conservative support for Israel is the most politically correct thing to do."

"The evangelical Christians behind the Republican Party, driven by religious belief, consider Jewish control of the Holy Land a necessary condition for the Last Judgment and the Second Coming of Jesus. These people oppose anyone who opposes Israel." "Jewish capital and pro-Israel super PACs also account for a significant portion of U.S. election funding."

"Besides, many of the far-left progressives in the Democratic Party are anti-Israel, so they are naturally more inclined to be like you, with a Republican background. You shouldn't refuse this money; you can't let them throw it at the Democrats, can you?"

"Moreover, Israel is the US's foothold in the Middle East. Many US military-industrial giants and intelligence agencies are tied to Israel. Supporting them is equivalent to supporting the domestic military-industrial complex."

"You need evangelical votes, Wall Street campaign funds, and we can't afford to mess with the military-industrial complex."

Lyon held up one finger.

"If you refuse Isaiah, this money will be deposited into your competitor's account tomorrow, along with a media smear campaign saying you're a far-left lunatic who sympathizes with terrorists."

"We don't need to refuse; you can take the money."

Sterling sighed, his emotions calming down.

"You're right. What happens after you get the money? You definitely have other plans. I don't think you'll really cooperate with them honestly."

Lyon smiled, leaned forward, and closed the distance between himself and Sterling.

"You just do what you're supposed to do on the surface: take the checks, approve the security contracts, and give them the green light in the port customs system for the people they want."

"You've followed the procedures flawlessly, which proves you're a politician of integrity." Sterling looked at him, his eyes growing increasingly suspicious.

"and then?"

"Then, give me the list of those who got the green light, their license plates, and their routes."

Lyon's voice was very low.

"They'll encounter robberies, car accidents, or gang fights on the streets of Seattle."

"The hard drive you want will be smashed by thugs who sell it for free, and the person sent to make contact will get lost and wander into the territory of Eastern European mafia, never to come out again."

Lyon leaned back in his chair and spread his hands.

"Seattle's security is so bad right now, even FBI SWAT teams almost got shot in the street, it's only natural that security personnel from several foreign companies would suffer such misfortune, right?"

Sterling froze, his azure eyes widening slightly.

"You mean... double-crossing?"

"This is called cracking down on foreign forces," Lyon corrected her.

"You fulfilled your contract at the city hall; it was Isaiah's people who were unlucky enough to not survive on the streets." "They can't accuse you of breaching the contract, much less use this to attack you politically, because you've already cooperated with them."

Sterling bit his lower lip, his eyes beginning to light up.

Israeli agents in the United States are already doing dirty work, something that can't be done in the light of day. If they are killed on the street, they don't even dare to call the police and can only suffer in silence.

Not only did she get campaign funds for free, but she could also shift all the blame to law enforcement and even use the opportunity to further increase the power and budget of Seattle's local police force.

"They sent highly trained agents," Sterling said, staring at Lyon.

"Are you sure your ACU and those homeless people can handle it?"

"I love playing against professionals," Lyon replied bluntly.

He was worried about where to farm system points; the drug-using gangs on the streets gave too few points, while Israel's elite agents were definitely high-value targets.

Moreover, he himself was using the port of Seattle to recruit talent and send them to the East.

If the Israelis were to establish a foothold in Seattle and plant spies everywhere, they would inevitably run into his actions sooner or later.

Eliminating these agents would be entirely beneficial for him in terms of protecting his own escape route.

Sterling looked at Leon's composed demeanor, and his tense shoulders finally relaxed completely. "You're a real bastard, Leon."

She leaned back in her chair, let out a long breath, and her fatigue vanished, restoring her to her former state.

"A useful, irresistible jerk."

"You flatter me." Leon stood up and straightened his jacket.

"Now that the problem is solved, you'd better get some sleep. You'll have to face the camera again tomorrow."

He turned and walked toward the office door.

"Also, remember to have the personnel department send the transfer order to Mia's desk."

"Understood, sir."

Sterling drawled out his voice from behind, his tone languid.

Leon didn't turn around, pushed open the door and walked out, closing the door behind him.

He also needs to go to places like mosques and bowling alleys to take stock of people who can be placed in the city hall or other industries, and to contact Mayor Harvey to get support from the unions.

...From Lyon's perspective, Seattle is indeed a gathering place for the best and brightest.

But he had no idea that there were actually experts in the homeless shelter he had set up to screen talent and recruit veterans.

Surprisingly, a genuine American communist party member got in.

Deep in the basement of the Seventh Street bowling alley, the space was vacated after MacArthur and other veterans moved to the East End.

Although some members still keep the bowling alley running, the basement is basically deserted.

Ryan Holloway took advantage of the fact that no one was down there and went down alone in the middle of the night.

He was forty-two years old, with a stubble on his chin and wearing an old jacket issued by the outpost.

He came from a lower-middle-class family of Boeing workers. In 2008, his mortgage wiped out his parents' accounts, and his political science degree was permanently cut short during his junior year of college.

From then on, his life revolved around working as a supermarket stocker, a temporary library worker, and an abandoned RV.

Ryan took two steps back, reached out to adjust the overhead light, and held up a phone, recording his own voice.

"Good morning, nobles, warlords, emperors, small landowners, conservatives, reactionaries, and ambitious individuals."

"Welcome to this episode of the Aristocratic University Study." "Those who frequently act as noble lords should know that peasant uprisings are a common occurrence."

"Today we're going to talk about how a proper lord should effectively suppress a peasant uprising."

Actually, a long time ago, he was a somewhat well-known video blogger. At that time, he was a supporter of the Democratic Party, and his video content was nothing more than following the Democratic Party's line of voice to criticize capitalists and Republicans.

He was involved in the tail end of the "Occupy Wall Street" movement and worked as a phone campaigner during Sanders' primary election, until he was so disgusted by the Democratic National Committee's opaque operations that he left the group.

Until 2020, Seattle created the COP (Capitol Hill Autonomous Zone), which shocked the entire United States.

Its founding stemmed from the nationwide anti-racism and anti-police brutality protests sparked by the death of George Floyd.

Ryan had been doing odd jobs near Capitol Hill for years and knew how the police union and the city council colluded. He thought this time he could build a community without oppression, so he went to the site to help.

He was in charge of the "Materials and Information Coordination Group".

They record every day which street corners lack drinking water, whether anyone in a tent has a fever, and what time the volunteer patrol team changes shifts.

Those few weeks shattered the last vestiges of his illusions about the American left.

He clearly remembered that for such trivial matters as "whether or not reporters should be allowed into the neighborhood," those self-proclaimed leaders could argue for five nights in a row in meetings, and continue arguing the next day, with no result for a whole week.

No one was in charge, and no one had the authority to make decisions. He realized for the first time that so-called democracy without leadership was nothing more than a monkey show in the face of a crisis, utterly incapable of deciding anything.

He also recalled that when a shooting occurred in the neighborhood, a black man with a gunshot wound to the abdomen was lying on the ground bleeding. The first reaction of the people around him was to argue about whether or not to call the police, which would damage the image of the local government.

As for those outside internet celebrities, they steal food from the truly homeless.

After the chop cleared the area, he was blacklisted as an "anti-American" by right-wing media because he had been involved in the allocation of supplies.

The landlord kicked him out, and the bosses who offered him odd jobs were afraid to hire him.

He went to the progressive legal aid organizations that had protested with him before, and the answer he always got was: "Don't take the lead yet, we'll study the procedures after the heat dies down."

Until he walked into Ray Fong's stronghold in order to get a taste of mutton soup.

Ryan took a deep breath, pulled over a plastic chair, and sat down, facing the phone microphone.

When he first entered the stronghold, he was just an unemployed middle-aged man suffering from acid reflux due to hunger.

But he saw that Ray and MacArthur were sending people to distribute food, and there was a rule that "no one who does not work shall eat."

Next, he attended the daily station meeting at the outpost.

MacArthur finished assigning tasks, reporting progress, and handling the previous night's brawl in just ten minutes. Ryan stood in the crowd, staring at the old man with the beer-stamped medal, his mind a complete mess.

Isn't this exactly the kind of execution structure that COP desperately needs? What they spent weeks arguing about on Capitol Hill, these homeless people finished in ten minutes.

Ryan snapped out of his thoughts, cleared his throat, and continued speaking.

"When peasants come charging at your estate with pitchforks and twigs, what are you, as lords, supposed to do?"

"Hiring more knights? Buying thicker armor? No, no, no, those are too rudimentary."

"The highest form of repression is to tell them that they have the right to vote on the color of the pitchforks outside the manor gates, and that they can even form a 'Pitchfork Color Diversity Committee'."

"As long as they focus their energy on arguing about whose pitchfork is longer, whose pitchfork is shorter, and who is more oppressed, they will never be able to push open the gates of your estate."

He leaned forward slightly, his eyes sharpening.

"But what if there were a group of peasants who didn't care about the color of the pitchfork, they only cared about whether they would get bread today, and they elected an executor who was only responsible for distributing bread and banging on doors?"

"Then, gentlemen, your troubles are truly here."

"We must never allow them to have political demands beyond economic ones."

On the American internet, it's perfectly normal for someone to use the banner of the Democratic Party or progressives to criticize capitalists and tycoons—it's politically correct. No one would associate such videos with real communism; they'd just see it as another left-wing internet user venting their frustrations about society.

Ryan now frequently uses his identity as a Democratic supporter to secretly insert his own personal agenda into his videos, attempting to influence more Americans in the process.