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

Chapter 105 Budget

The atmosphere in the carriage eased slightly after the topic was dropped.

With one hand on the steering wheel, George smoothly turned a street corner in the Lincoln Navigator, heading towards the brightly lit and bustling downtown area.

"Now that we've laid this out, Mr. Vance."

"Then I'll give you a brief heads-up, so you don't step on any landmines at the banquet tonight."

"Tonight's Seattle West Precinct Police Foundation charity dinner is attended by the wealthy and influential, but they can be broadly divided into two groups."

George tapped a finger on the steering wheel: "The first group is the old money families of Seattle. Real estate, ocean shipping, and a few heavy industry bosses."

"These people are conservative at heart. They like law and order, and they were the Sterling family's base in the early days. As long as you are tough enough, they will not hesitate to write checks."

Then, George held up a second finger: "The second group consists of the new elites in science and technology, biomedicine. The so-called liberal elites."

"These people are always talking about community inclusion, demilitarization, or simply funding NGOs that protest against the police. They are Mayor Reynolds's big spenders."

Hearing this, Leon shifted his posture, looking somewhat bored. "Then what are these people doing at the Police Foundation's dinner? Are they here to protest?"

"Because they were scared."

George let out a disdainful snort: "The recent big shootout in the North District has left them wavering and extremely insecure."

"They neither want to abandon their lofty political ideals, nor do they desperately need someone to stand in their way against those poor devils with guns."

"It's your turn to step in."

"So, what exactly is my task tonight?"

Lyon looked out the window at the increasingly close luxury hotels. "Go and toast them one by one, and make sure their lives are safe?"

"No."

George shook his head and said decisively, "Your task is simply to show your face and become known to others."

"You don't need to talk to them about anything related to budgets, security policies, or taking sides."

"If those tech upstarts want to see what that lone hero who stopped a drug caravan in the rain looks like, then let them see."

"Let them truly feel your presence, that's enough."

George slowed the car down; the hotel's opulent entrance was now almost within reach. "As for the rest—"

"That's Victoria's job."

After listening, Lyon nodded knowingly.

This job sounds good. It doesn't require much brainpower or hard work. All you have to do is wear this outfit, go in, eat and drink, and pretend to be a mysterious and profound person.

"Understood."

The car came to a smooth stop in front of the red carpet at the hotel's main entrance.

The hotel doorman, wearing white gloves, quickly stepped forward and respectfully opened the back and front passenger doors.

A melodious classical string music and the scent of fine perfume wafted in through the open car door.

The ballroom of the Fairmont Olympic Hotel in downtown Seattle.

Lyon felt a heavy weight in his arms.

Victoria Sterling was holding his arm, leading him through the crowd.

Sterling wasn't wearing his police uniform tonight; instead, he was dressed in a dark blue velvet evening gown.

The dress was extremely daringly cut, with the tight fabric perfectly outlining her somewhat outrageous waist and hip curves, and a large area of ​​the back was cut out, revealing a patch of fair and dazzling skin.

The side slit of her skirt extended all the way to her upper thigh, and as she walked in her high heels, her fair legs were faintly visible.

Her blonde hair was piled high, revealing her slender neck. She didn't wear too much jewelry, just a simple diamond necklace adorning her deep V-neck. She perfectly captured the charm of a mature and sophisticated woman and the aura of someone in a high position.

"Don't look so serious, Vance."

Sterling whispered in Lyon's ear, his warm breath tickling him slightly: "Smile. These guys are here to see superheroes, not debt collectors."

Lyon forced a smile, his gaze sweeping over Sterling's head and across the scene.

In the corner, around a long table, the rough-looking guys from ACU were gathered around the buffet table.

The bulldozer, holding a metal spoon meant for Western-style soup, eagerly scooped up a large spoonful of top-quality black caviar and stuffed it into his mouth. After chewing a couple of times, he almost spat it out, loudly complaining that the stuff tasted fishy and that he'd rather eat a hamburger.

Carlos leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on Leon and Sterling not far away. He stuffed bacon-wrapped dates into his mouth while whispering to Jacob next to him, betting on whether their boss would be devoured alive by the precinct chief tonight.

Fortunately, they remembered Lyon's warning and did not lick the plate clean in public.

The others in the banquet hall, just as old George had said in the car, were clearly divided into two groups.

The side closest to the stage is dominated by old money, mainly heavy industry and real estate bosses.

Most of these people were holding iced whiskey, smoking cigars, and speaking very loudly.

They laughed wildly, their conversation consisting entirely of "We should have wiped out all that street scum long ago."

Hardline rhetoric like "Long live the Second Amendment!" reflects dissatisfaction with deteriorating public security, but hasn't yet reached the point of panic.

Lyon and Sterling are now heading towards a different group of people.

This group of people were relatively young, dressed in expensive casual suits or minimalist formal wear with no discernible brand, and holding champagne.

They are the rising stars of Seattle's tech scene, executives of major internet companies, and CEOs of biopharmaceutical companies.

At this moment, the group of people were gathered together, talking in hushed tones, their brows furrowed, and their eyes occasionally glancing nervously toward the door, as if they were afraid that thugs would rush in at any moment.

The group's eyes lit up the moment they saw Lyon approaching.

"Chief Sterling! Oh, and this one—it must be Officer Vance!"

A middle-aged man with frameless glasses and a receding hairline approached.

Sterling smiled and introduced, "This is Mr. Cooper, the CEO of an AI security company. Mr. Cooper, this is Leon Vance, the team leader of our West Precinct ACU."

"I've heard so much about you! I've heard so much about you!"

Cooper gripped Leon's hand excitedly, his grip so tight it was as if he were afraid Leon would run away: "Officer Vance, I saw the news. That night in the industrial area—my God, it was like a war! I heard those drug dealers even used snipers and heavy machine guns?"

Several tech upstarts gathered around, all of them listening intently.

Lyon did not answer immediately.

As he had anticipated, he did not display much enthusiasm or humility.

He simply nodded slightly, his face displaying an indifferent expression as if he had seen through life and death.

This silence made him appear even more unfathomable in the eyes of this group of anxious rich people.

"Mr. Cooper."

Lyon's voice was deep and steady, devoid of any emotion: "In fact, the situation is even worse than reported in the news. We are not only facing heavy firepower, but we are also fighting without any external support and with communications almost completely cut off."

"It's still a situation of passive counterattack."

Leon paused, a perfectly timed hint of regret in his eyes: "Although we eventually brought the situation under control, I must admit—if our individual protective gear had been better, or if our tactical vehicles could have withstood large-caliber bullets, perhaps none of my men would have ended up in the ICU."

"We did our best, using what we had."

The newly rich around him turned pale as they listened, exchanging glances and seeing in each other's eyes the urgency that they "had to invest money."

"This is terrible—"

Cooper wiped the cold sweat from his brow: "How could our police officers risk their lives with such substandard equipment? This is a dereliction of duty on the part of City Hall!"

Seeing that the time was right, Sterling also chimed in at the opportune moment.

She gently tightened her grip on Leon's arm, a perfect expression of pride mixed with helplessness on her face, and sighed, "Yes, Mr. Cooper—"

Lyon obediently kept his mouth shut, concealing his merit and fame.

Next up is Sterling's home game.