The moment he returned to the station lobby, he found the officer at the front desk arguing with someone who seemed to be speaking French. Wilson and several colleagues had pulled up chairs nearby and were thoroughly enjoying the show.
Absolutely disgraceful.
They didn't even invite me.
Li Jie fetched a chair and lined it up behind them, asking quietly, "What's going on?"
"That French guy had his wallet stolen. Came in to report it and wasn't exactly polite," Wilson replied without turning around. "And he happened to catch D'Artagnan on duty, who hates France more than anyone."
"With a name like that, he hates the French?" Li Jie hardly knew where to begin. "I don't remember him being German."
"He isn't. He wasn't like this before, either. But during last year's World Cup, he bet on a team full of the most expensive players in the world, and they couldn't beat one bald guy wearing number ten. Lost him a fortune. He's held a grudge against the French ever since."
"Holy shit!"
Wilson shifted sideways to make room. Just then, the lobby doors opened and Bob hurried in, his expression wavering between delight and worry. Spotting Li Jie, he immediately beckoned. "We need to talk."
Li Jie nodded and told Wilson and the others to hurry up and get rid of the disturbance at the front desk-whether that meant the problem or the people-before it became too embarrassing. Then he followed Bob into his office.
"How'd it go, boss?"
He flopped sideways onto the visitor sofa, but curling up like that made his wound hurt even more. He had to struggle back into a chair.
"You all right?"
"I'm fine. Just need to take it easy. Probably a week or two." Li Jie waved a hand and asked again,