Undercurrents in the Police Department

Police arrived at the scene eight minutes after the incident.

For the Seattle Police Department, this response time was quite fast. The three patrol cars stopped almost simultaneously in front of the restaurant, their red and blue flashing lights illuminating the entire street.

Eight police officers filed in, their flashlight beams sweeping across the chaotic restaurant, illuminating terrified faces and the mess on the ground.

The waiter offered no resistance.

He sat in the chair, the cigarette in his hand already burned down to the filter. Hearing the police officer's shout, he calmly stubbed out the cigarette, threw it into the pool of blood on the ground, then covered his head with his hands, lay face down on the ground, the movements so precise they seemed rehearsed countless times. Two police officers quickly stepped forward, handcuffed him behind his back, dragged him off the ground, and escorted him to the police car outside. As the waiter passed Lin Feng, he didn't even turn his head to look at him, as if the two had never crossed paths before.

Lin Feng and Lü Yi, as those present at the scene, were also taken to the police station to assist with the investigation. Lü Yi remained silent throughout, without making any unnecessary movements or saying anything, and cooperated by following the police officers into another car.

The surveillance footage from the police station parking lot clearly recorded the entire incident inside the restaurant. From the footage, Lin Feng made no suspicious movements whatsoever—he remained seated, did not get up, did not approach Philip, and did not interact with the waiter. Legally speaking, he had no direct connection to this triple murder. At most, he was merely an unfortunate witness to the crime.

But that doesn't mean he can leave immediately.

The Seattle Police Department's interrogation room was located at the end of the third-floor corridor. It was a room of about ten square meters, with no windows and walls painted a somber gray-white. The room contained only a metal table and three chairs—two on one side of the table and one on the other. The fluorescent lights on the ceiling hummed softly, casting a pale and glaring light that made one's face appear bloodless.

Lin Feng was led into the interrogation room, where a police officer gestured for him to sit in the chair opposite the table. He complied. Immediately afterwards, his hands were pulled in front of him, and a pair of handcuffs were threaded through metal rings welded to the table and locked with a click.

This is standard interrogation procedure—to prevent suspects or witnesses from suddenly attacking and injuring people during interrogation. Although Lin Feng's current status is only that of an "eyewitness," according to convention, no procedure will be omitted before he is formally cleared of suspicion.

Two officers sat down opposite him. One was a white man in his forties with thinning hair and a slightly protruding belly, looking like a seasoned veteran who had been working at the grassroots level for twenty years; the other was a young black woman, about thirty years old, with short, neat hair, a serious expression, and holding a voice recorder and a notebook.

The white officer spoke first, his tone relatively polite. "Mr. Lin, this is routine. You don't need to be nervous, just cooperate with us and explain the situation clearly."

Lin Feng nodded. "No problem."

For the next forty minutes, the two officers took turns asking questions, starting with basic personal information and gradually delving into the details of tonight's events—what was his relationship with Philip Winslow? Why did they meet tonight? What did they discuss? Did he know the waiter? Did he notice anything unusual?

Lin Feng answered each question calmly and logically. His answers were watertight—his relationship with Philip was purely business; Philip had initiated the meeting that evening to discuss normal business cooperation; he did not know the waiter and had not noticed anything unusual. Every answer was reasonable, without uttering a single extra word or revealing any emotional fluctuation.

The white officer questioned him repeatedly, but couldn't find any flaws. He exchanged a glance with his partner and shook his head slightly.

Everything seemed to be proceeding according to plan. In another hour or two, after the statement was taken, Lin Feng could leave.

Just then, the door to the interrogation room was pushed open.

The door opened suddenly, without knocking or prior notice. Both officers looked up simultaneously, their faces showing displeasure—no one would be happy to be interrupted during an interrogation.

But when they saw the person standing in the doorway, their displeasure immediately turned into respect.

The man who walked in was a middle-aged Asian man, around fifty years old, about 1.75 meters tall, with a well-proportioned build, wearing a crisply pressed senior police uniform. His hair was cut very short, his temples were already a little gray, his facial features were strong, his cheekbones were slightly high, and his dark brown eyes revealed the sharpness and composure honed by years of police work.

His epaulettes bore a silver oak leaf badge—the insignia of a deputy commissioner.

The two officers sprang up from their chairs almost simultaneously and stood ramrod straight.

"Superintendent Lee!"

Jonathan Lee waved his hand, his tone flat. "You can all leave now. I'll interrogate this man."

The two officers exchanged a glance, a hint of doubt flashing in their eyes, but neither raised any objections. It was uncommon for a deputy commissioner to personally handle an interrogation, but not unprecedented. Moreover, Jonathan Lee was a well-known iron-fisted figure in the department; no one dared question his orders.

"Yes, Inspector." The white officer put away his notebook, and together with his partner, quickly walked out of the interrogation room, closing the door behind them.

The metal door lock made a soft click.

The interrogation room fell silent, with only the hum of the fluorescent lights and the breathing of the two people remaining.

Jonathan Lee didn't speak immediately. He stood there, his gaze briefly meeting Lin Feng's before shifting away. He walked to the corner, where a wall-mounted surveillance camera was installed, its red indicator light flashing.

He reached out and pressed the power switch below the camera.

The red indicator light went out.

He then walked to the other side of the interrogation table, where there was an inconspicuous audio recorder, a backup device used to record the interrogation process. He crouched down, followed the wires to the power plug, and promptly unplugged it.

After doing all this, he didn't rush back to Lin Feng. Instead, he walked around the interrogation room, carefully checking the corners of the ceiling, the electrical outlets on the walls, and the hidden places under the table. His movements were skilled and cautious, like an experienced bomb disposal expert checking for a hidden bomb.

After confirming that no listening devices had been missed, he finally walked up to Lin Feng.

He took out his Key from his pocket, bent down, and unlocked the metal ring that was locking Lin Feng's handcuffs.

The handcuffs came off with a crisp metallic clang.

Lin Feng flexed his wrists but didn't say anything.

Then, this deputy commissioner, who had served in the Seattle police force for over two decades and was known for his iron-fisted and tough approach, made a move that would leave anyone who witnessed it speechless—

He bowed slightly, head lowered, and spoke in an almost pious tone:

"Master, we're in trouble."

There was a few seconds of silence in the interrogation room.

Lin Feng leaned back in his chair, his expression completely calm, as if what he had just heard wasn't a statement that could cause an earthquake, but merely an ordinary daily report. He moved his wrists, which bore faint red marks from the handcuffs, and asked in a calm tone:

Tell me about it.

Jonathan Lee straightened up, but still maintained a slight bow. His voice was very low, as if he was worried that the walls would grow ears.

"This morning, I received a encrypted message from Washington, D.C.. It was sent by the personal assistant of the congressman who works for me."

He paused, seemingly considering his words, but ultimately chose to be direct. "The message was brief, but the meaning was clear—they know about the relationship between you and me."

Lin Feng's eyes flickered slightly, but he quickly regained his composure. "How much do you know?"

"I don't know." Jonathan Lee shook his head. "They didn't reveal their source of information, nor did they specify how much evidence they had. But since they were able to directly pinpoint this connection, it means they're at least fairly certain."

He continued, "The other party's attitude was very clear—a warning to me that from now on, I am not allowed to interfere in anything related to you. Otherwise..."

He didn't finish his sentence, but the unfinished words already carried a lot of meaning. In his more than 20 years in the Seattle police force, he had seen too many outcomes after saying "otherwise"—transfer, suspension, being falsely accused and sent to prison, or even worse.

Lin Feng remained silent for a moment.

The only sound in the interrogation room was the monotonous, persistent hum of the fluorescent lights, like some invisible pressure slowly building in the air.

"That congressman," Lin Feng finally spoke, his voice very soft, "How much does he know?"

Jonathan Lee replied gravely, "He probably doesn't know everything. But if he can find out about my connection, it means their intelligence network is much deeper than we thought. My connection is very well-established; normally, no one should be able to detect it."

He paused, then added the most crucial sentence, "Master, this isn't just one person's idea. It's... the collective will of that group."

He spoke the words "that circle" lightly, but they carried immense weight.

Lin Feng leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and gently exhaled.

Silence fell again in the interrogation room.

After a long while, Lin Feng opened his eyes, his gaze calmly fixed on the gray-white wall opposite him, his voice devoid of any emotional fluctuation:

"I see."