Chapter 19: eting Again
Crisis managent was urgent.
As soon as the eting ended, Luke set about organizing the relevant personnel. Unfortunately, the company completely lacked talent in this area, so the boss had to personally step up. A thousand-word-long declaration was published on the official website. The language wasn't particularly elegant, but it was highly logical.
The first half outlined the course of events. The apology and reflection were in the middle, quickly addressed in a few lines, followed by the future plan and the redial asures being implented to prevent such incidents from recurring.
The content was solid and seed completely sincere at first glance, but a closer reading revealed the central the: avoiding the core issue.
This was the essence of the whole thing.
What is crisis managent?
Simply put, it's turning black into grey and erasing the grey until it's invisible. If you just kept painting it black, afraid people wouldn't know what wrong you had done, that wouldn't be crisis managent; that would be a public relations crisis.
After the statent was released, many Show users spontaneously shared it across various channels, implicitly forming a wave of organic support. Upon hearing this news, the entire company was abuzz, and employee morale soared.
It is a wonderful feeling when the result of your hard work is affird by the public.
With users providing cover, the public opinion crisis eased slightly.
Luke could finally spare ti to deal with the FBI.
A Cold Confrontation
At 2:00 p.m., the FBI agents, led by Roger Consius, arrived at the Show headquarters on ti.
"Hello, we et again."
"Yes, we do. It hasn't even been a week since our last eting, and your company has run into trouble again. Last ti it was tahumans; this ti it's terrorists. Who knows what it will be in the future?"
Luke said with a forced smile,
"Mr. Consius certainly has a sense of humor. Show is a legal company, and its employees are law-abiding citizens. We would never do anything illegal."
"The employees might be law-abiding citizens, but the boss might not be."
Roger Consius seed to hint at sothing, taking a few steps closer to whisper, "No matter what your background is or what your agenda is, I will find out this ti. Don't think you can get away with anything."
With that, he walked toward the conference room. Emily followed behind him, passing Luke without even glancing at him, as if the two had never t.
Won, they're all fickle!
"Boss, I think the FBI is targeting us," Charlie said worriedly.
"Not the FBI—Roger Consius is targeting us."
"We haven't done anything wrong. Why is that guy harassing us?"
"You should ask the Old Man that question."
Charlie paused. "You an he knows about our connection to the Hongn?"
Luke looked up at the ceiling, his eyes filled with the suffering of loving an idiot. "Do you think the FBI are all morons? How could they not have files on soone like the Old Man? It's not just him; the files of all Hongn higher-ups and their families are registered with the FBI."
"What about ? Do they have my file too?"
Luke genuinely didn't want to answer such a stupid question.
"How are things going in Chinatown?"
"I just received a text ssage. The person has been settled. However, Elder Qi said that next ti you need his help, you need to go in person." Charlie paused, then quietly suggested, "I think you should visit Elder Qi soti. tropolis is his jurisdiction; you can't keep avoiding him."
"You go if you want to."
Luke snorted, tidied his suit, and strode toward the conference room.
Cindy and the others had finished the preparations. Luke wasted no ti, walking directly to the computer and projecting a photo of a young man with obvious Middle Eastern features onto the large screen.
"Ibn Abdul Sanji Rahman Shalim, the owner of the social dia account 'Black tal.' He is an Arab-Arican, 25 years old. He registered a Show account a month ago and has since published a total of twenty-three posts, including text, pictures, and videos, mostly related to food. Oh, I forgot to ntion, his job is a chef."
"Due to confidentiality agreents, I cannot disclose more information here. If you wish to know more, you can contact him personally. Of course, if you require technical assistance, I can send employees to help, free of charge."
"I've said my piece, Mr. Consius. Do you have any other requests?"
Roger Consius let out a cold, hard laugh, his face twisted with undisguised mockery.
"Is this your idea of... help? One picture! Dozens of useless pieces of information! Luke Shaw, let remind you of sothing: Ibn Abdul Sanji Rahman Shalim is from the Middle East and is a mber of an extre terrorist organization involved in the murder of a woman. Do you know what your actions an right now?"
"You are harboring him, covering for him, all to prevent your company from being implicated. I know your type too well. There's nothing you won't do for money!"
At those words, the faces of the Show employees present instantly changed. In Arica, one thing must never be touched: terrorism. Once that label is slapped on you, you can forget about ever recovering.
Cindy imdiately stood up.
"Sir, please watch your language. Show will never beco a tool for spreading terrorism, nor will we shield any criminal."
Roger Consius ignored her, staring only at Luke.
"If you don't want to be an accomplice, hand over the files on him, his family, and his friends. That is an order."
Luke's brow twitched. He said firmly,
"I apologize, Mr. Consius, but the company does not have the files you want. Even if we did, I would not hand them over. Ibn Abdul Sanji Rahman Shalim is only a suspect. There is no evidence to show he committed a cri. Until actual criminal activity is confird, he is protected by the Constitution, and you have no right to deprive him of his personal rights."
Roger sneered. "Good oratory skills. You should apply to be his defense lawyer. He certainly wouldn't object."
After being repeatedly provoked, Luke's temper flared up.
"I'm sorry, I have neither the interest nor the ti for that."
"There's one more thing I need to remind you of. Ibn's first twenty-three posts were all published from Brooklyn, using the sa computer. The video posted this morning, however, ca from Gotham, using a different computer. Is there no suspicion in that? Don't wrongly accuse good people, and certainly don't miss the bad ones."
He paused, then mocked,
"Although you people do that often."
Pfft!
Charlie nearly burst out laughing. Rowan and Cindy also smiled secretly, thinking, The boss is truly the boss, daring to mock the FBI to their faces. Doesn't he worry about them getting angry?
Luke gestured to Charlie, who pulled out a USB drive and placed it on the table.
"The data is all inside. This is everything Show can provide. If you feel it's insufficient, please present a docunt authorized by the White House, and we will provide appropriate assistance according to its contents."
"If there's nothing else, this eting is adjourned. Charlie, see them out!"
Charlie stood up and opened the conference room door.
Roger gave Luke a deep, intense look, then rose to leave. At the doorway, he turned back.
"Luke Shaw, don't think you can do whatever you want. This is tropolis, not Coast City. I will investigate this matter thoroughly. I won't wrongly accuse good people, and I won't let any bad people go, no matter what their identity or background is!"
With that threat delivered, the atmosphere imdiately grew tense. Luke ground his teeth but said nothing, waving his employees back to work.
A Secret Location
After leaving Show, Roger Consius drove straight to Ibn's residence in Brooklyn, but the place was empty. A neighbor inford him that Ibn had left with several unfamiliar n wearing sunglasses two hours earlier.
Upon hearing this news, Roger angrily kicked the wall, muttering unspeakable curses.
Emily opened her mouth several tis, but ultimately chose silence. She had just received a text ssage from Luke, asking her to et at a bar to discuss sothing. She had planned to ntion the ssage, but seeing her Captain's state, she decided against it.
At 6:00 p.m., as soon as her workday ended, Emily drove to Brooklyn and stopped in front of a bar called the Red Devil.
Since it wasn't late yet, the bar was relatively empty. Emily imdiately spotted the young man by the bar counter.
Today, Luke was dressed differently than before. He wasn't in a suit, opting for casual wear: white sneakers, dark casual trousers, and a purple shirt. A silver Vacheron Constantin watch was on his left wrist, and a gold Bulgari bracelet was on his right. His entire outfit made him look handso, fashionable, and luxurious, contrasting sharply with the run-down bar.
Seeing Emily, Luke smiled and walked over.
"Sweetheart, thank you for not making drink alone for two hours here."
"Don't call sweetheart. Your sweetheart is Ivanka Trump, not ."
As soon as she said that, Emily imdiately regretted it. She glared at him irritably, found an empty chair, sat down, and snapped,
"What do you want to talk about?"
"I have a business matter and a personal matter. Which first?"
"Business!"
Luke sighed in disappointnt, took a photo from his pocket, and placed it on the table.
"Ibn Abdul Sanji Rahman Shalim, you haven't forgotten him, have you?"
Emily gasped, horrified. "You..."
Luke said calmly, "That's right. I had soone take him."
Emily imdiately stood up, angrily hissing,
"What exactly are you trying to do? Do you know that's illegal?"
"I had to do this."
Luke looked her directly in the eye and said, word for word, "I don't trust Roger Consius. You know better than I what kind of person he is. If he gets Ibn, who knows what terrible things he might do. Of the entire FBI, I only trust you, and only you can find the truth."
Emily's expression was incredibly complex. For a mont, she didn't know what to say. Sothing deep inside was swinging back and forth. After a while, she cald down, sighed with resignation, and asked,
"Where is he?"
"Co with ."
The two left the bar through the back door and navigated dark, damp streets until they reached a dilapidated building.
"When we get inside, don't say anything. Just do as I say."
Pushing open the heavy iron door of the basent, the two entered a dimly lit room.
Ibn Abdul Sanji Rahman Shalim was there, anxiously waiting.
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