"How did I teach you?"
"The source and profession of an informant are important. Those guys who deal in second-hand goods can provide information on stolen items and recent activities of certain people.
mbers of gangs can obtain ordinary news and information about certain organizations, but the risks are greater!
And people like this." The female cop pointed at Jack in front of her, "Those who live off gangs, source drugs from gangs and sell them to others besides using them themselves. They maintain good relationships with most gangs and have access to a lot of information."
"Yes, so next you’ll have to get him to beco your informant on your own. I’m your training officer. Acquiring a valuable informant is part of your performance assessnt during this period. I’ve been through it too! I chose a guy who stole cars; it was relatively easy."
Stella stood aside while the female cop walked behind Jack.
"If you can’t beco my informant, I will."
"Enough, lady. I know what you want to do. You want to say you’ll charge with possession or even distribution of drugs, and I’ll go to jail. You won’t plead with the judge or ask the DA to lighten my sentence, right? I’m not new to this; I’ve been to prison twice," Jack said with a smile, placing his hands on the car roof without any dissatisfaction or worry.
The female cop looked at Stella helplessly.
"Don’t look at . I’ll be grading you."
Damn it!
The female cop was filled with bitterness, while Stella was also looking at the fentanyl in her hand. Her recent undercover mission was related to fentanyl.
After the Claude case, there was less cocaine in Miami, but marijuana, fentanyl, crystal th, and psychedelic mushrooms, ayahuasca, and others were on the rise.
Many gangs opted for cheaper soft drugs.
Especially fentanyl, which was in large quantities.
Haitians and Cubans started a war, like two tigers eting in the forest, with other predators waiting for their chance, watching for a clear winner while gathering strength.
Since the Claude case surfaced, Miami’s underground forces have been undergoing a shakeup.
The streets turned into killing fields, and the Upper East Side was no different.
But I ended the war in the Upper East Side.
"Do you really want to go to jail?" The female cop hadn’t given up.
"Don’t tempt . I’m well aware of your tactics. Don’t try to convince , okay, officer?"
"He’s a slippery one; he knows his case well. We can’t give him a heavy sentence, and he won’t be in for long," Stella reminded her trainee.
"Of course, the prison ti is only a year, and I don’t need to worry about money for food. Arrest ." Jack said happily, "I can sleep on a bed in prison and won’t have to be a holess person on the street. Arrest ."
Fack!
The two female cops cursed under their breath.
Listening to their conversation, I closed the car door and pressed the lock button.
With a beep, the female cop looked in my direction.
Stella looked at my sports car, frowning.
"Need help?"
The female cop looked at Stella, eyes filled with longing. Help? Of course, it was needed.
"What can you do?"
Stella looked at with interest. She was in casual clothes today, and I could see the creases in her shirt.
Seeing stare at the creases in her shirt, Stella looked displeased at , as if to say, it’s all your fault.
"I can make him your informant."
"WHAT?" Stella’s face was full of disbelief.
Her trainee also looked at with suspicion. As police, they had caught Jack with drugs, but Jack wasn’t afraid.
To turn a criminal into an informant, police have a simple thod: gather evidence of the cri and threaten them, exchanging freedom for information. But Jack wasn’t interested at all.
He’d prefer prison, where he wouldn’t have to worry about food or sleep.
For a holess person, prison could be happier.
"Do you want to?"
My expression was calm.
The female cop looked at in surprise. Could he really do it? The trainee looked expectantly at her training officer.
Stella also needed this informant; she wanted to know who was selling large quantities of fentanyl.
"Can you do it?" Stella remained skeptical.
I smiled slightly and walked up behind Jack.
"Hey kid, I won’t be an informant," Jack said with a low laugh, as if hearing an amusing joke.
"Really?" I threw out a question easy to answer.
"Are you an idiot? Being an informant would get killed." Jack mocked my ignorance.
"You will."
"Haha, are you kidding ?" Jack laughed loudly, as if hearing the funniest joke.
"I don’t like to joke," I said, drawing out the switchblade from my side, and with my left arm I wrapped around Jack, the blade of the switchblade in my right hand against his neck.
The cold blade touched his skin, making Jack feel the chill of death.
The non-reflective black-coated blade made the dagger look even more nacing, like a beast baring its fangs.
"What are you doing, you bastard?"
Jack shouted, "Officer, he has a knife."
Stella’s mouth dropped, unsure what to do, while her trainee was in a daze.
This is how you’re gonna make him an informant?
"Jack, right? I’m not a cop; I’m in a gang. And I want to tell you a fact: by being her informant, you live. If you refuse ."
I lifted the blade to his thigh, the sharp edge piercing his skin.
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