You call this a coroner in North America?

Old Harden looked at Brian helplessly: "I signed a confidentiality agreement."

"NW organization's confidentiality agreement?"

"FBI Nondisclosure Agreement."

Hearing this, Brian rolled his eyes: "When will we NW people abide by the FBI's confidentiality agreement? Besides, tell me, am I going to report you?"

He felt that he and the FBI had some conflicts and had been having conflicts. Now he felt a little nervous when he heard about the FBI.

Fuck them sooner or later!

Seeing this, Old Harden had no choice but to explain:

"Okay, actually I don't really want to see this thing again.

The first time I saw this thing was probably more than thirty years ago.

At that time, I was still a young and promising mounted policeman with my own family and children. Until I saw this messy line, my life completely changed... Do you have any cigarettes? "

Pa da ~

Bryan ordered it for Harden himself.

It can be seen that Old Harden's mood at the moment is not as calm as it seems on the surface.

His fingers holding the cigarette were trembling slightly:

"That day, we received a notice that a wanted serial killer was hiding in a farm. When we arrived, we saw the serial killer's body hanging on a stake. On his chest, This mark is engraved on it.

The mark looks a bit like a tattoo, as if someone sprayed it on.

From that day on, bad guys were often killed in our jurisdiction.

Some are drug lords, some are ordinary people on the surface, and bad guys secretly. Whether they are prostitutes, children of bullies, or old scum, no matter what their identity is, several people die every day.

Every time the deceased has these messy lines left on their body.

Later, after many visits and understanding, we found out that this tattoo pattern suddenly appeared on the bodies of the deceased at unknown times, and they died of various circumstances the next day.

Things got a bit big.

It wasn't until some identified gang police officers were all killed in the branch that the nature of the matter completely changed.

This is a provocation to all law enforcement officers.

But we haven't even determined the identity of the murderer.

Finding victims with similar symptoms in advance and setting up an ambush would be useless.

In the end, the victim either choked to death on food or drank water for no apparent reason, or he fell asleep and stopped breathing at some point.

We call this pattern the Curse Pattern, which means that once this pattern appears around you, it means that this person has entered the countdown to life.

In desperation, the FBI finally intervened. "

Brian listened with interest: "What about down there?"

This murderer feels a bit like me, but much more arrogant than me.

I just heard Old Harden say that he had a family and a family at that time...

Brian remembered that the old Harden had two sons and a daughter, and a granddaughter who was very talented in black rap, and he often boasted about it.

As a colleague, he still hopes that Old Harden will not encounter those tragic things.

Old Harden spread his hands:

"under?

There is no more below.

I don’t know how the FBI handled it later. Anyway, not long after they intervened, similar things disappeared. The murderer may have gone to another state, or he may have been solved by the FBI.

Within the FBI, there are still many monsters similar to aberrations.

Anyway, those of us police officers who have seen this curse mark are required to sign a very serious confidentiality agreement.

If this case hadn't been so bizarre and so long ago, I would have probably forgotten this pattern. "

Looking at the old Harden who naturally said that there was no more, Brian felt his fist harden: "Since you have nothing to do with it, why did you first say that you had a family and a family at that time, and then react in such an exaggerated manner that your hands were shaking? I almost thought something bad happened to you!"

He had regretted his questioning just now, thinking that he had brought back old Harden's tragic memories.

Old Harden exhaled a puff of smoke, feeling proud that he had tricked Brian: "If you put it this way, it will give a more sense of story. As for my hands, I have been playing a lot of games recently and my hands are a little cramped. Hey, after all, I am old. I was young. ,I."

"Were you a Mountie before?"

Brian interrupted Harden Sr. and asked curiously.

Although the mounted police thing is a bit behind the times, pure police horses are expensive.

Raising a pure police horse is almost equivalent to the salary of ten police officers. Therefore, although there have always been mounted police in various states, the number is very small, and they are basically white police officers.

Old Harden was a black man more than thirty years ago.

At that time, there were not many black police officers in the entire California police force, let alone black mounted police officers.

This is because California has a developed economy and is more flexible in thinking.

other states.

It's the same robbery. The white robbers may be sent to a labor camp at most, but the black robbers...their only hope of survival is to run fast before the police arrive and don't get caught, otherwise they will be shot.

Brian had reason to suspect that Old Harden was bragging.

Old Harden:

He touched his nose with some embarrassment: "I am the team's logistics, but when there is a shortage of manpower, I will also bring weapons to help. After all, there is a black man in the team. Many things will be easier to solve. When a black man commits a crime, there is also a black man. Buffer space for communication.”

"But when you introduced yourself before, you always said that you have been working in the logistics department."

Old Harden saw that Brian was interested, so he had to continue:

"I encountered some things later, and I was depressed. I was introduced by a friend to work as a prison guard.

I met some people in there and learned some skills. Later, because of my family, I returned to the Los Angeles Police Department and became a logistics officer.

Later, my granddaughter became an adult and needed a lot of money to learn to play musical instruments. I chose to join NW with the help of a person I had met a long time ago, who was the guy who interviewed us before.

But at first I was going to stay at the headquarters and wait for death. I didn't expect Susan to choose me, an old guy."

At this point, Old Harden was still a little fortunate.

If he really stayed at the headquarters, he would probably be a mascot who played games with his parents in retirement. With the income from selling plug-ins, he could barely support his granddaughter's artistic dream.

Now Brian works harder and has better luck, and his granddaughter's dreams will be fine.

The bonus for killing Mad Dog last time, if not wasted, would be enough for his granddaughter to learn for more than a year.

This is also why he took the initiative to expose his hacking skills and show his goodwill to Brian later.

Money comes too easily, and you just eat and wait for death, but it's too hot to hold.

Bryan was even more surprised when he heard what Harden said: "You are a hacker technology expert, you can apply for a job in any Internet company, or get a few consultants, you won't be short of money, right? And there are plug-ins, aren't you very diligent in selling them?"

Speaking of this, Harden sighed:

"My technology is indeed great, but I only know some intrusion attack methods.

I am particularly talented in this area, but when I first learned it, I did some impulsive things and made a bad reputation in this industry.

If it is exposed, I will be finished.

This style and habit can be recognized by professionals at a glance, but no one will suspect that it is just a little black old man in reality, let go In reality, if I want to work, I must act in front of those professionals, right?

The risk of exposure is too high, and I can only work in some network security companies at most. I am too old, so I am too lazy to bother.

As for plug-ins"

The wrinkles on the old Harden's face are much more:

"Although the law does not clearly stipulate that plug-ins are illegal, the people in those network companies are not so kind. After all, plug-ins destroy the balance, and some players are also serious.

Once the fact that I sell plug-ins is exposed, being sued is considered light. I am afraid that some player who is abused by plug-ins will find me with BIUBIUBIU and have an offline PK..."

Hearing the latter, Brian couldn't help laughing.

Some time ago, a game player in the next state had a dispute with someone in the game. He said he couldn't win online, so he drove six or seven hours overnight to the next state, found the other party, and emptied three or four rifle magazines.

In his previous life, he said in the game that he had decided to kill, but it was just a lip service. There are many people here who are full and bored, and they really empty the magazines.

Finally, Old Harden ran away with the previous phone call.

It turned out that the second-level staff uniform reissued to him by NW was sent to the office, and he was asked to confirm it on the website when he had time.

Brian knew that Old Harden had not said a lot of things, and was completely avoiding the important issues, but who doesn't have secrets?

He did not continue to ask.

It was a pity.

In addition to knowing that this thing had appeared before, he still didn't understand what these messy patterns were and why they made him obsessed.

The degree of this influence was not deep. When Brian reacted, he didn't have the same feeling as before. It was very magical, as if that thing was simply able to carry out psychological suggestion and hypnosis, but once people realized that there was a problem, it would become ineffective.

It was amazing.

At this moment, Brian even wanted to be a gentleman on the beam and bring back the landscape painting for careful study.

After leaving the meeting room.

Brian held Thirteen, who was guarding the door, in his arms and praised him well.

The child is grown up and needs more encouragement.

This made Thirteen very happy. His tail was shaking like an electric fan, and he kept urging Brian to give him more tasks.

He liked to be praised by the big dog!

Brian was so obsessed with Thirteen that he threw him a self-study test paper on addition, subtraction, multiplication and division. Thirteen then wilted.

He lay on the papers that Brian had printed himself, in large fonts, with his ears drooping and his tail dragging on the ground, motionless, and completely lost his dream.

Thirteen hated math, hated it!

The target, McCoff, was calm.

Brian deliberately did not let Green follow the list given by the other party, just to alert McCoff and make him suspicious, and take the initiative to take them to find the unknown organization.

As a result, the other party did not move until the afternoon.

Of course, there is also the possibility that he did not drive, but here, it is very inconvenient to go out without driving, or to leave your own car and take someone else's car.

There is a possibility, but it is not very likely.

In desperation, bored Brian checked Thirteen's test paper full of mistakes, patiently taught him, and then found Susan, who was training at the shooting range, to have a shooting duel, one kiss at a time.

The two were competitive by nature, so they agreed that whoever won would kiss the other as a consolation to the other.

Brian didn't win even once until Susan's lips were peeled from kissing.

This animal always deliberately lets Susan win, but each time it is a narrow victory. Susan is so excited that she refuses to accept it and pulls Brian to stop her from leaving.

Of course, it may also be that Susan herself is addicted to this kind of fun way of getting along, which can also enhance the training effect, and pretends to be tricked.

Until the B6 group got off work, Susan took Thirteen away, and McCoff still didn't move.

Rooftop.

Until more than eight o'clock in the evening, McCoff still didn't move.

Green put down his phone depressedly: "Boss Brian, it seems that we have to work overtime again today. I have already told my family that I will not go home today."

Recently, under the influence of this group of animals in the group, he tried his hand at hooking up with a rich widow, but he was busy with his career and didn't have time to visit her from time to time.

He was ready to stay up all night today.

Brian threw his cigarette butt to the ground fiercely: "Why work overtime? Go find him directly!"

When the two arrived at the institute and saw the blue lights of the police car flashing, illuminating the surroundings in red and blue, they realized that McCoff had jumped off the building a few hours ago.

The patrolman looked at Brian: "After Professor McCoff had a meeting with the people below and arranged the work, he locked the door of the office, left a letter, and jumped down from the top in front of many employees who were off work."

"Letter?"

The patrolman shrugged: "It seems to be a confession letter, involving many people. In short, we were arranged here to surround this institute and not let anyone in or out unless there is an entry and exit note signed by the General Administration."

"We can't do it either?"

Since Brian became famous in the grassroots patrol circle, he rarely encountered patrolmen who didn't give him face.

The patrolman shook his head: "Sorry, it's really not possible. We are just the periphery here. In fact, the inside has been controlled by the NW Special Service Department."

A police officer with the rank of captain noticed the movement here.

He glanced at the tall and handsome Brian, and immediately recognized this young NW employee who had been very famous in the past one or two months.

He waved his hand to the patrolman who was explaining to Brian to return to his position, and said to Brian in a calm tone: "Unrelated personnel, please leave here."

Hearing this, Green immediately glared at the middle-aged white police officer he had never seen before.

This guy seems to be hostile to them!

Seeing this, Brian sighed: "I originally wanted to get along with you as an ordinary autopsy officer, but you didn't give me face."

He silently took out the new NW employee badge from his pocket and replaced the previous one.

The middle-aged white police officer was a little confused about what this pretty boy wanted to do at first, until he saw the sword and shield pattern on the badge, his expression froze, and he looked at Brian in disbelief: "B sequence second-level employee, Dawn Warrior?"

Brian raised his eyebrows: "Knowledgeable, I actually prefer your calm attitude, can I go in now?"

He has no convenience in his position.

But as NW, the most powerful law enforcement complex in Los Angeles, as a second-level staff member, many things are already qualified to speak.

The middle-aged white police officer was very angry at Brian's words, and the veins on his forehead were bulging, but he didn't continue to talk nonsense, just silently stepped aside: "Go and communicate with the special service people yourself."

That being said.

But the middle-aged man knew that the group of special service people would definitely give face to the little white face in front of him.

After all, the leader of that group of people was just a second-level staff member of NW.

There are also big differences between staff members of the same level.

A second-level staff member in his twenties and a second-level staff member in his forties give people completely different feelings.

Reality is not a melodrama.

Brian knew that he couldn't be liked by everyone, so after the other party gave in, he didn't say anything nonsense, but took Green into the research institute he had just visited during the day under Green's habitual shocked eyes and a group of peripheral patrolmen's curious and inquiring eyes.

It is estimated that after tonight, the story of Brian and the middle-aged patrolman will quickly become more than a dozen different versions, circulated in major police stations and police stations, and become an inspirational drama of "Don't bully the poor young man".

Brian can't do anything about it.

Face is something that usually gets thrown by oneself.

In the research institute.

A group of people were staring at a corpse.

They had been here for more than half an hour, but they didn't touch the corpse at all, as if there was something strange about the corpse.

Suddenly.

A middle-aged white man with a cold expression moved his ears slightly, turned his head, and his cold eyes met the eyes of Brian who was walking with Green.

He frowned at first, until he saw the staff badge on Brian's collar, and then he let go of his frown, and his cold expression was a little more relaxed: "Who are you?"

"Brian, a second-level staff member of the Operations Department, came here for a case involving the deceased."

Brian explained briefly, looking past the man and looking at the red obsession ball floating above the corpse on the ground.

It's shipped.