Reborn: The Rookie Detective Chapter 112 112: 112-Hannah's return

Colonel Norman Jenkins smiled again and said to Tim, "Are we back together? Sergeant Bradford."

Tim watched Lucy and Nolan handcuff Pettigrew before giving an OK sign towards the crane and speaking into the walkie-talkie.

"It's all right, Angela."

The red dot on Colonel Norman Jenkins' chest flashed and disappeared. He turned around and gestured urgingly to his teammates.

"Alright, let's get this over with."

"What will happen to the money?" Nolan asked loudly.

"To fund five years of covert operations." Colonel Norman Jenkins smiled broadly, not at all like soone who had been coerced less than a minute ago.

"The federal governnt spends billions of dollars on covert operations every year. Bradford must know sothing about it. He must have seen a lot of counterfeit money in Afghanistan."

Tim lowered his head, seemingly reminded of so unpleasant mories, and reluctantly admitted, "Yes."

Jack, who had already holstered his gun and helped the forklift driver he had taken hostage cover the pile of counterfeit money on the forklift, sneered inwardly upon hearing this conversation. Military scrip is military scrip, but counterfeit money? Shaless.

The conversation continued, and Nolan still didn't understand.

"But this is counterfeit money!"

Colonel Norman Jenkins' dark face seed to be coated with a halo as he spoke in a peculiar, almost aria-like voice.

"You can think of it this way: we're not printing money, we're printing freedom."

Jack was almost vomiting, but thinking about the cheap gasoline in his car, in his previous life, the gas money for a short trip would probably be enough for a restaurant al. No way, he needed to change his mindset. He was a beacon of freedom now; freedom and oil were both good things, the cheaper the better.

The LAPD was preparing to leave, while the CIA agents continued their work. Just as Jack was about to slip away, the man who had stepped out of the SUV blocked his way.

"Have you ever considered joining the CIA?"

This blunt recruitnt thod was quite direct. Jack chuckled. "I prefer catching bad guys and solving cases; the spy lifestyle might not suit ."

Although he wasn't sure if this guy's identity in this world was what he suspected, the FBI was clearly much safer than the CIA, especially since the CIA, strictly speaking, had little to do with the police profession.

Taking a few quick steps, Zoe's LAPD colleagues were gathered around her. She was admonishing them, "I haven't been here tonight, and none of you have seen , understand?"

Everyone nodded in unison. It was Jack's idea to use Zoe. When planning, Jack insisted on having as many people as possible tonight, and that soone with a powerful enough presence to keep things under control. But they absolutely couldn't afford to break ties until the very last mont.

The bigger the operation, the more these agents, who acted with impunity abroad, would be wary. Taking out one or two police officers might get them so leeway, but to think they could take down the entire LA precinct's main force and escape unscathed was wishful thinking. Even though the patrol officers were low-ranking, they were still state governnt employees.

Jack's plan was ticulously planned. Tim and his team would draw attention, allowing him to launch a surprise attack and confirm the counterfeit money's existence — this was the key. If things got out of control, and the unsuspecting Long Beach police arrived and discovered the counterfeit money, the so-called federal secret mission would be ruined.

It was like a tightrope walk. Angela, wielding a sniper rifle, was the safety net, like the rope protecting the perforr from losing control. Zoe was the stick, the key to maintaining balance.

Although she only spoke one line upon her entrance, she essentially endorsed the entire incident, finally convincing the CIA that these LAPD officers were genuinely fighting for the life of an innocent holess man.

Finally, it was all over. Zoe drove ho, pretending to ignore what had happened, while the others escorted the suspect back to the police station.

"You guys just happened to wander around the docks, and then the killer of Joe Delacourz just happened to appear in front of you and confess?" Commander Grey, already changed into civilian clothes and ready to go ho, looked at everyone with a "you're kidding " expression.

"Yes, sir," the group, who had already rehearsed their statents repeatedly on the way back, answered in unison.

"What if the Commissioner calls tomorrow morning and yells at —"

"He won't," Tim interrupted him decisively.

The two n exchanged glances; Commander Grey was speechless.

"Alright, I don't want to know what happened tonight. I'm going ho to sleep. You guys better not give any bad reports."

"Yes, sir," the group replied in unison again, then dispersed with a few laughs.

....

In the bustling LA International Airport terminal, Hannah, dressed in a black business suit, exuding an air of elite womanhood, pulled her suitcase out of the passageway.

She took off her sunglasses and looked around, but didn't see a familiar, tall figure, and couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed. Just as she was about to reach for her small bag to take out her phone to make a call, a strong hand suddenly grabbed her arm from behind. Just as Hannah was about to launch a sneaky kick at the groin, a voice she had longed for rang in her ear.

"LAPD, you're under arrest."

"Ah!" Hannah scread, turning around and throwing herself into the arms of the person behind her.

"Won't you give a kiss?" Jack's words were cut short as his lips were forcefully covered by a kiss.

Ti seed to stand still at that mont.

"Hiss, is this your new trick at Quantico?" Jack wiped his lips, which had almost bled from the kiss, and reached for Hannah's suitcase at her feet.

The sweet girl just kept giggling, and after a long while, she finally blurted out, "I missed you."

Simple words of love are the most touching. Looking at the sweet girl, whose eyes were only for him, completely devoid of the aloof, elite deanor she had when she got off the plane, Jack felt a slight pang in his chest. It was as if the scene had touched the softest part of his heart, and he couldn't help but pull Hannah into his arms again. Jack whispered, "I missed you too, every day."

Feeling the touch on his chest was different from usual, he frowned, released the girl, took a half step back, and carefully examined her again.

Her legs were thinner, her waist was thinner, her chest...

"Is the training at Quantico that tough? You've lost at least 10 pounds."

"Fifteen pounds! The food there is terrible! Those nutritionists only make porridge every day! I really want to eat your food, I dream about it!"

Hannah clung to Jack's arm, pouting in her distinctive southern accent. It was strange, but unexpectedly cute.