Jimmy's support mission was over, and this time, although he had fired his gun, he didn't turn in his pistol but took his gear back to the patrol car, switched the radio to the common channel, and then drove straight back to the police station.
His current role was with the Support Team, so the internal review that followed a shooting could be postponed, unlike before when he had to submit evidence at the scene. The chief had given the nod to this arrangement, reasoning that Jimmy wouldn't flee, thus there was no significant problem.
After returning to the station, Jimmy wrote an additional report detailing the shooting incident, then filed it for preservation. The rest was up to the Ministry of Internal Affairs to check, but it wasn't an issue; they would eventually combine his report with other police officers' reports of arresting suspects. For Jimmy, this was nothing out of the ordinary.
Now, the biggest issue after shooting was the absence of routine administrative leave. Thanks to his accomplishments over the past six months, Jimmy had raised his invisible status within the department. Although he was just a deputy sheriff, no one would demand that he take administrative leave for shooting an armed suspect, unless he killed someone—in that case, he definitely wouldn't escape it.
After several months of adjustment, Jimmy had finally gotten over the initial swell of pride from gaining his superpower, Golden Finger. He was also following the chief's advice to give high-risk criminals a break—unless it was a heinous crime, he tried not to play the terminator too often.
In the United States, it was too common for gang members or street thugs to carry guns. If Jimmy shot every armed person dead, he reckoned the rifling in his gun's barrel would wear out.
After switching to the Support Team, other than filing reports post-shooting, Jimmy received an extra subsidy that no one else did—a training allowance. He would train at a designated shooting range, and the station would cover a portion of the ammunition cost.
During work hours, Jimmy could even go directly to the shooting range to train while waiting for dispatch calls. This was obviously not standard practice, but at the county police, as long as the boss said nothing, no one else had any objections.
After work, Jimmy went to a bar near the police station, a frequent spot for them because it was safe and allowed guns inside.
In many places selling spirits in the United States, like bars and restaurants, carrying guns is prohibited. Of course, nobody conducts searches on the spot, but if you're unlucky and get caught red-handed, even having a CCW wouldn't help. It's all about luck; no problem if nothing happens, big trouble if it does.
Jimmy had also gotten used to occasionally sitting at the bar at night when he had nothing else to do, drinking a couple of drinks to relax, so as not to be too tense. Another reason was that he had nothing better to do at home but watch TV and play on the computer, besides his routine gym visits.
To others, such a lifestyle seemed perfectly normal, since almost everyone did the same, except for those with families, of course.
Of course, Jimmy wouldn't refuse a romantic encounter, but those opportunities were fewer. The girls in the city were relatively open to playing around, although people here weren't particularly fond of Asians; in fact, many were latent white supremacists.
Actually, Cage invited Jimmy to the bar this time. The two grabbed drinks and settled in the most secluded spot. After a couple of sips, Cage said, "Jimmy, someone's been inquiring about you, about your work, personal life, and so on, introduced by someone reliable."
Jimmy frowned and took a sip from his glass. "Who is it? What's the purpose?"
Cage: "They didn't say, but it's very likely a federal agency. The intermediary is a former federal agent, from the FBI."
Jimmy: "And the purpose? Why are they investigating me?"
Cage: "It's not clear yet, but I've communicated with the chief, and so far, he hasn't received any request to investigate your files. It seems to be a preliminary investigation. But don't worry, I haven't leaked any information. You should be cautious recently and see if there are any strangers around."
Jimmy downed the drink in his glass and said to Cage, "I got it, I'm heading back first, you keep going."
With his mind preoccupied, Jimmy left the bar and walked to an open area, where he dialed the number Tom had called him from before. Tom hadn't left him any other clue, and this number was the one Jimmy had saved directly from the caller ID the last time Tom had sought him out for a conversation.
Fortunately, the number hadn't been discarded by Tom, and the call connected.
Jimmy: "Hi, Tom, it's Jimmy."
Tom: "I know, get straight to the point, make it quick."
Jimmy: "My boss Cage, just now in the bar, told me someone's been investigating me from behind the scenes through a former FBI agent who reached out to him, but he didn't divulge any information. We suspect it's a federal agency conducting the investigation, and the intermediary Cage believes is very reliable, an acquaintance of his."
Tom: "Understood. Don't contact me, wait for my message."
Tom hung up promptly, and Jimmy let out a long sigh of relief. He was aware of the issues with his identity and had even checked his own information through the police system. From the public information, there was no apparent abnormality, but if someone deliberately traced it back, there definitely would be problems.
Jimmy drove straight home, having only had one drink, it wasn't a big deal; he would surely pass a sobriety test as long as he didn't run into an unexpected breathalyzer or blood test.
The matter of Jimmy being investigated had to be handled by Tom, as Jimmy himself was powerless. He could only put these troublesome issues aside and continue to work and study.
For the Support Team, there was no shortage of things to do, like now, as Jimmy had just started the police car ready to set off for a speed interception.
The State Police had spotted a speeding BMW sedan east of Little Rock, chasing it while calling for backup. Since the I-630 freeway cuts directly through Little Rock, besides a State Police cruiser that arrived for support, an LRPD cruiser also responded, and Jimmy got the request to assist just as the suspect was about to leave the I-630 city sector.
The LRPD cruiser slowed down and left the freeway after Jimmy joined in, heading back to the city, and Jimmy followed behind the State Police cruiser, ready as a backup in case the pursuit cruiser encountered any problems and he needed to accelerate to catch up.
The biggest trouble with highway pursuits was the heavy traffic, giving the State Police little opportunity to execute a PIT maneuver; they could only follow the BMW through the traffic, switching lanes back and forth. After chasing for more than ten minutes, Jimmy finally saw a stretch of road up ahead with hardly any vehicles.
The Arkansas State Police's highway patrol teams were all elite, and they wouldn't waste such a perfect opportunity on the open road. The two State Police cruisers ahead both began to accelerate. The lead cruiser had positioned itself behind to the right of the BMW sedan, and soon enough executed a PIT. Jimmy glanced at his tachometer, 110 mph, 176 km/h.
Jimmy slowed down and stopped next to the BMW sedan, which had already made a U-turn. Another State Police cruiser stationed itself at the front of the sedan, preventing any further escape.
Jimmy simply got out of his cruiser, gun aimed at the driver involved, and after the State Police went over and handcuffed the suspect, he waved to them, got back into his car, drove forward, and prepared to leave the freeway at the next exit.