Jimmy had really good connections in various police departments. He wasn't the kind of person arranged by the leaders but had built his network purely on his own exceptional skills. Generally, the departments would show him some respect since they needed to support each other.
Jimmy trained at the SWAT for a while before leaving the training base. He couldn't stay there long, as it was a bit far from the downtown area, and his support could sometimes be delayed.
After work, Jimmy returned to the police station where James was still there. James had Jimmy change his clothes and then took him out of the station.
Today, Jimmy didn't drive but rode in James's car. The destination was the private club where Jimmy had met Tom long ago. There were no signs; it was clearly a private club, perhaps not even open to the public.
James led Jimmy into the club. The guard outside didn't check their identities but just opened the door. It seemed James visited frequently as the guards remembered him well.
The last time he visited the club, Jimmy had been in a hurry and hadn't taken the time to look around. This time, he was more relaxed and took the opportunity to observe his surroundings.
The place was a three-story villa with a sizeable outdoor area. Jimmy entered through the front door; on one side of the lobby was the reception desk, and on the other side, a spiral staircase leading to the second and third floors.
Jimmy activated "Heart Eye," but could only see the front part; the room's deep structures were completely out of view. As for above and below, from his current location, he could see two or three people scattered in various rooms upstairs, appearing to be in conversation.
The club was obviously a normal one, with no shady dealings, at least none that Jimmy could see.
Just as Jimmy was forming this preliminary impression, James took him upstairs. After walking a bit further, Jimmy spotted a large room where several people gathered around a table. Well, that setup was essentially identifiable as Texas Hold'em.
Luckily, James's destination wasn't this room. Jimmy had absolutely no clue about Texas Hold'em; sitting down to play would have been a sheer giveaway.
James's goal was a small reception room where two men were already conversing on a sofa. James didn't knock but just opened the door and entered, with Jimmy following behind him.
This was a relatively small reception room, about thirty square meters. A shelf against the wall held some liquor and a few boxes, while the cabinet below stored various glasses. A round table was placed in the middle of the room, surrounded by three single sofas arranged in a triangle.
The two men, both in their sixties or seventies, looked older than James. Although their hair was graying, they still appeared quite spry. They were smoking cigars and talking when the door opened.
James led Jimmy to the opposite side; James sat on the remaining sofa, while Jimmy stood next to him, playing the role of the junior.
James introduced him, "Dave, Walter, this is Jimmy, the best young man at the police station." Jimmy nodded at them but didn't speak, just stood with his arms crossed in front of his lower abdomen.
James looked at the man on his left, "Dave, I need your help."
Dave took a cigar from a box on the table and handed it to James. James didn't continue right away but began cutting the cigar. After lighting it and taking a puff, he continued.
James, "Dave, I know you've retired, but I think you might still have some contacts there. I need to trace the last locations of two phone numbers. Help me, and I'll owe you one."
James's request was unusually direct, perhaps because he was impatient. He made no attempt at polite small talk.
Dave looked up at Jimmy, then turned to James, who nodded.
Dave said, "Alright, give me the number."
James turned to Jimmy, who took out a piece of paper and a pen from his pocket and wrote down two numbers: one was the number recorded in his own cell phone, and the other was the number from a Tom business card that James had given him. When he had learned this morning that James was going to check these two numbers, he had already memorized them.
After Jimmy finished writing, he folded the paper and handed it to James, who didn't look at the contents of the note but handed it directly to Dave.
Dave unfolded the paper, glanced at it, and put it in his suit pocket. He then took out a card holder from another pocket and selected a business card to give to James. "Contact him tomorrow."
James visibly sighed with relief, raised the card he was holding and handed it to Jimmy, without turning back, he said to Jimmy, "Jimmy, you can go now."
Jimmy took the business card and left the reception room.
Clearly, both were influential figures, and Jimmy was not yet qualified to sit with them for a chat. That James had brought him to meet these figures was already of immense help to him. In the future, if possible, he might inherit some of James's connections.
As soon as Jimmy left the reception room, he put the business card in his pocket. He put his hands in his trouser pockets and strolled leisurely to the club's main hall.
He had come with James and didn't have his own car, so he had to ask the service desk to help call a taxi.
Jimmy took the taxi back to the county police headquarters. He didn't drive home directly but returned to his workstation and took out the business card to have a look at it.
Well, a very familiar icon, the circular FBI logo. It had only a name and a phone number, but at least he knew the basics now.
Jimmy took a shoulder holster and a gun from the drawer, put them on, and then left for home. When he had gone to the club earlier, James had specifically instructed not to carry weapons, so Jimmy had followed James empty-handed. Not having a gun made him feel a bit insecure.
Jimmy drove home, and unfortunately encountered a flat tire on the way. While changing the tire, Jimmy couldn't help thinking that something was wrong. It was the first time in over a year that he had experienced a flat tire while driving, and he wondered if that streak of bad luck from the end of last year was coming back.
After changing the tire and clearing up the dust, Jimmy got up and drove home.
The next day, Jimmy went to the police station to sign in and called the number on the business card at noon. The call was quickly answered, and a man's voice came from the other end, "Who is this?"
Jimmy said, "I'm looking for Pete; I need to pick up a document."
Pete said, "3 p.m., FBI Little Rock office parking lot." Then, he hung up.
Jimmy was speechless. Why did these people always choose parking lots? Couldn't they find anywhere else? It was as if they were all obsessed with parking lots.
But it made sense. Unlike other bustling state capitals, Little Rock really was sparsely populated. The downtown buildings all came with huge ground-level parking lots. In such a place, there were definitely no monitoring devices like cameras, and at most, a camera was positioned far away, covering a wide area, impossible to record conversations.