Fan Fiction |
by ~nO.9~
“Jay.” The man s’ mellowed eyes twinkled as he pulled out a chair and sat down, surveying the handsome young man carefully.
“Inspector Zhang.” Jay nodded his head and smiled, acknowledging the silent exchange of friendship greetings.
“I supposed you already know why I ‘m here.” Inspector Zhang started, coming straight to the point, the twinkle in his eyes, however, still not extinguished.
“Yeah.’ Jay nodded. “The marijuana case.”
This time, the inspector took on a more somber look, the merry expression that was previously present on his face dimming.
Nodding, he replied darkly. “This is one of the biggest drug haul that we have had in Taiwan and I ‘m sure you know how serious is that. Unfortunately for you, they tried to smuggle in the drugs by means of your company. The reason why I ‘m here, is to try and secure a bit more information from you.”
Jay kept silent, the lines on his forehead creased in deep thought.
The inspector waited for a while before continuing. “I hope that as good friends, the both of us can work together. It is highly suspicious that the drug smugglers managed to get the drugs past U.S. customs. If it wasn’t for a tip-off, the drugs might be in circulation by now.”
Tip-off huh.
Jay set his lips into a thin line.
“What do you need?” He finally asked, looking at the inspector straight in the eye.
The inspector spoke slowly. “Information about the sender. Though it is highly unlikely that we will be able to secure any leads, it might still be worth a shot.”
Jay bowed down his head. “I will fax all the particulars to you by…” A quick glance at his watch. “By three p.m. this afternoon.”
The inspector smiled. He knew he could count on Jay.
-
Among the bustling commuters making their way to and fro the subway, a muscular man with strong chiselled features was making his way to a tiny coffee shop situated in a corner of a busy shopping arcade.
Dressed in an ordinary white t-shirt and dark blue jeans, his carefully brown streaked hair placed him as one of the young yuppies struggling to carve out a name for themselves in downtown Taipei.
Suddenly, a vibration in the front pocket of his jeans caused him to stop walking. With a deliberate lack of haste, he redrew the phone, taking his time to flip open the cover.
One message received.
The man appeared in no hurry to check his message. Instead, he stared at the blue screen of his phone for a few seconds, as though debating whether or not he should read the message.
Finally, he pressed the left button.
Tip-off successful.
Very slowly, a satisfied smile crept over his face.