The daily life of American TV agents

CHAPTER 7 DEA TRIP
In the corridor of the apartment, Leonard and Sheldon returned with a full load, but because the two weak chickens really couldn't lift a TV, Ron resolutely followed them with the TV in one hand after charging a labor fee of twenty dollars. Let's go upstairs together.

"Ron."

"what?"

"Did you hit him just now?" Sheldon asked.

Ron was very proud: "No, I just reasoned with him like you, and the conclusion is that my eloquence is better than yours."

Sheldon: I believe you shit.

"But I saw that his nose was bruised and his face was swollen."

"Maybe he fell down in the corridor?" Leonard rolled his eyes covertly. To be honest, he was quite happy that the bastard who bullied him was dealt with, but the newly added powerful rival made him not happy at all.

As if seeing through Leonard's little thoughts: "Don't worry, I don't have any thoughts about my new roommate."

"Huh? I didn't say anything."

Ron blinked: "No need to say anything, I understand."

When the TV was returned to the apartment, Rajesh and Howard were there, and Penny generously expressed that she wanted to invite everyone to dinner.

But when he said this, Petunia's eyes kept lingering on Ron, which made him wonder whether it was a mistake for him to share the rent with Petunia.

For the sake of Leonard's lifelong event, he still declined the invitation. Of course, on the other hand, there is no room for six people in a car.

And if you drive two cars, there is a high probability that Penny will sit in the same car as herself.

Just when Ron was still worried about the philosophical question of whether he would accept or accept Petunia's night attack at night, it turned out that he was overthinking.

All night.

The next day, Ron came to the DEA's office in the morning without interest.

As a qualified detective, Ron certainly couldn't pin all his hopes on those "friends" in Toretto.

DEA, the abbreviation of the Drug Enforcement Administration of the United States, although it sounds very old, is actually a very young department.

It was not established in July of the same year until President Nixon signed the famous anti-drug bill in 1973, and it belongs to the jurisdiction of the Department of Justice together with the FBI.

In terms of administrative level, it is still under the FBI. Therefore, unless it is especially about drug operations, few Americans mention this agency, which belongs to the younger brother level.

The IRS, to which Ron belongs, has a much longer history. It was established by President Lincoln during the Civil War, and it is under the Ministry of Finance.

In addition, there is also a Central Intelligence Agency affiliated to the Pentagon, or CIA for short. Basically, all the shit-stirring activities of the United States in the world have the shadow of this agency. Together with the FBI and IRS, they are collectively known as the three major intelligence agencies of the United States.

"Beauty, can you tell me who Detective Hank is?"

After revealing his identity and entering the DEA, Ron fired a discharge at the aunt police officer in the hall and asked, "Hank Schrader, if I remember correctly, he should be your deputy director."

He only got the name from the TV yesterday, knowing that he worked for the DEA, and he didn't know anything about this person other than that.

But obviously Ron's charm is not popular among middle-aged women, and the front desk agent didn't even raise his eyelids.

"In the corner office on the second floor, there are two other FBI officials there. It's so strange. Why does it feel like everyone is looking for him today?"

Ron ignored it, went directly to the office and opened the door.

"Hi guys, I guess I'm coming just in time?"

In the office, two FBI agents sat in a row, and the short, fat man opposite him should be the Detective Hank he was looking for.

The FBI agent who was questioning frowned: "I think you should knock on the door first, whose subordinate are you?"

"I'm my own subordinate, the captain of the IRS Special Operations Team, Ron, and I want to ask Detective Hank something." Ron showed his ID again.

"Of course, you can talk about yours first, and I'll just listen in."

Ron found a more comfortable place and sat down carelessly. It was Hank's desk, which caused the three of them to glare.

But it didn't drive him away.

There is no way, the Americans are also eye-catching, saying that they are the three major law enforcement agencies on an equal footing, but there are still subtle differences in status.

Both the FBI and the DEA are under the Department of Justice, and their funds are the tightest among the three. They basically ask for money from the Ministry of Finance, and the IRS is the son of the Ministry of Finance.

A real son and a godson, it goes without saying who is close and who is distant, this face must be given.

The CIA is different. Its expenses are based on military appropriations, not to mention the secretive nature of intelligence work, and some independent financial resources.

Of all the Pentagon agencies, the CIA is even a revenue-generating division, according to an official who spoke on condition of anonymity.

Detective Hank ignored Ron's presence and continued to reply: "I will identify myself, and then tell the suspect, put your hands up, and turn to face me!
That's when I identified the suspect as Salamanga Tucu and found him with a gunshot wound to his abdomen. "

"Wait, was he shot before you arrived?" Ron found things getting more and more interesting.

Hank glanced at his officer, and answered after getting confirmation: "Yes, I asked him to raise his hand again, Tuku rushed towards the car, and then opened fire on me, I confirmed that the weapon was an M16 assault rifle ,

I took cover as I returned fire, and he kept firing at me, and while he was reloading, I took the opportunity to kill him with a single shot. "

"Smart way," Ron applauded, and regardless of the increasingly ugly faces of the two FBI agents, he directly picked up the younger of the two and sat in his seat.

"It just occurred to me that you just said that he turned around and you found out that it was Tuku. In other words, your target was not him before you went, right?"

Ron paid careful attention to this detail.

"That's right, at first I tracked down a little gangster named Jesse by tracing the license plate..."

Ron was not interested in listening to these things, so he interrupted rudely: "Sir, what I want to know is why you want to check this license plate? Is it also because of this?"

Ron threw the blue powder sample on Hank's desk, and Hank's expression suddenly became extremely awkward.

"No, I happened to find this person by the way when I was doing a private matter."

"Private matter? What kind of private matter?"

"My brother-in-law, my wife's sister's husband, a poor man with lung cancer is missing. He bought marijuana from this little gangster before."

This matter is indeed a bit difficult to talk about. Ron understands, but this is not the focus of his attention. His focus is always on the origin of the blue powder.

"Okay, let's put this matter aside for now, I hope your brother-in-law can survive the cancer, let's talk about the case, whether it's a coincidence or an accident, in short, you killed the drug dealer, didn't you?
So, what does he have to do with that little bastard? "

(End of this chapter)