My American magical life
Chapter 85 - 85 13 Racial Equality Seems to Be

85: Chapter 13 Racial Equality Seems to Be ** 85: Chapter 13 Racial Equality Seems to Be ** By the time Gru and his officers from the Niangniang Temple precinct had reached the vicinity of the Red Street Library, SWAT had already organized two layers of containment.

The deaf driver showed his credentials to the SWAT officer responsible for intercepting vehicles, and then he drove the command car from the Niangniang Temple precinct towards the temporary command center at the entrance of the library.

“First, let the negotiation expert go up and give it a try,” Klauer, the person in charge of SWAT, instructed his subordinates.

“It’s rare to see the busy man Klauer personally commanding the scene.

I must learn from you.

If there’s anything we from the Niangniang Temple precinct can do to help, we will definitely cooperate fully!”

Gru knew how to pass the buck.

The subtext of his words was simple: Klauer, I acknowledge you as my elder brother, I can do the work, but you must carry the burden.

Klauer didn’t want to deal with him and glared at Gru.

“Commissioner Tonks has ordered me to have our Niangniang Temple precinct set up police forces on the periphery to prevent the kidnappers from making any desperate moves.”

Seeing that Klauer showed no intention of taking the bait, Gru directly brought up Tonks.

Tonks, it’s about time for you to play your part.

Come on, be my shield.

“The kidnappers acted in your precinct’s area, Gru; stop talking about these useless things,” Klauer said, really not in the mood for these power games.

“Do you have any good solutions to this big trouble?

These kidnappers seem very professional— the windows of the truck they drove were even bulletproof.”

In name, he was the overall person in charge of SWAT with great power, but he truly wished he could trade places with Gru.

Gru was now the captain of the precinct’s action team, but he was actually the de facto leader of the precinct.

Although his rank was not as high as Klauer’s, his income was much higher, and his sources of income were much more numerous.

From this perspective, Gru’s level was much higher than his.

“Klauer, you are the best policeman in Saint Rodu; I believe you can handle this well.

You go ahead and bus yourself; I’ll go arrange for the officers to set up the line,” Gru said, ignoring the hopeful look in Klauer’s eyes and simply shrugging his shoulders.

There’s just no way out!

Even if there is a way, I can’t tell you.

What if you actually follow through with my suggestion and something goes wrong, then what?

Grinding his teeth as he watched Gru leave with an air of nonchalance, Klauer felt like smashing something in frustration.

This was the real workplace situation at America’s third-largest local police precinct.

No one cared about small cases, and no one dared to touch big cases.

Hostages were very important, and the leadership took them seriously, but in reality, neither of the actual leaders of the two departments had the determination or ideas to work on the issue.

The more you do, the more mistakes you make; the less you do, the fewer mistakes you make—this is universally true.

If some fool thinks doing more work will lead to promotions and pay raises, Klauer would only pull him into his team and make him work as an underling for a lifetime.

Humming a tune, Gru walked away from the temporary command center in front of the library with a cheerful step.

He actually quite liked his current situation.

His official position wasn’t high, but he had great power, he didn’t have to shoulder the responsibility, and those above him couldn’t easily dismiss him.

Moving up was a struggle, but looking down, he saw nothing but smiling faces.

What more could a man want from life?

Just idling around, frequenting brothels, and barely maintaining the decency of an acting precinct chief.

The leaders wanted to slack off, but those under them thought differently.

Because some young idealists still dreamed of setting themselves on fire for the greatness of America, to contribute to America’s grand dream.

Two young negotiation experts were sent into the library like pawns to be sacrificed.

They were wearing thick bulletproof vests, helmets on their heads, and radios clipped to their chests.

With their hands raised, they put on friendly smiles, hoping that the criminals would take into account their sensible and polite behavior and give them face by not shooting directly.

The Ant had been guarding the entrance of the library for a long time, his body pressed tightly against a thick column, completely hidden behind the pillar.

Beneath his feet was a small mirror, which allowed him to see everything outside the front door of the library through its reflection.

Their gang of five was not acting on a temporary impulse of passion; they were indeed professionals!

“Excuse me, kidnappers, hello, I am here to communicate with you.

Could you send someone out to talk?”

One of the two negotiation experts spoke up first, eager to take the lead.

Ant-Man raised his left hand and set a 30-second countdown on his tactical watch before speaking.

“Within 30 seconds, pick someone to stay and talk to me; the other person must leave this place.

This is my precondition for negotiating with you, and there’s no room for haggling.

If there are still two of you after 30 seconds, I’ll randomly eliminate one of you.

The countdown starts now.”

Inside the makeshift command center, Klauer heard everything Ant-Man said through the negotiator’s walkie-talkie.

“Remove the one who just spoke,” he said over the walkie-talkie channel.

Impetuous negotiators are the most likely to cause big problems; better to keep the composed one.

And so, the eager young negotiator who wished to contribute to the American dream was banned by his own leader.

The son of a big capitalist sure is valuable; these police are so obedient.

Seeing that the police were cooperative, Ant-Man secretly sighed.

Fine, at least now there was a decent start.

“Mr.

Kidnapper, how much ransom do you want?”

For the police, the best strategy in negotiations is to offer money.

After all, America is a capitalist country, and even criminals love money—actually, most criminals turn to crime for the sake of money.

As long as there is enough money on the table, there might not even be a need for police intervention, as the kidnappers could start killing each other over an uneven split.

“Money?” Ant-Man scoffed disdainfully.

“What’s your ethnicity?”

The negotiator was somewhat taken aback,

Aren’t we in the middle of a negotiation?

Man, why are you asking about my ethnicity?

“Uh, I am of Spanish descent,”

The young negotiator answered tentatively, unclear about the kidnapper’s train of thought.

“Crap, Spanish descent is crap, get out!

I want a black negotiator.

If you don’t send a black negotiator to speak with me, does that mean you’re discriminating against black people?”

Ant-Man had mainly two tasks: first was to prevent the police from recklessly storming the library, and second was to buy as much time as possible.

The race card could be used to stall for time too.

It was impossible to find a black negotiator at the Saint Luo police station, let alone on the West Coast or even in the whole of America.

But Ant-Man didn’t care whether the police could actually find a black negotiator to talk to him, as long as he could drag out the time,

Just like those politicians who shout about racial equality, no one really cares about whether it’s actually achieved; everyone has their own agenda.

In the eyes of those conniving scoundrels, the sacred concept of racial equality seems like a whore for them to manipulate, with everyone who’s got a dick (and wants votes) wanting to voice their thoughts.

Iron Man and Thor were busy setting up booby traps and timed explosives.

Once these little treasures were in place, the police would have to play nice.

After all, they had hidden 70 kilograms of explosives with the equivalent TNT force throughout the library beforehand.

The blast could tear the library to shreds.

“Damn it!

He wants me to find a black negotiator for him?

And he’s claiming our Saint Luo police department is racist?”

Klauer was infuriated by the kidnapper’s demands.

Of course, there was racism in the Saint Luo police department.

But, just because I discriminate doesn’t mean you get to say it.

“Boss, we could find someone and paint their skin black, have them pretend to be black.

Once they put on a helmet and don a bulletproof vest, the kidnapper won’t be able to tell,” said one of his lackeys.

Who says America isn’t full of resourceful people?

With just a word, Klauer’s lackey came up with a stunning plan.

Painting skin to pretend to be black, they must have no shame!

If the forefathers of America knew their descendants would stoop to such nonsense, they’d probably leap out of their coffins in rage and finish them off themselves!