The Supreme Soldier in the City
Chapter 282 - 289: Forcing a Confession

Chapter 282: Chapter 289: Forcing a Confession

Chief W smiled bitterly and said, "Little Lin, your boyfriend has gotten himself into quite the trouble."

Joan revealed that James Brown was her boyfriend, and she naturally took on that role, especially since they had been intimate. It only made sense to say James was her boyfriend. Anxious, she said, "Director W, what kind of trouble has he caused?"

"I don’t know what he did to upset our Deputy County Chief Smith, but Deputy County Chief Smith personally ordered James Brown’s arrest today."

Joan’s eyes widened with anger, "Upset him, so you arrest him? May I ask what crime has James committed?"

Chief W felt quite embarrassed when Joan blamed him, and said, "Little Lin, you haven’t been a police officer for long and there are things you might not understand. Deputy County Chief Smith has a lot of clout; he’s backed by people at the provincial level. Even the mayor has to give him some leeway. If he says do something, we at the branch can’t dither."

"So, just because he has a strong background, he can arrest anyone at will? Are we, the police, serving the leaders or the people?"

Chief W’s face turned red with Joan’s accusation, and he hurriedly responded, "Little Lin, this isn’t something I handled personally. You don’t have to direct your anger at me."

Chief W was actually a decent cop; had it been someone else, they might have lost their temper with Joan’s accusations.

Joan took a deep breath and apologized, "I’m sorry, Chief W, I’m not targeting you, but arresting someone just like that, it’s just too..." Joan couldn’t even find an adjective to describe how absurd the situation was.

Chief W sighed, "Arguing with me here is useless, Little Lin. You’re being promoted by T District Inspector. The director there thinks highly of you, so you should go talk to him. Only he can stop this. No one in our branch can do anything about it at this moment, and the sooner the better. Otherwise, I’m afraid your boyfriend is going to suffer."

Joan’s eyes widened, "Suffer? Are they going to torture for a confession?"

"That... I think Mayor Johnson himself wants to take revenge on your boyfriend, so yes, it’s quite possible."

Joan, livid, stormed out of the office and dashed downstairs, bumping into several people. Had she not been in uniform, the officers she bumped into would probably have cursed her.

On one side of the first floor, there were several interrogation rooms. Joan charged straight there. Amanda and Sunny Nguyen saw Joan rushing over like a whirlwind. They wanted to ask her what was going on, but Joan sped by in a flash, and although they wanted to follow her, policemen stopped them.

After James was brought in, he was immediately handcuffed to a radiator. The policemen then left the room.

James casually fidgeted with the handcuffs and slipped his hands out, then lit a cigarette and started smoking comfortably. He wasn’t worried about being here. If it weren’t for the significant impact, he wouldn’t have let the police arrest him at all.

Besides, being brought in was part of a plan to frame Christopher Taylor, which would make dealing with him a lot more forceful.

James hadn’t finished his cigarette when two policemen walked in. Both were in their thirties, the same ones who arrested James earlier, named James Robinson and Alan Johnson. They were infuriated to see James smoking and one of them, eyes bulging, barked, "Who let you smoke here?"

By the time the two came in, James’s hands were back in the handcuffs, and he casually exhaled smoke, mockingly saying, "You didn’t say smoking wasn’t allowed here, did you?"

One of the officers slammed the table and snarled, "Kid, you really don’t get it. Spill the beans about all the crimes you’ve committed."

The two sat down, one ready to take notes with a pen, and the other staring menacingly at James.

Christopher Taylor’s instruction was to pin a case on James Brown and then sentence him for a few years. How to achieve that was police business.

These two policemen were the best in the branch at this kind of work. They could easily fabricate a criminal charge, adapt details from previous cases, and if James wouldn’t confess, they had plenty of ways to make him.

James was leaning back against the radiator, still smiling, and said, "What exactly do you want me to confess to?"

James Robinson abruptly stood, his voice harsh, "Kid, better be smart and save yourself some trouble. We’ve been investigating you for a long time, your file is crystal clear. If you confess honestly, you could get leniency; if you refuse, we have ways to coerce a confession."

"Well, I’d like to see what methods you’ve got to make me confess," James said coolly, hardly taking the two junior policemen seriously.

James Robinson abruptly stood, but Alan Johnson pulled him back and gave him a look. Then Alan Johnson settled down and turned to James, saying, "Name."

"James Brown."

"Age."

"Twenty-six."

In this formal questioning, James Brown cooperated quite well. He wanted to see what kind of methods these police officers intended to use against him.

After some basic questions, Alan Johnson looked into James Brown’s eyes and said, "Where were you on the 8th of June this year?"

"Sorry, it’s been over ten days, I can’t remember."

John Wilson immediately snorted and said, "Then let me jog your memory, were you at a Casino Resort?"

James Brown revealed a smile at the corner of his mouth, knowing that the two police officers were starting to set him up, and said, "I never go to Casino Resorts."

John Wilson stood up and said leisurely, "Is that so? Then let me remind you a little more, that day you were singing at the Casino Resort, then you went to the restroom, and after that, you bumped into a man in his forties, the two of you had an argument, and in a fit of anger, you stabbed the man with a knife."

This case was real, and the person who had stabbed someone had not yet been caught, so these two police officers affixed the case to James Brown. It not only solved the case but was also in line with Christopher Taylor’s wishes to take care of James Brown—it was a killing two birds with one stone situation.

James Brown felt it was quite amusing and said, "I told you I don’t go to Casino Resorts, so of course, I wouldn’t go around stabbing people."

"I think you’re stubborn until you see your own doom—you just won’t confess," said John Wilson as he walked toward James Brown. Unbeknownst to James, John Wilson had already gotten a rubber baton in his hand.

James Brown yelled out in dismay, "What are you doing? This is torture, I’ll sue you!"

"You’re wrong, this isn’t torture, when I beat you, you won’t have any marks on your body, hehe, but I guarantee you will feel so good you’d wish you were dead," John Wilson licked his lips, unable to restrain his excitement. He was an aggressive man, and had always enjoyed laying into the people they brought in. However, the regulations had tightened in recent years, and they couldn’t lay hands on suspects so freely, so he hadn’t been able to indulge himself. Today, however, he saw an opportunity to take full advantage on James Brown.

"You can’t treat me like this, it’s illegal!" James Brown continued to shout, and his voice was extremely loud.

"Speaking to me about the law? Do you know where you are? This is the Public Security Bureau, and I am the law here," John Wilson laughed heartily, then swung his arm around, and the rubber baton smashed toward James Brown’s shoulder.

"Ah!" With the sound of the baton striking a person, James Brown let out a miserable scream, and it was exceedingly mournful.

But beneath James Brown’s dismal screams, there was a stifled groan from John Wilson because the baton had not actually hit James Brown. The baton should have struck James Brown’s shoulder, but somehow it missed entirely. Having put a lot of force into the swing and unable to stop the momentum, Wilson had managed to hit his own leg.

Alan Johnson nearly laughed out loud. It had been a long time since John Wilson had made such a blunder, and if this got out, Wilson would be deeply embarrassed. Alan hadn’t considered the possibility that there was anything peculiar about this incident.

John Wilson also merely thought it was a mistake. As for not hitting James Brown, James’s loud cries must have been out of fear. Luckily, when the baton hit his own leg, Wilson had controlled the force, so it wasn’t too heavy, but it still felt quite humiliating, hitting himself instead of a man in handcuffs.

As John Wilson swung the baton again toward James Brown’s shoulder, this time he didn’t swing downward but horizontally.

But although the baton appeared to strike James Brown, there was no sensation of force feedback from hitting a body. It was as if there was a layer of oil on James Brown’s body; the baton simply slid past.

This time John Wilson swung with all his might. Hitting thin air felt like punching into cotton; the force had nowhere to dissipate, and he nearly lost grip of the baton. After spinning in a half-circle, he finally secured his hold on the baton, feeling inexpressibly uncomfortable.

"Ah, help, someone’s murdering me!" At this point, James Brown began screaming loudly, confusing John Wilson terribly, as if he hadn’t really hit James, and James was screaming in pain for no reason. Could it be that Wilson had lost touch with the appropriate amount of force to use because he hadn’t been active lately? Was his strike so forceful it was imperceptible when hitting someone?

John Wilson couldn’t figure it out, but his baton didn’t stop; he swung it at James Brown again, shouting as he did, "Are you going to talk or not? If you don’t speak, I’ll hit you until you do."

"I haven’t committed a crime, what do you want me to say, ah, it hurts, somebody help!" James Brown’s screams were hoarse and exhausted, as if he was suffering great pain, yet John Wilson didn’t cease swinging the baton. However, each strike felt increasingly futile, as if every hit was a miss, which was vexing for Wilson. Yet James Brown’s screams seemed to affirm that he was being struck, and the screams further excited Wilson, so despite the discomfort, the thrill of it prevented him from stopping his hand.