Jimmy thought about it and finally asked, "It's okay that I report what's going on here, right? He might need help from others to investigate."

Woody nodded, "You saved him, I have no complaints."

Jimmy called Ruiz. Drug crimes in New York usually involved major gangs wholesaling, minor gangs distributing, and street thugs peddling goods. He asked Ruiz to handle it, which could also boost his department's performance.

Jimmy: "Ruiz, are you at the office?"

Ruiz: "Yes, what's up?"

Jimmy: "Bring a couple of guys to the bar, the one where we drank last time. I found something interesting here; it might be related to your side."

Ruiz: "I'll leave right away. Wait for me." Ruiz knew Jimmy well—if he said it was something good, then it definitely wasn't a small catch.

After hanging up, Jimmy walked out with Woody. Woody returned to the bar and poured Jimmy a drink, topping his own glass just a bit.

Woody: "Thank you, Jimmy."

Jimmy: "Don't mention it, Woody. You are really lucky."

Woody: "You're not police, are you?"

Jimmy chuckled, "Actually, I am a cop, just a federal one."

Woody: "FBI? DEA?"

Jimmy nodded, "FBI."

Woody laughed softly, "A big shot, huh? I really didn't see that coming."

Jimmy: "No one else came; how come you're here alone? Are you the boss?"

Woody shook his head, "Not the boss, just been here many years. I guess nobody's going to kick me out, right?"

Jimmy: "Of course not, it would be too much of a shame to lose such a good bartender."

About fifteen minutes later, Ruiz arrived with two people at the bar, "Jimmy, I'm here, where's my gift?"

Jimmy slid Teddy's bag over, cushioned with gloves. Ruiz's men took it over and began examining the contents.

"Premium stuff, shouldn't be on the streets."

Ruiz nodded, "Where is he?"

Jimmy: "Inside, I gave him a dose of Naltrexone. You'll need to reimburse me. I saved his life."

Ruiz nodded again, and his men went inside. Soon, they carried Teddy out. Teddy was really lucky; if Jimmy had been a bit later, he would have died right there and implicated Woody.

Jimmy: "How about a drink? Woody's treat."

Ruiz nodded, sitting down. Unlike Jimmy, he had plenty of people to do the work; Jimmy was on his own. If there really were a case, he would just have to get back to work.

With Woody, an outsider, around, Jimmy didn't discuss anything sensitive, just small talk about family, vacation plans, and places to visit. After a couple of drinks, Ruiz and Jimmy drove off separately.

Teddy would be taken to the hospital for emergency treatment. A dose of Naltrexone was just a temporary relief. Since Ruiz's team had already taken him away, they would definitely see to his proper treatment.

Woody's troubles were over; he had repaid the favor someone had done for him, though it was Jimmy who had done the work. Hopefully, he could shake off that no-good Teddy. Not every vagrant could be as ambitious as Jimmy.

Although he never spoke a word to Teddy, Jimmy had basically sentenced him to death. For an undocumented drifter, unwilling to make an effort to secure a work card and legal status, living in the shadows day by day, death might be a swifter mercy.

Life continued peacefully, and the anticipated large-scale conflict between Trinidad and Razor seemed never to start. Several days had passed without any news from Ruiz's side, suggesting they weren't ready to make a direct move yet.

It was odd that there seemed to be no progress on the drug case. Whenever Jimmy went to see Ruiz, he was always in his office, as if his detectives could work independently outside.

Everything continuing peacefully was fine, but sadly, Jimmy's leisure time soon ended. As I've mentioned before, after 9/11, any hijacking incident was considered a high threat, and the American media, famously fond of stirring trouble, had leaked information despite DHS and FBI's efforts to suppress the news promptly.

After being besieged by various media for a few days, the Chicago FBI office held a press conference, revealing some identities and motives of the suspects—antisocial elements, planning to replicate a 9/11-like incident. Fortunately, they concealed Jimmy's identity, merely stating that a federal agent aboard had neutralized the hijackers. Had they disclosed more details, Jimmy would have become notorious overnight.

Even so, insiders were aware of what really happened. Thus, when Hughes informed Jimmy, he had to pack up his bag and head to the Washington, D.C., headquarters for an FBI internal case-sharing session. Internally, Jimmy had become a well-known figure; not long ago, he had just received a medal from the headquarters for resolving two terrorism-level incidents within six months. This sharing session would be of a very high level.

The treatment Jimmy enjoyed this time was quite superior; he packed his bag and went back to the FBI building. Then, together with Hughes, he took a helicopter from the rooftop directly to the Washington, D.C., headquarters. This was much preferable to taking commercial flights or driving himself, a significant upgrade from his last medal-receiving trip.

After disembarking from the helicopter, a few people were waiting for Hughes and Jimmy by the landing pad. Hughes greeted them without introductions, so Jimmy could only shake hands with them and then follow them downstairs.

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