The world of American TV series: Starting with the L.A. Patrol.

Cynthia Wilkes, who arrived in a hurry, stopped the two people who were about to fight. Her sharp eyes swept over the people in front of her, and finally fell on the bruised face of Cassel. An imperceptible sense of relief flashed in her eyes.

At this moment, Jack had lost the pretentiousness he had when he taunted Cooper a few minutes ago. Instead, he looked furious and said, "Why did you, the CIA, take my friend away?"

As he said this, he made a gesture as if he was trying to snatch the person away, but was forcibly stopped by Cooper. The police officers at the hotel entrance all cast curious glances over here.

Seeing that the two were about to fight, Cynthia snorted coldly and put on a proud CIA high-ranking attitude, "Agent Tawalla, what do you want to do?"

"Cassell is my friend and a well-known public figure. What right do you, the CIA, have to take him away?" Even when meeting Cynthia, the head of the CIA department, Jack's attitude was still very tough, and his voice was almost a roar.

Cynthia treated him as if he were air and said to Cooper, "I'll take him away first, you stay here to deal with the aftermath. He called you before, and he might contact you again. I need to know what the old guy wants to do."

At this moment, she really was like a leader who had the final say. After she finished speaking, she waved her hand, signaling the two CIA agents who had come with Cooper to escort Cassel into the car with her.

Cassel's acting skills were just as good as Jack's. He looked over here with almost despair in his eyes, but was pushed hard and staggered.

"Stop!" Jack's tone became cold, the words came out from between his teeth, and while he spoke, one hand was already on his pistol.

Slightly raising her hand to signal her subordinates that there was no need for any overreaction, Cynthia raised her head and glared at Jack with her nose, "Agent Tawaller, if you have any questions, you can talk to me through your 'superior'. The matter here is beyond your authority."

After saying that, she ignored Jack, who had an unhappy look on his face, and called on her agents to take Cassel away.

Watching the GMC "Yukon" that Cynthia was riding in completely disappear from sight, Jack was hesitating whether it would be a mistake if he spit on the ground at this moment. Cooper next to him whispered in a volume that only the two of them could hear.

"That's about right. She doesn't have any doubts."

"Are you sure?" Jack still had a stern face. The two of them seemed to be still arguing in a low voice as they left the hotel entrance where CPD officers were coming in and out from time to time.

"You are left here, can Cassel's safety be guaranteed?" In fact, this is what Jack is really worried about.

Cooper's mouth curled up, with an indescribable bitterness on his face. "It's okay. I usually do those jobs. Cynthia never dirty her hands."

Jack couldn't help but feel a hint of sympathy in his eyes when he heard this.

Cooper noticed his strange gaze and frowned uncomfortably. "Don't look at me like that," he said coldly, "otherwise I don't mind fighting with you here to make this scene more realistic."

"There should be no spectators here, so you'd better save some energy." Although he said that, Jack didn't dare to talk too much with Cooper in public.

If he just kept a tense expression during the conversation, others would think that he was unwilling to see his friend taken away and was threatening Cooper.

The two separated immediately, and Jack went straight back to the banquet hall, where CPD officers in blue uniforms and detectives in suits were already busy.

He walked around the scene and soon found a detective who was obviously tall and strong, but inexplicably looked a little hunched, as if he was carrying a heavy burden on his shoulders.

Jack walked up and handed over a Cohiba cigar, "Inspector Boyette, long time no see."

"Long time no see, Jack." The old detective took the cigar, nodded, and motioned Jack to follow him.

The two walked through several corridors, left the hotel through an inconspicuous door, and came to a narrow back alley.

He lit the cigar and took a puff, letting the smoke linger in his mouth for a long time before slowly exhaling. Hank Boyett's sinister eyes flashed inexplicably under the dim street light.

"Why did your FBI come into conflict with the CIA?"

As expected, nothing can be hidden from this local tyrant. Although the small conflict at the hotel entrance just now was deliberately performed for others to see, it has not lasted more than 20 minutes since it happened.

But the fact that the news reached his ears so quickly, and he even revealed the identities of several CIA agents with just one sentence, can only mean that the old detective has extremely strong connections in Chicago.

"I think it's better for you not to know," Jack advised sincerely.

Hank Boyette glared at him unhappily. "I don't want to know either, but the case at hand involves a federal senator, and there are both FBI and CIA personnel on the scene. I don't want to be dragged into the mess of you federal agencies."

"This will be over tomorrow morning, and your intelligence team and CPD will not be involved, I promise." Jack vowed.

Before he finished speaking, Hank Boyette's cell phone beeped twice. He held a cigar in his mouth, frowned, and stared at it. He froze in place, then looked at Jack with disbelief, and his hand subconsciously rested on the pistol at his waist.

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"You uh... someone kidnapped Senator Bracken? A police officer just found two unconscious security guards on the side of the road."

Jack looked calm and even shrugged, repeating his assurance, "Believe me, this matter will be resolved tomorrow morning."

"I don't want to have anything to do with this kind of shit." The old detective angrily took out an evidence bag from his pocket. Inside was a blood-stained, severely deformed bullet.

"The bloodstains in the kitchen have been cleaned up. Consider it my repayment of the favor you did for that BAU case. Don't bother me again."

This is why Jack called Hank Boyett before. The situation was urgent. After treating Victoria's wound, he had no time to clean up the scene and could only seek off-site support.

"No, I personally owe you a big favor." Jack's eyes were extremely sincere at this moment.

The old detective looked at Jack seriously for a long while, and finally sighed and waved his hand like he was shooing away a fly. "I'm already annoyed enough. Whether it's you or the FBI, you'd better stay away from Chicago."

Jack was not angry, but kept smiling. "Maybe we don't know each other well enough, but our cooperation was actually quite pleasant, wasn't it? You helped me this time, so please give me a chance to repay you."

Hank Boyette hesitated for a moment, but finally shook Jack's outstretched right hand.