Chapter 228: Hard Times and Citizens’ Responsibility

The car Lynch was in quickly stopped at the parking lot of the Sabin City Tax Bureau. Judging by the armed guards standing at the entrance, it looked more like a police station than a tax bureau.

After waiting a few minutes, Lynch got out of the car. He smiled reassuringly at the nervous Vera, then walked to the other side of the parking lot and got into another car.

If anyone noticed, they would have seen a familiar person enter a car they might not recognize. Yes, it was Director Johnson, but no one knew whose car it was exactly—only that it often appeared here and sometimes disappeared.

Closing the door with a heavy thud, the small space inside felt filled with an indescribable sense of security.

Sitting in the back seat, Director Johnson couldn’t help but complain, “You shouldn’t have come here looking for me, you know…”

He meant Lynch’s connection with Michael was well known in the tax bureau. If their meeting was deliberately publicized, it wouldn’t cause big trouble but would disgust some people.

Not long ago, some people at the bureau spread rumors that Michael’s arrest was actually engineered by Director Johnson, who supposedly had designs on Michael’s young and beautiful wife.

These rumors were troublesome. Johnson tried to catch the gossips several times but never succeeded. Eventually, the rumors died down without resolution.

He didn’t want more rumors like Michael’s arrest is due to Johnson’s close ties with Lynch to resurface, which might trigger an internal investigation.

After Johnson finished complaining, Lynch asked, “Do you know the police chief?”

Johnson was surprised. He had thought Lynch came to see him about business, but this involved a powerful police chief. After hesitating briefly, he nodded.

“Felix. Do the police have any dirt on you?” At first, Johnson’s tone was teasing, but soon his brow furrowed.

If Lynch ran into trouble, would Johnson get implicated?

If Lynch’s problem wasn’t resolved quickly, would Johnson still be able to get money from him?

Johnson’s own child had just lost their job. His salary barely covered his family and his children. He had no extra money to support Michael’s wife and kids.

When he retired or transferred, his pay would drop even more, making it impossible to support such a large family.

Seeing Johnson’s worried expression, Lynch calmly made a request. “I want to talk to Chief Felix. Sabin City’s public safety has deteriorated recently, and I heard the city cut the police’s case-solving funds significantly.”

“As a citizen of Sabin City, I feel it’s my duty and necessary to contribute to the city’s safety.”

This was a blatant lie, but Johnson understood the general meaning. Still, he wasn’t sure of Lynch’s true intentions and dared not agree lightly.

If Lynch’s purpose was excessive, Chief Felix definitely wouldn’t agree. Any conflict—even just a loud argument—would cause Felix to blame Johnson.

Lynch saw Johnson’s concern immediately and smiled, “I just want to make friends with Chief Felix. Making friends isn’t bad. Even if he doesn’t want to, we won’t have any conflicts, right?”

With that assurance, Johnson hesitated but finally arranged the meeting at noon.

Johnson thought it should have been scheduled for a few days later in the evening to be more formal, but Lynch’s tight schedule forced a quick arrangement.

The city had just regained order, so public safety was top priority. The veterans helping maintain Sabin City’s security were indispensable, giving Chief Felix some relief.

During the big strike, Felix had not performed well, even facing a police strike on his watch.

The mayor wasn’t weak or easy to persuade, as shown by his hard stance on the Liston Group. Felix was anxious, fearing sudden orders to hand over his badge and gun or be transferred to a menial position like evidence storage.

He worked diligently to protect himself while secretly seeking help to get through this crisis.

When Johnson called him, Felix was in his office pondering solutions. Hearing Lynch wanted to befriend him, he perked up.

Everyone knew Lynch’s Interstellar Trading Company and secondhand auction were hugely successful, backed by Mayor Landon.

Lynch was also close to the mayor’s nephew and agent, Mark.

It was no exaggeration to say Lynch was connected to the mayor.

Felix immediately accepted Johnson’s proposal.

At noon, they met in a reopened downtown restaurant.

Chief Felix looked about forty, unlike the typical image of a police officer as overweight and greasy. Though strong physiques inspire fear, police often confuse fat with strength.

He was slightly overweight but not obese, with thick dark brown hair.

His appearance was ordinary but carried an aura of authority—born from his position and power.

When people look down on most others, their casual arrogance blends into a unique presence, often mistaken for aura.

“Sorry for being late…”

Felix was actually two minutes early but apologized as he sat down.

Few people were in the restaurant. Middle class was tightening budgets amid the uncertain recession, while the upper class preferred eating at home for safety.

Ordinary people had given up restaurants for at least a year unless something major changed.

After brief small talk, Lynch shared his observations. “I noticed there aren’t many patrol cars in Sabin City—mostly mounted police.”

Felix nodded. “That’s true. Sabin City has four precincts but very few patrol cars. Each precinct has three to five cars, and the regional police only six.”

Less than thirty patrol cars served the whole region. This seemed meager but was typical for second- or third-tier cities.

In some remote western cities, the police might have only a handful of cars and patrol on horseback.

Funding was the police’s biggest obstacle, also used by local authorities to keep the force in check.

It was a strange social phenomenon: people’s safety depended on the police, yet many enjoyed seeing them restrained, which had become a hidden social demand.

Many mayoral candidates campaigned on making police work more regulated—implying they would restrict police power once in office. To any reasonable person, this sounded absurd.

Yet people liked seeing police struggle under constraints.

Lynch pursed his lips. “In my personal capacity, I want to donate ten cars to the regional police. Chief Felix, do you think that’s appropriate?”

Chief Felix paused for a moment, then a hint of joy appeared on his face. How could it not be appropriate?

It was perfect.

The regional police situation was worse than outsiders imagined. The veterans operated as their own faction—these former soldiers turned police looked down on regular officers and resented Felix as their chief.

Some even demanded that police undergo military drills and training, with calls to remove anyone physically unfit from the force.

That was ridiculous. Police weren’t soldiers—they didn’t need that.

But the situation was delicate. Felix was losing control over this system, facing challenges from below. He had to do something to change it.

Otherwise, the mayor or others could find reasons to oust him—like being unable to control his own officers, risking chaos anytime.

Making friends with Lynch and gaining benefits could help his current position. It was a good opportunity he couldn’t refuse.

Still, he didn’t immediately agree. With a hint of doubt, he looked at Lynch. He knew capitalists rarely helped struggling people out of kindness—they were after profitable returns.

Just like what he was experiencing now.