Daily life of an American TV drama agent

In the corridor of the apartment, Leonard and Sheldon came back with a full load. However, considering that the two weaklings really couldn't lift a TV, Ron decisively carried the TV with them with one hand after charging twenty dollars for the service. Let's go upstairs together.

"Ron."

"What?"

"Did you just hit him?" Sheldon asked.

Ron was extremely proud: "No, I just reasoned with him like you. The conclusion is that my eloquence is better than yours."

Sheldon: I believe you.

"But I saw his nose was bruised and his face was swollen."

"Maybe he fell down in the corridor?" Leonard rolled his eyes covertly. To be honest, he was quite happy that the bastard who bullied him was dealt with, but the new powerful love rival made him not happy at all.

As if he had seen through Leonard's little thoughts: "Don't worry, I don't have any thoughts about my new roommate."

"Huh? I didn't say anything."

Ron blinked: "No need to say anything, I understand."

When the TV was returned to the apartment, Rajesh and Howard were there, and Penny graciously expressed her desire to invite everyone to dinner.

But when she said this, Petunia's eyes kept lingering on Ron, which made him start to wonder if it was a mistake for him to share a room with Petunia.

For the sake of Leonard's life-long event, he still declined the invitation. Of course, on the other hand, six people could not fit in one car.

And if two cars were driven, Penny would most likely sit in one car with him.

Just when Ron was still worried about the philosophical question of whether he would accept or not accept Penny's night attack, it turned out that he was worried too much.

Nothing happened all night.

The next day, Ron came to the DEA office hall early in the morning without any interest.

As a qualified agent, Ron certainly couldn't place all his hopes on Toretto's "friends".

DEA, the abbreviation of the U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration, although it sounds very old, is actually a very young department.

It was not established until July of the same year after President Nixon signed the famous anti-drug bill in 1973, and it falls under the jurisdiction of the Department of Justice under the same jurisdiction as the FBI.

In terms of administrative level, it is still under the FBI. Therefore, unless it is especially for drug operations, few Americans mention this agency, which belongs to the younger brother level.

The IRS to which Ron belongs has a much longer history. It was established under the signature of President Lincoln during the Civil War and is under the command of the Department of Finance.

In addition, there is the Central Intelligence Agency, referred to as the CIA, which is affiliated with the Pentagon. Basically, all the troublemaking activities of the United States in the world have the shadow of this agency. Together with the FBI and the IRS, they are called the three major intelligence agencies of the United States.

"Beauty, can you tell me who Detective Hank is?"

After revealing his identity and entering the DEA, Ron asked the police officer in the lobby: "Hank Schrader, if I remember correctly, he should be your deputy director here."

He only remembered this name from TV yesterday and knew that he worked for the DEA. Other than that, he knew nothing about this person.

But it was obvious that Ron's charm was not popular among middle-aged women, and the front desk agent didn't even bother to raise his eyelids.

"In the corner office on the second floor, there are two other FBI officials there. It's strange. Why does it feel like everyone is looking for him today?"

Ron ignored it, went straight to the office and pushed open the door.

"Hi there, I guess I came at just the right time, right?"

In the office, two FBI agents were sitting in a row. The short and fat man opposite him should be the Detective Hank he was looking for.

The FBI agent who was making inquiries frowned: "I think you should knock on the door first. Whose subordinate are you?"

"I am my own subordinate, the captain of the IRS Special Operations Team, Ron. I have something to ask Detective Hank." Ron showed his ID again.

"Of course, you can just chat about yourselves first, and I'll just listen."

Ron found a more comfortable seat and sat down carelessly. It was Hank's desk, which caused the three of them to look at him angrily.

However, he was not driven away.

There is no way, the Americans are also snobbish, saying that they are the three major law enforcement agencies on equal footing, but there are still subtle differences in status.

Both the FBI and DEA are under the Ministry of Justice, and their own funding is the most important among the three. They basically ask for money from the Finance Department, and the IRS is the biological son of the Finance Department.

A biological son and a godson, it goes without saying who is close and who is distant, this face must be given.

The CIA is different. Its expenses come from military appropriations, not to mention that due to the secretive nature of intelligence work, there are also some independent financial resources.

According to an official who asked not to be named, the CIA is even a revenue-generating department among all agencies in the Pentagon.

Detective Hank ignored Ron's presence and continued to answer: "I will reveal my identity and then tell the suspect to put his hands up and turn around to face me!

At this time I recognized the suspect as Salamanga Tuku and discovered that he had a gunshot wound to his abdomen. "

"Wait, was he shot before you arrived?" Ron found that things were getting more and more interesting.

Hank glanced at his commander and answered after receiving confirmation: "Yes, I asked him to raise his hands again. Tuku rushed towards the car and then opened fire on me. I confirmed that the weapon was an M16 assault rifle. ,

I fired back and took cover while he kept firing at me, and while he was reloading, I took the opportunity to shoot him dead. "

"Smart move," Ron applauded, and regardless of the two FBI agents' increasingly ugly expressions, he directly picked up the younger of the two and sat in his seat.

"I just thought about it. You said just now that you realized it was Tu Ku when he turned around. In other words, your target was not him before you went, right?"

Ron noticed this detail very carefully.

"That's right, at first I traced the license plate to a young gangster named Jesse..."

Ron was not interested in listening to these things, so he interrupted rudely: "Sir, what I want to know is why you want to check this license plate? Is it also because of this?"

Ron threw the blue powder sample on Hank's desk, and Hank's expression suddenly became strangely embarrassed.

"No, I was doing a private matter and happened to find this person."

"Private matter? What kind of private matter is it?"

"My brother-in-law, my wife's sister's husband, a poor man with lung cancer has disappeared. He had bought marijuana from this gangster before."

This matter is indeed a bit difficult to talk about. Ron understands, but this is not his focus. His focus has always been on the origin of the blue powder.

"Okay, let's put this matter aside for now. I hope your brother-in-law can survive the cancer. Let's go back to the case. Regardless of whether it was a coincidence or an accident, you killed the drug dealer, didn't you?

So, what does he have to do with that little gangster? "