Chapter 964: Clues

“Chief Jiang, here’s the technical investigation report. Sign it—you can only read it here. After you’re done, I have to take it back.” A stamped file folder was placed before Jiang Yuan; the tech-investigation officer in police uniform had a soft expression but a slightly stiff tone.

Jiang Yuan took the opportunity to withdraw his emotional intelligence and nodded, then opened the tech-investigation report on the spot and pulled out several other reports beside it for comparison.

The suspect Zhang Weili’s theft was not without trace; on the contrary, tracing his movements was very easy—only a matter of whether it was worth the effort.

This wasn’t just about police deployment—it was also about the level of access permissions across different tiers.

For instance, technical investigation permissions are typically the highest level for criminal cases, but they’re rarely used to full capacity. A classic example is phone tapping: most cases never trigger it; approval requires a high rank, and don’t expect fast approval—some units require that all other methods be exhausted before it can even be activated, provided the case meets formal criteria.

Similarly, data from major internet companies: without sufficient clearance, you can only submit official letters to ask questions, like querying ChatGPT—and it’s inefficient. The much-hyped “big data investigation” allows grassroots units to access only limited, permitted data.

In terms of permissions, Jiang Yuan, having handled multiple departmental cases, narcotics cases, and state security cases, and having conducted operations abroad multiple times, had been granted an exceptionally high clearance level—so much so that information Cui Qi could never even touch, Jiang Yuan could obtain.

Using these resources on a theft case wasn’t overkill—it was a full-scale assembly line for killing chickens.

The first batch filtered out were six individuals receiving stolen goods.

Though different from malls, those receiving stolen goods still run businesses—they must let some people know about them, understand them, to have any chance of profit.

Their firewalls weren’t like ordinary criminals’, who aim to vanish; instead, they operated on a “visible only to insiders” principle—whether receiving goods via WeChat, running storefronts, or using secondhand luxury brands, their core strategy relied on insufficient evidence and difficulty in prosecution.

Moreover, professional fences have become increasingly rare; most are now itinerant or part-time. Their common trait? The more police arrive, the more they pretend they know nothing.

Such individuals are harder to pin down with fixed evidence and cost more to prosecute; combined with their relatively low social harm compared to burglary or robbery, their chance of arrest is much lower.

Police mostly arrest them only when they have spare time, happen upon them, or during special operations.

But this was Jiang Yuan’s case—internal friction would be handled by others; Jiang Yuan only needed to utter two words: I want.

If he wanted it, it would be delivered.

This was a life script Jiang Yuan knew well.

The few fences arrested were utterly bewildered.

…

Interrogation room.

Zhao Boss, the one with the highest Shean amount, looked utterly wronged: “Officer, I admit I received stolen goods. But I was about to contact you—I’d already picked up my phone, thinking to gather evidence so I could talk reasonably. I was just preparing when your SWAT team burst in! Check my call log—you’ll find one of your numbers. I didn’t even get through—I hung up!”

Cui Qi personally interrogated: “So you meant to report your peers, but hung up before the call connected.”

“It’s surrender! I meant to surrender!” Zhao Boss shouted firmly. He understood the law—he knew that with both him and the goods caught, escaping unscathed was impossible; he only hoped to claim voluntary surrender.

Cui Qi sneered, naturally not believing he’d genuinely surrendered. Calling might be plausible, but mostly to report rivals. Cui Qi said: “If the call didn’t connect, it’s as if you never called.”

Zhao Boss panicked, his handcuffs clinking loudly: “No—I really meant to surrender… I really did… I’m innocent!”

“Sit still! What are you fidgeting for?” a detective beside him barked.

“You did receive stolen goods—what’s there to be innocent about?” Cui Qi snorted. “Fine. If you want sentence reduction, report more people. If we catch them because of your info, I’ll count it. Don’t even dream of voluntary surrender—you keep stalling, others will report first, and don’t blame me if I don’t credit you.”

“Report! I’ll report!” Zhao Boss quickly replied. After a moment’s thought, he added: “I know An Suozhi came through recently—I know where he lives!”

Zhao Boss glanced at the officer beside him: “I’m formally reporting him—make sure you count this.”

“Counted. But only if we arrest someone based on your tip. If someone beats you to it, I can’t help you.” Cui Qi’s tone softened slightly: “You should know who’s handling this case.”

“I know.” Zhao Boss nodded eagerly: “Jiang Yuan of Ningtai—fierce as a raging fire.”

Cui Qi gave a slight nod: “Begin.”

Zhao Boss immediately started reporting his peers.

One finished, he reported another; after drinking some water, he named two more longtime clients.

He was going to jail anyway; once out, these clients would likely be finished anyway—better to report them now and reduce his sentence. Even if they survived, they’d nurture surviving fences—so they couldn’t be left alive.

Thinking this way, Zhao Boss calmly named two more people.

In the adjacent interrogation room, Li Boss, arrested around the same time, was also frantically confessing.

Arrest one, catch a chain—this was the police’s standard tactic. Most common in cases involving controlled goods or prostitution: arrest one, and a string of contacts followed.

In the past, with slow transport and fragile ledgers, one could only commit one crime in a lifetime. But since criminals began using WeChat groups, police work shifted from solving cases to processing them.

Once a case cracked open, how far it extended depended entirely on how many resources were poured in.

Today, when police handle such series cases, it’s little different from a hunt. Are there escaped prey? Of course—plenty. But does the police really care?

At this stage, police aren’t counting how many prey are in the forest—they’re counting how many resources they have, how large a circle they can form, and how much time they can spend. More resources, more time—then they slaughter wildly. Otherwise, they can only conduct hunts in batches.

One might say, with technological and societal progress, some people have become more equal—and others are no longer considered human.

Police vehicles from the Public Security Bureau came and went; suspects entered and exited the interrogation center.

Jiang Yuan’s case couldn’t use those old interrogation rooms in old buildings—even minor players got to enjoy newly built underground rooms with at least three doors, two AB doors, and fully padded interiors.

They had no idea how lucky they were!

Six p.m.

After more than forty suspects had been interrogated countless rounds, the criminal investigation brigade, still without useful leads, received an anonymous tip:

“This morning, Zhang Weili exchanged cash at a convenience store!”

Fifteen minutes later, the convenience store was completely surrounded by police vehicles.