Chapitre 98: Chapter 98: Maybe a Part-Time Novelist?
"Uh, that's not possible. This belongs to the FBI, and I can't authorize giving it away. Please hand it back."
Jack put on a stern face. Dealing with the three women at home was already headache-inducing. Although Taylor was attractive and had a nice personality, this wasn't some fantastical story where the protagonist hooked up with every woman he met. His healing skills were meant for serious purposes. Using them casually was only for the occasional fun, and his real focus was on improving his attributes.
"Then come and get it yourself." Taylor pouted and teasingly attempted to stuff the small tracking device back into her cleavage.
Jack's reflexes were sharp. Before the device could disappear into the depths, he deftly snatched it away.
"Ahem. Get some rest. I need to get back to the station."
Though Beth Whiston, the lawyer who had kidnapped Taylor, had dosed her heavily with sedatives, sparing her from much of the terror of being buried alive, Taylor's composure still amazed Jack. Most people in her situation wouldn't be so calm.
Outside the hospital room, Judge Kelly was still berating Delmonte from the DA's office. Even though Jack was technically a hero for saving Taylor, it felt wrong to be caught in her room, potentially taking advantage of the situation. He left the room quickly, nodding to Carrie who was there for a visit, and hurried back to the station.
Upon arriving at the station, he ran into David Rossi, who was about to leave. Jack offered to drive him to the airport.
"Is there an urgent reason you're rushing back to Quantico?" Jack asked.
"You don't know?" Rossi looked surprised.
"What? I just came back from the hospital. What's happened?" Jack was puzzled.
"Rosalind died in prison. It's all over." Rossi shrugged, as if he'd seen such things many times before.
"Uh..." Jack was at a loss for words. It wasn't surprising for someone who had tangled with the judicial system and ended up in prison to meet such an end.
"That was fast," he finally remarked.
"According to Captain Hernandez from the California Women's Prison, there was a fight during the outdoor time, and Rosalind was accidentally injured, dying from a ruptured spleen."
"Dr. Brennan and her team are finishing up their work and will return to DC soon. The identification of the remaining bodies will be handed over to the LAPD. Detective Seeley Booth from the major crimes unit isn't too happy with me for borrowing his 'Bones' team."
Jack felt a pang of regret. He had hoped to get closer to the "Bones" crew and maybe improve his forensic skills. Now, it seemed like that opportunity had slipped away, and who knew when he'd cross paths with them again.
Rossi shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Didn't the IRS give you a bonus? Are you planning to get a new car?"
Jack counted on his fingers. "The money should be coming through in a few days. John found me an '82 Pontiac Firebird that I like. I plan to bring it in for some custom modifications."
Rossi, clearly unimpressed with American muscle cars, muttered under his breath, "I still prefer the Lancia Thesis."
Jack silently pondered. Writing novels really seemed lucrative. Maybe he should follow in the footsteps of some of the time-traveling protagonists he admired, and repurpose stories like "Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants" under a new guise. Who knows, he might even become a bestselling author in the US.
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"You paid $4,500 for this old heap and plan to install a 5.4-liter twin-turbo V8 engine?" John was incredulous as he reviewed Jack's modification plans.
"Do you know how much that engine costs? $60,000! You could buy over ten of these old things for that. Are you out of your mind?"
John knew Jack had come into a windfall, but seeing him splurge like this still made him cringe. After receiving the IRS bonus, Jack had gone all out. He wasn't satisfied with merely refurbishing the Firebird; he wanted to spend at least $100,000 to transform his childhood dream car with an entirely new core.
For this, he bypassed the shop John had recommended and sought out a small studio run by former engineers from Shelby, Ford's specialty shop.
Located near the LA Air Force Base, this studio was staffed by several retired engineers in their fifties and sixties who had honed their skills at Shelby. Though they primarily worked on Ford Mustangs, they also had extensive experience with Chevrolet vehicles.
Given that the Pontiac Firebird shared a platform with Chevrolet, these seasoned engineers were happy to take on Jack's ambitious project, as long as the money was right.
Apart from adding a red scanner light to the car's front grille, Jack insisted on preserving the Firebird's iconic look, including its pop-up headlights and triangular mirrors.
Thus, the engineers custom-made four 20-inch forged aluminum wheels that replicated the original Firebird's fiery design and upgraded the pop-up headlights with LED lights. The rest of the components were sourced from a Ford Mustang.
This included an adjustable suspension system from Eibach, new leather sport seats, a complete electrical system, the dashboard, steering wheel, and all interior fittings, essentially adopting Shelby's "Red Code" kit designed for the Ford Mustang GT500.
The V8 engine, as John mentioned, could produce up to 1000 horsepower and 1058 Nm of torque on regular high-octane gasoline. If Jack opted for specialized ethanol fuel, the maximum output could exceed 1300 horsepower.
While this might not compete with million-dollar supercars, it was a radical transformation for the mid-range Pontiac Firebird, making it a thoroughbred beast.
The entire modification was estimated to cost around $150,000, with delivery expected in three months. John, watching from the sidelines, was utterly numb. His fully-loaded Toyota Tundra, priced just over $60,000, was barely the cost of Jack's new engine.
After finalizing his car modifications, Jack returned to his regular duties. The remaining bonus money would be invested in the trading company Christian was setting up for him, as a way to legally minimize his tax obligations for the next filing season.
Jack's treatment of Justin was also showing promising results. In just a week, she had started to stutter through conversations with Christian. While she still appeared nervous around Jack, she occasionally managed a smile or a gesture of gratitude.
Then came the most perilous day of the year for the police, and for Jack personally—February 14th, Valentine's Day.
As Captain Gray noted in the briefing, "Breakups, heartbreak, jealousy, revenge, love that soars to the heavens or crashes to the ground—all these elements make for the perfect storm."
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