“So, uh, Detective Cai?” Uncomfortable on the bumpy taxi ride to the South-Eastern District, Mick asked: “Where are we going, specifically?”

 

“Are you hungry?” Marcus shrugged and chuckled.

 

“Well, yeah, I could eat. But why?”

 

“You don’t come here very often, do you Mick?” Marcus looked out the window as the taxi slowed down before a traffic light and a small group of locals rushed through the crosswalk before the green light was even on.

 

“I’ve come here twice, maybe three times.” Mick looked out the window, with no intention to hide his curiosity: “But I’ve never been here on duty, so…”

 

“The entire South-Eastern District?” Marcus chuckled: “Why?”

 

“You know how the parents in South-Western District are. They don’t really like other districts that much, maybe just the central part of the Northern District.” Mick sighed: “I’ve spent more time in other cities than the other two districts. Maybe if I joined a technology or import-export company, I would have spent more time in the Northern District, but here? Yeah, maybe only for the occasional volunteer work and cultural touring. Well - at least that’s my parents and their friends.”

 

“Sounds cozy enough.”

 

“Yeah, but it’s also boring, and - I don’t know how best to describe this - ” Mick looked Marcus in the eye and shrugged: “It’s like everything is coated with sugar, and soap bubbles, you know?”

 

“Can’t say I do.” Marcus also shrugged, and opened the door of the taxi when it stopped on the side of the road: “But here’s nothing but down and dirty for you. Hope you have a good stomach.”

 

“Hey! You forgot the cab fee!” When Mick got off the taxi, the driver yelled at him and Marcus: “Pay up! Now!”

 

“Newbie?” Marucs smiled and patted Mick on the shoulder.

 

About a five minute walk from where they got off the taxi, Mick followed Marcus into a pedestrian-only street with street vendors and humble snack and street food stands on both sides. This street looked better organized than many others, and much cleaner. And thus there seemed to be more tourists.

 

“Where are we heading to?” Mick was distracted by the wide variety of food offerings along the street and the homey and spicy smell: “There’s plenty of food here.”

 

“Just a bit ahead of us.” Marcus pointed forward: “The best Noodle in the entire city.”

 

“Chef Shinzo’s Ramen?” Mick asked: “Didn’t know they opened up a new store here.”

 

“What? No!” Marcus almost laughed out loud as he led Mick into a wooden arch painted red with golden patterns and had red lanterns hanging on the side: “Believe me, long lines and ridiculous prices don’t always mean good food. Here we are - Chef Tang’s.”

 

“Good morning, Marcus.” The middle-aged waitress led Marcus to a booth in the corner: “The usual for you? And what about your friend here?”

 

“Actually, I have a special request.” Marcus took out a folded note from his jacket and handed it to the waitress: “It’s a big favor, I know. But I believe it will be mutually beneficial.”

 

“I see. I’ll ask the chef.” The waitress nodded then turned to Mick: “What about you, young man?”

 

“And I would like your signature beef hand-pulled noodle soup please.” Mick took a look at Marcus and handed the menu back to the waitress.

 

“I see, coming right up.”

 

The waitress went back to the kitchen after pouring them some tea.

 

“Okay, so, this will be a doozy of a first day.” Marcus smiled: “But here’s my advice: be kind to the people in the South-Eastern District. Yes, our precinct is technically in your district, but the area we’re responsible for spans across the border, and you’ll be dealing with people from different crowds. And as you can tell, this is not just another noodle shop - they dabble in intelligence trading as well.”

 

“Oh - okay.” Mick seemed a little put off: “So - the owner of this restaurant is a CI?”

 

“No, pretty far from a CI, nor an informant of any kind. But just intelligence dealers.” Marcus shook his head: “I am not their handler, they don’t have handlers. And they are not under our command by any stretch of the definition. The first thing you need to know when working with the local communities here is they have a different relationship to the city than residents of other districts.”

 

“I understand, is it because of the existence of the community collective?”

 

“No, it’s BECAUSE they have a different relationship to the city that they have a community collective.” Marcus smiled: “Be ready for a world of headache if you think it the other way.”

 

Mick hesitated, seemingly curious about what was on Marcus’ note but he was not sure if it was a good idea to ask. Just this moment, the waitress came back, with a bowl of beef noodle soup and a bowl of thick soup with tofu, sliced wood ear and egg inside.

 

“Thanks.” Mick’s eyes opened wide as the smell from the noodle soup hit him: “Oh my - this is incredible.”

 

Yet Marcus looked at the soup with a frown, as he kinda knew what this bowl of soup represented - it was the soup of “closed doors”, which meant rejection. “Why?”

 

“Chef said he doesn’t appreciate dealing with cops like this.” The waitress bowed and answered in an apologetic tone: “Especially now, things are a little - complicated. So it is not a time to trade intelligence like this. I’m sorry, Marcus.”

 

Mick sat straight and said to the waitress with an earnest, almost begging smile: “Can you send a message to the chef, that this is pretty serious, and we would really appreciate it if he’s willing to cooperate with the investigation, it would make the community a lot safer - ”

 

“Mick, don’t - ” Marcus stopped him and turned to the waitress: “What else did he say?”

 

“Nothing, just that.”

 

Marcus sighed and sat back on his chair, then said to the waitress: “Can you tell him this - you know, as he knows, I don’t really care about the politics behind all of this. But I do care about the safety of the people here - especially the children. I was there at the docks that day, and I happened to know that these are not your usual traffickers. They are not trying to trade with some distant barbaric families or some city elites. These are a highly organized and even cultish group, and to combat it effectively we’ll need to work together. At least, give me some lead to trace these crimes.”

 

The table went silent, and the few noodles between Mick’s chopsticks fell back into the soup.

 

“I’ll let him know, please wait for a moment.” The waitress turned around and rushed back to the kitchen.

 

“Trafficking?” Mick asked with a frown on his face: “Not that it’s not important - but I thought we are chasing a lead on the reparations team?”

 

“We’re chasing both.” Marcus shook his head, “We’ll make another stop later.”

 

About ten minutes later, the waitress came back with a plate of fried noodle, and a few pieces of paper - one of which was a page from a mini calendar with some dates circled, and the others were descriptions of missing children: their height, their hair color, eye color, skin color, clothing when last seen and rough age, but their names were redacted.

 

“Thank you very much. ” Marcus nodded at the waitress: “Please extend my gratitude to Chef Tang.”

 

“Of course.” The waitress responded with a bright smile: “Now, is there anything else I can help you with?”

 

“That would be it for now. Thank you.”

 

“Have a nice meal, and please don’t hesitate to call me if there’s anything.”