Chapter 152 Party and Umbrella (IV)

"Why do you..." Cobert looked at Schiller with a gloomy face, and then suddenly he reacted, frowned and cursed: "Damn it..."

He turned his head to look at Schiller again, but he did not see the expression on Schiller's face that the police had successfully interrogated him. On the contrary, Schiller was really looking at him with doubts, which made Cobert feel humiliated.

Cobert pursed his lips, stretched his neck, tilted his head, moved his shoulders, and then said: "Untie the straps on my arms first, it makes me a little uncomfortable..."

I thought Schiller would refuse, but Schiller stood up without hesitation, walked to his bedside, untied the straps on the armrest, and just after untying one hand, Cobert couldn't wait to move his arm.

His right hand was tied with a splint. Schiller reminded him: "Because of the delay in treatment, your right hand fracture has become very serious. If you delay for two more days, there will be a risk of amputation, so tie it first."

Cobolt muttered in a low voice, as if cursing something. When Schiller turned his eyes, he suddenly seemed to be choked and kept silent.

Schiller sat back in his seat, picked up the medical record book, and said: "Come on, let's talk about this issue. From the layout of the crime scene, I can feel that you are in a hurry. Can you tell me what you encountered?"

Cobolt wrinkled his nose and raised his lips, which made him look a little fierce. He seemed to want to refute Schiller's point of view, but he felt that he shouldn't say so much to a strange psychiatrist.

"Let me hear your criminal ideas. After all, you have spent so much effort to do so many things. If there is no audience, wouldn't it be a pity?"

Cobert grabbed the guardrail with his intact arm. He tilted his head and stared at Schiller and said, "You damn psychiatrist..."

Cobert admitted that Schiller's words were more useful than any interrogation method of the police.

Schiller looked at him with a smile. He knew very well that any criminal who would appear on the Gotham stage in the future would be a fundamentalist in the criminal world.

They have their own pride in crime, such as the sophistication of the method, the way the results are presented, the misleading effect on the onlookers, etc., and they hope to be perfect in all aspects.

Every criminal plan they implement will focus on these issues and hope that someone can see their genius creativity.

They firmly believe that a crime without an audience is not a perfect crime.

Cobert's reason told him that it was not a good idea to tell everything at this time. If Schiller really recorded the audio, he would probably not be able to escape the trial.

But he just couldn't bear it. Another voice in his heart told him that Schiller was a person like him. He would definitely be a good listener, who could understand the exquisite criminal process that ordinary people couldn't understand, and could understand his uniqueness.

Soon, Cobert couldn't help it, and he said: "It was an accident, if it wasn't..."

Cobert paused, as if he was organizing his thoughts, then he relaxed his whole body, lay on the bed, stared at the ceiling, and began his story.

"...It was a complete accident that I met the Godfather. My father was a well-known gangster in the East District. After his death, the territory and property that should have been inherited by me were divided up by those jackal-like gangs..."

"My mother moved me back to the old house near the living hell to protect me, but we still couldn't live in peace. My father's former enemies chased us again and again..."

"It was one night. I was washing dishes in a bar in the East District. When I came out, I was surrounded by people. They were about to shoot. A car passed by, and Mr. Falcone was sitting in it. He stopped the gang and drove them away..."

"The Godfather saved you?"

"Yes, I was only 12 years old at that time, but I was very thin and looked even younger. He might not like them shooting a child. Anyway, at that time, I met the Godfather..."

"I don't know How did he see that I was worth training? I was thin and small, in poor health, not good-looking, and not good at getting along with everyone, but the Godfather still helped me secretly..."

"So, when he needed you, you went to kill for him?"

Cobert said expressionlessly: "What's wrong with that? He saved me, I know, it's nothing to him, but killing is nothing to me..."

"I have to say that you did a very experienced job in the case of old Edward, not like a novice. Can you tell me about that day in detail?"

Cobert shook his head and said: "That was all due to the prestige of the Godfather. No one dared to act wildly in his territory. This is not something to be praised..."

"Okay, let's get to the point. All you did should not be drifting with the tide. What do you want to do?"

"I want to get rid of the control of the Godfather." Cobert said shockingly.

"To be precise, it's not the old Godfather..." Cobert added: "I am willing to work for Falcone and kill for him, but only for Mr. Falcone..."

"I knew some time ago that the old Godfather wanted to abdicate and wanted to hand over the power in his hands to his son, Little Falcone."

Cobert snorted and said disdainfully: "But he can't do it. Little Falcone is completely inferior to his father. There will be no future if he follows him."

"If the new godfather wants to inherit the old godfather's position, he will naturally inherit his property and connections, which naturally includes me. But I think that little Falcone is too far behind, and I don't want to follow him... "

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"Why do you think so?" Schiller asked him.

"Before, he wanted to carry out reforms, but the territory given to him by the old godfather was messed up by him."

"He is very motivated but has no goals. He is tough but lacks thinking. To put it simply, he is not the material."

"So, what did you do?"

"I know that the old godfather is not dead yet. It is impossible to get rid of him with force. I will die."

"I have received favors from him and have killed people for him. Maybe it looks like we are even."

"But every Gothamite knows that once you have done something like this, you will never come back ashore. You will either die or go to the dark side."

"But I don't want to be part of the inheritance and follow the instructions of the new godfather. In other words, the new godfather's stupidity will not only kill himself, but also kill me. I don't want to die, so I want to leave."

"When my godfather asked me to come to the living hell to stare at this place, I realized that the opportunity had come..."

"My first target was the Mooney Gang." Cobot said in a louder voice: "I had to gain a foothold here first and find out the situation before I could formulate follow-up plans, so I joined the Mooney Gang and listened to Fish It took me a very short time to figure out everything here.”

Cobot's words gradually became smoother, and when it came to this aspect, the future Penguin talked endlessly.

"When I completed the preliminary survey, the Munich Gang was no longer a good place to stay, because Fish's territory was compressed layer by layer, and the scope of activity began to become very small. I could not collect enough intelligence. At this time, I can’t let my godfather think that I’m not working hard.”

"So, I found an opportunity and hooked up with Kevin. Yes, he didn't choose me, but I chose him..."

As Cobot continued to talk, his words echoed in the ward, and his recent life turned into scenes of drama, presented in front of the two of them.

As his words fell to the ground, the red curtain opened, and behind it was the narrow corridor of the living hell.

Cobot and Kevin stood in the corridor. Cobot, who was short and stooped, said to Kevin flatteringly: "Mr. Kevin, please do yourself a favor and please patronize my business..."

The tall Kevin raised his head, took a pack of cigarettes from Cobot, opened it, looked at it, and said, "Are you a new cigarette seller? I've never seen you before, you must be that crazy woman "

"Yes, yes..." Cobot nodded eagerly, and then he rubbed his hands in embarrassment and said, "I am also forced to make a living. There are too few people buying cigarettes in the South District, otherwise I wouldn't know how to buy cigarettes." Taking the risk to come here..."

"How much do you sell a pack for?"

"Seventy cents, sir, only seventy cents."

Kevin raised his eyebrows in surprise and said, "Seventy cents? What's going on? The small cigarette sellers here all charge ninety cents or one dollar. Why are you selling it so cheaply?"

Kevin looked at the pack of cigarettes again and took out one from it. Coppert kindly went over to light a cigarette for him, and then said: "Actually, I can still make money from this. I am active in the south and north at the same time. One lap takes 1 hour and 20 minutes, and about 6 to 7 packs of cigarettes can be sold. Even if the profit of each pack of cigarettes is only ten cents, there are 13 hours of activity in a day, and an average of 6 to 7 packs of cigarettes can be sold..."

Kevin took a puff of cigarette, exhaled the smoke, looked Cobot up and down, and said, "You can still calculate? It's really strange. Those little brats I met who sell cigarettes can't even calculate change..." "

Cobot was still nodding and smiling, and inadvertently revealed that he once went to school in a wealthy area in the south. He kept chatting with Kevin. After Kevin smoked two cigarettes, he felt a little moody. He pinched Holding his cigarette butt, he said, "I think you're good. If you follow that crazy woman Fish, nothing good will come of it."

"The First Minister of the Ming Dynasty"

"Go and get me two good cigarettes, and I'll let you work at the delivery port on the second floor. You'll get a commission of three cents for every 10 pieces, which is more than you make from selling cigarettes."

Cobot looked overjoyed, and Kevin curled his lips and said: "You guys with weak arms and weak legs can only do a few things besides running errands, buying newspapers, buying cigarettes, etc..."

"Those little bastards make mistakes every day, and their brains are not as bright as a rusty door bolt. They make me lose money. Don't let me be lazy..."

As the smoke from the cigarette in Kevin's hand gradually dispersed, the curtain slowly closed, and Schiller turned to Copot and said, "I can tell you've done a good job so far."

"Using your thin body to your advantage, you pretended to be the most common kid selling cigarettes and running errands in living hell. You inadvertently showed off your computing skills and successfully switched jobs to Kevin."

"But that's not all I want."

The curtain opened again, and the cardboard boxes were stacked higher and higher, and the bills flew out of Cobot's hands, passing through the narrow corridors of the living hell, passing in front of the shipping door, on the delivery stairs, and in the back of the restaurant. Kitchen, a thin figure shuttled between them.

The last piece of paper stuck to Cobot's face with a "snap" sound. When he took the paper off with his hand, the bright neon light of a restaurant sign reflected in his exposed eyes.

"You probably didn't lie about this part." Schiller commented: "I can see that you really want to open a restaurant."

Cobot's lips moved as he was lying on the hospital bed. He was silent for a while, and then said, "Yes, but this is not what I should consider now."

"What I want to think about now is that as an errand boy, my path at the bottom has come to an end. Next, I have to find a way to become a manager."