However, Sergeant John McClane was extremely calm. He only stretched out his hands and pressed his eyes, as if trying to make himself more awake.
Dustin was relieved. As expected of McClane, he was truly an undying cockroach. Luke was the only one among his subordinates who could suppress him … Well, maybe not.
Luke was actually very thin-skinned. If he went out on the streets like John was doing now, he might fall out with him.
Thinking that, he waved his hand, and Connie and Joe put the last piece of "equipment" on John.
"Get out of the car later. We'll be ready to pick you up two blocks away," Dustin said.
John stopped yawning and his eyes widened. "Huh? Dustin, that's great. What's going on? Two blocks away? Are you kidding me? "
Dustin said solemnly, "That's exactly what Simon wants. If we don't do as he says, he'll cause another subway station explosion."
John's mouth fell open, and he was speechless for a moment.
Dustin smiled bitterly. "The FBI and Homeland Security are here too. They're in contact with us. They'll help you too."
John sneered. "Of course, nobody will listen to Simon if I'm dead. Who's this guy? Why is he after me? "
Everyone in the car, including Billy who was driving in the front, was silent. Don't you know why we're targeting you?! You've only been on the job for eleven days this month, and you've already killed two criminals. It's normal for anyone to target you!
Dustin explained patiently, "We don't know, but he said it had to be you. So, we can only do as he says to buy time and look for clues to catch this guy. "
John said mockingly, "Wow, it feels good to be needed. Don't I still have two days of mandatory leave?"
Dustin said, "Actually, there's only one day left, which is today. My leave is canceled."
John said, "… Congratulations, then. You and that Simon Gou ruined my best 'vacation'. "
Everybody fell silent again.
Dustin, who had been compared to Gosimon, wasn't angry either.
If he had been in John's position, he definitely wouldn't have just called Simon "Simon."
After venting, Hardedef was too lazy to say anything else. "Okay, I feel good."
After that, he opened the rear door of the logistics vehicle, looked at the sky outside, took a deep breath, and walked out.
Two large wooden planks were fastened to his body, one in front of the other behind him, making it difficult for him to move.
Finally, Dustin said, "As requested, we'll pick you up in fifteen minutes."
John nodded with a bitter smile. "Don't worry. I'll be beaten to death on this street in five minutes at most."
Everybody fell silent again. Dustin was the only one who said, "Let's go, Billy."
Billy, who was driving, swung the steering wheel, and the logistics vehicle sped away, leaving John standing alone on the street.
An old black lady walked over from the opposite side, her eyes fixed on the wooden board in front of his chest. She looked a little angry and a little sad, but she didn't say anything in the end.
Hardedef felt bitter in his heart as he helplessly stood at the corner of the street and looked around.
The sidewalk at the end of the street was empty, and not a single car was parked on the side of the street.
The afternoon sun was slanting down, illuminating everything at the end of the street.
Officer John, who was only wearing a pair of men's boxers and two wooden boards, was extremely eye-catching as he stood at the end of the street.
On the white wooden board, three words had been written in black spray paint from top to bottom: "I," "hate," and "niggers."
Twenty meters away, a group of young African Americans were playing music and dancing on the side of the road.
John swallowed hard. He felt that he should've brought a bottle of water, which would've soothed his thirst.
While he was on tenterhooks, a tall black man walked out of a shop across the street. He quickly walked across the street and stood not far away from John with an indescribable expression on his face.
Pushing his tortoiseshell glasses up his nose, the tall black man frowned at the three words on the wooden board in front of John's chest, and said, "Good afternoon, sir."
John looked at the man, who was almost 1.9 meters tall, and then looked at himself, who was slightly more than 1.8 meters tall. He felt pressured. "Good afternoon."
Looking at his expression, the tall black man felt that things might not be as he had thought.
Although it was indeed unusual for him to be standing on the street in his underwear, this man didn't look like a complete lunatic.
He couldn't help but ask, "Sir, is there something wrong with you? But even if you can't get over it, there's no need to commit suicide like this, right? "
John: "… Maybe someone wants me to" commit suicide. ""
The tall black man: "What?"
…
In the logistics car, Dustin didn't say anything. He simply took out his phone and sent a message: John has arrived. Have you found anything?
Luke, who had just left the second subway station in Brooklyn, didn't reply immediately. Instead, he looked at the information projected by Little Snail on the polarizing mirror before he asked Selina to send a message.
Looking at the reply, Dustin felt a little more at ease.
Luke was already investigating. If he said that he had some clues, then there really was a clue.
Dustin had his own judgment about Luke's words.
If he said there wasn't, then there really wasn't.
If there was any progress or clue, it wouldn't be small.
Generally speaking, criminals who he had found "some clues" would either die or be caught very quickly.
The only thing that worried Dustin was that the criminals this time weren't ordinary gangs, but unscrupulous terrorists.
The real problem with dealing with such people often wasn't catching them.
Catching them was probably the first step to solving the problem.
This time, they had to figure out how many people the terrorists had set up in New York.
Otherwise, if they missed one suspicious point, there might be another subway station explosion.
Thinking, he finally said, "Is there any news from the FBI and Homeland Security? What are they trying to do? Play dead? "
Connie shook her head. "Boss, there's no news. They did ask about our gains a few times."
Dustin rubbed his forehead. He knew that he shouldn't think too highly of human nature.
For most people, the sooner this case ended, the better.
But for some people in the FBI and Homeland Security, it would be best if this case ended in their hands.
If anything major happened, NYPD, the FBI, and Homeland Security would share the blame.
Since none of them had played a good role, they were all to blame.
Compared with the credit for solving such an earth-shattering case, some people's humanity could be completely put aside.
Dustin didn't have that thought, but he couldn't stop the other two parties from thinking the same thing.
What made him even more helpless was that this was too much of a coincidence.
If he hadn't fallen out with Brad a few days ago, Brad would have helped a little.
But after talking to Luke that day, he had clearly turned down Brad's request to give up his position.
Now, Brad had called him indifferently and asked him to solve the case as soon as possible without saying anything else.
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