"Can someone explain the current situation to me? Why are we surrounded by police?" Alex asked in a low voice as she waited for Jack to lower the blinds again and peeked over.
"Those are all corrupt cops. They're here to get rid of this guy and prevent him from testifying in court." Jack simply explained the situation in one sentence.
"Damn it, damn Brother Ni, it's all because of you that you've implicated us." Old police officer Jasper kept spewing curse words.
Bishop just sneered, "Those are your colleagues out there, old man."
"Don't compare me to those bastards out there. If I were the one calling the shots here, I'd kick you in the ass and kick you out the door long ago." Old police officer Jasper retorted without showing any weakness.
"Save your energy, don't waste time on talking. They're serious this time. Everyone here is a target for silencing."
Sheriff Roenicke seemed to have a tendency to circle around when nervous, having already paced back and forth four or five times.
"I don't quite understand why," Alice said, still a little confused.
"Because we're all insiders now." John handed Alice the Glock 17, its serial number erased. "You can shoot, right?"
"I practiced at the range for a while." As if to reinforce her point, Alice took it, removed the magazine, pulled the slide to check the chamber, and then reset it. Her movements weren't entirely skillful, but passable.
Jack handed Alex the FN57. "You probably received more than just first aid training on the front lines, didn't you?"
While the gun had decent armor-piercing capabilities, the recoil was similar to that of the Glock series, making it equally suitable for women.
Alex, unwilling to be outdone, imitated Alice's movements, appearing even more skilled. She clearly recognized the distinctive military-grade ammunition and asked, bewildered, "Is this from your collection?"
"I guess so. Since I'm accompanying that guy, I brought a backup. It seems I wasn't fully prepared.
But I must warn you, these are armor-piercing pistol rounds. They won't penetrate bulletproof plate even at close range, so you'll have to shoot them in the head or below the abdomen."
John felt deeply wronged by Jack's words and waved his fist in protest.
"Okay, let's do this." Sheriff Ronik, seemingly inspired by the calmness of the small group, finally came up with a plan—or rather, a resolution.
"I'll assign everyone key positions. We have to repel them and hold our ground until daybreak."
"Will reinforcements arrive at daybreak?" Alex's eyes lit up.
"No, the blizzard will dissipate at daybreak. Besides, this is a factory area. Although it's mostly abandoned, there are always workers coming to work nearby. They'll have no choice but to retreat,"
Ronik said, looking at veteran officer Jasper for support. However, Jasper was fixed on Bishop, not even noticing his gaze.
Finally, John spoke in support, "You're the commander here. We obey you." Jack thought for a moment and nodded slightly in agreement.
To be honest, he initially had some disdain for the sheriff, who had long since lost his edge and was only interested in a civilian job.
Jack didn't even need to read Alex's psychological evaluation to guess what it said. The failed undercover operation had left Ronik with more than PTSD; it had completely shattered his confidence as a commander.
Perhaps even Ronik himself realized this. Although his judgment in the operation was deemed flawless, the result was the death of both of his partners.
It was he who gave the order to split up and pursue the suspects. His partners pursued without hesitation, only to be killed by the drug traffickers.
Ronik would recall the scene over and over again, wondering if he had made a mistake, or if a tiny mistake had killed his partner.
This torture was excruciating. Whether or not he found the answer, the self-doubt he felt in the process had completely eroded his confidence.
It was like his continued dependence on painkillers, even though his injuries had healed and he no longer limped.
Of course, none of that mattered now. From the moment Roenicke risked his life to rush out the back door, he had earned a modicum of Jack's trust.
It wasn't much, but it was enough to make him abandon his initial plan.
Jack had originally planned to charge into the snow alone, believing the people outside were gang members coming to rescue Bishop. Facing such a mob, he was confident he could use the cover of the blizzard to eliminate them one by one. But
upon learning they were legitimate Detroit police officers, members of the "Anti-Black Squad," a unit dedicated to dealing with gangs, Jack hesitated.
It wasn't that he was outmatched, but rather that he feared the moment he left, the place would be breached, a scenario reminiscent of John being forced to reveal himself with a gun to his head.
Since Ronik suggested holding the line, Jack figured it might be a good idea to hold on for a bit and see how things went.
After all, Police Station 13 was a product of the American industrial age of the last century. Though the wooden staircase leading to the second floor creaked, it boasted sturdy reinforced concrete columns and beams, as well as brick walls several dozen centimeters thick.
As an old-fashioned station, nearly every window was covered with thumb-thick steel bars, making it easy to defend but difficult to attack.
With everyone agreeing, Ronik, as the sheriff, took the initiative and began assigning everyone's defensive duties.
By the dim candlelight, Ronik found a piece of white paper and drew a large "匚" on it, which served as the general outline of the station.
The bottom horizontal line, facing south, marked the station's main entrance and lobby, with separate office areas behind it.
At the corner of the "匚" was a staircase leading to the second floor, followed by a short corridor connecting to the separate offices and temporary detention area.
After the temporary detention area, around the corner is a storage room, the one with the horizontal strip at the top. It's just behind the storage room where Jack and Ronnick were, facing north.
"There are at least two snipers targeting this area across the street from the front door, one on the southeast and one on the southwest corner of the building. Once the front door is blocked, everyone should stay away from the windows there. Clear the office area of furniture and use the space to maneuver.
Jasper and Alice, you two will hold this area. Alex will take the injured Officer Jeffrey to an office in the hallway for cover. Officer Nolan (John) and Agent Taverer will guard the detention area. That's definitely the enemy's key breakthrough point.
I'll guard the back door alone. Is that okay?"
It was clear that Ronnick had a clear understanding of his own team's combat effectiveness and reserved the most dangerous mission for himself, but Jack had different ideas.
"There's no need to guard the back door. The enemy will go straight to the detention area when they come in. Leave that to me. Have John go to the front to help Jasper and Alice. You stay in the corridor and keep an eye on the second floor. Then be ready to support both sides at any time."
"Are you sure?" Through their brief cooperation, Ronik knew that this guy from the FBI should be the most capable among them, but seeing his attitude of taking on so much, he was still a little worried.
The others also looked at him with some doubt, but in the end, John stood by Jack with extraordinary determination.
"The guy in front of you can use a pistol to hit an observation window less than two inches away at a distance of 40 yards and blow a person's head off. If he thinks it's okay, then it must be okay."
"..."
Finally, Bishop, who was standing aside, broke the silence, "Since you are short-handed, why don't you give me a gun, Sheriff? At least we are on the same side now."
(End of this chapter)