Later, Jack successfully located and physically disabled the signal jammer. He then drove around the area searching for the others while calling Jubal.
Being in different systems proved advantageous at this time; the FBI didn't have to worry about any more complications.
It was simply because it was New Year's Eve, and even the local FBI-SWAT team was mostly on vacation. Furthermore, the blizzard had just stopped, so reinforcements wouldn't arrive quickly.
Fortunately, the blizzard had just stopped, and while there were still small snowflakes drifting in the sky, the tire tracks on the ground were remarkably clear.
At this point, Jack didn't know Duval was setting up an ambush, but following his GMC was a sure thing, leading to John's subsequent show-off.
When the old rookie was smart, he was as intelligent as his cousin, who wrote books for a living in New York. After all, not many people can easily switch careers from contractor to LAPD driver in their late 40s.
You have to remember that when he and Jack competed at the police academy, the competition wasn't just about physical fitness and reflexes; it also included various written tests and regulations recitation.
And in almost every subject, if Jack wasn't paying attention, John would inevitably take first place.
So when Duval ordered all his men to remove their masks, and John didn't see Jack at the scene, he confidently guessed he was hiding in the shadows.
The
black girl's driving skills were average, and with the snow blocking the road, she didn't dare to press the accelerator too hard, and was soon overtaken by another GMC.
Bullets ping-ponged against the car, drawing screams from the women inside. With blood
still sizzling from his buttocks, John shook his head, dizzy from the blood loss, and fumbled for his AR-15, trying to fight back.
"Leave it to me."
Alex, sitting in the passenger seat, grabbed his assault rifle, rolled down the window, and tried to lean out halfway. However, since she couldn't hold her shoulder up, the recoil injured her wrist after just two shots, and inadvertently pulled their last assault rifle under the car.
Alice rolled her eyes at the bravado of the psychiatrist, grabbed her own small pistol, and emptied the magazine without firing a single spark.
The pursuers were closing in. If they hadn't been aiming at the tires instead of firing directly at the car, there would have been casualties among them.
Suddenly, a police car in DPD livery joined the chase, even blaring its siren to attract both sides' attention.
As it approached the GMC, the police officers inside spotted the driver, dressed in the same uniform as them.
Seeing his teammate's impressive driving skills, having easily caught up, Duval's trusted confidant excitedly waved forward, signaling him to overtake and follow.
The driver of the police car leaned over slightly, then pulled down his mask, revealing a handsome, unfamiliar face with a toothy grin.
Before Duval's confidant could react, or even see how many teeth were bared, the DPD car, lights flashing, lurched forward, its brakes blaring, and struck the GMC's left rear tire at a perfect angle.
The GMC spun sideways and rolled onto the thin ice left by the car ahead.
Jack stopped the police car steadily, staring straight ahead, silently counting the laps in his mind: "4, 5, 6."
Safety is paramount on the road; driving without proper discipline can bring tears to loved ones.
It was impossible to wear a seatbelt during a gunfight and a car chase. Although the speed was not very fast, under the current weather conditions, the GMC still tried very hard to throw out everything it could.
"Stop! Stop!"
Watching the scene from the shattered rear window, John slapped the black girl's seatback. "That's Jack! He's here to save us."
The police car slowly started up again, ruthlessly running over the arm of a struggling black cop, crushing the AR-15 in his hand.
Carefully skirting the debris, the police car slowly pulled over to a stop. At the same moment, the GMC in front opened its door. John, one hand bandaged around his hip, the other holding the door handle, looked over with a wry smile.
"You're so lucky!" Jack shook his head speechlessly. It was a good thing it was only two shots, not four, or he'd be damned.
"Sheriff..." Alice hesitated, a hint of worry. Although she was worried about Ronik's safety, Jack had done enough for these strangers.
"Wait here. I've called for backup, but it might take some time for them to arrive." Jack, relieved to see that everyone in the car was alright, turned and headed back.
The cheat didn't offer the ability to create clones simply by plucking a hair, but as long as Ronik was smart, he shouldn't be in any danger for a while—assuming, of course, Bishop didn't try to escape and shoot him. In the
woods
, Ronik carefully stepped on the dead grass to avoid leaving easily visible footprints in the snow. He also tried to avoid touching the dead bushes and branches, as the constant noise would attract pursuers.
The snow in the woods was less abundant than on flat ground, much of it piled high on the branches. Every now and then, a few branches, unable to bear the weight, would snap and break, along with the thick snow on them, falling to the ground with a loud noise.
The young sheriff was like a frightened bird, having been startled several times by the noise.
Shortly after entering the woods, he and Bishop became separated. Ronik didn't know whether Bishop had deliberately gotten away from him or had simply gotten separated by accident.
But at this moment, he couldn't care less. Ronik knew that he and the seemingly infamous Bishop were far inferior to professionals like Jack. Even if they were together, they wouldn't be able to easily deal with the pursuers behind them.
He even had the illusion that the people in the police station might be nothing more than a burden to Jack.
As Ronik leaned against a tree, breathing heavily, a sudden click sounded behind him: the slide of a pistol was pulled, and a bullet was loaded.
"Hello, Chief." Feeling the cold muzzle of the gun against his neck, Ronik breathed a sigh of relief, recognizing Bishop's voice.
"Why are you still here?"
"Marcus Duval is still alive. I can't accept that." With the troublemaker, known for his actions, gone, Bishop resumed his usual pretentious tone.
"Are you saying we should continue our partnership?" Ronik understood.
"I saw them chasing us. Including Duval, there are only four of us, and we still have plenty of ammunition."
As if to increase his persuasiveness, Bishop put away his pistol and showed Ronik the magazine on his chest and the AR15 in his hand.
After being bullied all night, it was impossible to say that Ronik didn't have the idea of fighting back, but he was also very clear about his own disadvantages.
"But the problem is that they can see us now, but we can't see them." He regretted not getting a helmet with night vision goggles on his head.
"Well, choose between attracting fire and burying yourself in the snow." The big black man had obviously thought of a plan.
Ronik couldn't help but sigh, "Don't miss, Bishop."
(End of this chapter)