Chapter 1149: A Not-So-Successful Arrest Plan

Outside in the night, Derrick brought his men out of the car. They were still some distance from the motel.

In fact, they had already discovered the situation here earlier. People who are searching are always slower than people who are chasing.

When Melo had Derrick lead the men in pursuit, they just needed to stomp the accelerator to the floor.

Soon, they caught up to the first few cars on the interstate highway. After he relayed Lance's decision, everyone began to act in unison.

The first was one car, which passed the motel at a relatively constant speed. And they did indeed see the stolen vehicle that had been deliberately parked under the streetlight.

The Lance Family's cars basically all have some very special markings. For example, their license plates all have a relatively uniform prefix.

The Federation's vehicle license plate management rules do not mandate that plates must follow the Federal government's regulations. You can decide for yourself whether it's digits or numbers.

Of course, in the future, because people demand freedom, the Federal government will even allow applicants to add graphics to their license plates.

But for now, their license plates all have the same letters and numbers, making them highly recognizable and understandable at a glance.

After the first car spotted the stolen vehicle, it pulled over to the side of the road some distance past the motel. After turning around, it repeatedly flicked its headlights on and off in the direction it came from.

Perhaps the car's headlights at this time couldn't illuminate the roadside very well, but they allowed people far away to see.

Seeing the flashing headlights, Derrick arranged for a few sharp men to drive several cars toward the motel, while they themselves got out of their cars and jogged to the motel's perimeter.

On the surface, only a few cars carrying about ten young men had found this place. But in reality, many more people were already hidden in the surroundings.

The young man in the lead was a newly promoted combat captain in the family. For family members within this city, getting promoted to combat captain was already an extremely difficult thing.

In fact, from this perspective, gangs and corporations are quite similar. If you want to get promoted quickly, it's always easiest during the company's start-up phase.

In the past, all it took was a firefight, or holding onto your territory for a period of time without letting other gangs encroach on it, and you'd have a chance to become a captain.

But now, they actually have to clock in and accumulate points.

By working diligently every day, and finding some ideas in their work that spur company improvements or show some creativity, and being able to take on more responsibility, only then do they have a chance to become a captain.

Many young men proactively submitted reports requesting a transfer over to the Indeno state side. Although the fighting there isn't very intense, and the frequency of outbreaks isn't that high, at least over there, as long as you dare to fight and kill, you have a chance to get ahead.

In Golden Port City , the dull and tedious work shatters the illusions of every young person who joins a gang.

They came to enjoy that... life of being feared by people, not to work a nine-to-five.

But fortunately, they could still enjoy the life they wanted. The work was just dull and tedious, but not strenuous, and the pay wasn't low.

People who can still stand out in such an environment are basically people with a certain "foundation."

They have received a slightly more complete education, at least up to high school, and have a brain that's a bit smarter than others, as well as some courage and perseverance.

As the captain in the lead entered the motel, the adult male at the front desk proactively stood up, "Need lodging..."

His gaze initially fell on the young man in the very front. The guy walking in front gave him a very strange feeling.

It was like... His hand slowly moved to the blind spot hidden by the counter, where there was a shotgun.

At this relatively close distance, the shotgun's outstanding performance makes any person or object equal in front of it.

He felt he had run into trouble, and this shotgun gave him some sense of security.

The gangs in Golden Port City are very orderly, but this world doesn't just have gangs; there are also characters like robbers.

This is especially true here on the interstate highway. There is a lot of passing traffic, and many criminals commit transient crimes on the interstates.

They commit a few bad deeds here, and then, before the police discover and react, they quickly leave. They will commit transient crimes across the country.

Among the cases the Federal government has currently discovered or solved, the one with the most offenses involved a guy who committed about one hundred and seventy-plus robberies and murders on the state highways.

This continued until he attended an event and met someone he didn't get along with. While losing control of his emotions, he stated that he had already killed more than one person, and if the other party dared to provoke him again, he wouldn't mind sending them to meet God.

The person he threatened felt this guy didn't seem to be faking it, so he decisively called the police.

Following the police's intervention, they found many items carried by the victims in the guy's truck and home. He had taken these things as trophies for himself, and also as a commemoration of his past actions.

In the end, these things that allowed him to recall those past feelings became the evidence that sent him to the electric chair.

If it weren't for his loss of emotional control, this case might have continued for a long time.

So the interstate highways of this period were not a safe place; danger was everywhere, both on the road and off it.

Someone noticed his movement, and immediately someone pulled out a pistol. Someone else raised a submachine gun.

The middle-aged man at the front desk also raised the shotgun in his hands. The scene instantly became extremely tense.

Standing at the very front, the young man raised his hand and turned sideways to glance at his brothers behind him, "Don't be nervous, I'll talk to him."

The middle-aged man behind the front desk nervously held his weapon, "There's nothing to talk about here! You all better leave immediately, you're not welcome here!"

The young man was not threatened by him, but said with a smile, "Don't be nervous, we are from the Lance Family ."

As he spoke, he pointed to his own sleeve. The middle-aged man at the front desk glanced at their sleeves and only then realized this was the unique emblem of the Lance Family .

But he still didn't lower his weapon. "I've had no contact with you people."

The young man could sense the change in the middle-aged man's tone. He signaled for the people behind him to lower their weapons, which also eased the middle-aged man's attitude considerably.

"We're looking for someone. His car is parked in the lot outside."

The middle-aged man realized that the guy who had arrived not long ago was big trouble.

He stared at the young men's faces for a while, and finally, decisively lowered his weapon.

To make a move against members of the Lance Family around Golden Port City , the bones of his father, who had been buried a few years ago, might be dug up and scattered.

Moreover, he had no plans to go live elsewhere. He liked it here and just wanted to pass his life here peacefully.

"I... what can I do for you?"

The young man smiled and walked to the edge of the counter, "I believe that besides him, today, or yesterday, or the day before, there must have been a large group of people who checked in. They're from out of town, right?"

This place is only about a two-hour drive from Golden Port City . Some people stay here, but not a particularly large number.

Aside from some regulars who stay here, generally speaking, there are ordinary travelers, but not many.

Getting four or five rooms a day in total is already the limit. So when the young man asked this question, he immediately thought of those people who had checked in three days ago.

His hesitant expression fell into the young captain's eyes, but he didn't rush him.

About ten seconds later, the middle-aged man asked, "Does three days ago count?"

"It counts, why wouldn't it count?"

The middle-aged man decided to cooperate. He stated the situation of these people and their room numbers, and also pointed out the locations of these rooms on the floor plan.

After finishing all this, he asked somewhat nervously, "You won't... damage my building too much, will you?"

He seemed a little worried. If a gunfight made this place dilapidated, he would have a huge headache.

The young captain laughed twice, "If it gets damaged by us, I guarantee the Boss will have a new one built for you. And..."

He looked around, "You're about to become a rich man."

Although the middle-aged man was a bit curious as to why he would become a rich man, he didn't ask. Compared to that, he was more concerned about his motel.

A few minutes later, in the motel corridor, which was so quiet you could hardly hear any other sound, the sound of people walking rang out.

The sound of leather shoes with iron taps stepping on the old floorboards, the sound of the floorboards being crushed and twisted.

Squeaking and creaking, the sound wasn't loud, but it was continuous.

The young man in the room sat up. He stuck his weapon behind his back and pretended to be lying on the bed.

As the sound of a key entering the lock and turning came, his breathing became a bit rapid, and his body tensed up.

Following a "click," everything seemed to fall into silence again, as if the sounds from before were just auditory hallucinations.

After more than ten seconds, a faint ray of light penetrated through the crack of the opening door. As the door opened wider, the young man's heart practically leaped into his throat!

He could feel some people entering the room. They lightened their footsteps as much as possible, but this motel was somewhat old, and stepping on the floorboards always made some noise.

He even felt someone come to his side, but he had to pretend he was still asleep right now.

He thought these people would immediately do something to him, but soon there was no more sound, which made the young man feel a bit surprised.

Could it be a thief got in?

He wasn't sure. He waited for another minute or two, and there was still no sound. He had to open his eyes.

And at the very moment he opened his eyes, he saw a person standing in front of him. He had seen him before; it was a captain who had just been promoted in the first half of this year.

He had not only heard of him, but had also run into him at a bar.

They could be considered "acquaintances" who had met several times. It was just that the environment and atmosphere of this meeting truly made one feel somewhat melancholic.

Meeting the other party's somewhat playful gaze, the young man pressed his lips tightly together. He was lying down, while the other stood. They just stared at each other like that.

"Do I need to invite you to get up?" the captain asked.

The young man slowly propped up his body and sat up. He rubbed his face, "You guys got here fast."

He looked at the people around him, but what surprised him was that the "target" of the others was not him; he had this feeling.

If someone's hatred is on you—like himself, when he used to see Lance from afar, he couldn't help but stare at Lance from a distance with eyes full of hate.

He knew that feeling all too well, because the "target" was right there, and he couldn't ignore that target.

But now, the gazes of the others were not on him. Instead, they were warily watching the movement outside the door. This made him feel uneasy.

In the next second, someone he didn't recognize closed the door, and even locked it from the inside. Immediately after, they each found some cover.

Just when he still wasn't clear on what exactly was about to happen, the captain in front of him suddenly grabbed a vase from the tabletop, which was there for decoration, and viciously swung it at his head!

In that instant, the feeling of the world spinning made him feel as if he was no longer himself. He was observing himself, knocked down onto the bed, in a "soul" mode.

No pain, no fear, just lying there quietly.

Scalding hot blood was poured into his soul like hot oil. Only then did he react. He reached out, wanting to grab the handgun behind his back. His hand had just moved when it was pinned down. Immediately after, the captain smashed the glass fiercely on the floor.

Then, a large number of footsteps rang out from the surroundings. At this point, the young man finally understood.

Their plan had been seen through. And for these people to still come in, knowing it had been seen through, meant they had already prepared a counter-response.

He wanted to shout, but the pain in his head made it difficult to even open his mouth and yell. He could only listen to those "colleagues" outside the room shouting things like "FBI" and "Open the door."

In the next second, a gunshot made the young man shiver, but he discovered it wasn't the people in the room who fired, nor was it his colleagues outside. A large splash of blood spurted onto the window with a "splat." The light coming in from outside passed through the blood and landed on the curtains, a red that made one's heart panic.

Immediately following was a second gunshot, a third gunshot...

At this point, the FBI people finally reacted. The Senior Agent Supervisor in charge of this operation also exclaimed, "This is a fucking trap! Fuck! Quick, find cover! Return fire, return fire!"

The chaotic footsteps outside and the frequent exchange of fire made the young man's heart sink deeper and deeper. He looked at the captain in front of him and asked hoarsely, "You all knew?"

The captain looked down on him from above, with a condescending and disdainful gaze, "These little tricks of yours can't fool anyone at all!"

From the surrounding rooms, people continuously shouted things like "I'm injured!" "I've been hit!" "Need assistance!" These sounds made the young man's mind chaotic; his whole head was buzzing at this moment!

The Senior Agent Supervisor picked up the phone, wanting to call for backup, but there was no sound at all from the phone. They had already cut the phone lines with the cooperation of the motel owner.

Before long, the sound of gunfire gradually quieted down a bit, but accompanied by some curses, the next room suddenly shook violently. Even the entire motel shook!

The young man's eyes became even more hurt and fearful. He also heard the voices of his colleagues from nearby, "We surrender..."

The Senior Agent Supervisor, clutching his arm which had been grazed by shrapnel, raised a white flag made from a pillowcase. His surrender also brought a heavy sigh of relief to all the FBI agents who had participated in this operation.

These sons of bitches actually threw a grenade into the room! They had never considered they would encounter such a situation!

If they didn't surrender soon, everyone might end up dead.

As the exchange of fire stopped, the surroundings became somewhat quiet again. The young man was dragged off the bed by the captain. After his weapon was confiscated, he was pushed out of the room.

Only when he walked into the corridor did he discover that the walls of the adjacent rooms were all riddled with bullet holes.

Motels like this are basically wooden structures. A single two-centimeter-thick wooden board is its "bulwark." These walls couldn't stop bullets at all. Even if people hid inside the rooms, they would be penetrated by the dense bullets and riddled like a sieve.

He looked at the Senior Agent Supervisor, who had spoken to him with such an overbearing feeling before. Now, he also stood in front of him, covered in dirt, looking at himself with eyes full of dissatisfaction, even hatred. The young man felt as if he had been punched again.

The Senior Agent Supervisor didn't speak, just obediently left the room and went to the parking lot with the remaining dozen or so agents.

At this time, after the captain handed the young man over to others, he said a few words to Derrick, then turned around and came back to the motel's front desk.

The middle-aged man sat there with a worried frown. The gunfire and explosion just now had scared him. What was worse was that it had scared off many of his guests.

Just after the firing stopped, several guests had already secretly driven away. They most likely would not be coming back.

The damage to the building was secondary; once a bad reputation got out, his business would be very difficult to run.

The captain looked at him and couldn't help but laugh, "Don't worry. Remember what I told you just now?"

"You're going to be rich!"

He paused, "We will arrange for someone to come and calculate the damage to the building tomorrow during the day. We'll ensure the compensation is paid in full at that time."

"Also, I spoke with a big shot in the family. If you don't mind, you can open a bar here."

The middle-aged man, who had just been looking dejected, froze for a moment. Immediately after, an ecstatic expression appeared on his face!

Of course he knew how much money could be made selling alcohol. He also knew that once word got out that alcohol was sold here, and good alcohol at that, how many people would specially drive over to drink. He was already so excited his lips were trembling.

He wiped his hands frantically on his clothes, wiping away the sweat from his palms, and then tightly gripped the captain's hand, "I don't care about the compensation! To be able to serve the Lance Family and Mr. White, it is my honor!"