However, Sergeant John McClane remained extremely calm. He just stretched out his hands and pressed his eye sockets, as if trying to make himself more awake.
Dustin heaved a sigh of relief: It turned out to be the immortal little cockroach McLean. Among his subordinates, only Luke could beat him... Well, maybe not.
Luke is actually very thin-skinned. If he were to go out on the street like John is doing now, he might get angry and refuse to do anything.
Thinking of this, he waved his hand, and Connie and Joe came forward and put the last piece of "equipment" on John.
"When you get off the car, we will be two blocks away, ready to pick you up at any time," Dustin reminded.
John paused in his yawning motion and widened his eyes. "Huh? Dustin, that's awesome. What's the point? Two blocks away, are you kidding me?"
Dustin said with a serious face: "That's what Simon wants. If you don't do as he says, he will cause another subway station explosion."
John opened his mouth, speechless for a moment.
Dustin smiled bitterly: "Someone from the FBI and the Department of Homeland Security has also come. They are in contact with us. They will also help and will not let anything happen to you."
John sneered, "Of course, if I die, no one will listen to that Gou Simon. Who is this guy? Why is he targeting me?"
Everyone in the car, even Billy who was driving in front, was silent: Why are they targeting you? Don't you have any idea? You have only worked for eleven days this month and you have killed two gangsters. It is normal for anyone to target you!
Only Dustin patiently explained: "We don't know either, but he said it must be you. So now we can only do it to buy time, find clues, and catch this guy."
John's face was full of sarcasm: "Wow, it feels good to be needed. Don't I still have two days of mandatory vacation?"
Dustin: "Actually, there's only one day left, which is today. Now the vacation is canceled."
John: "… Congratulations. You and that Simon Gou have teamed up to ruin my most wonderful "vacation."
Everyone was silent again.
Dustin was not angry when he was compared with "Simon Gou".
If he were in John's current position, he would never give the word "gou" only to Simon.
John vented his anger and didn't bother to say anything more: "OK, I feel good."
After saying that, he pushed open the back door of the logistics vehicle, looked at the sky outside, took a deep breath, and walked down.
Two large wooden boards tied together were put on his body, hanging there one in front and one behind, making his movements inconvenient.
Dustin finally said, "As requested, we will pick you up in fifteen minutes."
John smiled bitterly and nodded: "Don't worry, I will be beaten to death on this street in five minutes at most."
Everyone was silent again, and only Dustin spoke: "Let's go, Billy."
Billy, who was driving, turned the steering wheel and the logistics vehicle turned around and sped away, leaving John alone standing on the street.
An old black lady was walking towards him from the opposite side, her eyes fixed on the wooden board on his chest. She looked a little angry and a little sighing, but she didn't say anything in the end.
John felt bitter and stood at the street corner looking around helplessly.
The sidewalk at this intersection was empty, and there was not even a car parked on the street.
The afternoon sun shone obliquely, illuminating everything at the street corner.
Sergeant John, wearing only a pair of men's boxer briefs and two wooden boards, stood at the street corner, extremely conspicuous.
On the white wooden board, three words were written from top to bottom with black spray paint: "I", "hate", and "niggers".
More than 20 meters away, a group of young African Americans were playing music, dancing and laughing on the side of the road.
John swallowed and felt that he should have brought a bottle of water just now, which could relieve the dry mouth feeling now.
In this anxious and tormenting state, a tall black man walked out of the store across the street. He walked quickly across the street and stood not far from John with a puzzled look on his face.
Pushing his tortoise-shell glasses on his nose and staring at the three words on the wooden board on John's chest with a frown, the tall black man greeted: "Good afternoon, sir."
John looked at the other person's height of about 1.9 meters, and then looked at his own height of just over 1.8 meters, and was in a state of panic: "Good afternoon."
The tall black man looked at his expression and felt that things might not be as he thought.
Although it is indeed abnormal to stand on the street wearing only tights, this person's expression does not seem to be completely insane.
He couldn't help but ask, "Sir, have you encountered any problems? But even if you are depressed, there is no need to commit suicide in this way, right?"
John: “… maybe someone wants me to be “compelled to commit suicide”.”
Tall black man: “What?”
…
In the logistics vehicle, Dustin didn't say anything. He just took out his cell phone and sent a message: John has arrived. Have you found out anything over there
Luke, who had just left the second subway station in Brooklyn, did not reply immediately. Instead, he looked at the information projected by Xiaowei on the polarized glasses and asked Selina to send a message.
Dustin looked at the reply and felt a little relieved.
Luke has already started investigating and said that he has some clues, which means he really has some clues.
Dustin has his own judgment on Luke's words.
If you say no, then it really is not.
If there is any progress or clue, it is not small.
Generally speaking, the criminals for whom he found "a little clue" would have a quick end, either death or capture.
The only thing that worries Dustin is that the criminals this time are not ordinary gangs, but unscrupulous empty-handed elements.
When dealing with such people, the real difficulty is often not catching them.
Catching the person is probably the first step to solving the problem.
Like this time, they must figure out how many back-up plans this group of empty-headed elements has set up in New York.
Otherwise, if a suspicious point is missed, another subway station explosion may occur.
After pondering in his mind, he finally spoke: "Any news from the FBI and the Department of Homeland Security? What are they trying to do, are they pretending to be dead?"
Connie shook her head: "Boss, there is no news, but I have asked several times about our gains."
Dustin rubbed his forehead, knowing that he shouldn't think too highly of human nature.
For most people, the sooner this case is over, the better.
But for some in the FBI and the Department of Homeland Security, this case would be best left in their hands.
If something serious happens, the NYPD, FBI, and Department of Homeland Security will be jointly responsible.
If no one plays a good role, then everyone is responsible.
Compared with the credit for solving such a shocking case, the humanity of some people can be completely put aside.
Dustin didn't think so, but he couldn't stop the other two from thinking so.
What made him even more helpless was that this happened by such a coincidence.
If it had happened a few days earlier, before he and Brad had fallen out, Brad would have certainly helped.
But after talking with Luke that day, he clearly rejected Brad's request to give up his position.
Now, Brad called him in a nonchalant manner, asking him to solve the case as soon as possible, without mentioning anything else.