However, Sergeant John McLean was extremely calm. He just stretched out his hands and pressed his eye sockets, as if trying to make himself more awake.
Dustin breathed a sigh of relief: It really is Undead Xiaoqiang McLean. Only Luke can overwhelm him... Uh, maybe not.
Luke is actually very thin-skinned. Let him go out on the street like John is now, maybe he will turn his face and quit.
Thinking of this, he waved his hand, and Connie and Joe stepped forward to hang 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's yawning stopped and his eyes widened: "Huh? Dustin, this is really great. What is this trying to do? Two blocks away, are you kidding me?"
Dustin's face was full of sternness: "That "Simon" is the request. If you don't do what he said, then he will cause another explosion in the subway station."
John opened his mouth wide, unable to speak for a while.
Dustin smiled wryly: "FBI, someone from the Department of Homeland Security Affairs is also here. They have contact with us, and they will help, and will not let you have an accident."
John sneered: "Of course, no one will listen to Gou Simon after I die. Who is this guy? Why is he staring at me?"
Everyone in the car, even Billy who was driving in front, was silent: Why are you staring at you, why don't you beep in your heart! You have only been on shift for eleven days this month, and you killed two gangsters. It is normal for anyone to target you!
Only Dustin explained patiently: "We don't know, but he said it must be you. So now we can only do as we do, so as to buy time, find clues, and find this guy."
John sneered: "Wow, it feels so good to be needed. Isn't there two days left on my mandatory vacation?"
Dustin: "Actually, there is only one day left, which is today, and now the vacation is cancelled."
John: "... Then congratulations. You partnered with that Gou Simon and ruined my best "vacation"."
Everyone was silent again.
Dustin, who was being compared with "Go Simon", was also not angry.
If he were in John's position now, the word "gou" would never be given to Simon only.
John vented a lot, and didn't bother to talk nonsense: "OK, I'm happy."
After finishing speaking, he pushed open the rear door of the logistics vehicle, looked at the sky outside, took a deep breath, and walked down.
Two large wooden boards fastened together hung on his body, one behind the other, making his movement inconvenient.
Dustin finally said: "According to the request, we will pick you up in fifteen minutes."
John nodded with a wry smile: "Don't worry, I will be beaten to death on this street in five minutes at most."
Everyone was silent again, only Dustin said: "Let's go, Billy."
Billy, who was driving, flicked the steering wheel, and the logistics vehicle turned around and sped away, leaving only the lonely John standing on the street.
A black old lady came from the opposite side, her eyes stayed on the wooden board in front of his chest, her expression was a little angry, and she sighed a little, but she didn't say anything after all.
Feeling bitter, John stood helplessly at the intersection and looked around.
The sidewalk at this intersection is empty, and there are no cars parked on the street.
The afternoon sun slanted down, illuminating everything on the street.
Sergeant John, who only had a pair of men's boxers and two wooden boards on his body, stood at the intersection, very eye-catching.
I saw three words written from top to bottom with black spray paint on the white wooden board, namely "i", "hate" and "niggers".
And more than 20 meters away, a group of young African-Americans were playing music and dancing on the side of the road, laughing and joking.
John swallowed, thinking that he should have brought a bottle of water just now, and now it can relieve the feeling of dry mouth.
In the midst of this anxiety, a tall black man walked out of the store across the street. He quickly walked across the street and stood not far from John with an inexplicable expression on his face.
Pushing the tortoiseshell glasses on the bridge of his nose, frowning and staring at the three words on the wooden board on John's chest, 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 1.8 meters, and thought to Alexander: "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 leggings, this person's expression does not look like a complete neuropathy.
He couldn't help asking: "Sir, did you encounter any problems? But even if you can't think about it, there is no need to commit suicide in this way, right?"
John: "...someone might think I was 'suicided'."
Tall black man: "hat?"
…
On the logistics vehicle, Dustin didn't speak, and took out his mobile phone to send 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 saw the information projected by the small snail on the polarizer, so Selena sent a message.
Looking at this reply, Dustin felt a little more at ease.
Luke is already investigating, and said that if there is a little clue, then there is a clue.
Regarding Luke's words, Dustin has his own judgment.
If you say no, then you really don't.
If there is a little progress or a clue, it's not small.
Generally speaking, the criminals whom he has found "a little clue" will basically end soon, either dead or arrested.
The only thing that worries Dustin is that this time the criminals are not ordinary gangs, but unscrupulous empty cloth elements.
The real problem with such people is often not catching them.
Catching people is probably the first step in solving the problem.
Like this time, they have to find out how many backhands this group of empty cloth elements have deployed in New York.
Otherwise, if one doubtful point is missed, there may be another explosion in the subway station.
Thinking in his heart, he finally said, "Is there 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 about our harvest several times."
Dustin rubbed his forehead, knowing that human nature should not be too good.
For most people, the sooner this case is over today, the better.
But for some in the fbi and homeland security, it's best if the case ends in their hands.
If something really happened, it was jointly undertaken by the nypd, the fbi, and the Department of Homeland Security.
Everyone is responsible for not playing a good role.
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 parties from thinking this way.
What made him even more helpless was that this happened by such a coincidence.
If he hadn't broken up with Brad a few days earlier, Brad would have helped a little.
But after talking with Luke that day, he clearly rejected Brad's request to step aside.
Now, Brad made a casual call, asking him to solve the case as soon as possible, without mentioning anything else.