Chapter 601 Chaos

Soon, it was the day when he agreed to meet with Sinaloa, and Barron chose a waste car processing plant around two o'clock in the morning.

In order to pretend not to know, Song Ya specially held a party in Highland Park.

"Valentine's Day next year? We also want to, but the time is too tight. The wedding will probably be held on my birthday. Yes, at the end of March, on the 27th."

Mariah Carey, who came to Chicago to promote the Christmas album, held hands with him affectionately, and greeted the guests, "Bedford Hills, New York, welcome, of course, welcome, it's a big place, and we both look forward to seeing you at the wedding. "

The two spent most of their time dealing with friends who cared about their wedding. Mariah Carey had a sweet face, and she couldn't get tired of saying clichés over and over again.

"My mouth is so dry..." She drank some wine and whispered in Song Ya's ear, "Shall we go to the bedroom to rest?"

Of course Song Ya could understand what she meant when she said 'rest'. She used to take it all, but...

"Not tonight, Mimi, I don't want to be out of sight for too long."

"Why?"

"It's a little troublesome, dear."

He was indeed in a little trouble, unexpectedly, "APLUS, is it convenient to chat? Right now." Four unexpected guests came to the party, and it was the FBI again. Two more blacks.

"so late?"

Song Ya comforted his fiancée with a smile, "Let's talk in the study."

"No way, criminals don't take vacations."

The detectives talked and laughed, and walked into the study together accompanied by Goodman and Hamlin, "Okay, don't waste time..." He put a photo of the deceased on the table, "Do you know this person? ?”

"No." Song Ya looked at it, and a young black man in a two-piece suit fell dead on the side of the road, "I don't know him."

"His acquaintances told us that he had been hanging out with some familiar faces with Chicago accents lately, and that his death occurred in the same location and timing as the escape route of the vehicle involved in the Compton radio shooting."

"We have reason to believe that he and his Chicago friends were responsible for the Compton radio shooting that resulted in one death, two serious injuries, and several minor injuries," said the black colleague behind the detective.

"Again?" Song Ya was upset, "Although I am willing to keep cooperating with you, can you stop bothering me with such inexplicable things?"

"You don't want our contacts to be operated according to the formal procedures in the future, do you?" Hamlin followed his meaning and warned.

"Shots include Su Ge Knight, MC, and Compton Radio DJ who just dissed you on a talk show."

Those two black detectives obviously have a deep understanding of the hip-hop circle. It seems that the FBI has upgraded its investigation lineup accordingly, "Need us to help you recall the grievances between you? APLUS."

"Shit!"

Song Ya swears, "If you really have a memory, you should know that I haven't responded to them in public for a long time. Su Genet's big mouth offended people everywhere, and he not only scolded me... Besides, I have Don’t mess around with gangsta rap circles, you go and check it casually, check how much I have earned this year, and you should know that I don’t need to get involved in this kind of crap at all!”

Throwing the newsweek spread out on the desk in front of the other party, the inside page of this authoritative magazine reported on the three businesses he participated in in 1994 with the title 'APLUS' 1994, Three 100 million-meter knives', including January 1 The No. 100 million chemical plant deal with Dow, the movie Dancing My Life has a global box office of more than 130 million, and the original soundtrack of the movie of the same name released by Sony Columbia Records, which is priced at 14.99 knives a piece, is estimated to be hundreds of millions. Thousands of copies sold, that is, a total sales revenue of hundreds of millions.

The 300 million is completely different from his personal income, but the news, listing such cold numbers and linking them with himself, is still shocking and sensational to readers.

"All right,

Sorry to bother you. "

The FBI agent didn't bother him much, and asked a few more questions before getting up and leaving.

But they were not in a hurry to leave the mansion. A few guys came to the cold food table to gobble up, "Sorry, you are in charge of driving tonight, haha." A fat black detective put a lot of sushi and salad on his plate , ordered another glass of champagne from the waiter, and teased his colleagues, "I'll help get rid of the wine."

"Shit!"

While delivering the small truffled salmon sandwich to his mouth, the colleague looked enviously at the well-dressed guests who passed through the party, "Next time we can choose the rich people's party time to come to our door."

"Stop dreaming."

Their white captain was a little frustrated, "This new African-American light already hates us..."

"Boss, you think he's going to be involved in Compton..." another black agent asked.

"Don't talk here." The captain pointed to the professional bodyguards who were staring at this side from a distance. At this time, the pager on his waist rang, "I'm going to make a phone call, and we will leave here when we come back." He grabbed a The passing waiter asked, "Where is the telephone?"

The three subordinates hurriedly seized the time, pouring wine, wrapping donuts in paper towels, wrapping donuts, eating and taking, not caring about the sideways glances of people nearby.

"Let's go."

The captain came back with a serious face after making the phone call, and the group got into the car outside the villa, "APLUS is unlikely to deal with Su Ge Knight, he is too lazy to answer back when he is dissed by Su Ge Knight or other people in the gangster rap circle. There is really no need to participate in this kind of thing anymore." The fat black detective said.

"I agree, you are an expert on this."

The captain said: "However, I just received a report. The Chicago local police have combined the AK murder case, the Harlem nightclub shooting case, and some recent violent crimes involving Hell Bobtails. They think that Binny and Sina Roja is the same person."

"What?!" The subordinates exclaimed in unison, "Then why didn't the local police report it?"

"They wanted to catch the suspect on their own and then use it to smack us in the face."

The captain was not in a good mood, "We are behind."

One of his subordinates said: "Since we also know now, then tomorrow, oh, it is today, and we will force the local police to hand over the relevant evidence as soon as we get to work today."

"It's late, the action is tonight, an abandoned car processing plant on the outskirts of the city. M-Fxxk!" The captain yelled helplessly in the car: "I will become the laughing stock of the FBI tomorrow!"

"Can't we follow?" the subordinate asked.

"Now in the past, if the idiots in the local police mess up the operation, they will definitely blame us." The captain said.

"We can observe from the outside, maybe there will be some surprises? Anyway, they are all in Chicago." The subordinate suggested.

The captain thought about it, "Okay, then let's go, hurry! Come on!"

The car started and roared out of the gate of Highland Park. The four of them didn't pay attention to Sinaloa standing at the gate.

"I'm APLUS' brother! OK?"

Sinaloa, whose black mink fur coat was open, revealing a large and thick gold chain on his chest, was very angry now. He walked back and forth with his neck stuck, and yelled at the security personnel at the door: "Let him come out to see me! Or let me go!" Go in and meet him! M-fxxk! He said I can see him anytime I want, he said it himself!"

"Sorry, sir, you don't have an invitation letter, so we can't let you in." The security guard was very conscientious, "Please understand, we have to strictly follow the procedures, and I will help to notify the inside, may I ask your name?"

His subordinates immediately grabbed the wide cuffs of the Sinaloa mink coat, and he threw it off impatiently, "Just tell APLUS that he is his friend in Nancheng, the best friend! The best one! He knows !"

"Okay, Mike, there are a few people who don't have an invitation letter... They say they are Mr. APLUS's best friend in Nancheng, they didn't give their names, and they are just outside the gate... Uh, the leader is about 1.7 meters tall, African-American, seventeen or eighteen Looks like a year old... yes, the front teeth are gold. Okay..."

A car drove up to the door and honked its horn, and the security guard immediately signaled to Sinaloa and the others: "I have already reported it, please wait a moment, uh, please move out of the way for a while?"

"Fxxk! Make him hurry up!" Sinaloa stepped aside.

The window of that car was rolled down, and Michelle, who was sitting in the co-pilot, handed out a white invitation letter.

"Welcome, Ms. Michelle, please come in." After checking the invitation letter, the security guard politely returned it and opened the automatic iron door.

"Hey! How could those two NGers get in!"

Sinaloa was furious. He tried to rush in, but was stopped by several security guards with open arms, "Ah! M-Fxxk!" His hands immediately stretched to his lower back.

Michelle's husband was so frightened that he quickly started the car and drove in.

"Hey! Hey! Boss, calm down!"

The subordinates grabbed Sinaloa's arm, "Don't be impulsive! There are many reporters across the street!"

"Let me in! I want to go in!" Sinaloa's eyes were bloodshot.

At this time, Old Mike rushed to the door with a large group of bodyguards, "Hey! I remember this person, I have seen him! Where is APLUS? Where is my brother!?" Sinaloa shouted happily when he saw him.

Old Mike glanced at the cars and motorcycles lined up by reporters across the street, and hurried forward to drag Sinaloa to a dark place by the door, "It's not convenient for him to see you now, and it's not convenient for you to appear here! "

"I'm in a hurry! Something happened to Little Lowry!" Sinaloa yelled.

"He knows, he will help, I promise! But you should go to your own business now, instead of looking for it with so many reporters present!" Old Mike was almost dumbfounded, and it was rare to speak so fast.

"Woooooooooh, Barron said little Lowry betrayed me..." Sinaloa suddenly burst into tears on the spot, wiping his face with the cuff of his mink coat.

Old Mike rolled his eyes, "Then you go to Barron first, okay? Let Baron act as an intermediary and contact APLUS."

"Okay... I'm sorry, Old Joe is gone, otherwise I wouldn't come here to bother him."

Sinaloa walked into the car uncomfortably, looking back step by step at the brightly lit manor mansion, "He promised that I could come to him anytime, he said..."

Old Mike watched him and his subordinates drive away, looking at the direction of the abandoned vehicle treatment plant on the outskirts of the city, and said to the other bodyguards: "I'm not at ease, and I'll go over there to have a look, you and the boss." He replied He went to the garage, stuffed the hidden sniper rifle into the trunk of the Chrysler Fifth Avenue, drove out, and deliberately chose the opposite direction to drive onto the main road.

Across the road, parked far away in a dark green cheap notebook car at the end of the media convoy.

"That mink boy just now... why do I always feel like I've seen it somewhere?"

There were three black people sitting in the car. The driver was in his twenties, dressed in hip-hop, frowning and said, "Yes, I must have seen it somewhere."

"Maybe it's APLUS's former follower, it seems he was kicked by APLUS? Haha, it's so sad..."

The accomplice in the car laughed.

The driver suddenly realized, "Yes, the voice! I remember it, I remember this voice, the GD shooter who yelled The Gangster Disciples in a nightclub in Harlem back then, he was right!"

"Come on, Puff Daddy just wants us to keep an eye on APLUS, don't mess with yourself." The other accomplice didn't believe it, "And how could APLUS send someone to shoot Su Genet, he doesn't care now Someone else's DISS."

"I'll never forget this voice for the rest of my life, okay?"

The driver tugged at his earlobe, "I'm the one who wants to post, Puff Daddy promised that if I catch evidence of APLUS's troubles, he will help me debut. Although my ears are not as sensitive as his, they are better than your rubbish. It’s still much stronger. I was standing very close to the gunman at that time, and I will never forget that voice of The Gangster Disciples, and I vaguely heard that he seemed to mention Little Lowry just now.”

"Then what should I do?" The two accomplices looked at each other and asked, "Shall I go to the public phone and report to Puff Daddy?"

"Let's chase after it first. There are not many forks in the rich area here, so maybe we can catch up." The driver started the car and followed the direction that Sinaloa's car left. "Maybe I can really become a famous brother." Ladies, when the time comes, we will each buy a mobile phone..."

He excitedly slammed on the accelerator, held the steering wheel with one hand, and pulled out the pistol from his waist with the other hand, "It's time for Chicagoans to see how powerful Harlem is!"

At this time, in the outskirts of the city, in the only simple office board room in the scrap car processing plant, Barron touched the body armor under his coat and stared at the dark entrance with extreme nervousness.

"Don't worry, Sinaloa won't be able to escape when he comes in, hehe..."

Fully armed and carrying an automatic rifle, Vic patted him on the shoulder heartlessly, "You will not be in danger."

"Wait, the teams must act cleanly, that criminal has strong firepower." In the board room, the sheriff of Vic's police station was constantly coordinating actions through the police walkie-talkie, and the Chief of the Chicago Police Department folded his hands, and The assistant and some senior police officers watched quietly.

"Who's in the back!?" Suddenly the policeman's questioning sound came from the intercom, and then he reported: "Report, report, the Childs State Attorney is here, and the Cook County SWAT team...at the third entrance, He wants to talk to you, Mr. Over."

"WTF?"

Vic froze.

"Childs, this kind of behavior of yours is likely to disrupt our operation tonight!" the Chief of the Chicago Police Department grabbed the walkie-talkie and shouted.

"You don't notify the SWAT team against criminals who like to use UZI? Let it go, it's almost two o'clock." Childs' voice came from the intercom.

"Fxxk! He wants to take the credit, this guy who is about to 'off work' wants to take the credit from us!" Vic yelled loudly.

"Shut up, Vic." The director replied helplessly: "Let them in over."

Childs quickly pushed open the door of the prefabricated room, and the armed SWATs he brought outside had begun to spread out, hiding in every corner of the factory area, "The SWAT team is in place, the SWAT team is in place, No target vehicle over has been found so far."

"You're going to mess things up, you're going to mess up our business, Childs!" Vic glared at him, hit him with a beer belly, and complained to the director: "We can handle it! We don't need those useless SWATs!"

"Maybe, 'your business'..."

Childs glanced at him contemptuously, and there was something in his words, "Attention all teams, attention all teams, give priority to not using force to subdue the target person, if there is a firefight, try to target non-critical parts, I want to live, repeat, I To live. Over!"

"Received, over."

"Attention, attention! There are cars approaching, two, over."

The sheriff had to order: "The teams are ready to act over."

Vic ran to the outside of the prefabricated house to look. The beams of light from the two car headlights spread far in the night, and the speed of approaching was not low. Then he didn't look back at all, scratched his bald head, and found the stormtroopers who were huddled in the shadows outside.

"What should I do?" The subordinate asked in a low voice, "Is there any money for living?"

"Nonsense, of course not."

"That……"

"Fxxk!" Vik smashed the flattened scrap car with his fist in depression, and said through gritted teeth, "There's always a way, come with me..."