Chapter 73 Chapter 73

He got here just before ten o'clock.The surrounding neighborhood was quiet and empty, and Puller thought it hard to blame them for that.The heat and humidity and the mosquito swarms make nights better spent indoors than suffering outside. Puller drives his Malibu through the streets here, following the route he and Cole took earlier.After turning another corner, he saw the fire station facing him.There were no lights, and Pooler didn't expect any.There's no electricity here, so it's no wonder everyone in the Harley Club goes back to their homes when it gets dark.The tall liftgate was now down to the ground, and Puller didn't know if it was locked or not.After parking the car, he came out and looked around carefully, while identifying the smell with his sense of smell.A mosquito buzzed around his face, and Puller slapped it away.He knew it would only attract more of its companions.The long time of training in the swamp had already familiarized him with the habits of mosquitoes.

Puller locked the Malibu with the remote key.The car was parked close to the fire station, and he thought that the car should be as close to him as possible from now on.He walked to the lift gate and squatted down, grabbed the iron chain and pulled it, and the gate rose effortlessly along the well-lubricated rails on both sides.Puller looked around again. There was no one there, but his right hand was still gripping the handle of the M11 attached to his front. When he entered, he turned on the strong flashlight he brought from the car, and the beam of light pierced the darkness inside. He wanted to use the short period of time waiting for Dicky to verify some of his conjectures.

There were two Harleys parked side by side to his right, their front wheels chained together by a chain.To his left was a toolbox on wheels with a large lock attached to it.It seemed that the members of the Harley Club couldn't quite trust their neighbours.Each Harley had large saddlebags hanging from either side of the rear wheel, and each was locked.Saddlebags are not uncommon, in fact Puller wanted to check them out. He picked the lock and examined the contents of the bag by the light of a flashlight.In the third saddle bag, he found what he was looking for—a small plastic bag with a natural adhesive seal, and inside were shiny flaky crystals that were hard to see with the naked eye.In the next saddlebag he found some more crispy brown particles.Shiny, clear crystals that are methamphetamine.The brown particles are less purified methamphetamine commonly known as "peanut butter".Drug use in the military was far worse than the military's top brass would admit, so Puller had seen all the illegal drugs over the years.

Looks like he's discovered the distribution channels for the products from Eric Triwell's humble drug lab.The guys at the Shangto Motorcycle Club pack them into the saddle bags on the back of their bikes and hand them out to customers.In impoverished areas where people are eager to forget reality, drug dealers can easily find willing consumers. Trivel and Petrina were petty drug dealers, but that wasn't why they were killed, Pooler was sure.He'd tell Cole about the drugs found in his motorcycle saddlebag, but that wouldn't do anything to stop the terrorist attack. He walked over to check the row of lockers along the left wall.Nothing special, mostly everyday items for Harley riders.He went to check the lockers on the right wall and found them locked.He pried open one cabinet, found nothing, and pried open the other two, still the same.He didn't want to waste time with other cabinets.

Puller looked at his watch.He deliberately came here early, in case Dicky got tricky or someone set up an ambush here.He still had some time to kill, so he decided to use this time to search other places here.It is entirely possible that these drug runners could be encouraged by others to commit further felonies, even at the expense of their own country.Maybe these guys feel the country has turned their backs on them, so they don't think it's a big deal. Puller went into the other room on the left.It doesn't have a single window, and even the hazy moonlight can't penetrate it, so it's completely dark.This is an empty room.Pooler withdrew.His ears picked up any sound that might be someone approaching.

He walked up the stairs.There is a kitchen upstairs and it looks like the club is using it.He opened several cabinets and found that there were only some pots and pans inside. There is another room adjacent to the kitchen.Puller opened the door and peered in by the light of the flashlight.This must have been the former office of the head of the fire station.Old desks, old filing cabinets, old bookshelves, and two rusty metal chairs.He opened the filing cabinet and found it was empty.The bookshelf is also empty.He sat down in front of the table and opened the drawers one by one.Still nothing.Suddenly the light of the flashlight caught sight of something in one of the drawers, and he reached deep into the drawer.

A piece of paper that had turned yellow had the date 1964 written on it.The title reads three letters: FIA.Puller didn't know what it was referring to. Puller read the text on the paper.The content is about the specific handling steps in the event of a fire in the building that was later built with a dome.Puller doesn't see in the text what that facility actually does.Maybe it really was, as Mason had told him, producing some bomb parts. Puller noticed something written on the edge of the paper.The ink has long since faded, but the handwriting is still legible.two numbers.One is 92 and the other is 94.

He put the paper in his pocket and stood up.Just as he was leaving this small office, he heard a rumbling sound. A motorcycle was coming at a high speed, and the sound of the engine shaking was heard far away.Puller quickly stood by a second-floor window overlooking the open space in front of the fire station. Definitely Dickie.Puller clicked the night-vision light on his watch, and the time was right. He saw the motorcycle's headlights piercing the darkness, its wheels rolling over the splintered concrete in front of the firehouse.Puller could get a better look at the rider.Strong shoulders, thick upper body.This is Dickie.

The sudden gunshots startled Puller, and instinctively squatted under the window.He found that the bullet hit the rider's head, shattered his helmet, passed through his skull and brain tissue, and exploded at the exit of the bullet hole.The Harley, with no one on the handlebars, lurched to the right.The rider fell off the left side of the car and hit the concrete.He twitched all over, and then remained motionless.The bike slammed into the wall of the fire station and slammed to the side, the engine still roaring. Pooler didn't bother to watch the entirety of the scene.He jumped onto the fire pole and slid down to the first floor.

The gunshots came from the left.Long range sniper rifle.Puller figured the sniper was somewhere in the area.There is no hillside here, only rows of houses.The shooter is probably on top of that house.Many houses.All empty houses.Well, maybe not all empty houses. Puller slipped quietly out the front door, next to the still roaring motorcycle.He squatted down, turned off the motorcycle engine, and pressed the mobile phone number. The muzzle of the M11 in his other hand kept making defensive arc movements. Cole answered the phone when it rang twice.Puller explained the situation concisely and efficiently in three sentences.Cole will lead rescuers to help him for the second time today.

Puller mentally counted to three, then zigzagged to his Malibu.He paid attention to keeping the car body between himself and the sniper, quickly opened the trunk and took out what he needed.Night Vision Goggles. And body armor.This externally worn tactical vest uses a modular soft armor structure that can withstand the shooting of 9mm bullets.But that wasn't enough tonight.It took Puller two or three minutes to insert the ceramic reinforcement plate into the inner layer of the vest to improve the bulletproof performance of the tactical vest.He turned on the night vision goggles, and everything around him immediately became a sharp green color. Puller looked at the fallen rider.The helmet was still on his head so his face couldn't be seen.The last thing Puller pulled out of the trunk was perhaps the most important. MP5 submachine gun.This is the weapon of choice for Special Forces soldiers in close combat.Its maximum effective range is 100 meters, which means that Puller needs to greatly shorten the distance between him and the target. In the contest between sniper rifles and close-range light weapons, the latter is at a clear disadvantage.In addition, the opponent's gun also had a night-vision scope, which Puller determined based on the shot the opponent had just fired.Puller wishes he had a bolt-action sniper rifle in his hands, but at the moment he can only rely on the MP5. After Puller fixed the trigger of the submachine gun to the second-round burst position, he raised his hand and closed the trunk. He also has a specific investigative job to complete.He got in the car and lowered himself, backing it up beside the rider who was lying on the ground.Using the car as a shield, he opened the door and slipped out. He looked at the entrance and exit of the bullet holes in the deceased's helmet.He pulled back the visor of his helmet and saw Dickie Strauss' eyes staring back at him blankly. Puller turned his head and spotted it on the left.The warhead lay on the pavement of the sidewalk.He just observes it without touching it with his hands. This is a .338 Rapoor Magnum bullet warhead.Puller's bulletproof vests are not equipped to stop such bullets.It has a range of up to 1,500 meters.Given all the right conditions and a bit of luck, a talented sniper can hit targets at even greater distances. Puller, in violation of on-scene investigation regulations, conducted a quick search of Dickie, taking his cell phone and wallet from the deceased's pockets. He returned to his car and drove it all the way to the door of the fire station with his body down.He got out of the car door on the co-pilot side, and put the MP5 gun belt on his shoulder. The time to strike has come.