Clarice Starling's Mustang roared up the ramp in front of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms on Massachusetts Avenue.This place was rented from Pastor Sun Minwen for the headquarters in order to save money.
The assault team was on standby in three vehicles.The command vehicle was a camouflaged van in tatters, followed by two black Special Weapons and Tactical Police Unit vans.The crew is all there, lounging in the cavernous garage.
Starling took out the equipment bag from her car and ran to the command car.It was a dirty white long-headed van with "Marcel's Crab Shop" signs plastered on both sides.
The four watched Starling arrive from the open back door of the van.Starling was slender, brisk in work clothes and carrying a bag, her hair gleaming in the eerie fluorescent light.
"Women, always late," said a DC police officer.
The man in charge was John Brigham, a special agent of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms.
"She's not late—I didn't call her until we got the tip," Brigham said. "She must have come from Quantico—hey, Starling, hand me the bag."
Starling quickly raised her hand and gave him a high five. "Hi John."
Brigham said something to a scruffy undercover officer at the wheel, and the van drove out into the crisp autumn afternoon world before the rear doors were closed.
Clarice, a veteran of scout vehicles, stooped under the periscope viewing port and took a seat in the back of the vehicle, as close as possible to the 150-pound bag of dry ice that served as the air conditioner when the engine died.
The old truck has a sinister and sweaty smell that cannot be washed away, like a ship's galley.Numerous signs have been affixed to the car body over the years.The dingy, dingy sign on the door lasted only 30 minutes, but the Bondeo patched bullet hole lasted much longer.
The rear window is one-way glass and is well-painted.Starling could see the big black van of the Special Weapons and Tactical Police Unit behind it.She hoped she wouldn't be locked up in a van for hours on end.
As soon as her face was turned out of the window, several male police officers began to look at her.
FBI agent Clarice Starling, 32, always looks her age and always looks pretty for her age, even in work newspapers.
Brigham retrieved his writing tablet from the passenger seat.
"Why do you keep running into all this shit, Starling?" he asked with a grin.
"Isn't it because you are older than me?" She replied.
"This time I ordered you to general. But, why do I keep seeing you accept assault missions. I haven't inquired about it, but I think there are people in Eagle Cape who don't like you. You should come to me. These are my Man. Agent Max Burke, John Hale. This is Officer Bolton of the District of Columbia Police Department."
The Combined Commando Force, made up of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms, the Drug Administration's Special Weapons and Tactical Police Unit, and the FBI, was the result of austerity.Now even the FBI Academy is closed for lack of funds.
Burke and Hale are like secret agents, and Bolton, the DCPD, is like a bailiff.He was about 45 years old, overweight, shallow.
The mayor of Washington, DC, wants to come across as tough on drugs after he regrets his drug use.He insisted that the D.C. police participate in every major operation in the city of Washington and share in the achievements, so Bolton came.
"Drumgo's going to be making ice today," said Brigham.
"Evelda Drumgo, I know about this." Starling said flatly.
Brigham nodded. "She's got a meth workshop at the Feliciana Fish Market by the river. Our folks say she's going to make a batch of meth today; she's going to ship a stock to the big one tonight. We can't wait any longer."
Crystalline methamphetamine is called "ice" on the market.It can cause short-lived highs and can be fatally addictive.
Drugs are the DDA's business, but we're also going to get Evelda on interstate shipments of class 3 weapons.The arrest warrant indicated that she had two Beretta sub-automatics and several Mack 10s, and she also knew the location of a batch of guns.Starling, I want you to deal with Evelda with all your might.You have dealt with her before.These people are here to support you. "
"Then we have an easy job," said Inspector Bolton, somewhat satisfied.
"I think you'd better tell them about Iulda," said Brigham.
Starling waited until the wagon clucked over the tracks. "Evelda will fuck you," she said, "she doesn't look that bad--she's a model--but she'll fuck you. She's the widow of Dijon Drumgo .I've caught her twice with a warrant, the first time with Dijon.
"The most recent time she had a 9mm pistol, three magazines and a mace in her handbag, and a balisong knife in her bra. I don't know what she's carrying now.
"The second time I arrested her I politely asked her to surrender, and she did. But in D.C. detention she killed a woman named Martha Valentine with the handle of a spoon in her room. Therefore, you I don't know... The expression on her face is hard to read. The grand jury's verdict in that case was Evelda's self-defense.
"She escaped the first charge on the arrest warrant and pleaded not guilty to several others. Several arms trafficking charges were also dropped because she had young children and her husband was at the recent Pleasant University. Dao was killed in the fire - probably by someone from the Spreef gang.
"I'll ask her to give up resistance, and I hope she will—we can show her our sincerity. But look, since we're trying to get Evelda Drumgo down, I need real support. Don't Just watch my back, I need you to give her some real pressure. Gentlemen, don't think you're going to watch me wrestle Evelda in the mud."
Starling had listened to the fires for a while, but now she'd seen too much to speak up, even though she knew they weren't welcome.
"Evelda Drumgo was connected to the Trey Et-Crips through Dijon," said Brigham, "under the protection of the Crips. Our people say, Cripp The gang sells drugs along the coast, mostly against the Spliff gang. I don't know how the Crip gang will react when they find out it was us, but they won't go offside if they can."
"You've got to know that Einarda's positive," Starling said, "was injected from Dijon. She found out after she was detained and reacted so violently that she killed Martha Valentine that very day." , and got into a fight with a prison guard. If she fights you without a weapon, you have to be prepared for her to use any bodily fluids on you. Spit, bite. If you want to comfort her, she can even urinate on you, Shit; therefore, it is normal procedure to use gloves and a mask on her. When you put her in the patrol car, if you touch her head, you have to pay attention to your hands, there may be needles in the hair. You even her Legs have to be handcuffed, too."
The faces of Burke and Halle grew longer and longer.Officer Bolton wasn't happy either; he pointed with his plump chin to the weapon Starling was wearing, a very old government Colt . On the slide behind her right buttock. "Does that thing of yours just walk around with the hammer on like that?" he asked.
"Hammer cocked, locked, every minute," Starling said.
"Dangerous," Bolton said.
"I'll explain it to you at the shooting range, officer."
Brigham chimed in: "Bolton, she's been a three-year in-system pistol champion, and I'm her trainer. Don't worry about her weapons. Starling, those guys in the hostage rescue team—cowboys—you What did you call you after beating them in a game? Call you?"
"Bad Oakley," she said, looking out the window.
In this scout car full of men and goats, Starling felt uncomfortable and isolated.Men, rough people, old smells, sweat smells, leather smells.She was a little scared, like a coin under her tongue.A vision came to her mind: her father, smelling of tobacco and coarse soap, sharing oranges with her in the kitchen, peeling oranges with a flat knife.The taillights of my father's pickup went off, he went on a night patrol, and he was killed.Father's clothes in the closet.His crisp dance shirt.And the beautiful clothes in her own closet are no longer worn anymore.Evening dresses on hangers are sad like toys in an attic.
"It will be here in about 10 minutes." The driver called back.
Brigham looked out the windshield and checked his watch. "The terrain is like this," he said.He had a hastily drawn sketch with a magic pen, and a half-clear floor plan telegraphed to him by the building department. "The fish market building is in a row with the shops and warehouses along the river. Pascal Street ends in this little square in front of the fish market, and the riverside drive follows it.
"Look, the fish market building is backed by the river, and they have a pier that extends across the back of the building, right here. The ice room in Ivulda is next to the fish market on the ground floor. The entrance is in front of it, just Next to the canopy of the fish market. When Einurda manufactures the drug, she must put the whistle at least three blocks away. She has escaped from the waterway with the drug because of the spy before. Therefore, the third truck The regular Drug Administration raids are coming in from the pier in fishing boats at 15. Our car can get closer than them, and we can reach the door of the house on the street two or three minutes before the raid. If Evelda comes from If we don’t come out, we will rush to the door here when they rush to the door. The second car is reinforcements, 7 people. If we don’t call first, they will come at 15:00 Come in on time."
"How does the door go?" Starling said.
Burke said, "If there's no sound, knock on the door; if you hear gunfire or cannon fire, use 'Avon'." Burke patted his musket.
"Avon Home" Starling had seen it used before, a 3-inch heavy-powder musket cartridge loaded with fine lead powder that could break a door lock without harming the occupants of the house.
"Where are Evelda's children? Where are they?" Starling said.
"Our informant saw her go to day care," Brigham said. "The informant knew her home very well, and it was so close that they didn't feel safe even doing it."
Brigham's radio headset squeaked twice, and he searched the part of the sky he could see through the rear window. "Maybe they're just doing business interviews," he said into his phone, and then called out to the driver, "Team 2 saw a helicopter interview a minute ago, did you see anything?"
"No."
"They better be reporting traffic. Let's get ready for battle."
On a hot day like this, keeping five people cool in a tin van with 150 pounds of dry ice is not going to work, especially when everyone is wearing body armor.Bolton held up his arms to show that the sweat on his body armor was not the same as the rain.
Clarice Starling had shoulder pads sewn into her overalls shirt to bear the weight of the vest, which was like a ceramic plate added to the chest and back, presumably bulletproof.
The painful experience has taught people a lesson: the board on the back is very valuable.Leading a door-and-break mission with a team of varying degrees of training that you don't know well is very dangerous.You're likely to have your spine broken by a friendly bullet while charging ahead - if the party is scared and inexperienced.
The third van slowed down two miles from the river to let the DEA commando disembark and join the fishing boat at the docking point; the backup vehicle also pulled a cautious distance from the white camouflaged vehicle.
Adjacent areas are getting dilapidated.A third of the buildings were boarded up; burnt-out cars leaned against dilapidated ones and parked along the curb.Young people hang out in front of bars and small markets.Children play around a burning straw mat on the sidewalk.
If Evelda's eyeliner is outside, she must be among the ordinary people on the side of the road.There are people chatting in cars near beverage stores and in supermarket parking lots.
A low-slung, folding-top Impala came up the sparsely-trafficked road and walked slowly behind the van, carrying four young African-Americans.The lowriders jumped from the front of the car onto the curb and danced for the passing girls.The car stereo rattled metal panels.
Starling could tell from the one-way mirror in the rear window that the young men in the convertible posed no threat.The "gunboats" of the Clippers tended to be the most powerful sedans or station wagons, with the rear doors open, seating three or four people, very old and easy to blend into the surrounding environment and disappear.A Buick full of basketball players can look menacing if you're not in your right mind.
As they stopped at a red light, Brigham removed the cover from the periscope port and patted Bolton on the knee.
"Look around to see if there are local important people on the sidewalk," says Brigham.
The objective lens of the periscope is hidden in the ventilation fan on the roof and can only be seen on both sides.
Bolton turned the periscope around, stopped, and rubbed his eyes. "The motor was spinning and the periscope was shaking so much," he said.
Brigham checked with the commandos on the ship by radio. "They are 400 meters downstream, approaching immediately." He repeated what he had just heard to the team in the car.
The van stopped for what seemed like a long time, facing the market at a red light a block from Passell Street.The driver seemed to be checking the rearview mirror on his right, turned around and said to Brigham from the corner of his mouth: "It seems that not many people buy fish, look at ours."
The green light came on.At 2:57 p.m., the battered camouflaged van stopped at a vantage point along Front Street at the Feliciana Fish Market, just three minutes before 3:00 p.m.
As the driver pulled the handbrake, they heard the click of a live-face ratchet.
Brigham gave Starling the periscope. "check."
Starling glanced at the front of the building with the bath glass.Under canvas awnings along the sidewalk, fish glistened on the stalls and on the ice.Snapping turtles were brought in from the coast of the Carolinas in fancy groups on shaved ice; crab legs dangled in baskets; lobsters crawled on top of each other in buckets.Clever fishmongers put moist mats over the eyes of the big fish to keep them bright until the shrewd housewives of Caribbean descent come to sniff and see at dusk.
Outside, the spray from the fish-washing platform created a rainbow in the sunlight.There, a man of Latin descent with a strong forearm swings a curved knife gracefully, dissects a giant shark, and then squeezes the water hose tightly with his hand, aiming at it hard.Bloody water rushed down the gutter.Starling could hear water rushing under her car.
Starling watched the driver talk to the fishmonger and asked him a question.The fishmonger looked at his watch and pointed to a local place to eat with a shrug.The driver pointed around the market, talked to him for a while, lit a cigarette and headed for the tavern.
The speakers in the market were playing "La Macarena" so loudly that Starling could hear it from the car.She will be sad when she hears this song for the rest of her life.
The important door was on the right, a double door with a wrought-iron frame and a concrete step.
Starling was about to let go of the periscope when the door opened and a burly white man in a white Hawaiian shirt and loafers stepped out, with a bag on his chest and one hand behind it.A sturdy black man followed, carrying a raincoat.
"Look up," Starling said.
Evelda Drumgo came looming behind their shoulders, with a straight neck and a pretty face.
"Evelda came out from behind the two of them, and they seemed to be trying to get away with drugs," Starling said.
When Brigham took the periscope, Starling was knocked before she could get out of the way.Starling took out her helmet and put it on.
Brigham spoke on the radio. "Teams ready, showdown, showdown. Evelda comes out this way. Move."
"Put them down as calmly as you can," Brigham said, pulling the slide of the riot gun. "The boat is here in thirty seconds. Let's do it."
Starling was the first to get out of the car.Evelda turned her head with a flick of her braid.Focusing on the two people beside her, Starling hurriedly drew her gun and shouted, "You two, get down, get down!"
Evelda stepped between the two of them.
Evelda carried a baby around her neck in a baby bag.
"Wait, wait, we're out of trouble," she said to the man next to her, "wait." She strode poised, lifted the baby as high as the sling would allow, and the blanket was up down.
Just make way for her.Starling fumbled for the gun, stretched out her arms, opened her hands. "Evelda! Don't resist, come to me." A V-8 behind Starling roared, its tires creaking.Starling couldn't turn around.Do support.
Evelda ignores Starling and walks toward Brigham, Mike 10 fires from behind the blanket; Merle's blanket flutters.Brigham fell, blood splattered on his visor; the burly white man dropped his bag.As soon as Burke saw him waving his repeating pistol, he hurriedly shot a cloud of harmless lead sand from "Avon's doorstep" with his fake gun.It was too late for him to pull the slide again, a stream of bullets from the big man swept across his waist below the bulletproof vest, and then turned to Starling, but before he could shoot, Starling had already drawn the pistol from the holster, yes Two shots were fired through the center of his hula shirt.
There was another shot from behind Starling.The burly black man dropped the poncho from his weapon and crawled back into the building.Starling felt as if she had been punched hard on the back, and she threw herself forward, almost holding her breath.Turning around, the "gunboat" of the Clippers on the street was facing her.It was a Cadillac with the windows wide open, and two shooters sat like Cheyenne Indians in the side windows, shooting over the roof.A third man fired the gun from the back seat.Flames and smoke burst from the muzzles of the three guns.Bullets creaked through the air around her.
Starling got between two parked cars and saw Burke lying on the road, twitching.Brigham lay still, blood pouring from his steel helmet.Hale and Bolton were shooting from between cars somewhere across the street.There the car windows were shattered and clattered into the street.A shot from the Cadillac's automatic weapon pinning them both burst.Starling stared up with one leg in the running gutter.
Two shooters sat in the window and fired over the roof, the driver fired with his free hand, and a fourth man in the back seat pushed open the door and pushed Evelda into the car with the baby in her arms. Fulda was carrying a bag in her hand.Several men shot at Bolton and Hale across the street at the same time.The Cadillac's rear wheels smoked and began to slide.Starling straightened up, swung the pistol, and hit the driver in the temple; she fired two more shots at the shooter sitting by the front window, who fell backwards.She unloaded the .45 magazine. Before the magazine hit the ground, the second magazine had already been loaded, and her eyes were still fixed on the car.
The Cadillac slid past a line of parked cars, across the road, rattled toward the line of cars, and stopped.
At this point Starling was already walking towards the Cadillac.A shooter was still in the rear window of the Cadillac, eyes flustered, his hands on the roof, his chest sandwiched between the Cadillac and a parked car.The gun fell from the roof, and the free hand emerged from the nearby rear window.A man in a blue tie-dye hood ran out with his hands up, but Starling ignored him.
Another shot was fired to her right, and the runner lunged forward with his face on the ground, trying to get under a car.There was the hum of a helicopter propeller over Starling's head.
Someone in the fish market was shouting: "Stay on your stomach and don't move." People went straight to the counter, and the unattended water pipe beside the fish-cutting platform sprayed water into the sky.
Starling walked over to the Cadillac.There was a noise behind the car, and there was a noise in the car, the car shook, and the baby screamed inside.There was a gunshot, the rear window of the car was shattered, and the window glass fell straight into the car.
Starling raised her hand high, without turning around, she just called: "Don't shoot, don't shoot. Watch out for the door, follow me, and watch out for the door of the fish shop."
"Evelda," screamed the baby from behind the car, "Evelda, put your hand out the window!"
That's when Evelda Drumgo got out of the car, and the baby screamed. "La Macarena" was still blaring from the fish market speakers.Evelda came out and came to Starling, her beautiful head bowed, her hands wrapped in blankets, and her arms around the baby.
Burke twitched on the street between them, bleeding too much now to move less. "La Macarena" to Burke's twitching rhythm.A man bent over and ran to lie down in front of him, applying pressure to his wound to stop the bleeding.
Starling pointed the gun at the ground in front of Evelda. "Evelda, show your hands, please hurry up, show your hands."
Protruding from under the baby blanket, Evelda, with long braids and dark eyes like an Egyptian, looked up at Starling.
"Oh, it's you, Starling," she said.
"Yin Erda, don't mess around, think about the child."
"Let's fight for these two pools of blood, bitch."
With a flip of the blanket, a flash of air, Starling shot Evelda's upper lip and the back of her head exploded.
For some reason, Starling sat down herself, next to her head; a sharp stabbing pain made her gasp.Evelda sat down on the pavement; she leaned forward on her feet, and blood poured from her mouth, covering the baby.The baby's cries were suppressed by her body.Starling climbed to the ground, undid the slippery buckle on the straps, took the Balisong knife from Evelda's bra, opened it without looking, and cut the straps off the baby.The baby was bright red and slippery, and Starling struggled to hold it.
Starling picked up the baby, raised her eyes in pain, saw the water spraying into the sky at the fish market, and walked there with the bloody baby in her arms.She hastily pushed away the knife and fish viscera on the table, put the child on the chopping board, pointed the water hose at the child and sprayed it vigorously.The black kid lay on a white chopping board surrounded by knives, fish guts and shark heads, his HIV-positive blood washed away.Starling's own blood dripped on the baby, mingled with Evelda's, and was washed away by the salty sea water.
In the splash, the mocking rainbow of God's promises was a shining banner unfurled above the work of God's blind hammer.Starling found no wounds on the little boy."La Macarena" was still blaring on the loudspeakers, and the lights of the cameras were -- blinking -- until Hale dragged the cameraman aside.
Notes:
Notes: