Chapter 4 4

Joe ran toward the white van, his heart beating wildly, his vision blurred by the racing blood. The Ford wasn't a recreational vehicle, but a paneled van that was generally used for business, like a package delivery or something.There is no company name or trademark on the rear and sides of the car. The car's engine was still running, and the two front doors were open.He ran to the seat next to the driver's seat and leaned into the car to see if he could find the mobile phone.If there is one in the car, it must not be visible at a glance. Maybe in the glove box, he yanked it open.A guy in the back van mistook Joe for one of the two guys in the Hawaiian shirt and asked, "Did you catch Rose?'" Damn it! ' Joe cursed to himself.

In the glove box, there were several rolls of life buoys, and when the lid was opened, they fell to the floor. Beyond that, there's an envelope in the automotive sector. According to California law, any vehicle must carry a registration card or insurance card. "Hey! Who are you?" asked the man in the cargo compartment. Joe picked up the envelope and turned away from the van.This guy will probably shoot him in the back like the other two guys did.But Joe didn't think it necessary to run away as quickly as possible. The door at the back of the truck was thrown open with a creaking sound.Joe walked in the direction of the sound, and a big face suddenly appeared beside the truck.

The guy's arms were thicker than Popeye's and his neck was strong enough to hoist a small car.Taking advantage of his astonishment, Joe raised one knee and pushed it against his crotch. The guy yelped and bent forward.Joe hit him hard in the face with his head, and the man fell unconscious on the floor.His broken nose was bleeding profusely, and he gasped loudly through his mouth. Although Joe liked to fight since he was a child, he never shook his fist at others since he met Michelle.But today, in just two hours, he actually got violent with people twice, which shocked him even. Besides, this raw violence made him feel sick.

He had never been so irritable, not even in his youth and madness.He had to try to restrain himself, like in the public restrooms in Santa Monica. In the past year, because of the plane crash, he was depressed and complained all day long.But he began to realize that those were just appearances. Deeper in his heart, there was actually a strong emotion that he refused to admit—full of anger. If the universe is a cold mechanical structure, if life is just passing from the darkness of one nothingness to another, then he will not cry out for God.For in an infinitely deep vacuum it is useless to cry out for help.Sound cannot be transmitted in a vacuum, just as it is impossible to breathe in water.Now, frantically, he took every opportunity to vent his anger on people.

Joe rubbed his forehead where he hurt from bumping the guy in the face.He glanced at the stupid big man lying on the ground with blood dripping from his nose.An indescribable but undesired sense of satisfaction welled up in his heart.The person lying on the ground was wearing a sweatshirt, black loose pants, and a pair of red rubber shoes. He looked about twenty years old, at least ten years younger than his two companions.His hand is big enough to pick up a watermelon. Except for the thumb, each of his ten fingers has a tattoo of an English letter on the knuckle at the base of the finger.The spelling is ANABOLIC, which is the "constitutive metabolism" in biological science.

Although it was a defensive pre-emptive strike just now, what puzzled Joe was how he could feel pleasure in such a violent act. This guy doesn't look like a law enforcement officer at all, but whatever he looks like, he's probably a cop, and the consequences for assaulting a police officer are serious. Oddly, even the prospect of prison time did not lessen his pleasure in his ferocity. Joe was excited and terrified that the intensity of his anger would overshadow his deep-rooted sense of morality.He looked around the cemetery, seeing no traffic, so he knelt beside the victim.The man's turbid breathing made a soft childlike sound in his throat.His eyelids fluttered as Joe searched his pockets, but he remained unconscious.

Joe found nothing but a few copper coins, a nail clipper, a bunch of keys, and a wallet.There was an ID card and some credit cards in the wallet, and this guy was Brick, and he wasn't carrying a police badge or any identification.Joe left his driver's license and put the wallet back in the man's pocket. Joe dragged Brick from the back of the van to the side so that passing pedestrians or vehicles would be less likely to spot him.Then turn him over and lie on his side so he won't choke on the bleeding. Joe went to the back of the car and got into the trunk, the rumble of the low-speed engine shaking the floor of the car.On the shelves on both sides are some electronic communication equipment, wiretapping and tracking equipment.Two swivel chairs fixed to the floor can be turned to face the equipment on either side.Squeezing past the first chair, Joe sat down in the second.In front of him was a computer that was turned on.There was air conditioning in the van, but the chairs were still lukewarm because Brick had only been out of them for a minute.

On the computer screen was a map with the names of the streets that Joe recognized as the way to the cemetery.A flashing light spot on the map caught his attention. It was a fixed green light spot, and it marked the location of the truck.Another blinking light point is red, and it's fixed to the same road on the map, but some distance away from the van.Joe was sure it represented his Camry. This tracking system undoubtedly uses CDs to map the entire Geshanshan and surrounding areas in great detail.Maybe the whole of California or the whole country is included.There is enough capacity on one disc to load detailed street maps of all the neighboring states, including Canada.

Someone installed a powerful transmitter on his car, and the microwave signal it emitted could be tracked at a long distance.The computer triangulated the signal using the reconnaissance satellites, and then plotted Shanmi's location on the map, so they could track him without eyesight. After leaving Santa Monica and entering the San Frando Canyon, Joe didn't see any suspicious vehicles in the rearview mirror along the way. This truck must be miles away from him, following him out of sight . Joe had ridden in one of these scout vehicles with federal agents when he was a reporter.A group of lively young men from the Tobacco, Alcohol and Firearms Anti-Smuggling Bureau manipulated equipment similar to this truck, but it was not as complicated as this system.

He realized that if he stayed too long at this time, Brick, who was knocked unconscious, woke up, or one of the other two returned to the car, they would be caught alive.Joe looked around the inside of the van to see if he could find which Secret Service unit was involved in the operation, but found nothing.On the computer desk where Brick previously worked, there were two publications. One is a journal about the Internet, and the main article is about Bill. Gates' "Virtual Fantasy".Another magazine reported on a former Special Forces officer who wanted to switch from military to hired killer.The magazine turned to a page describing a belt loop knife so sharp it could cut through bones.Apparently Brick reads this kind of stuff when he's not working.Mr. Brick is really an electronic player with a knife.

Brick groaned just as Joe got out of the car, but was still awake.His legs twitched convulsively, chasing like a dog dreaming of chasing a rabbit, and the red rubber shoes knocked off a patch of turf. Neither of the two men in Hawaiian shirts turned back from the bushes on the other side of the hill.Joe didn't hear the gunfire anymore, maybe it was obscured by the terrain.He hurried back to his car, the door handles gleaming in the sun.He touched the handle and cried out from being burned.The inside of the car was so hot that it was about to burn, so he quickly rolled down the window.When Joe started the Ximei, he saw a platform truck slowly approaching from the east of the cemetery in the rearview mirror.Perhaps a sod truck, either to ascertain the cause of the gunfire or to do routine maintenance. Joe could have followed the road to the west end of the cemetery and made a long circle back to the east exit.But he was in a hurry to leave, so he wanted to turn around and go back the way he came from.A feeling of being at the critical moment of life and death welled up in his heart, and every second must be counted. He could almost hear the ticking sound of a time bomb. Joe started the car and tried to turn around in one go, but couldn't.He shifted the gear lever into reverse and slammed on the accelerator.The tires rubbed against the scorching pavement, and he let off the accelerator, braked, and shifted into drive. Drop slightly!Drop slightly!Tick! The intuition is always right, just when accelerating towards the approaching platform truck, the glass of the window behind the driver's seat suddenly burst open.Shards of glass shot everywhere.He didn't hear the gunshots, so he had no idea what happened. Joe looked to the left and saw the man in the bonus aloha standing at the foot of the hill in a shooting stance.The guy was as pale as a living zombie, yet dressed like he was going to a prom. Someone was yelling and cursing in a vague and rough voice, and Brick was crawling out of the truck, like a defeated bull, with blood foaming from the corner of his mouth, shaking his head and crawling. Then there was another gunshot, and the bullet slammed into the car.Joe drove the car forward, and he passed the platform truck at such a fast speed that the other party scrambled away to avoid hitting him. He passed a place where a funeral was in progress, and the mourners in black looked like a group of wandering spirits wandering from an open tomb.Passing by another funeral, mourners lined up seemed ready to have a look with their departed relatives.After passing a unique white church, he rushed forward desperately, expecting that the other party would hunt him down relentlessly, but nothing happened.Joe also guessed that he would be blocked by the swarming police cars, but he didn't see any ghosts until he drove out of the gate of the cemetery. He took the Ventura Highway into the San Frando Valley villa area.Joe was still shaking nervously while waiting at the red light.He saw a parade of twelve antique cars, driven by members of the fan club, pass the intersection.Seeing this parade, he had a strange feeling in his chest, as if the emotions that had been accumulated for a long time were relaxed and expressed, it was a feeling of mixed sorrow and joy. Across the street, passing a park, he saw a young family with three children and a golden retriever playing Frisbee on a hot day.Joe's heart beat wildly, he slowed down the speed, and almost stopped on the side of the road to watch. At the corner of the street, two lovely blond schoolgirls are about to cross the road, and they are twin sisters.The two were wearing white blouses and shorts.Added a bit of coolness to this hot summer day.The dreamy girl, in this smoky concrete forest, looks fresh and refined like two ambassadors. This year has changed, although it is not obvious, but there is no doubt that he has changed. No, not this year, nor this city, but Joe himself has changed.He always felt that his changed thoughts were churning in his chest, like a sea tide, irresistible.He was plunged into the abyss of pain and despair, and every morning began with depression.Though he had longed for death, now he desperately wanted to live, he needed to live. Anger is the main reason for changing Joe. His grief is not for what he lost, but for Michelle and the others.He hated that Michelle couldn't watch the parade of vintage cars with him, and he was annoyed that Chris and Nina couldn't play Frisbee with their dogs;They are even more resentful that they cannot enjoy the achievements of life and the fun of marriage.Grief and anger changed Joe, gnawed at him deeply, and awakened him from his long-standing self-pity. "Are you okay?" was the woman who took the picture of the cemetery asked him. "I'm not ready to have a long talk with you," she said. "I'll be back soon when the time comes," she promised.It seemed like she was about to reveal some kind of truth or fact. The two men in the Hawaiian shirts, the thug working the computer, the redhead and the brunette in the bikini, the entire team monitoring Joe, were obviously waiting for the woman to make contact with him.A truck full of satellite tracking gear, directional microphones, computers, high-resolution cameras, and the gunman who shot him in cold blood. All because of... Why? Because they thought the woman in the cemetery told him things he wasn't supposed to know?Because just knowing her existence would endanger them?Because they thought he must have known their identities and intentions when he got out of that truck? Of course Joe knew nothing about them, including who they were and what they wanted from that woman.But he has come to a conclusion: The cause of death of his wife and daughter is either wrong or incomplete.There are other inside stories about the incident of China Airlines Flight 353. You don't even need to be a journalist to gain insight into this matter.He knew it the moment he saw the woman in the cemetery.See her photographs of tombstones, gaze into her haunting eyes, hear her soft, sympathetic voice, and her enigmatic words—"I'm not ready to talk to you"— With common sense, he knew that things were not as simple as imagined. A wave of resentment boiled over him as he drove through the tranquil Boban airport.There are too many hateful fallacies in this world, deceptions, tricks, lies, plots.He was outraged by the unprincipled nature of the Creator, and thought he had no one to fight for it.He was right that it was as futile to throw a wrath at the Creator as throwing a stone at the light of a distant star. But for those people who deliberately concealed and distorted the facts of the plane crash, his resentment has an object to vent. Michelle, Chris and Nina can never be called back, Joe's life is no longer complete, and his wounded heart can't heal, because the truth can't give him any original hope, his life is over, Nothing can change that.But he had a right to know how Michelle, Chris, and Nina had died, and he had a sacred obligation to them to find out what had happened. His anger is the lever, and his grief is the fulcrum, with which he can move the whole world to see the whole truth.No matter what damage is done, or who is destroyed in the process. On a residential street lined with rows of trees, he pulled over and turned off the engine.Joe might not have much time before Brick and his henchmen catch up to him. He checked the front panel first, but the marker transmitter wasn't there.He squatted in front of the car again, running his hands along the bottom of the bumper, but also found nothing. The sound of the helicopter propeller in the distance gradually became louder. Joe blindly groped inside the front wheel fender, and then searched along the rocker panel, only to touch a handful of engine oil and putty.There's nothing hidden inside the rear wheel fenders either. The helicopter flew over him from the north at a very low altitude, not more than fifty feet from the roof.Blow the branches and leaves of the palm trees on both sides. Joe looked up alertly to see if the helicopter's crew was looking for him.But his fear was unfounded. The helicopter roared and flew south without hovering.He didn't see a police badge or any markings on the fuselage. Joe fumbled again and finally found the marker transmitter on the bumper of the rear bumper.The entire device, including the batteries, is no more than the size of a cigarette pack, and the tokens it sends are silent and seemingly harmless. He dropped the device on the road, trying to smash it into pieces with the tire rims. At this time a gardener's truck, loaded with pruned shrubs and leaves, came along the road.Joe decided to drop the marker transmitter into the clipped foliage. Maybe those jerks will waste a little more time and manpower tracking this truck to the dump. He got back in the car and drove on.He could see the helicopter making a small circle a few miles to the south.Sometimes hovering, and then flying in circles. His fears were unwarranted. The helicopter hadn't turned up at the cemetery, nor had it pursued the woman in the desert bushes near the observatory.Their resources are really impressive.