Chapter 1149: An Unsuccessful Arrest Plan

Beyond the veil of night, Deruixi and his men stepped out of their vehicles, still some distance away from the motel.

In truth, they had discovered the situation here earlier; those who search are always slower than those who pursue.

When Meiluo ordered Deruixi to take his men in pursuit, all they had to do was floor the accelerator.

Soon, they caught up to the vehicles ahead on the interstate. Once he relayed Lans's decision, everyone began to act in unison.

The first car passed the motel at a relatively steady speed, and they did indeed see the stolen vehicle deliberately parked under the streetlamp.

Vehicles belonging to the Lans family almost always carried specific identifiers, such as their license plates, which followed a uniform prefix.

Federal license plate regulations did not mandate that plates follow government-prescribed formats; one could decide whether they were numbers or codes.

Of course, in the future, the federal government would even allow applicants to add patterns to their plates in the name of freedom.

But for now, these license plates all shared the same letters and numbers, making them highly recognizable at a single glance.

After the first car spotted the stolen vehicle, it pulled over to the side of the road a short distance past the motel, turned around, and began flashing its high beams toward the direction it had come from.

Perhaps the headlights couldn't illuminate the roadside well at this distance, but they were visible to those far away.

Seeing the flashing headlights, Deruixi arranged for a few sharp-witted men to drive toward the motel, while he and the others stepped out of their cars and jogged toward the perimeter of the inn.

On the surface, only a dozen or so young men from a few cars had found the place, but in reality, many more were already hidden in the surroundings.

The young man in the lead was a newly promoted combat captain of the family. For family members in this city, getting promoted to combat captain had become an extremely difficult task.

In fact, viewed from this perspective, gangs were much like corporations; getting promoted quickly was always easiest when the company was in its infancy.

In the past, one only needed a single gang fight or a period of holding one's territory against encroachment by other gangs to have a chance at becoming a captain.

But now, they actually had to punch a clock and accumulate points.

Only by working diligently every day, finding ways to improve the company, or having creative ideas and taking on more responsibility could they possibly become captains.

Many young men actively requested transfers to the Denuozhou area. While the fighting there wasn't particularly intense or frequent, at least one had a chance to get ahead if they were brave enough to fight and kill.

In New Jincheng, the dull and tedious work shattered the illusions of every young person who joined the gang.

They had come to enjoy the kind of life where people feared them, not to work nine-to-five.

But fortunately, they could still enjoy the life they wanted; the work was just dull and tedious, not exhausting, and the pay wasn't low.

Those who could still stand out in such an environment were basically people with some "foundation."

They had received a relatively complete education, at least through high school, possessed a brain slightly sharper than others, and had courage and perseverance.

As soon as the lead captain entered the motel, the adult male at the front desk stood up proactively. "Need a room..."

When his gaze first landed on the young man in the lead, the guy walking in front gave him a very strange feeling.

It was as if... his hand slowly moved into the blind spot obscured by the counter, where there was a shotgun.

At such close range, the shotgun's outstanding performance made everyone and everything equal before it.

He felt he had encountered trouble, and this shotgun gave him a sense of security.

Gangs in New Jincheng were well-behaved, but the world wasn't just gangs; there were also robbers and the like.

Especially since this was an interstate highway with heavy traffic, many criminals operated as transients along the route.

They would commit a few crimes here and leave quickly before the police could discover or react; they engaged in nationwide transient criminal activity.

According to cases discovered or solved by the federal government, one guy had committed about 170 robberies and murders along state highways.

It wasn't until he met someone he didn't get along with at an event and, in a fit of rage, claimed he had killed more than one person, adding that if the other party dared to provoke him, he wouldn't mind sending them to meet God.

The person he threatened felt the guy didn't seem to be bluffing, so they decisively called the police.

With the police intervention, they found quite a few belongings of victims in the guy's truck and home; he had kept these items as trophies, a memento of his past actions.

Ultimately, these items that allowed him to relive those feelings became the evidence that sent him to the electric chair.

If not for his loss of emotional control, the case might have dragged on for a long time.

Therefore, the interstate highway during this period was not a safe place; it was filled with danger everywhere, both on the road and off it.

Someone noticed his movement, and immediately, someone drew a pistol, while others raised the submachine guns in their hands.

The middle-aged man at the front desk also raised the shotgun in his hands, and the scene became extremely tense.

The young man standing at the very front raised his hand, looked sideways at the brothers behind him, and said, "Don't be nervous. I'll talk to him."

The middle-aged man behind the desk raised his weapon nervously. "There's nothing to talk about here. You'd better leave immediately. You're not welcome here!"

The young man wasn't intimidated by his threat but smiled and said, "Don't be nervous. We're from the Lans family."

As he spoke, he pointed to his sleeve. The middle-aged man glanced at their sleeves and finally realized this was the unique insignia of the Lans family.

But he still didn't lower his weapon. "I've never had any contact with you people."

The young man could sense the change in the middle-aged man's tone. He signaled for the people behind him to lower their weapons, which also eased the middle-aged man's attitude significantly.

"We're looking for someone. His car is parked in the parking lot outside."

The middle-aged man realized that the guy who had arrived not long ago was big trouble.

He stared at these young people for a while, then finally put down his weapon decisively.

If he made a move against Lans family members around New Jincheng, his father, who had been buried years ago, might have his bones dug up and scattered.

Moreover, he had no intention of living anywhere else; he liked it here and just wanted to spend his life in peace.

"Is there... anything I can do for you?"

The young man smiled and walked to the bar. "I believe that besides him, today, or yesterday, or the day before, a large group of people must have checked in. They're from out of town, right?"

This place was only about two hours' drive from New Jincheng. People stayed here, but not many.

Aside from some regulars who stayed here, generally speaking, there were ordinary travelers, but not many.

Renting four or five rooms a day was the limit, so when the young man asked this question, he immediately thought of the people who had checked in three days ago.

His hesitant expression was caught by the young captain, but he didn't urge him.

After about ten seconds, the middle-aged man asked, "Do the ones from three days ago count too?"

"They count. Why wouldn't they?"

The middle-aged man decided to cooperate. He stated the situation of these people and their room numbers, and pointed out the locations of these rooms on the floor plan.

After doing all this, he asked nervously, "You won't destroy my building too much, will you?"

He seemed a bit worried; if a gunfight left the place in tatters, he would be very troubled.

The young captain chuckled twice. "If it gets damaged by us, I guarantee the Boss will have a new one built for you, and besides..."

He looked around. "You're about to become a rich man."

Although the middle-aged man found it strange why he would become a rich man, he didn't ask. Compared to that, he was more concerned about his motel.

A few minutes later, in the motel corridor, which was almost quiet enough to hear no other sounds, the sound of people walking echoed.

The sound of leather shoes with iron heels stepping on the old floorboards, the sound of the floor being crushed and twisted.

Creaking and groaning, the sound wasn't loud, but it was continuous.

The young man in the room sat up, tucked his weapon behind him, and pretended to be lying on the bed.

As the sound of a key entering the lock and turning came, his breathing became a bit rapid, and his body became tense.

With a "click," everything seemed to fall into silence again, as if the sounds from before were just auditory hallucinations.

After more than ten seconds, a faint ray of light penetrated through the crack of the opened door. As the crack grew wider, the young man's heart almost jumped into his throat!

He could feel that some people had entered the room. They tried to tread as lightly as possible, but this motel had some years on it, and stepping on the floorboards always made some noise.

He even felt someone come to his side, but he had to pretend he was still sleeping.

He thought these people would do something to him immediately, but soon there was no sound, which surprised the young man.

Had a thief broken in?

He wasn't sure. He waited for another minute or two, and there was still no sound, so he had to open his eyes.

And at the very moment he opened his eyes, he saw a person standing in front of him. He had seen him before; it was a captain promoted in the first half of this year.

He hadn't just heard of him; he had met him in a bar.

They were "acquaintances" who had met a few times, but the environment and atmosphere of this meeting truly made one feel a bit wistful.

Meeting the other's somewhat playful gaze, the young man pursed his lips tightly. He was lying down, and the other was standing; they just stared at each other like that.

"Do I still need to invite you to get up?" the captain asked.

The young man slowly supported his body and sat up. He rubbed his face. "You guys came very quickly."

He looked at the people around him, but to his surprise, the others' "target" wasn't him; he had this feeling.

If someone's hatred was focused on you, like himself, he had seen Lans from afar before and couldn't help but stare at Lans from a distance with eyes full of hatred.

He knew that feeling too well, because the "target" was right there, and he had no way to ignore this target.

But now, the others' gazes weren't on him; instead, they were vigilant about the movement outside the door, which made him feel uneasy.

The next second, someone he didn't recognize closed the door and locked it, and then they each found some cover.

Just when he didn't know what was going to happen, the captain in front of him suddenly grabbed a vase used for decoration on the table and smashed it hard against his head!

In that instant, the feeling of the world spinning made him feel as if he were no longer himself; he was observing himself, knocked down on the bed, in a "soul" mode.

No pain, no fear, just lying there quietly.

Hot blood was poured into his soul like hot oil. Only then did he react, reaching out to grab the pistol behind his back. His hand had just moved when it was pinned down, and then the captain smashed the glass hard on the floor.

Then, a large amount of footsteps sounded around him. At this moment, the young man finally understood.

Their plan had been seen through. The fact that these people still came in after being seen through meant they had already made preparations.

He wanted to scream, but the pain in his head made it difficult even to open his mouth to shout. He could only listen to those "colleagues" outside shouting things like "Federal Bureau of Investigation" and "Open the door."

The next second, a gunshot made the young man shiver, but he discovered that the one who fired wasn't the person in the room, nor the colleagues outside. A large splash of blood sprayed onto the window with a "pfft," letting the light from outside pass through the blood and fall onto the curtains, red enough to make one's heart panic.

Followed by the second gunshot, the third gunshot...

At this time, the FBI agents finally reacted. The senior agent in charge of this operation also exclaimed, "This fucking thing is a trap! Fuck, hurry and find cover! Counterattack! Counterattack!"

The panicked footsteps outside and the frequent exchange of fire made the young man's heart sink lower and lower. He looked at the captain in front of him and asked hoarsely, "You all knew?"

The captain looked down at him with a disdainful gaze. "Little tricks like yours can't fool anyone!"

People in the surrounding rooms kept shouting things like "I'm hit," "I've been shot," and "Need assistance." These sounds made the young man's brain very chaotic; his whole person was buzzing at this moment!

The senior agent picked up the phone, wanting to call for support, but there was no sound in the phone at all. With the cooperation of the motel owner, they had already cut the telephone lines.

Not long after, the sound of gunfire gradually diminished, but accompanied by some cursing, the room next door shook violently, and even the entire motel shook!

The young man's eyes became even more hurt and terrifying. He also heard the voices of his colleagues from around him: "We surrender..."

The senior agent, holding his arm scratched by shrapnel, raised a white flag made from a pillowcase. His surrender also made all the FBI agents who participated in this operation heave a heavy sigh of relief.

These sons of bitches were actually throwing grenades into the rooms; they hadn't considered at all that they would encounter such a situation!

If they didn't surrender, everyone might end up dead.

With the cessation of gunfire, the surroundings became quiet again, and the young man was dragged off the bed by the captain. After confiscating his weapon, he was pushed out of the room.

When he walked into the corridor, he realized that the walls of the rooms next door were full of bullet holes.

Such motels were basically wooden structures; a two-centimeter wooden board was its "rampart." These walls couldn't stop bullets at all; even if people hid in the rooms, they would be penetrated and turned into a sieve by the dense bullets.

He looked at the senior agent who had been overbearing when talking to him earlier, now standing in front of him looking disheveled, and when he looked at himself with dissatisfied, even hateful eyes, the young man felt as if he had been punched again.

The senior agent didn't speak, just obediently left the room and came to the parking lot with the remaining dozen or so agents.

And at this time, after the captain handed the young man to others, he said a few words to Deruixi and turned to come to the motel front desk.

The middle-aged man sat there with a worried look; the gunfire and explosions just now made him feel scared, and what was worse, it had frightened quite a few of his guests.

Just after the ceasefire ended, several travelers had already secretly driven away; there was a high probability they wouldn't come back again.

The loss of the building was secondary; once some bad reputation spread, his business would be hard to do later.

The captain looked at him and couldn't help but laugh. "Don't worry. Remember what I told you just now?"

"You're about to make it big!"

He paused as he spoke. "We'll arrange for someone to come and calculate the damage to the building tomorrow during the day, and at that time, we'll ensure the compensation is in place."

"Besides, I've spoken to the big shots in the family. If you don't mind, you can open a bar here."

The middle-aged man, who had been looking dejected, was stunned for a moment, and then an expression of ecstasy appeared on his face!

Of course he knew how much money could be made selling alcohol, and he also knew that once the news spread that there was alcohol for sale here, and it was good alcohol, how many people would come specifically to drink. He was so excited that his lips were trembling.

He wiped his hands randomly on his body, wiped away the sweat in his palms, and then held the captain's hand tightly. "I don't care about compensation or not. Being able to serve the Lans family and Mr. White is my honor!"

(End of chapter) ===== CHAPTER 1150 =====