105: Chapter 105 Citywide Lockdown

"Chief Sullivan is currently requesting instructions from the Mayor's office, and the SWAT team is still assembling."

The voice of Jack Martin came through the earpiece, accompanied by the clatter of keyboard typing.

"According to their procedures, it will take at least two hours to seal off the main entrances and exits of Brooklyn. By then, those Russians will have already turned Miller into sashimi."

Chen Mo opened the car door and sat inside the inconspicuous black Chevrolet.

"That is their procedure, not mine."

He started the car, the engine roaring with a low rumble.

The windshield wipers began to work again, sweeping away the annoying rain.

"Connect me to Ava."

After a few seconds of a busy signal, the voice of Ava Rockefeller sounded, carrying a hint of laziness; she was clearly still enjoying breakfast time in the Upper East Side.

"So early? If you want to ask me out for dinner, I'll have to check my schedule."

"I want to lock down Brooklyn," Chen Mo said without wasting words, turning the steering wheel.

"In the name of City Hall, mobilize the National Guard. Make up your own reason; terrorist attack, chemical leak, or even an alien invasion, I don't care."

The other end of the line was silent for a second.

Ava's voice changed instantly. The socialite's laziness vanished without a trace, replaced by the sharpness of a predator.

"Do you know how much political capital it costs to mobilize the National Guard? If nothing is found afterward..."

"Miller has been kidnapped, and the Russians did it," Chen Mo interrupted her.

"If a high-ranking officer of the New York Police Department is kidnapped and executed by foreign armed personnel in broad daylight, the Mayor's approval rating will plummet to the bottom of the Mariana Trench.

Tell that bald fat man that I am helping him keep his seat."

"...I understand," Ava did not ask again. "Ten minutes. In ten minutes, you will see roadblocks."

"Very good."

Chen Mo hung up the phone and immediately dialed the second number.

This time, it connected quickly. In the background, there was deafening heavy metal music and women's screaming.

"Bo... Boss?" Richie's voice sounded shaky; he was clearly frightened.

"Get all your people out on the streets," Chen Mo stared at the police station building in the rearview mirror, his tone as flat as if he were discussing the weather.

"Stop all business, whether it's selling powder, stealing cars, or pimping. I want every pair of eyes watching the intersections."

"Ev... everyone?" Richie asked, stuttering. "But boss, if the cops see so many people on the street..."

"The cops don't have time to deal with you right now." Chen Mo slammed on the accelerator, and the Chevrolet shot onto the main road like an arrow off a bowstring.

"Tell the boys below that whoever can find that blood-stained cement truck, or any suspicious personnel speaking Russian, I will waive their protection money for a year and give them an extra $100,000 in cash."

A gasp came from the other end of the line, followed by excited roars.

"Also," Chen Mo added.

"If anyone dares to slack off at this time, or takes the opportunity to cause trouble, tomorrow morning, I will personally find them a spot in the Hudson River."

"Understood! I'm going now!"

Hanging up the phone, Chen Mo glanced out the window.

The rain was getting heavier, and the entire city was shrouded in gloom. But this was exactly the color he wanted.

"Jack, how is it on Nightingale's side?"

"Already connected." Jack's voice became somewhat excited.

"We used the backdoor of the data company we acquired earlier to brute-force 80 percent of the private surveillance cameras in Brooklyn.

Convenience stores, gas stations, ATMs, and even some doorbell cameras of private residences."

Chen Mo's car screen flickered, and an electronic map of Brooklyn popped up.

It was densely lit with countless red dots, each representing an electronic eye.

"They thought they could become invisible by cutting off the police's surveillance network," Chen Mo sneered. "But in New York, the real eyes never belong to the police."

This city is a giant monster, and Chen Mo is currently taking over its nervous system.

Ten minutes later.

The entrance to the Williamsburg Bridge in Brooklyn.

Two grass-green Humvee military vehicles were parked across the middle of the road, and several National Guard soldiers in camouflage uniforms were setting up roadblocks.

The armed soldiers waved at passing vehicles, signaling them to stop for inspection.

Siren sounds echoed throughout the city, and the roar of helicopter rotors came from the sky.

And in those dark corners where the police couldn't see, hundreds of street thugs wearing hoodies and tattoos poured out.

They were either squatting at street corners smoking, or pretending to fix cars by the roadside, their greedy and vigilant eyes staring intensely at every stranger passing by.

A huge net was tightening at an astonishing speed.

Those Russians were wolves, fierce, professional, and well-coordinated.

But they made a fatal mistake.

They thought this was just a jungle, and that as long as their fangs were sharp enough, they could run wild.

But this is New York.

This is a giant glass fish tank, and in Chen Mo's hand, he holds the only hammer.

"Boss, found it."

Nightingale's voice suddenly came through the earpiece, and even through radio transmission, it still carried a chill.

"An abandoned auto repair shop on Fourth Avenue. Five minutes ago, a surveillance camera at a nearby grocery store captured a Ford van without license plates driving in. The rear tires were weighed down heavily, it was carrying heavy cargo."

"Also," Nightingale paused, "the owner of that grocery store said he heard someone in the van cursing in Russian."

Chen Mo slammed the steering wheel, and the Chevrolet drifted on the wet and slippery road, the tires screeching harshly against the ground, leaving two scorched black marks.

"Send me the coordinates."

Chen Mo reached into the passenger seat glove box, pulled out the M1911, skillfully chambered a round, and then hung the police badge he had swiped from Miller's office around his neck.

"Jack, cut off all communication signals in that area. I want to make them deaf and blind."

"Nightingale, find a high vantage point."

Chen Mo looked at the blurry street in the rain ahead and floored the accelerator.

"Since they want to play a game of fingers, then I will go and teach them what it means to pay back with interest."