I'm in Conan, I'm not a gangster

Chapter 722 Helicopter Tracking (1st Update)
Inside the cabin, the roar of the engines and the whistling of the propellers were deafening.

Shiraishi's gun remained firmly pressed against the pilot's temple, her voice icy and devoid of any emotion: "Turn around, southeast, full speed ahead. Don't try anything funny."

Cold sweat trickled down the pilot's forehead, soaking his collar.

He felt the palpable killing intent behind him, and the cold, hard touch against his temple. His throat went dry, and he could only reply in a trembling voice, "I...I understand..."

His hands trembled slightly, but he still followed instructions and manipulated the control stick to change course. The helicopter drew an arc in the air and accelerated towards the edge of the city.

On the cabin floor, Shinichi was still panting heavily, the exhaustion of surviving the ordeal intertwined with the dizziness of being high in the air.

Vermouth had already quickly checked the captured communication equipment to make sure it was switched off. She leaned against the bulkhead, cautiously observing the model-like cityscape below.

However, their earth-shattering "car-jumping-a-roof" maneuver was simply too conspicuous and shocking.

Just as they recklessly drove their car off the roof of the parking lot, leaving a crazy trail in the air, a patrol officer who had just arrived at the scene and was preparing to participate in the ground cordon happened to look up and witness this scene that would go down in the history of Los Angeles car chases.

He was reporting his location on the walkie-talkie when the words caught in his throat, his eyes widened like saucers, and he could hardly believe what he was seeing.

He watched as the muscle car seemed to sprout wings and "flew" toward the police helicopter. Then, in the blink of an eye, several figures completed a series of actions—jumping, climbing, and entering the cabin—before the car turned into a fireball and crashed into the bottom of the parking lot.

"Holy Sh*t! Headquarters! Reporting to headquarters!" He grabbed the walkie-talkie abruptly, his voice shrill and distorted with extreme shock: "Suspects...suspects! They've hijacked the helicopter!"

"Repeat, they hijacked a police helicopter in the air! They jumped from the roof of the parking lot onto the helicopter! My God!"

The operator at the command center, upon hearing this incoherent report, immediately thought it was absurd.

He frowned and said into the microphone, "Officer, please repeat? You claim the suspect jumped into the helicopter? Please confirm your condition. Do you need medical assistance? Or did you drink alcohol last night?"

In his opinion, it was either a hallucination caused by excessive stress, or some jerk playing a prank.

"I'm fucking sober! I haven't been drinking! I swear on my badge!" the patrolman yelled furiously into the radio, pointing excitedly at the sky: "That helicopter, its registration number should be Air-5!"

"It's turning now, flying southeast! Every word I'm saying is true! They really have taken to the sky!"

Hearing the other party's almost cracking voice of assurance and vow to stake their career, the operator's doubt gradually gave way to seriousness.

He hesitated for a moment, realizing that things might really be beyond the realm of common sense.

He immediately switched the internal communication channel and tried to contact the pilot on the helicopter.

"Air-5, this is command center. Please respond. Report your current status." The operator's voice remained as steady as possible.

The only sounds on the channel were the hissing of electricity and the background noise of propellers: "Air-5, if you have been hijacked and cannot communicate freely, please remain silent."

There was still a deathly silence on the other end of the communication line.

This silence, like the final, heavy weight, definitively confirmed the truth of the patrolman's frantic report.

The operator's heart sank. He immediately grabbed another emergency communication line, his voice more urgent than ever before: "Attention all units! Highest alert! Suspect has hijacked the police helicopter Air-5!"

"Repeated: The suspect has hijacked a police helicopter! The last known location is that he is moving southeast! All air units are to intercept him immediately!"

"Ground units are tracking the helicopter's signal and evacuating the possible landing area! They...they escaped from the sky!"

The news was like a boulder thrown into a calm lake, instantly creating a huge wave across all the Los Angeles Police Department's channels.

The police officers who were originally setting up a perimeter around the shopping mall and searching for the suspect who had "fallen out of the car and fled" were completely dumbfounded.

The senior officer in the command vehicle ripped off his headset and cursed incredulously.

More police cars, sirens blaring, converged on the direction the helicopter was flying, like a swarm of bees startled. In the distance, two other police helicopters on other missions also received orders, immediately changed direction, accelerated, and like two falcons spotting their target, flanked the "defected" Air-5.

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The roar of the helicopter engine continued incessantly, and an eerie calm permeated the cabin, yet undercurrents were surging beneath the surface.

Vermouth leaned against the porthole, her sharp gaze sweeping across the spiderweb-like streets below like a hawk's.

Suddenly, she frowned slightly and said softly, "The little ones down there seem to have become unusually active."

Almost simultaneously, Shinichi, who was clinging tightly to the other side of the porthole and whose heart was still pounding, also noticed something was wrong.

He pointed down, his voice hoarse with tension: "Oh no! They've spotted us! Look, so many police cars! And they're heading straight for us!"

Below, amidst the previously scattered traffic, flashing red and blue police lights stood out conspicuously. Like iron filings attracted by a magnet, they converged from all directions, subtly forming a tracking pattern.

Faced with this imminent crisis, Shiraishi E simply adjusted her sitting posture lazily, with the muzzle of her gun still casually pointed at the back of the pilot's head.

He even curled his lips into an almost mocking smile: "That's normal. Our aerial acrobatics performance was so loud, unless you're blind, it would be hard not to notice."

Seeing that the two of them were both incredibly calm, as if being chased by the entire city's police force was nothing out of the ordinary, Shinichi couldn't help but ask anxiously, "So what exactly are you planning to do? You can't just keep flying in the sky forever, can you? The fuel will run out sooner or later!"

"What should we do?" Shiraishi E chuckled as if she had heard an interesting question, a hint of cat-and-mouse playfulness flashing in her eyes: "Of course, we should... play along with them and give these overly energetic police officers a run for their money."

As he spoke, he leaned forward slightly and tapped the pilot's helmet lightly with the cold barrel of his gun, his tone leaving no room for doubt: "Turn around, fly along this river, slow down, and wait for our friends who are struggling to catch up on the ground."

The pilot felt a cold touch on the back of his head, his Adam's apple bobbed nervously, and his heart was filled with fear and helplessness. But he still followed instructions and operated the control stick, making the helicopter draw a gentle arc and reduce its speed, like bait, deliberately waiting for the hound to approach.

Sure enough, as the helicopter changed speed and direction, more and more police cars below were able to track it, and the piercing sirens even faintly penetrated the noise of the propellers.

A long line of flashing police lights closely followed the trajectory of the helicopter in the air, creating a rather "spectacular" scene.

Shiraishi E leisurely admired the scene through the porthole, as if he were watching a play he had directed.

After estimating that the police convoy had been drawn long enough and concentrated enough, he calmly gave the order again: "Alright, game time is over. Now, turn around and head full speed to the busiest and heaviest area in the city center!"

"Sir... the airspace over the city center is strictly controlled, and low-altitude flight is extremely dangerous..." the pilot tried to make a last-ditch effort.

“Do as he says,” Vermouth added calmly from the side, her tone carrying an undeniable pressure.

The pilot gritted his teeth, pulled the control stick sharply, and the helicopter skillfully changed direction again. The engine roared even louder as it sped towards the heart of the city center, where skyscrapers stood tall and lights shone brightly in the distance.

The change of direction was extremely sudden and fast.

The long line of police cars on the ground immediately descended into chaos.

Many vehicles on the congested streets simply didn't have time to make such a sharp turn and could only watch helplessly as the helicopter sped away.

Meanwhile, the pursuing police cars, after attempting to follow the turn and accelerate into the city center, immediately found themselves caught in the chaotic traffic congestion reminiscent of evening rush hour.

Narrow streets, dense traffic lights, pedestrians crossing the road... all of these became obstacles that the police car could not overcome.

The piercing sirens, instead of a source of anxiety, became the source of the unease. Trapped in the steel torrent, they could only futilely flash their overhead lights.

The police officer in charge of the operation yelled into the walkie-talkie in frustration, but he couldn't change the reality of the traffic paralysis.

In the end, they could only look up helplessly, watching the helicopter glide lightly through the gaps between skyscrapers like a ghost in the dark night, quickly disappearing behind the rows of buildings. They then reported the news of "losing the target" to headquarters with immense frustration and disappointment.

(End of this chapter)