The real life of an American police officer: Winning over others with virtue

Chapter 230 Dare not gamble

Riverbed hub old freight marshalling yard.

A mobile command vehicle was already parked in a nearby safe area.

"Target train, arriving in six minutes!" The intelligence analyst's voice rang out in the command vehicle, filled with the blue glow of electronic screens and the cacophony of communications.

FBI Los Angeles Field Office Assistant Special Agent Supervisor Hayes stared intently at the train's real-time location dot on the central screen, his face grave.

It's no wonder he was so nervous; after all, a suicide bomber is a big deal no matter where you are.

He was surrounded by HRT Commander Marcus, ECT (Bomb Disposal) Director Reyes, and LAPD Counterterrorism Director Davis, among others.

Several FBI agents stood behind them, including Agent Bragi, who was in charge of investigating the Rusty Harbor gang case and leading the investigation into the factory.

Further back were some police officers in Los Angeles Police Department uniforms.

In an instant, all relevant departments in Los Angeles were mobilized due to the suicide bombing.

“HRT, final confirmation!” Hayes’s voice rang out.

Captain Marcus immediately issued the order into the encrypted channel: "Sniper team report!"

"Point A is in position, field of view is clear, thermal imaging calibration is complete."

"Point B in position, target carriage door locked."

"Assault team?"

"Team A, ready, behind the bunker on the left side of the track."

"Team B is ready, inside the abandoned carriage on the right."

"Technical team?"

"Signal suppression ready, but warning: the effectiveness of the remote detonator is questionable. Life detectors indicate a single heat source in the target bathroom with minimal movement."

Everyone was nervously preparing to welcome the train that was about to arrive.

Unexpectedly, a phone call from the female train conductor, Belin, broke the somber atmosphere.

She revealed Eric's existence.

In their hesitation, everyone involuntarily turned their attention to the Los Angeles Police Department personnel at the very back.

Seeing the group of Los Angeles Police Department officers looking at each other in bewilderment and somewhat agitated, Hayes frowned slightly.

He had actually heard of the name even without being reminded by the Los Angeles Police Department.

Because the matter of Anli Cafe could not be kept secret from people of his rank.

Besides the incident at Anley Cafe, Hayes had even heard about Delta Air Lines flight UA567.

Eric Stevens played a very important role in this.

But Hayes instinctively glanced at Davis, the head of the LAPD's counterterrorism division, who was standing next to him.

The other party was LAPD's highest-ranking technical commander and key contact person on site.

Davis looked hesitant at this moment, but feeling the many gazes on him, he forced a smile.

As part of the Los Angeles Police Department, he naturally knew Eric. He had heard that a formidable figure had emerged from the West Canyon Police Department, and had even considered poaching him.

"He is indeed one of ours, a second-class patrol officer at the West Canyon Division of the LAPD, who participated in last year's counter-terrorism exercise codenamed 'Railway Shield' at the Riverbed marshalling yard."

He served as a peripheral worker in the simulated hostage situation.

At this point, Davis paused for a moment: "All I can say is that he is definitely not an ordinary person."

Hayes remained expressionless and glanced at the staff member in front of him.

The staff member provided the answer: "The database is confirmed to be correct."

Marcus's face was tense as he said, "The plan remains unchanged! HRT is the only one with professional counter-terrorism assault training!"
He was alone, without equipment or backup, facing a target wearing a suicide vest? The success rate was unpredictable! The risk was too great!

Although he knew the young man might be very capable, as a commander, he instinctively rejected any unplanned variables.

"Yes."

"."

Then, Davis gave a wink to the LAPD officers behind him, signaling them to quickly notify the bigwigs at the Los Angeles Police Department.

There's a young man on the train!

----------------

While the Los Angeles Police Department was both shocked and furious, progress continued on the train.

The passengers in the carriages on either side of the restroom had long been cleared away by the train staff and moved away from this area.

Eric was left standing alone outside the bathroom door. He nodded to Belin, who was standing nervously in the front carriage.

I watched her leave in a hurry.

Eric took a deep breath, dialed Belin's number again, staring intently at the bathroom door, then at the front of the train carriage door.

“Officer Eric, I’m ready.”

Eric whispered, "Open the car door."

"Ok."

As Belin's tense voice rang out, the front carriage door clicked open, and a notification light illuminated indicating that it could be opened by pressing the button.

Eric silently exhaled, put away his phone, and pulled out a Sig Sauer P365-380 from behind his back, aiming the muzzle steadily at the bathroom door.

Because of the incident at the Anri Cafe, he submitted the shotgun and Staccato 2011 P pistol to the FBI as evidence, but the Sig Sauer P365-380 pistol, which he had never fired, was returned to its rightful owner.

In addition, American train stations do not have the same widespread and mandatory security checks as airports.

It mainly relies on random checks based on risk and intelligence.

Security is ensured through police patrols, random baggage checks, random identity checks, on-vehicle inspections, and intelligence-driven temporary enhancement measures.

So he still managed to carry the self-defense pistol he got from Tifa.

This is why a suicide bomber in a restroom was able to board a train safely while wearing a bomb vest.

As for why the FBI knew there was a bomber on the train, they probably received reliable intelligence from somewhere.

Eric stared intently at the bathroom door, his breathing becoming labored and labored.

If his guess is correct, the bomber in the restroom should have come out when the train stopped, in order to cause maximum casualties.

If things become unmanageable, and for the sake of his own life, he would shoot and kill the bomber the moment he stepped out of the restroom after the train stopped.

"635647"

Eric was completely absorbed in the scene before him, silently counting down the time until the train started to stop.

In his eyes, space was like a frozen space, and time seemed to stretch out at that moment.

But just as he mentally counted down twenty-five seconds and felt the train beneath his feet slowly slowing down, the restroom indicator light turned from red to green, and the word "occupied" in the notification bar below instantly changed to "free."

Eric didn't move. Instead, his pupils contracted rapidly as he stared intently at the still-closed bathroom door, licking his dry lips. Hearing the chaotic breathing inside, as if the room was preparing itself, Eric remained motionless.

With only fifteen seconds left in the countdown, he still didn't move, just staring at the bathroom door that hadn't been opened yet.

Suppressed sobs reached his ears, but Eric remained rooted to the spot, his gun still steady.

Actually, he wants to run away now.

If he had a choice, he would like to complete the task and try to do something, but he really didn't dare to gamble.

Gamblers always lose.

Just as Eric made a certain decision, the bathroom door lock clicked open!

The door was opened.

A South Asian man, nearing thirty, wearing a black baseball cap, a gray shirt, and a green jacket, walked out, his face covered in sweat.

When he suddenly saw Eric, he was stunned, his pupils contracted, and his heart raced.

He had no idea there was someone outside the bathroom, and that this person was even pointing a gun at him.

Before he could react or even try to do anything about it.

boom!
Gunshots rang out in the relatively enclosed connecting area between the carriages, like a thunderclap from a clear sky.

In a split second, Eric decisively pulled the trigger and fired.
.
The .380 ACP bullet pierced precisely between the eyebrows of the South Asian man who had just stepped out of the bathroom doorway.

Although the bullets are less powerful, they can still exert considerable force on vital areas.

The impact of the bullet caused the South Asian man's head to snap back, his baseball cap flying off and tumbling through the air.

The extreme fear and bewilderment on his face, mixed with sweat, was frozen in time at the moment of bullet contact, and then covered by the splatter of red and white substances.

The last image in his pupils was the young man who had fired the gun. He wondered if it was just his imagination, but he thought he saw a look of apology in the man's eyes.

In his mind's eye, he seemed to hear the other person say sorry. As darkness overturned his vision, the bomber suddenly felt a little relieved.

May peace come to you.

Time was stretched to one ten-thousandth of a second.

Eric could clearly see that the last glimmer of light in the South Asian man's eyes was completely extinguished, like a candle flame that had been put out.

Her entire body felt as if all support had been removed, and she slumped backward, crashing heavily back into the cramped bathroom, hitting the edge of the toilet with a dull thud.

The hand gripping the green jacket on his chest twitched suddenly on a nerve reflex, then fell limply, revealing the remote control switch hidden inside.

"Hoo~" Eric exhaled a breath of stale air, his eyes filled with complex emotions as he stared at the corpse lying half-dead in the bathroom, remaining silent.

He still didn't dare to gamble.

After seeing and confirming that the bomb was remotely controlled, they still chose to fire, thus eliminating the threat once and for all.

Unfortunately, the mission has likely failed.

The mission required not only to save the passengers on the train and resolve the suicide bombing incident, but also to save the bomber who still had a conscience.

Now that the bomber is dead, how can we talk about saving him?

Eric glanced at the virtual window floating in the void.

The tasks below have slowly faded away without a trace.

"What a pity, this is the first time I've encountered a mission worth two points." Eric felt regret, but he wasn't too emotionally affected.

He didn't regret firing the shot.

Although these two rewards seem like a lot, they are actually not easy to obtain. The key to completing the mission is to gamble on the bomber's mind.

What if you make the wrong bet and can't persuade the bomber to stop, and he still wants to bomb?
By the time it gets to that point, it will be too late for him to regret it.

This was a way he didn't like; ultimately, fate had to be in his own hands.

He had already decided to take this approach, and the reason he stayed behind to resolve the matter was because of the passengers on the train.

This is where inner demons truly arise.

Eric held the Sig Sauer P365-380 in his right hand and took out his phone with his left hand to continue dialing Belle's number.

"What happened, Officer Eric? That was... a gunshot?"

Hearing Belin's anxious voice, Eric said, "Tell them he was close to thirty years old, a South Asian male, wearing a suicide vest, probably a remote-controlled bomb, and that I killed him."
Also, the bomb has not been defused and an ECT specialist needs to get in the car immediately. Again, the bomb has not been defused!
Evacuate all passengers from the train carriages.

On the other end of the phone, Belin was completely petrified.

After giving the instructions, Eric felt a tingling sensation in his shoulder.

Looking up at the train window, Eric could almost see a sniper hiding in a crane truck not far ahead.

"So this is what it feels like to be sniped?" Eric thought to himself, silently memorizing the words. He released the safety from his pistol, held it on his index finger, and raised his hands towards the sniper to indicate that he posed no threat.

What Eric didn't know was that at the edge of his line of sight, the sniper hiding in the crane was looking at Eric through his scope, feeling a chill run down his spine.

How did he know I was here?

Eric could be seen raising his hands in a signal, and the sniper took a deep breath and quickly reported into the communicator:
"Alpha reports! The situation has changed. The target of the threat has been suspected of being killed and is lying in the bathroom."

The suspect who fired the shot was disarmed, with the pistol safety off and hanging from his index finger, his hands raised high in a non-threatening posture!
Repeat, the posture is non-threatening! He...he seems to know my location! He was just looking at me!

Inside the command vehicle.

The FBI and LAPD officials, who heard everything through Belle's hands-free communication and the sniper's report, fell into a deathly silence.

The countdown on the screen shows four seconds left.

Hayes opened his mouth, watching the signal point representing the train on the screen still moving, watching the HRT commandos still holding their breath and waiting behind the bunkers in the abandoned station, and then watching the earth-shattering events that had occurred in less than a second in the communication log.
Hayes was truly at a loss for words; he was even somewhat confused and questioning the meaning of life.
"This incredibly troublesome issue was just resolved like that? Every department in Los Angeles, big and small, was mobilized to solve it? And that's it?"

To be honest, he had even prepared for the worst, because by the time the ECT specialist got in the car, it would be too late.

As for snipers, that's a last resort; no one can guarantee that a sniper can kill the bomber on the spot before he detonates the bomb.

Hayes glanced subconsciously at Davis, the head of the LAPD's counterterrorism division, who had a strange expression, then slowly picked up the communicator and issued new instructions to the entire operations channel.

"Attention all units, plan changed, target has been fatally subdued by police officer Stevens on the train."

Repeat, target has been eliminated.

HRT, ECT team! Advance immediately! The train is about to stop! Prepare for bomb disposal! Hurry!

The train finally came to a stop.

Eric listened carefully to the sounds around him, and when he felt that the tingling sensation in his body had disappeared, he began to move slowly and tentatively to make sure there were no problems.

Eric glanced one last time at the body lying in the bathroom, soaked in blood, sighed inwardly, opened the carriage door, and jumped out.

In the dim light, a group of heavily armed special police officers, carrying ladders or shields, emerged from the shadows of the parked train.

Seeing the SWAT team looking like they were facing a formidable enemy, Eric threw his Sig Sauer P365-380 pistol onto the track in front of him, stood still, raised his hands, and shouted.

"Don't shoot!! I'm a police officer! LAPD! Eric Stevens!!"

(End of this chapter)