Taxes are only within machine gun range!

Chapter 9 Race against time
Milton sat in the driver's seat of the new car, his hands gripping the steering wheel, and drove toward the checkpoint, his expression inscrutable.

"Woo——"

A police car with its siren blaring sped past us at an astonishing speed.

“The sixth police car…” Milton watched the police disappear from sight and muttered to himself, “This is the first one I’ve seen. I’m afraid half of the town’s police force, no, more than half, has been transferred there.”

In broad daylight, on the highway, a group of thugs openly shot and killed a policeman and then detonated a bomb in his car!
Police stations anywhere would go crazy.

As the thick black smoke drew ever closer, Milton still felt a sense of relief, as if he had just escaped a disaster.

Milton was almost certain that these "thugs" were actually after him.

These robbers attacked the target vehicle as soon as they saw it, unaware that the person sitting inside was not the real target.

If Milton hadn't impulsively decided to test the two officers; if he hadn't chosen to fix the car first, he would be the one blown up into the sky now!
A true brush with death!

“I didn’t underestimate their determination, but I underestimated their speed of action.” Milton stared at the approaching plumes of smoke, carefully reflecting on his mistake. “I thought they would at least wait until my next field mission before launching a surprise attack, but I didn’t expect…”

Unexpectedly, Fan Kangbang's answer was not "three days later", not "one day later", not even "three hours later", but "now"!
Indeed, you can never treat the enemy as a fool, and you should never think that you can calmly and leisurely make all the preparations to face the enemy in the best possible condition.

This was a profound lesson, but fortunately, due to unforeseen circumstances, it did not lead to serious consequences; instead, it brought about a significant turn of events.

Fan Kang's intentions were exposed, the assassin team fled in panic, and the local police force was thoroughly enraged.

This operation also resulted in the deployment of police along the roads leading from the town back to the checkpoint, effectively ensuring their safety and eliminating the possibility of the assassin gang launching a surprise attack.

But that doesn't mean Milton is truly safe—those killers with deadly weapons are still in town, plotting to take Milton's life.

A second attack was inevitable.

Luck is unlikely to smile upon him a second time.

Milton drove his pickup truck a little further and finally saw the "accident scene," the car that had been blown to smithereens.

Beside the charred wreckage, several grim-faced police officers could be seen huddled in a circle, occasionally picking up walkie-talkies to talk to their colleagues.

Next to the police officer were several border control officials who were clearly being ignored.

This included Horn, a checkpoint patrolman and also the car's owner. He looked at the wreckage of his beloved vehicle, his hands trembling with heartache.

The car I lent out was found lying in pieces when I returned!

Milton silently apologized to his colleague and then parked the car nearby.

The officers on the side initially wanted to step forward to stop him, but stopped when they saw the outfit Milton was wearing.

But the look of dissatisfaction on his face did not diminish at all.

It's all because the checkpoint was lax in its supervision that this gang of thugs was able to get through.
With such a huge commotion, the border inspection station cannot shirk its responsibility!

Milton ignored the officers, turned off the engine, got out of the car, and walked straight toward the wreckage.

When Horn saw Milton approaching, a hint of relief flashed across his face, which quickly turned into a look of reproach.

In the end, he just sighed, stepped forward and patted Milton on the shoulder: "Never mind... as long as you're alive, I won't blame you this time."

He knew that his colleague was also a victim, and that Milton was not to blame for the car being blown up, nor was it Milton's responsibility.

Milton glanced at the officers, then, without mincing words or pleasantries, lowered his voice and said, "Horn, do you want justice?"

Horn was taken aback, not expecting his colleague to ask such a question. He then shook his head with a wry smile: "I can only think about it."

Who doesn't know that this attack was planned by Fan Kang Gang, and who doesn't know that Fan Kang Gang is deeply involved with the checkpoint?

Seeking justice?
Whom can I seek justice from?
Milton glanced around to make sure he wasn't being eavesdropped on before continuing in a rapid-fire voice, "Whether it's Maynard or Varta, they're both colluding with the Van Cameron gang and won't help you get justice."

“There are very few people at the entire checkpoint who would be their enemy.”

"Besides me, there's only me. Do you understand what I mean?"

Milton stared at Horn—based on their time together, the change in his expression just now, and the fact that he knew who the enemy was but didn't blame himself too much, he was a rather timid person, adept at navigating the organization, but still maintaining a basic moral compass. Such a seasoned veteran wouldn't normally be easy to win over.

But after suffering a major loss, with most of his savings gone, fueled by anger and hatred, he might be able to temporarily win over his own side.

Don't be fooled by Horn's calm demeanor—anyone would be furious and desperate after seeing their new car, bought with a huge loan and costing a fortune, destroyed.

Even if you lose your car, you still have to pay the loan!

A flicker of hesitation crossed Horn's eyes, but a glance at the wrecked car beside him quickly overwhelmed it with fear. He shook his head. "Never mind... I can't afford to offend them. I still have family..."

Milton didn't expect Horn to be able to make up his mind—changing a person isn't like a melodramatic movie or cartoon, where a few words are enough.

“I don’t need you to declare war on the Fan Kang gang. You just need to help me gather as much rough intelligence as possible about smuggling at checkpoints when you’re out on missions. Isn’t that exactly your strength? And there won’t be any danger.”

Time was of the essence, and Milton only wanted minimal cooperation, merely to temporarily incorporate Horn into his "informant" network.

Milton can share any intelligence gathered by his "teammates" directly in the panel, even if he is not at the checkpoint.

If someone is seen smuggling weapons, especially submachine guns, it could very well mean that the next round of attacks is imminent.

With the stationmaster giving the green light, Milton believed the assassins wouldn't take the long way around; they would definitely go through the checkpoint route from Mexico to Guatemala!
Hearing Milton's words, Horn fell into deep hesitation.

All that's needed is to gather some rough intelligence...

It seems there is indeed no danger.

Thinking about his beloved car, the monthly payment he had to make in a couple of days, and the fact that he might have to put on a smiling face for the culprit, Horn's expression twisted, and he mustered his courage: "Okay, I agree! But I'll reiterate, I will not directly get involved in your conflict."

Once the fighting really breaks out, will you still have a choice?
You can't be a fence-sitter for long...

Milton looked at the panel, confirmed that Horn had become an "informant," and nodded: "Very good."

Horn let out a sigh of relief: "Give me a ride. We shouldn't need to deal with this anymore. Let's go back to the checkpoint."

Milton instinctively reached for his nod in agreement—he had originally planned to return to the checkpoint first, to rest in this relatively safe place, and to think of a solution.

But as his gaze swept over the wreckage once more, Milton suddenly remembered the lesson he had just learned—

Never assume you can calmly and leisurely prepare everything to face the enemy in the best possible condition!
Escaping back to the checkpoint seemed like the safest option—Station Chief Varta wanted to maintain his image and keep the morale of the checkpoint staff in check, and had no intention of taking action himself.

It is highly unlikely that you will be attacked if you stay at the station for three days without going out on duty.

But if you think about it carefully, what's the point?

Every move inside the station is under Varta's surveillance; no matter how much preparation one has made, it will all be exposed!
Furthermore, delaying the attack within the station for three days would only make the enemy more certain of the exact time and location of the attack.

It may seem safe, and it may seem like you're just buying time, but in reality, you're trapping yourself in a cage of slow death.

If you want to survive, you can't go back!

“I still have some things to take care of in town.” Milton’s mind was unusually calm at this moment, and his voice did not tremble at all. “I won’t go back to the station for now.”

He had an extremely bold and crazy plan in his mind.

Isn't Fan Kang's gang fast?

Don't you like to ambush people?
Then I'll be faster than you!

You think I'll hide at the checkpoint for three days and then get kicked to death by a prepared assassin?
No! Milton is going to make his move tonight and take care of all these Van Cameron assassins!

He's going to attack the assassins from Fan Kang's gang!
The plan and its goals may seem crazy, but Milton was not acting on a whim.

The town's police force deployment will inevitably become more lax over time, and the Fan Kang gang, backed by the assassin, will certainly regroup during this period and make more thorough preparations for the assassination.

With the town under heavy police presence and the assassins constantly on the run, Milton is free to walk the streets. It's a rare opportunity for Milton to be in the dark while the enemy is in the open!
This opportunity may only last half a day to a day, and it may be one of Milton's few advantageous periods, the only chance he can hope for to turn the tide.

We were not prepared, and neither was the enemy!
There were no low-intensity, laughable probing attempts, no childish games, and no slow, melodramatic pacing like in a soap opera.

Come on, let's have a final battle!
(End of this chapter)