Law America, the Devil's Agent

Chapter 97 Helicopter Attack! Link's Death? (Part 2)

The men of Mankla tied up the flamingo's corpses and the two surviving prisoners tightly and stuffed them into the trunk of the off-road vehicle. They then cleaned up the shell casings and weapon fragments scattered on the gravel road.

The former is the witness Link will need later, while the latter is for dealing with the approaching police.

As for when the police will arrive?

Everything was in line with the plan that Elena had revealed to Link.

The shunting yard fell silent again, with only a few old mercury lamps humming softly, illuminating the wreckage of the crashed cars and the shattered glass scattered on the ground.

Link stood next to his Aston Martin.

He looked at the battered car body, touched the row of bullet holes above the rear wheel hub with his finger, and then looked down at the right rear wheel:

The tires were already flat, and the rims were digging into the gravel road. No wonder the last stretch of road felt like dancing on a steel plate.

He sighed, took his phone out of his pocket, and dialed the towing company's number.

"You're already feeling sorry for me?"

Daniel leaned against the door of the AnDun armored vehicle, looking at Link's expression, and couldn't help but grin: "It's heartbreaking to see a car worth hundreds of thousands of dollars damaged like this."

But at least it took so many bullets for you and saved your life, so it was worth it.

Say goodbye to it, see you at the repair shop.

"Yes, let's leave it at that."

See you at the repair shop.

If it can't be repaired, just send it to the junkyard; it's still a trophy after all.

Link was decisive; he shook his head and pulled his thoughts back from his mind.

He then hung up the phone, patted the roof of the car, and turned to walk towards the spare black SUV at the back of the Antun convoy.

Costello was already sitting in the passenger seat. The wound on his left arm had been re-bandaged, and his face was still a little pale, but at least it had stopped bleeding.

Linkla opened the car door, got into the driver's seat, started the engine, and followed behind Daniel's armored vehicle, merging into the Shield convoy on its way back to the safe house.

The carriage was quiet for a while.

Costello looked down at his bandaged left arm and suddenly spoke, his voice hoarse and excited, a sound unique to survivors of a disaster.

"Just now in that abandoned factory, when you walked between the first and second cars, I thought we were done for."

And at that intersection, you slammed on the brakes and then feinted, causing the cars behind you to crash into each other. God is my witness, at that moment I was already prepared to meet him.

He turned to look at Link, his eyes, worn smooth by the dust of the parish archives for so many years and repeatedly washed by the smoke and fear of tonight, now shining almost unreal!

"You saved my life, Link."

Not just once. It happened several times.

"Don't say that. You helped me get the file, and I'll help you come back alive."

Costello smiled and nodded.

"At every intersection, every time they came at us, every time I thought we couldn't escape this time, you led us out in ways I can't even describe."

Your driving skills are amazing!

"It's not just about saving you, Costello. I'm saving myself too. We're in this together."

Is this considered a fair trade?

Link turned the steering wheel half a turn to the left, swerving around a pothole in the road.

"No, this is not a deal."

Costello shook his head, his tone suddenly becoming serious: "Deals can be measured in money. What you did tonight cannot be measured in money."

We are friends, Link.

It is an honor for me to say this at a time like this.

"Then I am honored, Reverend Costello."

He adjusted the car's speed, glanced at Costello, and a slight smile appeared on his lips.

The carriage fell silent for a moment. Then Costello's expression slowly changed, the exhilaration of surviving the ordeal gradually being replaced by a deeper, more repressed emotion.

He gripped the seatbelt in front of his chest with his right hand, his knuckles slowly tightening.

"Ferland".

When he uttered the name, his tone was no longer respectful, but rather one of anger that had been suppressed for a long time and no longer needed to be concealed.

"He smiled at me in the office, and when he pushed the keys to me, his smile was so genuine."

At the time, I thought he just wanted to keep me from overworking, and that he was genuinely understanding that I had been cooped up in the office for too long.

He even wished me a happy weekend.

With that smile, he personally pushed me into the line of fire.

And Martinez, Carole, Sister Margaret—

They were still drinking tea and chatting at that table before I left. They definitely knew what Ferran was doing; they all knew.

Damn it, they're all accomplices!

"Say less."

Sensing the heightened emotions in the back seat, Link quickly interrupted him.

"You're still bleeding, getting too emotional will hinder the healing of your wound."

"I know, I just—"

"I will make these people you mentioned pay for what they did."

but not now.

Now take a breath, drink some water, and lower your blood pressure.

We're not safe yet; I need you to stay alert.

Costello took a deep breath, nodded, and said nothing more.

He leaned his head back in the chair, closed his eyes, and silently murmured what sounded like some kind of prayer that only he could hear.

Link looked away, gripped the steering wheel with one hand, and used the other to pick up his phone.

The screen showed two missed calls. One was from Elena; the other was from Cona, who called three times.

He put his phone back on the holder above the center console and didn't call back immediately.

The next moment, the hairs on his body stood on end.

It wasn't something I heard or saw, but rather that the string of battlefield intuition I had inherited from Klaus was plucked without warning.

[Crisis Premonition - Expert Level]

But he has already solved all the problems, so why does he still have a premonition?

Never mind! Better safe than sorry.

Before the crisis was even triggered, his right foot had already moved from the accelerator to the brake, and he was jerking the steering wheel with both hands!

The next moment, the car body seemed to be pushed hard from the right side by an invisible hand, and the whole car was thrown to the left in a violent arc.

"Crunch"

The tires screeched and whistled across the asphalt.

Immediately afterwards, something trailing a plume of flame swooped down from the right side of the night sky, grazed the right rear of the SUV, and crashed onto the road, exploding into a ball of orange-red fire.

The shockwave shattered all the right-side windows, and glass shards flew into the cabin like a rainstorm.

As the explosion rang in his ears, Link felt something sharp cut his right cheek, and warm liquid trickled down his cheekbone.

His ears were filled with a metallic buzzing sound, but he still gripped the steering wheel tightly, using all his strength to pull the car back onto the road from the debris and flames thrown up by the explosion.

After dodging the air, Link subconsciously examined himself.

No problem at all.

But there was more than one person on the bus!

"Costa!" he roared.

The person in the back seat did not respond.

Link turned his head:

Costello is still alive.

His right hand was still tightly gripping the seatbelt in front of his chest.

But his left shoulder, neck, and right arm were covered with shards of glass and explosive fragments. Blood was seeping from several wounds at the same time. He was half-conscious from the shockwave of the explosion. His lips were moving, but he couldn't make a sound.

Link glanced at the rearview mirror.

Several black cars were rapidly approaching from behind, without lights or horns, like a group of sharks silently emerging from the night.

He gritted his teeth and floored the accelerator. The flamingo had a second wave of attack.

The bridge across the river unfolds in the night, and the surface of the Delaware River is reflected by the lights on both banks, turning it into a shimmering black ribbon.

Link pushed the vehicle to its limit, and the car swerved continuously around the curves on the bridge approach.

Bullets kept shooting out of the windows of the pursuing vehicles behind, hitting the rear bumper and side panels of the SUV.

Several bullets hit the rear windshield. The blast protection layer barely held off the first impact, but cracks were spreading at a visible rate.

Costello pressed his bleeding left shoulder with his trembling right hand in the back seat, his lips moving as he whispered verses from the Psalms in Latin.

Link pressed the headset button, his voice slightly strained from the adrenaline, but his tone remained as calm as ever: "Daniel, turn around."

I need covering fire for the approach road on the south side of the bridge, as soon as possible.

"Received. Hang in there, I'll be there soon."

The convoy of the An Dun tactical team made an emergency U-turn at the southern approach to the bridge, and two modified light armored vehicles occupied the high ground on both sides of the approach, beginning to suppress the pursuing convoy with precision fire.

Daniel personally led a team of veterans who deployed from the side of the armored vehicle and used the concrete railings on both sides of the bridge to set up a temporary defensive line, blowing out the tires of the enemy vehicles that were chasing from behind one by one.

The right front wheel of the lead pursuing vehicle was hit by an armor-piercing round, causing the vehicle to lose balance and slide sideways. The pursuers behind were forced to brake suddenly and were blocked in the middle of the bridge, unable to get any closer.

The battle situation temporarily shifted to a stalemate between the approach road and the bridge.

During this brief break, Link parked the SUV behind the concrete guardrail on the side of the access road, helped Costello out of the passenger seat, and handed him over to the An Dun men who rushed over to meet him.

Then everyone heard that sound.

It wasn't the roar of the engine, nor the screech of the tires.

It came from high above the night sky, with a lower, more powerful roar.

Link looked up and squinted:

It was an unmarked helicopter flying low over the other side of the river!

At that moment, everyone was stunned!

Link's pupils also contracted.

Nobody expected it, nobody expected it—

To deal with Link, even the Mamba Army has been mobilized! Armored helicopters have arrived!

The fuselage belly gleamed black in the night, and the onboard searchlight snapped on, a blinding white light sweeping across the bridge surface and locking onto Link's location.

The side hatch was pulled open, and a gunman leaned out, holding a machine gun and began firing downwards.

Bullets left a dense row of bullet holes on the bridge surface. The veteran of the AnDun was pinned down and unable to lift his head. Two people were grazed by shrapnel and forced to retreat to the rear of the armored vehicle.

Link jumped back into the SUV, jerked the steering wheel, and pulled the vehicle out from behind the concrete guardrail.

The helicopter's searchlight, like a burning eye, was fixed on the roof of his vehicle, while machine gun bullets chased after the car, carving a deep crater in the bridge surface.

He didn't run towards the center of the bridge; there was no cover there, no way to retreat, only one direction—a dead end.

He turned the car into the narrow maintenance passage below the bridge approach, using the bridge's steel beam structure as a temporary shelter, and drove back and forth between the steel beams.

Bullets struck the steel beams overhead, sending sparks flying, and the metallic clanging echoed in the enclosed passage like the sound of a giant drum being hammered apart.

But he held the steering wheel very steadily, and every dodge was precise to the millimeter.

This wasn't a skill taught in driving school; it was an instinct Tomsky honed during ambushes on the Chechen border.

The instinct to drive an troop carrier through a barrage of rockets and machine gun fire and bring a whole vehicle of people out of the war zone alive.

He rushed out of the maintenance access road and returned to the approach road.

The helicopter adjusted its angle, and a more intense volley of fire shattered the path leading to him, completely cutting off his escape route.

Ahead lay the cold, black waters of the Delaware River; behind was a broken, impassable road; and overhead loomed a helicopter that seemed impossible to shake off.

The helicopter's side door opened again, the gunman reloaded his ammunition, and began unleashing a new barrage of fire.

Bullets struck the road around the SUV, sending sparks and gravel flying. Several bullets pierced the roof and left smoking bullet holes in the back seats.

Catching them means death.

There was truly no way out, not even a way to get to heaven or hell!

Link glanced around, then his eyes lit up!

He immediately seemed to realize something and quickly snapped out of his daze.

Then he glanced at the river ahead, its surface blindingly illuminated by searchlights, and gritted his teeth.

He seized the opportunity and, on a downhill section closest to the lake, slammed on the gas pedal, sending the SUV crashing through the row of shattered iron guardrails along the edge of the access road.

The entire vehicle leaped forward into the air, plummeting like a piece of iron thrown into darkness. All sounds vanished in that instant—no roar of the engine, no rumble of the propellers, no gunshots.

The only sounds were the wind, the screeching of wheels spinning in the air, and the black surface of the icy river rapidly approaching.

Then everything ended with a dull thud, the river water exploded, waves surged, and the car was quickly swallowed by darkness.

Everyone was stunned by what Link did.

Hughes, who was in the helicopter, was watching the live broadcast of Ferran and others, Daniel and the people from Anton. Everyone was dumbfounded!

They never expected that Link would escape this certain death chase in such a way!

Hughes, gripping the side door handle of the helicopter, leaned half his body out of the cabin, staring at the river below with a furrowed brow.

The gunman next to him was still holding a machine gun, the barrel still smoking, but there was no longer a target.

A deputy beside him quickly scanned the water with binoculars, his voice tense: "No one has surfaced; the target has not been found."

The helicopter circled over the crash site for a long time, and its searchlight swept back and forth across the river several times.

Apart from a few slowly spreading ripples and a few pieces of shattered ice floes, there was nothing else.

After the river returned to calm, even the ripples disappeared.

Hughes circled the lake for a long time, unwilling to give up, but ultimately found nothing. He could only wave his hand and say, "Return! The target's fate is uncertain, but the probability of death is extremely high. Mission accomplished."

The remaining Flamingo vehicles on the bridge began to leave, their engine sounds fading into the night.

The helicopter's searchlight swept across the river one last time before going out.

The roar of the propellers faded into the distance, eventually dissipating under the river breeze.

Everything seemed to have come to an end.

A short while later.

Daniel and Mankla arrived at the crash site at the same time. Before An Dun's armored vehicle had even come to a complete stop, Daniel pushed open the door and rushed out. His tactical boots pounded on the gravel on the riverbank, and he ran towards the water's edge, his feet sinking deep into the cold riverbed.

Behind him were several veterans of the Anton Army, still wounded, who jumped off the riverbank and began calling Link's name in vain.

Mankla squatted on the edge of the pebble beach, saying nothing, just staring intently at the black water surface that was slightly whitened by the moonlight, as if waiting for something to suddenly appear.

The following convoy stopped in a row on the bridge.

Cona pushed away Benny, who was helping her, and stumbled down the ramp. Her high heels sank into the gravel, so she continued walking barefoot until she reached the riverbank, where she knelt on the cold gravel.

She didn't call his name, nor did she scream futilely at the water like the others; she simply knelt there, covering her face with her hands, her shoulders trembling violently.

She squeezed out two words through her fingers.

Link.

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