Chapter 154: Silencing
"Boss, we're being followed!" Heinrich's men shouted in terror over the radio.
"Is it those two bumbling feds?" Heinrich's lips curled with cruel satisfaction. "No need to bother me with something so trivial. Just waste them, then find another spot to eliminate this stupid woman."
"No, it's someone else, he..." The voice suddenly turned panicked: "He's got a rocket launcher! Fire! You idiot! Holy shit! Fire!"
But it was too late. Before they could return fire, Ron had already pulled the trigger, and an RPG round arrived in an instant.
"BOOM!" The Escalade exploded into a fireball and launched into the air.
"Hard left, now straighten out!" Ron instructed Carl to execute a perfect drift to avoid the disabled vehicle ahead. He reloaded the RPG and leaned out the window.
The launcher was aimed at the second car.
"Take him out!" "Kill that bastard!"
The lead vehicle wasn't going down quietly. Two desperate men leaned out the windows and returned fire, but the swaying car ruined their accuracy.
The bullets mostly hit empty air, while Ron remained unscathed, as if he were just enjoying a Sunday drive. He calmly continued to aim, waiting for his shot. The terrorists in the car ahead were sweating bullets from fear.
But the more nervous they became, the worse their aim got. They couldn't even graze Ron.
"Seriously, these guys call themselves international terrorists? How pathetic has that title become?" Ron sneered, once again questioning the CIA's credibility, his finger moving slightly.
"BOOM!" Ron sent the second car flying into the sky as well.
And this time, his shot had perfect placement. The rocket hit the vehicle's left rear quarter, and the explosive force pushed it to the right shoulder, allowing Carl to pass without even changing course.
"Move over." Ron dropped the rocket launcher and retook control of the vehicle.
Now Heinrich's crew had only one car left. Ron could have used his RPG to finish them off, but unfortunately, it still contained a hostage.
What a waste!
Ron couldn't help but envy his Russian counterparts.
If this were Russia, a single rocket would end the engagement, and all hostage casualties could be written off as acceptable losses. He'd heard the more creative ones could even classify them as terrorist accomplices.
"Boss, what's the play now?" Carl watched the burning wreckage disappearing behind them, his face glowing with excitement. High-speed chases used to be something he only saw in movies, but now he was actually part of one. It felt surreal!
"What else can we do? Stop their car, then take out those scumbags and extract that foolish woman," Ron said with irritation.
Hostage rescue was his least favorite mission type.
"He's out of rockets! Quick! Get your weapons and nail him!" Heinrich kicked his subordinate in frustration. He was losing his mind. He'd just come here for payback, but he'd lost most of his best operatives in a matter of minutes.
This represented years of work!
If Ron could hear his thoughts, he'd probably burst out laughing. Elite operatives? That's the best they've got?
"Rat-a-tat-tat, rat-a-tat-tat..."
Men emerged from both sides of the SUV, assault rifles ready, and opened fire in Ron's direction. Ron immediately pressed Carl's head down, steering with one hand while dodging bullets with one skillful maneuver after another.
Despite this, Ron's windshield was still blown out.
"Boss, what's the protocol in this situation?" Carl's voice showed no trace of fear, only excitement.
Ron was finally convinced this kid was born to be a federal agent. Even if he didn't become an agent, he would definitely continue down the criminal path and become a major player on par with Uncle Tommy.
"Second lesson in Federal Agent 101," Ron said. Of course, he wasn't nervous at all. One hand on the steering wheel, the other smoothly drew his .500 Magnum revolver from his holster.
"BANG! BANG!" Two shots, and the heads of both terrorists exploded like melons. Before Carl could even track Ron's movements, they were down, and Ron's gun had slipped back into its holster like magic, as if it had never been drawn.
"Second lesson in Federal Agent 101: Marksmanship. As long as you have superior shooting skills, you can do whatever you want, be as aggressive as you want in the field," Ron boasted, unfazed by the potentially misleading advice.
"Boss, your shooting is incredible!" Carl's eyes lit up. "Can you teach me how to do that?"
Carl's expression reminded him of his younger self, who had once, with such boundless eagerness, learned marksmanship from an old-timer when Ron was about Carl's age.
"Of course, as long as you can handle the training. There's no secret to marksmanship, only relentless practice. When your spent brass piles up higher than you are tall, you can be considered a decent shot,"
Old Jack had said, and Ron repeated it now, as if completing a tradition across generations.
"No problem," Carl nodded emphatically with determination. "I'll spend every paycheck on ammunition."
"That won't be necessary. I'm planning to lease the warehouse next door and convert it into a shooting range. We can practice for free," Ron said casually.
The car ahead fled in panic, immediately turning onto a deserted construction zone. Ron finally saw his opportunity. He floored the accelerator and, closing rapidly, drew his weapon.
"BANG!" The front and rear tires blew out, the vehicle swaying violently left and right. The rear of the car threw up a long trail of sparks against the asphalt. Ron seized the moment, cranked the steering wheel to maximum, and rammed the rear quarter panel. With a classic American PIT maneuver, he brought the vehicle to a stop on the roadside.
"Keep your head down!" Ron pushed Carl into his seat, drew his gun, and exited the car. Heinrich and his sole remaining operative had already gotten out, dragging Lauren with them.
"Stay back! Don't come any closer!" The subordinate, shaking like he'd seen a ghost, aimed his weapon at Ron in terror. He had never encountered anyone with such supernatural marksmanship.
Heinrich positioned himself behind Lauren, one arm around her throat, the other pressing a pistol to her head.
"Now drop your weapons and get on your knees!"
Ron said with a disarming smile, "Do you mind if I mess up your pretty face?"
"I'm not screwing around! Drop your guns! Now!" Heinrich screamed from behind the woman.
"I wasn't talking to you," Ron's courteous tone sounded like the devil's own invitation, his warm gaze locked on Lauren's eyes. "Ma'am, do you mind if I get your beautiful face a little dirty?"
Lauren, with Heinrich's arm crushing her windpipe, couldn't speak and could only shake her head with difficulty.
The instant her head moved, Ron acted.
"BANG!"
It was clearly two gunshots, but they were so close together they sounded like one. Both headless bodies dropped straight down. Lauren, the survivor, had no time to process what happened before warm liquid splattered across her face.
By the time she realized what it was, she was already screaming.
"AHHHHH!" The piercing shriek made Ron's eardrums ache.
(End of chapter)
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