Chapter 189 The Top-notch Gang of Outlaws
Joe saw the four armed men and instantly threw his hands up, pressing his back against the wall. "Hey, man, I'm just passing through," he stammered.
It was pitch dark, no streetlights around. The men could only make out Joe's ragged leather jacket and wool hat, but his face was a blur.
"We're with the police. Move along," one of them said, eyeing Joe's scared expression but keeping his focus on the main building. He waved Joe off. "Move along, move along."
Joe didn't bolt right away. He edged along the wall and then quickly left the area, dialing Rodolfo's number as soon as he was clear.
Upstairs.
Rodolfo was glued to his computer, checking lottery numbers, when his phone buzzed.
"Hello?"
"There are cops downstairs," Joe said urgently. "Grab your weapons now."
Rodolfo froze for a second and then sprang from his chair, yelling, "Cops downstairs, grab your weapons!"
Bishop, lounging on the couch, shot up and yanked a canvas bag from under the coffee table.
Three young guys with serious faces rushed out from the back.
Rodolfo, still on the phone, spoke quickly, "Are they coming up?"
"They must be inside already," Joe whispered. "Don't panic. They probably don't know what's here. They'll likely knock to check. Stall them; I'm getting the car."
Just then, a knock came at the door.
Bishop, still on the couch, snapped his head toward the door. "Damn, they're here."
"Turn off the lights," one of the young guys said, gripping a gun.
Rodolfo hesitated and then shook his head. "No, if we do that, they'll know we're onto them."
Silence fell.
Despite his flaws, Rodolfo was sharp. "I'll go to the door. You guys flank the hallway."
Joe listened to Rodolfo's orders but stayed quiet, heading quickly to the car.
Everyone grabbed their guns and ammo, hiding on either side of the hallway near the door.
"If you hear gunfire and we can't get out, don't come back," Rodolfo said over the phone before hanging up. He grabbed two guns from the canvas bag.
Outside, a chubby middle-aged man in plain clothes shouted, "Open up, we're with the Neighborhood Watch, here to verify your residency."
"Coming."
Rodolfo walked over, looking relaxed, and opened the door.
The chubby man held a pen and notebook, trying to look casual. "How many people are inside? I need to verify your residency."
"Just two or three." Rodolfo waved. "Come in. We can talk."
"No need, I've got snow on my shoes. I don't want to dirty your floor," the man smiled. "Just call everyone over and fill out a form."
Rodolfo glanced at the empty hallway and the dark stairwell. The motion sensor light was off, but there were snow footprints on the stairs.
"Call them over," the man urged.
"Alright," Rodolfo smiled and turned to shout, "Bishop, there are people upstairs and downstairs."
The sound of a shotgun cocking echoed as Bishop burst out from the left side of the hallway.
Rodolfo stepped aside.
Gunfire erupted, and the middle-aged man took a shotgun blast to the chest, falling backward.
"Keep firing, or we're trapped!" Rodolfo yelled, rushing out, his back against the door, firing both guns at the stairwell.
Rapid gunfire followed. The officers upstairs were forced back by Rodolfo's barrage.
Bishop and the three young men rushed out, one helping Rodolfo suppress the stairwell, while the other two spread out and quickly headed downstairs.
Seconds later.
Both sides were locked in a brutal firefight at the stairwell corner.
In the hallway, an officer yelled into his radio, "Tell Captain Lane. They knew we were coming and fired first!"
Downstairs, Jasper, who was remotely commanding, shouted angrily, "I took everyone's phones, and we didn't call for backup. How did they know? Damn it, there's a mole in the department!"
In the stairwell, two young men, drenched in sweat, shouted, "There are six or seven guys ambushing downstairs!"
"Retreat!" Bishop, clad only in his underwear, yelled.
The two young men scrambled back upstairs.
Bishop pulled out two military fragmentation grenades from the canvas bag, bit off the safety pins, pressed his left side against the wall, and hurled the grenades toward the stairwell corner.
The grenades flew through the air, hit the stairwell wall, and landed on the sixth-floor steps.
"Scatter!" The officers ambushing downstairs quickly retreated. One of them crouched down, raising a riot shield.
Two loud explosions echoed, and the officer with the riot shield was blown half a meter away, his legs shredded by shrapnel, leaving him immobile.
Downstairs, Jasper, hearing the explosions, screamed, "They've got weapons. Don't charge in. Fall back downstairs."
The officers didn't need Jasper's command; they were already retreating. They hadn't expected the robbers' swift response and were caught off guard. Not knowing how many robbers there were, staying in the hallway would mean heavy casualties.
The officers dragged the wounded and quickly fled downstairs.
Bishop led the group down, while Rodolfo and another young man covered the rear. One of them held a grenade, shouting, "If I see you, I'll pull the pin!"
Joe's team was highly skilled, not inferior to the officers. Their coordination was on par with some special forces units.
The five men kept a distance of about half a flight of stairs, steadily advancing downstairs. They were also wary of the officers throwing grenades, knowing that if they bunched up, they could all be dead at once.
When they reached the first floor, Bishop wiped the sweat from his forehead and shouted, "There are definitely people outside. Scatter and run. If you're cornered, don't get caught alive. If anyone talks under torture, we'll kill their family."
"We knew this day would come when we started this," a young man replied quietly. "Don't worry. We know the rules."
"Get ready to charge," Bishop gritted his teeth and shouted.
Three seconds later.
Rodolfo kicked open the stairwell door and fired outside.
"Charge!"
The young man on the left, holding a gun, ran out of the hallway, firing towards the boiler room while running west.
In the open space, Joe's team's advantage disappeared. The officers, crouching and firing, quickly took down the young man with just two shots.
"Fuck!" The young man, lying in the snow, fired wildly around him.
Within two seconds, he ran out of bullets and shouted in despair, "Bishop!"
Bishop, hiding in the stairwell, turned his head expressionlessly and aimed his gun at the young man, pulling the trigger without hesitation.
Two shots rang out, and the young man was hit in the head, dying instantly.
The officers, seeing this, were stunned.
They had encountered many criminals and desperados, but few were as ruthless and decisive as Bishop's team.
After shooting his companion, Bishop immediately turned and said, "We can't get out. The bullets are gone. I'll shoot you first, then myself."
The group looked at the outside in despair, their expressions changing subtly.
At that moment, gunfire erupted outside. Joe, unable to get the car, had returned upon hearing the gunfire.
"There's someone on the left," someone shouted over the radio.
Bishop was stunned. "Damn, Joe came back."
"Fuck, I'm Joe! My hands are right here. Let me see who can cuff me," Joe shouted, walking steadily towards the back of the building.
With Joe's voice, Bishop's eyes turned red, and he shouted, "He's drawing their fire. This is our last chance. Get ready to charge."
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