Chicago 1990

Soon, it came to the day of the appointment to meet with Sinaloa, and Barron chose a scrap car treatment plant around two in the morning.

In order to pretend to be unaware, Song Ya deliberately held a party in Highland Park.

"Next year's Valentine's Day? We think too, but the time is too tight. The wedding will probably be held on my birthday, yes, at the end of March, on the 27th."

Mariah Carey, who came to Chicago to promote the Christmas album, and he lovingly held hands and greeted the guests, "Bedford Hills, New York, welcome. Of course, welcome. It’s a big place. We look forward to your coming to witness the wedding. "

The two of them spend most of their time dealing with friends who care about the wedding, Mariah Carey has a sweet face, and she doesn't get tired of talking about it over and over again.

"My mouth is so dry..." She drank some wine and whispered in Song Ya's ear, "Shall we go to the bedroom to rest?"

Of course Song Ya can understand what she means by saying ‘rest’. He used to take it all, but...

"No way tonight, Mimi, I don't want to be out of sight for too long."

"Why?"

"It's a little trouble, good."

He is indeed a little troublesome. Unexpectedly, "APLUS, is it convenient to chat? Just now." Four uninvited guests came to the party, it is the FBI again. The lead agent is still the one I met last time, but in the entourage Two more blacks.

"so late?"

Song Ya smiled and calmed down his fiancee, "Let's go to the study to talk."

"No way, criminals don't take vacations."

The agents talked and laughed, and walked into the study room accompanied by Goodman and Hamlin, "Okay, don't waste time..." He put a photo of the deceased on the table, "Do you know this person? ?"

"No." Song Ya looked down, and a young black man wearing a two-piece suit fell dead on the side of the road, "I don't know."

"His acquaintances told us that he has been mingling with some Chicago accents recently. The place of his death was the same as the escape route of the Compton radio shooting vehicle, and the time was right."

The black colleague behind the agent said: "We have reason to believe that he and his Chicago friends committed the Compton radio shooting, which resulted in one death, two serious injuries, and multiple minor injuries."

"Come again?" Song Ya was upset, "Although I am willing to cooperate with you, can you stop bothering me with such inexplicable things?"

"You don't want our future contacts to follow the normal procedures, do you?" Hamlin followed his meaning and warned.

"Those who were shot include Sugonite, MC, and Compton Radio DJ. They just DISS you on the talk show."

Those two black agents obviously know the hip-hop circle very well. It seems that the FBI has upgraded the investigation lineup accordingly. "Do you need us to help you recall the grievances between you? APLUS."

"Shit!"

Song Ya exploded, "If you really have a memory, you should know that I haven't responded to them in public for a long time. Sugnet's big mouth has offended people everywhere, and he didn't just scold me... You don’t want to be gangsters in the rap circle anymore, just check it out and check how much I earned this year, and you should know that I don’t need to get involved in this kind of mess!"

Throwing Newsweek on the desk in front of the other party. The inside page of this authoritative magazine reported on the three businesses he participated in in 1994 with the title "APLUS 1994, three 100 million meters." including January 1. In effect, the deal with Dow’s 100 million chemical plant, the film danced a global box office of more than 130 million in my life, and the soundtrack of the film of the same name released by Sony Columbia Records at $14.99 is estimated to be hundreds. Ten thousand sales, which is a total sales revenue of hundreds of millions.

This 300 million is completely different from his personal income, but in the news, it is still very shocking and sensational for readers to list the cold numbers in this way and connect with him.

"Okay, sorry to disturb you."

The FBI agent didn't bother too much, and asked a few more questions and got up to leave.

But they were not in a hurry to leave the mansion, and a few guys gathered in front of the buffet table and gobbled up, "Sorry, you are responsible for driving tonight, haha." A fat black agent put a lot of sushi and salad on his plate. , And ordered a glass of champagne from the waiter, and teased his colleagues, "I will help you get rid of the wine."

"Shit!"

While delivering a small truffle salmon sandwich to his mouth, the colleague enviedly looked at the well-dressed distinguished guests, "Next time we can pick the rich people's party time to come."

"Stop dreaming."

Their white captain was a little frustrated, "This Shinco African-American Light already hates us..."

"Boss, do you think he will be involved in Compton..." another black agent asked.

"Don't talk here." The captain pointed to the professional bodyguard who was staring far away. At this time, the pager on his waist rang, "I'll make a call and we will leave here when we come back." He pulled one of them. Waiter passing by, "Where is the telephone, please?"

The three subordinates hurriedly seized the time, filled the wine with the wine, wrapped the doughnuts with paper towels, and ate and took them, not caring about the people nearby.

"Let's go."

The captain came back sternly after the phone call, and the group got into the car outside the villa. "APLUS is unlikely to deal with Sugonite. He was too lazy to speak back by Sugonite or other people in the gang rap circle DISS. There really is no need to get involved in this kind of thing anymore," said the fat black agent.

"I agree, you are an expert in this area."

The captain said: "But I just received a report. The local Chicago police have dealt with the AK killing case, the Harlem nightclub shooting, and the recent violent crimes of the Hell Bobcat. They think Little Binny and Sina Roja is the same person."

"What?!" the subordinates exclaimed in unison, "then why don't the local police report it?"

"They want to catch the suspect on their own, and then use it to slap us in the face."

The captain was in a bad mood, "We are behind."

One of the subordinates said: "Since we also know now, then tomorrow, oh, it is today, and when it's working time today, we will force the local police to hand over the relevant evidence."

"It's late, the action is tonight, an abandoned car treatment plant on the outskirts of the city. M-Fxxk!" The captain yelled helplessly in the car: "I will be the laughingstock of the FBI tomorrow!"

"Can't we follow it?" the subordinate asked.

"In the past, if the local police idiots messed up the action, they would definitely put the blame on us." The captain said.

"We can observe from the outside, maybe there is any surprise? Anyway, they have all come to Chicago." The subordinate proposed.

The captain thought about it, "Okay, then let's go over, hurry! Hurry!"

The car started and whizzed out of the gate of Highland Park. All four of them did not pay attention to Sinaloa, who was standing at the gate.

"I am the brother of APLUS! OK?"

Sinaloa, who opened his black mink coat and exposed the big gold chain on his chest, is now very angry. He is walking around with his neck and shouting at the security guard at the door: "Let him come out and see me! Or let me go. Go in and see him! M-fxxk! He said I can see him anytime, he said it himself!"

"Sorry, this sir, you don't have an invitation letter. We can't let you in." The security guard is very responsible. "Please understand that we must strictly follow the rules. I will help inform the inside. May I ask your name?"

The subordinates immediately grabbed the wide cuffs of the Sinaloa mink coat, and he threw them off impatiently, "Just tell APLUS, it's his friend in Nancheng, the best friend! The best one! He knows. !"

"Okay, Mike, there are a few people who don’t have an invitation letter... They say they are Mr. APLUS’s best friends in Nancheng. They didn’t report their names, but they were just outside the gate... Uh, the height of the leader is about 1.7 meters, African American, seventeen eighteen. Years old...Yes, the front teeth are golden. Okay..."

A car drove to the door and honked the horn. The security guard immediately signaled to Sinaloa and the others: "I have already reported, please wait, uh, please leave the way a little bit?"

"Fxxk! Let him hurry up!" Sinaloa yielded aside.

The window of that car was rolled down, and Michelle, who was sitting in the co-pilot, handed out a white invitation.

"Welcome, Ms. Michelle, please come in." After checking the invitation letter, the security guard returned politely and opened the automatic iron door.

"Hey! How can those two Ngers get in!"

Sinaloa was furious. He tried to rush in, but was stopped by several security guards with open arms, "Ah! M-Fxxk!" His hand immediately stretched to his back.

Michelle’s husband started the car quickly and drove in.

"Hey! Hey! Boss, calm down!"

The men grabbed Sinaloa's arm, "Don't be impulsive! There are many reporters across the street!"

"Let me in! I want to go in!" Sinaloa's eyes were flushed with blood.

At this time, Old Mike rushed to the door with a group of bodyguards, "Hey! I remember this person, I have seen it! Where is APLUS? Where is my brother!?" Sinaloa yelled happily when he saw him.

Old Mike glanced at the cars and motorcycles lined up by reporters across the street, hurriedly stepped forward and dragged Sinaloa to the dark side of the door, "It is not convenient for him to see you now, and it is not convenient for you to be here! "

"I'm in a hurry! Little Lori has something wrong with him!" Sinaloa shouted.

"He knows that he will help, I promise! But you should go to do what you should do now, instead of looking for it in the presence of so many reporters!" Old Mike was almost confused, rarely speaking so fast.

"Oh, Barron said that Little Lori betrayed me..." Sinaloa suddenly cried on the spot and wiped his face with the cuffs of the mink coat.

Old Mike rolled his eyes, "Then you go to Barron first, okay? Let Barron be the middleman and contact APLUS."

"Well... I'm sorry, Old Joe is gone, otherwise I won't come here to disturb him."

Sinaloa walked into the car uncomfortably, and looked back at the illuminated manor house one step at a time, "He promised that I could come to him anytime, he said..."

Old Mike watched him and his men drove away, looking at the direction of the abandoned vehicle treatment plant on the outskirts of the city, and said to the other bodyguards: "I'm not at ease. Let's take a look. You and the boss will tell you." He replied. Going to the garage, stuffing the hidden sniper rifle into the trunk of Chrysler's Fifth Avenue, drove out, deliberately chose the opposite direction and drove onto the main road.

On the other side of the road, it was parked far in a dark green cheap notebook car at the end of the media convoy.

"That mink boy...how did I always feel like I've seen it somewhere?"

There were three black people sitting in the car, driving in their twenties, dressed in hip-hop, and frowned and said, "Yes, I must have seen it somewhere."

"Maybe it's APLUS's predecessor, it seems to be kicked by APLUS? Haha, it's sad enough..."

The comrade in the car laughed.

The driver suddenly woke up, "Yes, voice! I remembered it, I remember this voice, the GD gunman who shouted TheGangsterDisciples at the nightclub in Harlem, he was right!"

"Come on, the bragging father just wants us to stare at APLUS, don't add to yourself." Another accomplice didn't believe it, "And how could APLUS send someone to shoot Sugnet, he just ignores it now. Other people’s DISS."

"I won't forget this voice forever?"

The driver tugged at his earlobe, "I'm the one who wants to post, and the bragging father promised to help me debut if I catch the evidence of APLUS's trouble. Although my ears are not as sensitive as his, they are more trash It’s still a lot stronger. I was standing very close to the gunman at the time. The voice of TheGangsterDisciples I will never forget in my life, and I vaguely heard him mentioned Little Lori just now."

"What should I do?" the two accomplices looked at each other and asked, "I'll go to the public phone and report to the bragging father?"

"Let’s follow it first. There are not many forks in the rich area here, maybe we can catch up." The driver started the car and drove in the direction where the Sinaloa car left. "Maybe I can really make a famous brother. Guys, we will buy a mobile phone alone..."

He slammed on the accelerator in excitement, holding the steering wheel with one hand, and pulling the pistol from his waist with the other. "It's time for Chicagoans to see how Harlem in New York is!"

In the outskirts of the city at this time, in the only simple office board room in the waste car treatment plant, Barron touched the bulletproof vest under his coat and stared at the dark entrance extremely nervously.

"Don't worry, Sinaloa won't run away after coming in, hehe..."

Fully armed and carrying an automatic rifle, Vic patted his shoulder carelessly, "You will not be in danger."

"Wait for the teams to act cleanly. The criminal has strong firepower." In the board room, the sergeant of Vic's police station was coordinating actions through the police walkie-talkie, while the chief of the Chicago Police Department held his hands, and Assistants and some senior police officers watched quietly.

"Who is behind!?" Suddenly the police officer's questioning came from the intercom, and then he reported: "Report, report, the Attorney of the Chalz State is here, and the Cook County Special Police Team...at the third entrance, He wants to talk to you Mr. Chief over."

"WTF?"

Vic froze.

"Childs, your actions are likely to undermine our actions tonight!" The chief of the Chicago Police Department grabbed the intercom and shouted.

"To deal with criminals who like to use UZI, but you don't notify the special police team? Let's let it go, it's almost two o'clock~www.wuxiaspot.com~ The voice of Childs came from the intercom.

"Fxxk! He wants to take credit, this guy who is about to ‘get off work’ wants to take credit for us!" Vic yelled.

"Shut up, Vic." The director replied helplessly: "Let them in over."

Childs quickly opened the door of the board room. The special police officers armed to the teeth he had brought outside had begun to disperse, hiding in various corners of the factory. "The special police team is in place, and the special police team is in place. No target vehicle has been found over."

"You will be bad, you will be the child of our business!" Vic glared at him, hitting him with a beer belly, and complained to the chief: "We can do it! No need for those waste special police!"

"Maybe,'Your business'..."

Childs glanced at him contemptuously. There was something in the words, "Attention to each group, attention to each group, priority is not to use force to subdue the target person, if there is an exchange of fire, try to aim at the non-critical parts, I want to live, repeat it, I To live. Over!"

"Received, over."

"Attention, attention! There are cars approaching, two cars, over."

The sheriff had to order: "The teams are ready to act over."

Vic ran outside to look at the boardroom. The beams of light from the two car lights traveled far in the night, and the speed of approach was not low. He turned his head just to meet Barron’s horrified eyes, and quietly threw it to comfort him. His eyes, and then he didn't go back at all, scratching his bald head, and found the men of the stormtrooper who had shrunk outside in the shadows.

"What to do?" the subordinate asked in a low voice, "Do you have money to live?"

"Nonsense, of course not."

"that……"

"Fxxk!" Vic depressively smashed the squashed scrapped car with his fist, gritted his teeth and said: "There is always a way, come with me..."