Wine and Gun

When he stepped on the ground, he heard the sound of a small animal running past in the corner of the wall, and Martin Jones stood in the middle of the darkness, only the faint outline of the street lamp leaking in outside could be seen.

He held the gun in his hand, pointed warily at Herstal, fingers trembling from drinking or being too nervous.

"Put your hands up," the man said, his voice rough and trembling.

Hestal had no choice, he let go, the backpack in his hand fell heavily on the ground, stirring up a layer of dust. The hem of his shirt moved when he raised his hand enough to show that he wasn't carrying a pistol, and Herstal looked over the man and saw the little girl: tied to a rusted pipe , with tears all over his face, but he does look alive.

He didn't know if he should show a relieved look, and it might be normal for him to behave like this at such a time.

"I suggest you don't do that," Herstal said in a deep voice, in the same tone of voice he would deal with the most stubborn client. "Your choice is irrational."

"Huh?!" Jones made such a sharp voice, with the muzzle still trembling at his chest, "Then what do you think is sensible?"

"That car won't stop the police for long, even if I throw away the tracker they'll be there soon, you know that," Herstal said, still holding his hands steadily, his back Straight and straight, even when doing this kind of movement, it looks elegant. But the night obscured his expression, or Jones would have seen the inevitable flash of contempt on his face. "If you run away with this ransom, things will be more troublesome - Davis is seriously injured, but not dead; but if you run away with the money, and even kill me before running, you will have to face more than the previous that kind of accusation."

He looked into each other's eyes, still crazy, cowardly eyes that made him feel dull.

"Martin," Herstal added the appropriate persuasion into his voice, "the suspension of the crime is a plea for exoneration."

"Do you think I can go back!" Jones shouted. "What more can I get?! My daughter is dead!"

—Herstal suspects that if Jones thought so, he would simply kill Davis' daughter instead of trying to exchange the girl for ransom. To put it bluntly, he still wants money.

But reason told Herstal that it wouldn't do his life to point it out now, so he just stared calmly in the dark. He said tentatively, "Jones..."

"Don't talk," the other party's voice cooled down, "It's over, kick that backpack over."

Thus, Herstal's fate may be doomed: he has no doubt that after he kicked the backpack, this man will check the money inside for any problems, and then kill him and the girl without hesitation . If they were lucky, Hardy and the others could arrive before all this happened. If they were unlucky, when they arrived, they could only see his body slowly cooling down on the ground.

Herstal was silent for two seconds, then obediently kicked the pack in Jones's direction. But I don't know if it was because the ground was dusty, too rough, or because Herstal misestimated the weight of the pack, the pack didn't get kicked directly at Jones's feet, and stopped awkwardly between the two of them. s position.

Jones was silent for two seconds, then gave a low curse.

He could only point a gun at Herstal with one hand, and he walked slowly up to the backpack. He's probably no more experienced in crime than his daughter who robbed the bank, but their greed is probably the same.

Herstal watched calmly as he slowly, slowly stooped down to flip the backpack into the right angle, zipped open with trembling fingers, and the backpack was filled with bills of unconnected numbers. He waited patiently for the only moment - the moment when Jones had to look down to check the bill.

Jones won't kill Herstal until he's sure the money is okay, and that's where his weakness lies.

With the gun still pointed straight ahead, Jones lowered his head—

Herstal rushed forward like a leopard, the other party raised his head the moment he heard the sound, with panic and anger written in his eyes, and one hand was still on the zipper of the backpack.

A shot went off.

There was a frantic murmur between Hardy's lips, probably all indecent swearing, and he jumped over the car blocking the alley while arranging for the police officers to rush to the place where the shots were fired as soon as possible on the radio. The car, stepped on the roof and jumped to the other end of the alley.

Then he turned back and shouted to Albarino: "Al, you just wait here with the other police officers, don't run around!"

His tone was like speaking to a primary school student who was visiting the supermarket for the first time, but he couldn't be blamed entirely.

Albariño - The warm smile and flirtatious tone of voice, and actually unruly behavior, in some ways looks like a likable, fledgling college grad who just gets caught in the alley The type of chick who cheats the whole net worth of the fairy dance.

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