Wine and Gun

So such a scourge must be resolved as soon as possible, and if he doesn't respond forcefully enough, his gang and his own status will soon be in jeopardy - not like what happens in a civilized society, where prisons Like the shòu group, bloody but orderly, any mistakes will immediately make people fall into the abyss of eternal redemption.

Hestal obviously should understand this, but he just nodded, and even there was a hint of perfunctory in the whole action.

"Are you referring to the horrific murder that happened this morning?" he asked nonchalantly, in a tone that seemed to have nothing to do with him, and clearly didn't think it was "terrible", "I don't think even the police are sure at this time. Who is the murderer?"

"Ha, yes, you're a lawyer." Jerome gave a sharp laugh, "but you probably don't know that, Amarette, in a place like New Takr, it's not all about evidence. "

"Ah, yes," Herstal replied casually, "then maybe I did kill him—I killed Balmond, gutted him, and hung him like a dead pig. You are For what? Death?"

Then he saw the defiant mob boss frown, wave icy, and the three Latino men stepped forward menacingly.

"Yes, we do rely on 'death' to speak," Jerome said behind the group, "and you'll see it soon, Mr. Armalette."

Albarino quickly packed the last of his belongings into his backpack and slung it over his shoulders.

He wasn't quite sure when the police were going to do it, but looking at those sneaky figures dàng outside the infirmary, things were obviously not good, and it was almost foolish to want to delay at this time.

He strode to the only window indoors, opened the window, and the cold wind outside immediately poured in snowflakes. Albarino snorted lightly, and then reached out to hold the fence outside the window-usually, the room where only staff are active will not have iron railings, but prisoners often come in the infirmary. The desperate guy jumped out of the window to escape, and this window was of course also equipped with guardrails - he held the fence with both hands, shook it twice, and then only heard a click, as if the railing had slipped from the window frame somewhere, The window was pushed open by him.

After Albarino came to this office for the first time as an intern, the first thing he did after spending his time was to unscrew most of the screws that fastened to the frame of the iron window with railings. Now, this window The screws on three sides of the window were actually gone, and he could forcefully push the fence window a little to the side, and the gap between the window and the window frame could barely allow an adult to get out.

This is purely a habit of cunning rabbits and three caves, as if he actually has a tunnel leading to the outside in his log cabin in the forest. At the exit of the tunnel, a car that he hides in the forest is parked. There is a large amount of cash in the trunk of the car without consecutive numbers.

Compared to the Westland pianist, the Sunday gardener is indeed a serial killer who does not like planning, but a serial killer who does not like planning will not rush into a cage with iron bars on all sides. , even if the cage door is open.

So of course he has a plan, a backup plan in the event of a disruption, a backup plan for a backup plan - lest the fake identity provided by Gabriel Morgenstern be any flawed, even though the other party didn't lie to him about it necessary, but he still didn't particularly trust that woman.

It doesn't seem like Morgenstern is entirely to blame for what's happening now, but the backup plan is still working.

Albarino flipped out of the window frame and stepped on the outside of the air conditioner just below the window - the whole old machine creaked under his feet, the cold surface of the machine frighteningly slippery on such a snowy night ——Then stretched out his hand to close the glass windows one by one, and pushed the fence back to its original position. During this process, the air conditioner made an unpleasant creaking sound. He could almost imagine what it would look like when the old and rusty metal parts were gradually broken. .

And these removed iron railings and the footprints on the air conditioner's outdoor unit won't escape the eyes of the keen police for too long, but Albarino is not particularly worried.

The things he chooses to do have always been challenging and whimsical, and the part to do now is no different. He doesn't need those cops who never know how he got out of this room, he just needs a little time, even ten minutes.

Albarino slowly and slowly stretched out a leg from the outside of the air conditioner, and stepped on a useless decorative line on the wall. The slender and narrow protrusion did not even exceed ten centimeters. There was a thin layer of snow on it.

He steadied his body, grabbed the window frame with one hand, and stepped on it with both feet, as if he had been clinging to the cold wall like a gecko. Wall trim. Down below, five stories high, was a layer of snow-covered, icy ground.

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