Nearly 20 minutes later, twelve police cars arrived with shrill sirens, together with the FBI commandos. Wearing combat uniforms and bulletproof vest, and armed with sub-machine guns, they jumped out of the car and surrounded the quiet, old warehouse.
After the restricted area was enclosed by the police, an ordinary Ford car drove slowly and stopped by an old building 100 meters away. The man in the driver's seat wore a dark gray hooded sweatshirt and the large hat that shaded his head and upper half of his face, and left his eyebrows in a dark shadow.
He took out his phone and dialed a number. After it rang for the 8th time, the line connected. He lowered his voice and said, "Blue Star Tarantula, it's been a while, buddy... I have some have business again ... I need the accurate position of a certain person who should have been hijacked by two men around 20 minutes ago in an old warehouse named 'Reano Waste Steel Recycling Factory' located in the Englewood district, southern Chicago. Their transport vehicle may be a silver Land Rover Aurora...... Oh, come on! I know you did something to the 'Homeland Security Network' when you helped the DHS (US Department of Homeland Security) upgrade the system two years ago."
"Millions of surveillance probes in public areas across the country are in your 'spider web', aren't they?... don't say that you have destroyed it, you want me to believe that a 3rd rank super hacker in the world doesn't leave some back-up for the programs he handled? This is an urgent matter- move back all orders you currently have on hand.... I want you to give me all the possible places, wherever that is.... Okay, you set the price.... Yes! I will transfer it to your account tomorrow, but I want you to give me the data as quickly as possible. I'll wait for your reply." He hung up the call, put the phone within his reach, and then waited as he held the steering wheel.
Five minutes later, the phone rang again. He started the car while listening to a series of addresses, and instantly disappeared within the tumultuous streets. The location of the person being tracked was moving, but it doesn't matter. This is a public place controlled by the state machine, and the eyes of surveillance are everywhere.
*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*
When the traces of his consciousness began to coalesce, Leo felt like he had been pried out of the solidified cement paste. Vertigo and nausea firmly entrenched in his brain, and the pain from all his wounds bit his nerves- a clear reminder of his current situation as a captive.
He found himself lying on the cold concrete floor, tied up by parachute cord using military techniques- he was bound from the shoulders, arms, chest to hips. The fingertips behind him could not touch each other, and there was no possibility of breaking free with his bare hands. The rough rope was even pulled between his leg, and the full shape of his buttocks was clamped behind him. He tried to struggle a little and his private part felt pain from being rubbed by the rough rope.
Damn rope trap! Leo cursed at the bottom of his heart, kept his unmoving position, and slightly raised his eyelids to peek at the two big men in front of him.
'Cavalry' was sitting on a chair without a backrest, and was using a trident knife to cut open his long-sleeved T-shirt, revealing the dark, muscular, but tattered body. He clenched his teeth as he use the tip of the knife to remove the foreign debris embedded in the flesh. Each piece of broken metal was pulled out of the muscles and made a soft sound when it fell on the floor. The black man never groaned from beginning to end, he just kept breathing cold air.
The tilted angle allowed Leo to clearly see the two tattoos on his muscular arms; the upper left arm was a sword with two raised wings holding a half upper skull and below the tip of the sword is a shield marked with lightning figure. On the upper right arm is a ribbon inside of which are the blood-colored words: "Rangers Lead the Way"
This guy was probably a retired soldier- a Ranger veteran! As the elite rank just after the Delta Force and Army Special Forces, it is no wonder that he had such a professional sniping ability.
It seems that he won't miss this time. Leo smiled bitterly in his heart.
"You look like a Swiss cheese -full of holes." Evans leaned against the wall and teases the other man.
'Cavalry' just finished dealing with the wounds within his reach, flicked his wrist and a razor-sharp trident knife shot through the air then plunged into the wall against the side of Evans' face. "If you have time to talk nonsense, why don't you help me pull out the other fragments?"
'Devil King' unswervingly drew out his knife, walked behind him, and picked out the pieces of iron that had been pierced into the muscle layer one by one.
'Cavalry' couldn't bear it any longer- he gnashed his teeth and cursed at the other, "Can you be a bit more accurate? Fuck, now it really looks like a cheese! You're fucking doing this on purpose as revenge for the last time when I broke your crooked bones and reconnected it, right?! Fuck your mom, Devil! "
"If you think cursing can relieve the pain, I don't mind you spitting more saliva." Evans gloated
In response to him, the 'Cavalry' scolded more rudely.
Some minutes passed, and the metal pieces that could be seen by the naked eye have been cleaned up, and the remaining ones are too deep or too small. It is difficult to completely remove them even after surgery. As the 'Cavalry' himself said, as soon as he enters the airport security gate, the alarm will sound incessantly. Even if he uses his identity as a retired soldier, he could not avoid the security check-up again and again thus, he could only say goodbye to the chance of being able to ride any forms of air aviations in the future.
Evans patted the 'Cavalry''s shoulder sympathetically and loudly said, "Go to the top floor. I'll help you apply hemostatic powder and stitch up the big wounds. You should also take a shot of HTIG."
"What about this cop?" 'Cavalry' lifted Leo's chin from the floor.
The 'Devil King' sneered, "I gave him a good beating. An average person would be dead by now but even if he is trained, he's only left with half a life- so it would be fine to just leave him here."
Out of the caution he honed from the battlefield, the 'Cavalry' got up and tied the parachute cord on Leo's legs for several times, folded his ankle behind him, and hung it 30 cm from his wrist. He picked up a bag on the ground which contained weapons, equipments, and the smashed mobile phone found from Leo's body, and then left the room with the Evans.
After the door closed heavily, Leo opened his eyes. Now is a rare opportunity and he must escape out of the building before the two returns.
He struggled to move his limbs in order for his fingers to reach his leg trousers. To make sure that there were no hidden weapons in his shoe heel, 'Cavalry' took his combat boots off. Fortunately, since the first time he was attacked, he opted for a Blackhawk black combat uniform instead of the usual black suit. The pant's edge of this new attire was sewed with polished obsidian, ten times sharper than an alloy steel knife and bypasses metal detection equipments.
His fingertips increasingly got closer to his leg trousers. He felt that the wound on his back was like a rag that was crumpled and stepped on and his vision almost turned black in pain.
"Hold on, Leo, just hold on, you can do it ..." He was soaked in cold sweat as he repeatedly murmured to himself, while he tried to arch backwards. His right fingers finally touched his trousers- he hurriedly yanked the life-saving blade.
His tensed body suddenly loosened, like unloading a heavy weight. He breathed a sigh of relief as his sweat dripped on the ground, outlining a human figure on the concrete floor.
It hurts!
His body was full of torn wounds, and broken bones. The face is definitely fractured and his left lower chest emitted an unbearable pain caused by maybe one or two broken ribs. He hoped that it would neither pierce inwards onto his internal organs causing a major bleeding nor punctures outwards, because if the negative pressure on the chest disappears, the lungs would collapse and all internal organs would be displaced. At this moment, he felt like a broken doll sewed together by rough threads, that was in danger of falling apart even with a little force.
But he couldn't just sit there.
Even if he could worsen his condition due to excessive actions, he would never allow himself to die humiliatingly at the feet of the enemy.
The obsidian blade worked hard to cut the tough nine-core parachute cord. Leo's dark blue eyes were dimmed with pain, but the glow from its depths could never be extinguished.
The sense of tightness on his back suddenly relaxed, and he knew that a piece of rope had been cut. Gasping, with his meager strength he started cutting another knot with his slightly movable right hand.
He squeezed the limits of his body for nearly 20 minutes. When he got rid of the shackles completely, he was too tired to move his fingertips and his injured body clamored for rest. His will resisted it tenaciously, and Leo took a deep breath and counted the painful seconds like a knocked-out player on the boxing ring. Before the 10-second countdown finished, he supported his hands on the ground, and slowly stood up.
He gently touched his left rib with his palm, and found that the fracture was not too serious. Leo was relieved, picked up his combat boots from the corner and put them on. He pulled opened the thick wooden door, and stumbled out of the cemented simple and empty room.