Starting from South America, speeding through the world

Chapter 160 Cártel de Juarez
About eight kilometers west of County Route 19 in Texas.

The sun hung obliquely above the forest belt, and its afterglow filtered through the sparse shadows of the trees, casting its light onto the asphalt road.

A police car drove up from a distance.

The passenger seat was occupied by a middle-aged white man who was munching on a cold corn dog, with a bit of yellow mustard on his lips.

He glanced out the window and muttered, "It's fucking desolate. A typical wasteland."

His younger partner, who was driving, had noticeably sharper eyesight.

"Wait, there's a car ahead," he whispered.

The middle-aged man swallowed the last bite of his hot dog and looked in the direction the other man was pointing.

It was a UPS truck, covered in mud, with its left taillight flashing incessantly.

"Make him pull over," the middle-aged man said.

The police lights on the roof of the vehicle then turned on.

A few seconds later, the truck slowed down and pulled over the roadside, its tires running over the gravel.

Seeing that the middle-aged man was about to get off the car, his partner picked up the radio to report it.

"Command center, this is C-12."

“A vehicle is parked here with a broken taillight. It is located on County Road 19, heading west, near Mileage Marker 38. I am about to get out of the car to deal with it.”

"Copy that, stay safe."

His partner shrugged and put the radio back next to his seat.

"You stay in the car and keep an eye on the kid in the back."

The middle-aged man gave a word of advice, then walked towards the truck.

The window was half open.

Inside sat a man with an Asian face.

At this moment, he placed his hands on the steering wheel, appearing to be cooperating well.

"Sir," the middle-aged man greeted politely, "your taillight is broken, you know that?"

“I’ve noticed, and I’m planning to find a town to repair it.” The Asian man’s tone was unpleasant.

Upon hearing this, the middle-aged man nodded and relaxed slightly.

"Is this your car?" he asked.

"rental."

Where are the goods?

"Stationery, cables, and some office supplies."

"Which state is it registered in?"

Georgia.

"That's quite far," the middle-aged man remarked, then asked, "Can you provide the car rental documents?"

"of course."

As soon as he finished speaking, the certificate was handed over.

The middle-aged man took it, read it carefully, and confirmed that the contents were correct.

However, just as he was about to turn around and return to the police car, his partner suddenly ran down, walking hurriedly.

“The number is wrong,” he said.

"The license plate number does not match the one registered in the backup system."

"The system should show a scrapped car in Connecticut."

The two men exchanged a glance, and the middle-aged man turned to look at the man in the driver's seat.

He was looking up at them, his expression unchanged.

His partner drew a pistol from his waist and quickly cocked it.

“Sir, please get off the bus,” he shouted.

"We need to verify the information further."

Oh shit.

Why are there always people eager to die?
Zhou Yi sighed helplessly and pushed open the car door.

"I'll cooperate," he said, raising his hand and stepping down.

"Please open the back compartment." The middle-aged man stared intently at him, seemingly ready to fire at the slightest provocation.

Zhou Yi didn't say much, nodded, and walked towards the back of the truck.

Two police officers quickly followed.

The key turns.

"Click" sound.

The lock is released.

A scent of metal and resin wafted towards me.

The middle-aged man was somewhat confused.

He had expected to see some tattered packages or discarded delivery boxes.

He's seen plenty of contraband, guns, and drugs.

But what he was looking at did not belong to any category he was familiar with.

It is mounted on a sliding guide plate, and its silver-gray casing is welded with several seam lines.

The surface was coated with a rough insulation layer, resembling some kind of large, uninstalled equipment.

The middle-aged man frowned slightly and leaned closer.

The more I looked at it, the more uncomfortable I felt.

That's neither a power generation device nor a communication terminal.

It was too quiet, too symmetrical. Moving the gaze downwards, two thick copper cables emerged from the bottom of the object, extending into the black module in the corner.

And then--

He froze instantly, a chill ran through him, and his hair stood on end.

Detonator socket!

That's fucking explosives!

High-yield explosives!
The middle-aged man's face turned deathly pale, and he staggered backward.

"Clang-crack-"

His shoulder slammed into the carriage door frame, but he ignored the pain and lunged for the radio in front of his chest.

Too late.

Taking advantage of the moment when the young police officer's attention was drawn, Zhou Yi flicked his wrist, and a rifle appeared out of thin air.

Pull the trigger with your thumb to chamber a round.

"Bang-bang!"

The trigger was pulled repeatedly.

Blood mist exploded from their chests, and before they could even steady themselves, they fell backward, convulsed a few times, and then went completely limp.

Zhou Yi did not delay.

He quickly slung the rifle back behind him, put on his gloves, and knelt down.

The red light on the body camera on the deceased's shoulder was still flashing.

Fortunately, the version is not new and does not have an automatic upload function.

He pulled the Glock from the corpse's waist, raised his hand, aimed at the equipment, and fired several shots.

The glass broke.

Debris flew everywhere.

The spark in the circuit flashed and then went out.

Zhou Yi then got up and walked towards the police car.

The front door was unlocked.

The central control unit was flashing a blue light.

He pulled out the connector, pried open the base, and fired several more shots at the hard drive module.

The next second—

A faint sound came from inside the car.

Zhou Yi turned his head and looked through the rearview mirror.

A pair of terrified eyes stared intently ahead.

Upon noticing his gaze, the owner of the eyes trembled and begged for mercy.

Zhou Yi smiled, went around to the back seat, and opened the car door.

He was a young Latino.

Thin and dark-skinned, with his hands cuffed behind his back.

As the assassin approached, the man instinctively tried to shrink back, but the seat pressed against his back, leaving him nowhere to retreat.

His lips trembled slightly, but he didn't dare say anything.

Zhou Yi looked down at him and asked with interest, "Why did they arrest you?"

The man shook his head frantically, his tongue twisting, and blurted out in Spanish: "No lo sé, seorse lo jurono se nada."

"Can't understand?"

Zhou Yi tucked the pistol back into his waistband and dragged the other man out of the car with one hand.

The moment the person hit the ground, the handcuffs struck the asphalt road with a crisp sound.

The man staggered and tried to get up, but Zhou Yi grabbed his hair and pushed him back to the ground.

“No te desgastes, cabrón,” he whispered, “nomás di la neta y ya, antes de que se ponga feo.”

Upon hearing the distinctive slang, the man's face changed drastically, and he trembled even more violently: "You...you're from the North?"

Zhou Yi didn't answer, but squatted down and tapped his face with the gun: "Why were you arrested?"

Upon hearing this, the man's eyes darted frantically left and right, trying to come up with a plausible excuse to get away with it.

Unfortunately, a few seconds later, the instinct for survival completely took over his body, and he frantically confessed:

“I’m a delivery driver who came from El Paso, passed through Fuarez to here, and then went to the Dallas warehouse. Yesterday, one of our drivers had an accident, so I filled in. The truck wasn’t mine; it was one of Garcia’s guys who put it there. I didn’t even touch the packaging—if you’re looking for someone, go find them!”

Zhou Yi listened quietly without interrupting, and slowly loosened his fingers.

The man felt the pressure lessen, but dared not stop, and even spoke faster and faster:

“I’m not under Carrera’s jurisdiction! I’m not one of them at all—I’m on the Garcia line, from start to finish! I only handle short-term orders on the Dallas line! Really! I haven’t crossed any lines, haven’t taken any of their cargo, haven’t used their docks! You understand what I’m saying, right? I’m not on your list—I’m one of them, really—I’ve never touched a Sinaloa order!”

As he finished speaking, his chest heaved violently, and he collapsed to the ground, panting heavily.

Zhou Yi laughed.

Well, drug dealers.

I happen to need a self-destructing truck driver.

I originally planned to wait until I got to my hometown in West Virginia to look for someone, but unexpectedly, a suitable candidate came along.

He was in a great mood and pulled the man up from the ground.

"Today is your lucky day," Zhou Yi said. "I have a task for you. Complete it alive, and I'll let you go."

The man stared at him blankly, seemingly not yet having reacted.

"You are—"

“Shut up, get on the truck.” Zhou Yi interrupted his question, pointing to the truck not far away. “Then learn to follow instructions.”

(End of this chapter)