Days in Hong Kong variety shows

On October 11, 1983, at 2:00 PM Pacific Time, in Cameron, California, a small town on Highway 58, there was a canyon about 300 meters long and only about 20 meters wide hidden in the mountains south of the town.

There is no direct road leading to the canyon, but vehicles with good off-road capabilities can cross a stretch of Gobi desert to enter.

Six days ago, Cao Tai's first batch of cardboard worth HK$300 was shipped from San Francisco. Mr. Cao, who wanted to purchase some small items, contacted a private gunsmith workshop called "Morris Gun Workshop" after making inquiries.

After purchasing a meticulously modified and tuned McMillan TAC-50 and a full set of accessories at a high price, they obtained the contact information of a group of 'biubiubiu' merchants on the West Coast.

So the small canyon southwest of Cameron was the transaction location given by the other party. Mr. Cao drove for more than an hour from LA with a map to get to Cameron, and then drove for more than 10 minutes on the gravel road in the Gobi Desert with the help of the contact person to get here.

Two vehicles arrived: a Dodge Ram pickup truck, which looked quite good at first glance, and a gray light truck parked behind it.

After parking the car more than ten meters away from the other party, Cao Tai, still wearing a baseball cap and a mask, got out of the car and stood still. The Mexican contact in the passenger seat ran directly to the five people standing in a diamond shape on the other side.

He quickly spoke a few words to the refined, bearded, white man who seemed to be the leader! It was in Spanish, leaving Cao Tai completely bewildered!

Before long, the old white man, dressed in a suit and polished handmade leather shoes, walked towards Cao Tai in the wilderness and extended his right hand as he approached.

Cao Tai also extended his right hand and gently shook hands with the other person.

"Jose!" Cao Tai heard the other person's self-introduction and that's how it was pronounced, like a common name in Portugal and Spain.

"Cho (曹)" is a direct transliteration of his own surname.

"Come and see the goods!" Jose, the white-haired man, tilted his head back after releasing his grip.

Cao Tai gestured for them to follow him to the light truck. Of the four men who had been standing on either side of Jose, two followed, while the remaining two remained standing next to the pickup truck with their contact.

Cao Tai glanced casually at the waists of the four men; they were bulging, indicating that they were all carrying short weapons.

As Cao Tai passed the light truck cab, he glanced to the side and saw a man lying on the reclined passenger seat, with earphones in his ears and a Walkman dangling from his hand resting on his stomach.

Upon reaching the back of the light truck, José's men first unlatched the door, slammed it open, and jumped into the cargo area. They carefully lifted a long wooden crate from the back of the truck.

After the wooden crate was placed safely on the ground, one of the men took out a crowbar from the carriage and pried open the top wooden board, revealing a long, military-green polymer crate inside. The two men then gently lifted the crate out.

Jose squatted down in front of the box, tore off the seal, opened several buckles, lifted the lid, revealing small green cylinders arranged side by side inside, and handed one to Cao Tai with both hands.

Cao Tai fiddled with it from side to side, did a quick check, and then asked, "Can it launch normally?"

"Of course! The goods were pulled directly from the garrison's logistics warehouse, and the seals are still intact!" Jose said proudly, his neat little mustache bobbing up and down.

"OK, what about the other one?"

Upon hearing this, José snapped his fingers at his two subordinates.

Soon the two men carried down an even larger and longer box. When they opened it, two longer and thicker green pipes were quietly placed inside.

This time, Jose lifted a tube with a little force and handed it over. Cao Tai checked it again, then gently put the tube back in its original position, put on the cap, and fastened the buckle.

"OK, 4 long tubes and 12 short tubes. After you open the box and check them all, put them in the back of the pickup truck I brought!" Cao Tai patted his gloves, which were almost dust-free.

Two long pipes per box, four short pipes per box. The inspection was completed quickly. Jose called over three people next to the pickup truck to help. Soon, they were stacked on the pickup truck that Cao Tai had "borrowed" as requested. The other party even carefully helped to cover them with a tarpaulin and tie them tightly with rope.

After everything was put away, Cao Tai opened the back door of his pickup truck and pretended to take a small black backpack from under the back seat. In reality, he took the small bag out of his storage space after blocking everyone's view.

He slammed the car door shut, walked to Jose about five or six meters away, and handed him the bag.

"Take a count!" Cao Tai asked the other party to check if the number was correct.

Jose handed the bag to his underling, who unzipped the backpack and quickly counted the stacks of US dollars inside.

The way the banknotes were tied was different from the way the typical women in the neighborhood tied them, but it didn't attract the other party's attention.

He put all the money back in his backpack, zipped it up, and then whispered something in Spanish into José's ear.

José smiled and extended his right hand to Cao Tai again. "Pleasure doing business with you, Cho!"

"It's a pleasure to work with you!" Both sides shook hands firmly this time.

"That's all for now. I'll contact you again if I need anything in the future!" Cao Tai nodded to Jose, then turned and left.

"Hey! Take off your mask! You come to trade wearing a mask, are you looking down on us? You yellow-skinned monkey!" Cao Tai, whose hand was on the doorknob, heard an arrogant voice behind him.

He slowly turned around, his cold gaze fixed on the rude young white man, the one who had been lying in the passenger seat of the light truck listening to music.

He was holding a Walkman in his left hand and a revolver in his right, walking over with an arrogant gait.

"Lucas! Are you crazy!" Jose, the older white man, stepped forward and grabbed the young white man named Lucas around the waist, shouting sternly.

Then he turned back to Cao Tai and forced a smile. "Cho, sorry, he's having a seizure. You can go now!"

"Fuck, Jose, you're just working for my family. How dare you stop me? Believe me or not, I'll tell my dad when we get back..." Lucas retorted to Jose without a care in the world.

"Lucas, if you're going to go crazy, go back home. I'll definitely tell your father about this when I get back." José shoved Lucas back two steps and then gave an order to his men in Spanish.

The men looked at each other, and after a moment of confusion, two of them finally stepped forward to try and stop Lucas.

A sharp gunshot rang out during the scuffle.

Cao Tai glanced at a speck of dust less than two meters away, then slowly reached out and removed his mask.

"Jose, look! That yellow-skinned monkey is so timid, he obeys as soon as he's scared. Hahaha..." Lucas became even more arrogant and laughed wildly when he saw Cao Tai take off his mask.

"NO! You bastard, FUCK!" Jose slammed his hand down, his mature face contorted with anger and hatred.

She turned to look at Cao Tai, her face displaying an expression that was both crying and laughing. "Cho..."

When she saw a slight smile on Cao Tai's face, but his eyes were icy cold, she was about to raise her hand to say something.

"Bang..." A gunshot rang out.

"You're welcome!" Cao Tai said coldly as he watched the six bodies slowly fall to the ground.

In less than two seconds, seven bullets hit seven targets. Four of them were shot in the head, while the other three were shot in the chest, two in the heart and one in the chest, depending on their positions.

Carrying the Glock 17, he walked to the old white man, Jose, who was shot in the forehead and fell to the ground, his wide eyes showing disbelief.

Stepping over Jose's corpse, the two men who had been shot in the heart seemed to still be breathing, twitching on the ground, their eyes following Cao Tai's movements.

After two gunshots, the two men fell asleep as peacefully as babies.

The Mexican contact who fell next to the Dodge Ram pickup truck had been shot through his right eye socket, leaving a hole the size of a billiard ball in the back of his head.

The remaining two were shot in the head; one was hit in the temple, and the other in the back of the head. Cao Tai checked them over and found they had both fallen asleep peacefully.

Finally, he stood in front of the young Lucas. The two men who had blocked him had obstructed Cao Tai's firing line, and in the end, he could only hit Cao Tai's chest through the gap between the two men.

Lucas had already tossed aside his revolver and his personal audio player. Blood was still gushing from the bullet wound in his chest. His wide-eyed stare as Cao Tai approached held a hint of pleading in his eyes.

As his chest rose and fell gently, blood foam gushed from his mouth and nose in rhythm with the movement. It seemed the bullet had hit his lung; fresh blood rushed into his respiratory tract and flowed out of his mouth and nose with each breath.

After the gunshot, the whole world went silent.

Picking up the revolver Lucas dropped, an all-steel S&WM686 revolver, I released the cylinder and glanced at it. It was fully loaded with six .357 Magnum rounds. With a gentle flick, the cylinder returned to its position, and the pistol was instantly stored in my spatial storage.

The final sweep yielded five Glock pistols and a Sig Sauer P226 pistol pulled from the white man, Jose. Fortunately, they all used NATO 9×19mm pistol ammunition.

Two modified short-barreled AR15 rifles, fully automatic versions, not the semi-automatic versions sold on the market, were also found in the back seat of the Dodge Ram pickup truck. They were collected along with four full spare magazines.

With a small backpack, Dao Le returned to Boss Cao's private space and finally moved the seven corpses into the light truck, squeezing them all in.

Two 20L barrels of kerosene were poured evenly and set ablaze on the light truck and the 'borrowed' pickup truck. Amidst the raging flames, Cao Tai drove the 'seller's' Dodge Ram home.

In the early morning of October 12, 1983, Pacific Time, a fire broke out at the Morris Gun Shop in Sonoma County, California. After the fire was extinguished, three bodies and signs of arson were found at the scene.

The FBI's San Francisco office quickly took over the on-site investigation and evidence collection. The identities of the three charred bodies were soon confirmed, and the cause of death in all three cases was that their necks had been snapped. Hundreds of various firearms stored in the workshop were missing, and almost no other useful clues were found.

On the evening of November 13, 1983, Pacific Time, a fire broke out at a bar in the Port of Los Angeles area. After the fire department extinguished the fire, the Los Angeles County Sheriff's Office entered the scene and found more than 11 half-burnt bodies.

Upon receiving the report, the FBI's Los Angeles office dispatched experienced homicide squad agents and an ERT (Emergency Response Team) to the scene to investigate.

FBI Los Angeles homicide squad supervising agent Bob Hodges stepped out of the charred bar door, rubbing his nose to try and banish the pungent smell of burnt meat from his nostrils.

"Danny," Bob called out to Danny McGarvin, a new trainee detective in the homicide squad, who was talking to the on-site investigation team. He had a fiery temper but was extremely capable.

"Boss!" Danny McGarvin finished his conversation with the agent and walked over.

"What did the on-site investigation team say?" Bob asked, staring at the young detective's face.

"Twenty-three bodies were recovered. Fortunately, the firefighters responded quickly and the bodies were not completely burned. The preliminary assessment is that the cause of death was gunshot wounds..."

"All twenty-three people were shot dead?" Bob asked, having just come from the scene. Of all the bodies inside, upon observation, almost all of them were carrying weapons. However, only the six bodies in the innermost office had their guns out. The other 17 bodies looked like they were just waiting to be shot, showing no signs of drawing their guns in retaliation.

"The final result still needs to be determined by an autopsy, but the gunmen seemed very professional. From the moment they charged in until they completed the final killing, only the last few people reacted in time to draw their guns, but unfortunately they still died in the end," Danny McGarvin said nonchalantly.

You mean them?

"That's right! What else could it be? There must be an elite team that raids in and kills all 17 people in the bar lobby before they can even react. Even if everyone is drunk and their reactions are slow, they must kill all 17 people within a few seconds, at most no more than 10 seconds."

Otherwise, the six people who had drawn their weapons in the office wouldn't all have died inside; surely some would have died near the door or outside, right?

"Let's wait for the report..." Bob Hodges had a vague sense of unease.

Can the deceased's identity be confirmed?

"This bar is an important stronghold of the RSP (a Mexican gang in Los Angeles, whose main businesses are noodles, meatballs, and weapons). It seems to be closed tonight. The dead are probably gang members, but we need to investigate their identities!"

"Have you asked the 911 emergency call center if they've received any reports of shootings in the Minato area tonight?"

"I've inquired, and there haven't been any similar emergency calls! I suspect the killer used a silenced weapon. Although there are few pedestrians on this street at night, the nearest residential building is only 20 or 30 meters away, so a normal gunshot would be audible!"

"Although those who died were probably all scum, the number was still far too many. Hopefully, the forensic report will be out soon! We also need to find out as quickly as possible if any of the RSP's leaders have survived; there are some things we still need to understand!"

"Alright! Shall we wait here now?"

"Leave two people at the scene. The rest of the team will split up and check out other RSP locations to see if they can find any gang members and find out what's been going on lately!"

"Okay, boss, I'll go notify them right now!" Daniel replied and turned to inform the other colleagues in the homicide squad.

美西时间1983年10月14日下午16:20，洛杉矶市威尔希尔大道11000号，FBI洛城办公室。

The homicide squad agents, who had been busy from last night until noon today, all found a place to rest in their offices after having lunch at 14:00 PM. Bob Hodges, the supervising agent, had his own small office, so he could set up a small cot and lie down for a while.

"Knock knock knock." Bob, who was tense and hadn't fallen into a deep sleep, sat up the moment he heard the knocking. He rubbed his face vigorously with both hands. Although his eyes were still bloodshot, he seemed to have recovered a little.

Before the boss could answer, Daniel pushed the door open and came in.

Seeing Daniel enter with a thick stack of papers in his hand, Bob Hodges perked up, quickly got up, walked over, took the papers, and began to read them.

"Of the 33 bullets found at the scene, including 14 from the victim's body, ballistic testing confirmed that 27 were fired from the same 9×19mm gun, and the other 20 were fired from the six guns in the bar's office! This was all done by one person! Can you believe it?" Daniel's voice was filled with extreme shock.

Bob Hodges quickly flipped through the report: "Four men were shot twice, both in vital areas! The other 19 were all shot in the head!"

Bob Hodges couldn't help but gasp!

The report mentions that after careful investigation, 13 of the bullets were found, which correspond to the 14 bullets found on the body during the autopsy and the 27 bullet casings found at the scene.

My bad feeling came true. One man, with a gun, stormed in and killed 23 people in the bar, and then calmly set the bar on fire. That means the bar staff fired 20 shots, but none of them hit the gunman. The gunman was not injured at all.

It's unimaginable how the gunman did it. Were all the people in the bar completely drunk before the gunman entered?

That shouldn't be! In the office at the very back of the bar, all six victims pulled out guns and fired 20 bullets. The four victims who were shot twice were all from these six people.

That means the gunman was unerring in the lobby, hitting all 17 people in the head with every shot. He fought his way to the innermost office before encountering some resistance, but it seemed that the six guns couldn't hold out for more than a few seconds. The gun that fired the most bullets fired was four, and the gun that fired the least fired was only one.

It wasn't that they didn't want to fire more shots, but rather that they were killed after firing only a few shots and were unable to continue firing.

Bob Hodges was stunned into a blank. This was not something a human could do. Facing six guns head-on, how could one person kill all six without taking any damage?