Chapter 1174 Self-destructing Robot
Seeing that it was past 12 o'clock, the police helicopters patrolling in the sky had all changed groups, but the confrontation between the two sides still showed no sign of ending.
However, there is one thing to say: Texas is more than one and a half times better than California in terms of execution. DPD quickly issued a temporary no-fly order through the FAA (Federal Aviation Administration), allowing only police aircraft to fly within the city limits.
Therefore, the embarrassing situation in Los Angeles where there were more helicopters from major news stations than police helicopters did not occur, and all interview vehicles were stopped two miles away.
Aubrey leaned against the command vehicle with his gun in his arms and looked toward the second floor of the library, where the outer walls were illuminated by countless searchlights.
"If you really have nothing to do, go and bring our car over, and when it's over, we can go have a late-night snack together."
Jack felt that this guy was an eyesore here. All the DPD police officers around him were extremely nervous, but he was the only one who felt relaxed.
"I just heard that the bomb disposal team is removing suspicious packages in the underground parking lot. If it is confirmed to be a fake bomb, does that mean the SWAT team can come in?"
Aubrey has been through a lot of storms with Jack. Not to mention being able to remain calm in the face of a hail of bullets, at least it is difficult for him to become nervous in this situation.
"Even if it was a fake bomb, it doesn't mean that Micah Johnson didn't have other explosives on hand. He was prepared."
However, Jack also became interested when he heard that he mentioned the bomb disposal team. He seemed to have seen an explosive disposal robot coming just now. This time he didn't have to go on an adventure himself, so it was good to be a spectator.
Men's hobbies are sometimes quite simple. Putting an excavator there to dig earth can also attract a bunch of idle men to watch. Watching the bucket repeat the monotonous operation, digging up the sand one shovel after another, the pressure of life seems to have followed. It became much lighter.
The explosive disposal robot used by the DPD bomb disposal team looks a lot like a super-small excavator, except that the cockpit is replaced by a pole equipped with a camera, and the position of the excavating arm is replaced by a universal manipulator. .
Well, at least the rest of the tracks look pretty similar.
"This is our latest model of bomb dismantling remotely operated vehicle - 'Remotec Model F-5'. We have just installed an EOD water bomb on it."
After the two FBI agents identified themselves, a bomb disposal expert who had obviously transferred from the military took the initiative to introduce them.
"The detector found no suspected explosive ingredients on this package, but for the sake of safety, we decided to use air compression to destroy it."
"Wouldn't this detonate a bomb?" Aubrey asked curiously.
"The chance is small. The high-speed airflow will instantly destroy the internal circuits and detonators, rendering them ineffective. And we are now basically certain that this is a fake bomb. Maybe it was just an idiot student who forgot his schoolbag here."
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This middle-aged man in his forties, with extremely hard facial lines and a full military temperament is actually a cold-faced and warm-hearted guy. He seems to be serious in speech, but once he opens his chat box, he can talk endlessly.
With a poker face, he was explaining while his men didn't stop, carefully using the remote control to operate the robot close to the suspicious backpack.
"3, 2, 1" followed by a muffled sound, and the backpack placed next to a pillar was instantly penetrated by the compressed air flow. For a while, pieces of paper were flying in the sky and dust was blowing in the face.
The bomb disposal expert's judgment was correct. The suspected bomb was actually probably just a schoolbag left by a student, but it was over all at once. It didn't seem as good as the excavator digging the soil, which Jack could watch all afternoon.
He was about to say goodbye to the bomb disposal expert when he saw Aubrey holding his chin and looking at the bomb disposal robot thoughtfully, "You said, if it is because you are worried that the other party may have explosives that will cause additional casualties, the current situation has occurred. If there is a confrontation situation, is there any possibility?"
——
"Using a remote-controlled robot to approach Micah Johnson? And what? I don't remember the bomb squad's EOD robot being armed."
Chief David Brown was annoyed and his tone seemed a bit harsh. Now that the two sides had been in a stalemate for several hours, the DPD no longer had to worry about the media questioning whether the police would kill the suspect maliciously.
But if we delay it any longer, there may be some backhanded comments on the morning news today about DPD being incompetent and a waste of taxpayers' money.
"But it's not difficult to make temporary modifications. Sergeant Lake said he can use the materials on hand to make a simple device that can release shock bombs. It only takes about an hour." Aubrey smiled and raised a finger. , the Sergeant Lake in his mouth was the seemingly unsmiling bomb disposal expert standing behind them at this time.
"One hour? That's too long, and the shock bomb cannot 100% guarantee that the suspect is incapacitated. I don't want the suspect to blow up the bomb when my police officers rush up."
Director David Brown frowned, lowered his head and thought for a moment, then waved the bomb disposal expert forward, "In 20 minutes, can you install 1 pound of C4 that can be remotely detonated on your little toy?"
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"Ah?" With the bomb disposal expert's usual calmness, he couldn't help but be startled when he heard this, but then he reacted, "Of course, sir, it can be done in 15 minutes."
Jack and Aubrey on the side looked at each other and found each other with dumbfounded expressions. Go directly to C4? Is this DPD chief so tough?
——
In the quiet corridor, Micah Johnson's heavy breathing was still clearly audible even across the nearly ten-meter-long corridor.
The police negotiators had already shouted hoarse and gave up, and the police cars downstairs had all turned off their sirens. However, the searchlights shining through the windows in the corridor were still dazzling, sometimes mixed with the flashes of red and blue police lights. Pass away.
Micah Johnson knew he was going to die. There was a bullet wound in his left arm. Although he loosened the tourniquet every 20 minutes, the numbness in his fingers became more and more obvious.
He knew that there was still a bullet in his back that penetrated the ceramic insert and got stuck in his ribs. Although the bleeding stopped quickly, every breath he took brought a sharp pain that reached to his toes.
If I had known, it would have been better to purchase bulletproof inserts made by Seris directly. When I was in Afghanistan, many of my comrades used cheap "knock-offs" and I never heard of any problems.
The excitement brought to him by the white powder prepared in advance was gradually fading, and sleepiness began to gradually invade Micah Johnson's brain.
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He just sucked off the last bit, but the effect was very poor. That damn drug dealer probably tricked him. If he could escape, he would definitely put a bullet into that bastard's head as soon as possible after returning.
Maybe now he should try to pretend to be dead and trick those damn cops into coming in. He still has a lot of bullets, and even if he kills one more, he will still make money.
Just when Micah Johnson's groggy brain couldn't help but start thinking wildly, a strange mechanical sound came into his ears.
The crunching sound echoed in the quiet corridor, like crawlers running over the ground, giving people an inexplicable creepy feeling.
This sound reminded Micah Johnson of an old movie called "Thunderbolt 5" that he watched in his childhood. There was a robot in it that made this strange sound.
Curiosity made him couldn't help but quickly glance at the direction where the sound came from. When he saw what was coming clearly, he couldn't even believe his eyes.
Is it really the robot called "Thunderbolt 5"? But my childhood self clearly liked "E.T. aliens"?
Just thinking so wildly, Micah Johnson couldn't help but change his position and quickly took a look into the corridor again.
He read it correctly. It was indeed a robot. There was a manipulator on the big crawler chassis, and there was a white thing clamped on the manipulator.
"Damn cops, what do you bastards want?" Micah Johnson pulled the trigger on the strange thing repeatedly, and the bullets scratched sparks on the metal baffle and tracks.
But the robot continued to move forward, very slowly, but seemingly unstoppable. 8 meters, 5 meters, 3 meters were already in sight.
"Go to hell!" Micah Johnson roared, but before he could take any further action, a white light lit up, and a huge explosion shattered the glass of the entire corridor, tearing down all the ceilings.
(End of chapter)