Chapter 52: Tifa Calls

"What a coincidence! I'm free."

He flipped through the other information again and compared the time on his phone to confirm that it was still in time. York smiled silently, opened the door in front of him and walked in.

"Anyone who threatens my family must die!"

When Susanny suddenly asked about his family, York had already sentenced Susanny to death.

He had been keeping an eye on this guy's situation and asked Detective Archid to let him know when he was released.

As for the subsequent impact, he did not consider it, because no one cared about the death of a minor character like Susannie, and if there was, he would not care.

He also didn't care what Detective Achido would think. Sometimes favors were used in places like this. No one was a fool, they just understood it tacitly. The point was that he had specifically asked about the situation in the Detective Bureau and had secretly communicated with the chief of the homicide squad, Uncle Fred, a man promoted by his father himself.

In fact, Detective Archido once expressed that he could make an effort to put Susannie in jail for more than ten years, but he refused.

It’s still the old saying, the world is not about fighting and killing, but about human relationships.

"Just kidding, my goal is to wait for this day to come. My problem is that I really can't tolerate any threats. All dangerous factors must be eliminated!"

Walking in, Yorks muttered to himself calmly, then closed the door and continued walking forward.

What comes into view is a very wide open space. Ignoring the other layouts and decorations, there are simply tables and chairs, as well as a long table blocking the gun rack.

Hanging on the gun rack are all common firearms, such as the Glock series, revolvers, M4 carbines, and M14 automatic rifles. It can be said that all the popular firearms on the market are available.

This is simply a private treasure trove for gun enthusiasts. If you like guns, you will probably linger in front of this gun rack for a long time.

York's target was not the guns hanging in the gun racks, because these were firearms registered with his identity. Once used, even the bullets could be easily detected.

This is just for show, so this is not his goal.

Of course, it is okay to use them, but one has to be more cautious in this kind of thing, so that even if someone knows that it was him who did it, they can't find any evidence.

Yorks walked through the hall with familiarity and entered a room next door, which contained a bed, a computer desk and chair, and a bookshelf.

A simple room.

He had slept here for a while before and had brought women here to play around for a while.

It is about ten miles away from here, and the scenery is really nice. There is a lake and a small dense forest and hills. Camping enthusiasts in Los Angeles often go there to camp.

York took a look at the well-decorated room in front of him, walked to the corner against the wall, stepped hard on one of the grids on the floor to create a crack, then bent down, grabbed the edge of the floor and pulled it up.

His real target was on the underground floor.

Pulling open the floorboards, York leaned over and walked in.

This is a basement he built specifically to store some tools, such as equipment for modifying bullets, etc. Of course, there are guns as well. Unlike the guns hanging on the gun rack, these are all anonymous guns. In a word, they are black guns that he modified himself.

He would make some modifications to some popular pistols on the market, adding new tail fins, expanding the magazine, adjusting the trigger mechanism, polishing the slide, modifying the rifling and other routine operations.

Then the gun is no longer the same gun.

Perhaps it was the talent brought by the Chinese race in his previous life, he found the transformation really easy. He could even go a step further and add his own understanding, and finally practiced a transformation skill.

Yorks walked down thirteen steps and came to flat ground.

When he got here, the smell of metal and maintenance was unusually strong, and the sensor light automatically lit up, revealing a small passage. Following the lit sensor light, Yorks walked calmly through the corridor to the end, and a space similar to a warehouse appeared in front of him.

The huge space was filled with a mess of equipment. On the work table next to it were gloves he had thrown away, some modified bullets, shell casings, and even unfinished guns. Overall, it looked like a car repair shop.

Ignoring the messy equipment and work tables, Yorks continued to walk deeper.

Just like on the ground, there are also some gun racks against the wall, with various firearms hanging on them.

Some of these guns were purchased through other means, and some were guns that he had already started to modify.

Rifles, revolvers, pistols, sniper rifles and many other types.

It can be said that he spent all his money on these things, so that now he has become a real pauper.

Looking at the dazzling array of guns and various tools hanging on the gun rack, York pursed his lips, stopped in front of the gun rack, took a quick look, and picked up one of the sniper rifles hanging on it.

Relevant data comes to mind.

DVL-10 M1, a lightweight silent high-precision sniper rifle, has the characteristics of supporting multi-caliber conversion, modularity, small recoil and muteness. It is equipped with a carbon fiber tube and titanium alloy silencer with special winding technology, which greatly reduces the noise generated during launch. and thermal characteristics.

It has accurate shooting and outstanding reliability, with an effective range of only 800 meters. Although it is only 800 meters, it can fire 100 rounds continuously at a distance of 5 meters, and the dispersion range does not exceed 1.45 cm.

As a silent sniper rifle, this data means very high shooting accuracy.

So when this gun first came out, he took a fancy to it.

"It hasn't been used yet, so it's you."

York raised the corner of his mouth slightly, took out a black backpack from under the table next to him, unzipped it and put the DVL-10 M1 in it, then took out the corresponding bullets from under the table and put them in.

After zipping up his bag, York picked up his bag and left.

Behind him, the sensor lights turned off one by one, and the basement, which had been renovated at great expense, returned to darkness.

............................................................

Los Angeles, Detective Bureau, one of the special divisions of the Los Angeles Police Department.

Accompanied by a cursing voice, Susanni, who had not been seen for a few days, came in a colorful dress with his pants slipped down to his buttocks.

But he didn't care. Instead, he turned to the door of the detective bureau, ignored the police officers passing by, crossed his arms and secretly made a gesture that everyone understood, walked out with a relaxed expression, pulled up his trousers, and walked in a certain direction.

He walked along the street and crossed the intersection without knowing that someone had been waiting for him in a Volkswagen Bora.

Ding-ling-ling, the bell rang in the car.

York stepped on the accelerator, controlled the steering wheel with one hand, and followed Susannie at a very slow speed. He picked up his mobile phone and took a look at it.

What surprised him a little was that the caller was Tifa, a psychologist who worked with the West Canyon Police Department.

"kindness?"

Yorks sensed that something was wrong with Tifa, so he glanced at Susani who was walking across the intersection and turning to the right, and then picked up the call.

"Tifa?"

(End of this chapter)