"Follow him, I must kill the guy who insulted my brother on the radio." Sinaloa took two UZIs from under his seat and began to check the magazine.
"Sugnett is the boss of the blood gang here!" The driver looked at the three who were tampering with the equipment silently, and couldn't help but spoke again.
This time Sinaloa ignored him, ‘thanks to Su Gehe for coming to my show, here is the advertising time! The DJ’s hearty voice came on the radio.
About ten minutes later, some black men in red appeared at the door of the building, hugging each other and saying goodbye.
"Which is Sugnat?" Sinaloa rolled down the window.
"The tallest and strongest one," the driver pointed out.
"Then what are you doing in a daze!?"
The driver stepped on the accelerator, the car suddenly started, and drove towards the group of people.
Da Da Da... Da Da Da...
Several guns protruded from the right window and swept across the group of people. Regardless of whether they were alive or dead, they all fell on the ground for a few seconds, and the Buick disappeared directly into the night of Los Angeles.
"Ho!"
After driving all the way to a remote section that felt safe, the driver stopped the car, "I have to slow down, I have to slow down, this time we can play big, it's really big..."
'boom! There was another gunshot, and the fire in the carriage flashed out.
A person came down from the back row, opened the driver's door, dragged a corpse down and discarded it on the side of the road, then got in by himself and started the car again.
Do you like this site? Donate here:
Chicago 1990 Chapter 597: Energy release
Two days later, Chicago.
"What about Peter?"
Song Ya turned sideways, let the mover carrying the desk pass first, and then walked into the campaign headquarters where the office equipment was being removed. The celebration dinner ribbons, balloons, campaign slogans, and promotional posters were still hanging.
"He is waiting for you in the office, but he has a hangover."
Eli with joy on his face led the way, "Everyone was so happy last night."
"I was not there, sorry." Song Ya smiled: "Congratulations on taking back the throne of Cook County State Attorney."
Because a black woman suddenly ran for the state prosecutor and killed Childs in a dark horse posture and became Peter Flock’s main opponent, black political activists such as Michelle also joined the same race in the middle and late stages of the campaign. Hostile to Peter. This is equivalent to a complete political break between the two parties. It is really not convenient for Song Ya to appear in person at the election site to endorse Peter, so he can only keep a low profile after the dinner is over.
"The campaign was unexpectedly fierce, and we won very thrillingly, but it helped us expand the base of loyal voters."
Eli said. Indeed, the fiercer the election, the higher the probability of losing the election, but because the public's attention will increase, as long as it can win, the more political capital will be obtained. This is a double-edged sword.
"Jackie." Eli hugged an elegant white old lady outside the office.
"Can't you let Peter rest for a while?"
This old lady, who is very similar in temperament to Ms. Shirley Fleming, the editor-in-chief of Amerika Music, doesn’t seem to like Eli. Holding a cup of steaming coffee, she looked at him displeasedly and then at Song Ya. at the door.
"Don't make trouble with Jackie, APLUS is one of Peter's biggest funders."
Eli put the old lady's shoulders on her shoulders, moved her to a position, and opened the door.
"Oh, thank you for supporting my son." The old lady didn't complain about Eli's impolite behavior, smiled, and shook Song Ya. "There are not many people like you who are sensible, those who attack Peter. black……"
"Shut up Jackie..."
Eli grabbed coffee from her, "Come in, APLUS, ignore her, and don't care what she said."
"Sorry."
Song Ya accused the pouting old lady and walked into the office.
"Who?" In the dimly lit office, Peter Flock was sleeping on the sofa. He lifted the blanket and covered his eyes with his hands. "Eli, close the door, please."
"Mr. Flock, congratulations on your election."
Song Ya said to the opponent who had just sat up.
"Oh, it was difficult, but I won in the end." Peter Flock took the coffee from Eli, took a sip, and then sighed contentedly. "I didn't expect that my enemy was not Childs in the end."
"The political energy of African descent has become a climate in Chicago."
Eli had some lingering fears about the campaign that had just ended. "The woman raised less than one-tenth of our campaign funds, but it caused us a lot of trouble."
"Yes." Peter stood up wearily, and sat behind his desk with his coffee. "Your speech about pleasing young voters helped me a lot, Eli."
"Hehe."
Eli was very happy after receiving his compliment, "Let me say it, it's a cool thing for young people to be honest about being in jail. Your statement on improving prison treatment won their hearts..."
At this time the door was pushed open, "Why don't you turn on the light?" The old lady walked in again with a small plate with sugar cubes, "Peter, don't drink so bitterly." He turned on the light in the room and threw the sugar cubes away. Into Peter's coffee cup.
"Mam, I'm in the office..." This middle-aged politician who is very stylish and dignified in front of outsiders can only complain so helplessly.
"Pay more attention to rest." The old lady explained to Song Ya with a smile, "He likes to drink some sugar."
"All right, let's go out." Eli drove her away and locked the door.
"Eli." Peter called his name, holding his forehead.
"What?" Eli asked, then looked at him, then at Song Ya who was silent, and finally reacted, "Oh, okay, you guys talk..." He opened the locked door and left. Up.
"In a hurry? APLUS, sit down." Peter pointed to the seat in front of him.
"Have."
At this time, I asked and said that the other party would not believe it if there was nothing in a hurry, and the eyebrows were indeed burning, "Peter, I need you to help me solve a problem.
He didn't want to get his hands dirty to kill Sinaloa, so he could only do it through law enforcement agencies. Cassidy, the stormtrooper dad, should come to Peter first.
"Please speak."
"I was harassed by a gangster in Chicago. He even showed up outside my residence in Los Angeles the day before yesterday."
"I see." Peter picked up the phone and dialed, "Let..."
"No, Mr. Flock, I don't want to leave any testimony or report to the police." Song Ya quickly stopped him from looking for his men, "I hope you can use that guy's other criminal names."
"OK."
Peter put down the microphone and yawned, "The gang member who can give you a headache must be a big one. I may know his name."
"Sinaloa," Song Ya said.
"The new boss of the **** bobcat?" Peter looked at Song Ya, a smile appeared on the corner of his mouth, "You can't stand him?"
"That guy is crazy."
Song Ya knows that he knows his background very well, maybe he is now in his heart feuding with the Hell Bobcat.
"No problem, I will set up a special operations team against him when I take office." Peter readily agreed.
"Take office? No..."
The election is successful, and taking office will have to wait until January 1, 1995, and there is more than a month left. Song Ya can’t wait. “He must be resolved as soon as possible. I said that by the resolution, he will no longer become my reality. Trouble, forever."
It’s time to release the terrorist power of billionaires in the capital society. He doesn’t plan to maintain his image in front of politicians who receive his large funding. He wants to say anything in return, “I can’t wait, so I’m here. Came over at this untimely time."