243: Chapter 230 How an Assassin Should Act 243: Chapter 230 How an Assassin Should Act A police officer, no matter how knowledgeable in first aid, cannot compare to a doctor who has received even the most basic dical training.
Dr.
Strong, who could run a general practice clinic in town, took over treatnt, leading to a rapid improvent in Feng Biao’s condition.
Blood transfusion was not possible, but the bleeding point was found, and the bleeding was stopped.
Gao Yi had been waiting outside impatiently for several minutes.
George had taken care of a few people, and there was nothing left for him to do, so naturally, he wanted to check if anyone he cared about had died.
It sounded a bit harsh, but given the wounds Feng Biao and the others had, soone could die at any ti.
He checked on Feng Biao, then looked at Lin Xianghua.
Lin Xianghua was unconscious, and the doctor was assessing his injuries.
“He’s been shot once, but he has at least five wounds.
I don’t have an X-ray machine to determine if there are any bullet fragnts left inside, but judging by the wounds’ locations and bleeding, he’s going to be fine,” the doctor said.
His hands were covered in blood, which he wiped on his forehead, saying, “I really don’t know if I should call it good luck or bad.”
Gao Yi reacted the sa way; it was hard to say if Lin Xianghua was lucky.
He had six new holes in his body, but despite being shot and bloodied, he seed to be relatively okay.
Gao Yi couldn’t help but glance at the still-unconscious Luca and Lucy and asked, “How are those two?”
“It’s hard to say.
They’ve definitely been impacted by the blast and could be seriously injured, or they might just be unconscious for a while and wake up soon.
At the mont, their heartbeats are strong and their breathing is stable, so I don’t think the problem is too serious,” Dr.
Strong said, with Aliza translating.
The conversation went smoothly.
Li Jie, however, was uncomfortable because the doctor was bandaging him.
It was painful without anesthesia, and Li Jie grimaced, but he didn’t want to shout because it would be embarrassing.
Finally, Li Jie couldn’t take it anymore and said to Gao Yi: “So right now… hiss… It’s just … awake, huh?”
Gao Yi looked at Li Jie and nodded, “That’s right.”
A hint of resignation appeared on Li Jie’s face.
He turned his head away and said softly, “So it’s just who can help, right?”
“No need.”
“No need?
Are you planning to… take care of everything yourself… um!”
Gao Yi spoke softly, “You didn’t see it before, George took down four by himself, incredibly accurate.”
Li Jie was astonished, “That strong?
Doesn’t seem possible.
He looks so ek and understanding…”
“Weakness is from work, strength is for survival; those are different things.
I’m going out; you rest well and don’t worry.”
After soothing Li Jie a bit, Gao Yi stood up.
He did not return to the hall but went to an unoccupied area to make a phone call.
Of course, the call was to Big Brother; despite feeling bad about always bothering him, he had no other choice at this critical mont.
“Big Brother, we’re in a bit of trouble right now.
I’m the only one able to move; we can only wait for rescue.”
Shaman spoke quietly, “I’ve already started negotiating with France.
They’re not very efficient; I’ll push them again.”
“Thanks, Big Brother.”
He had pushed, and all that was left was to wait.
Shaman wasn’t neglecting them; it was just the typically sluggish French efficiency at fault.
Gao Yi couldn’t understand how, after the most intense exchange of fire since World War II, they could still afford to be so unhurried.
With the French’s efficiency, if World War III broke out, would they manage to surrender before Paris was occupied?
With this question in mind, Gao Yi walked into the hall.
George was still leaning against the wall, with his rifle by his side, while the other older officer was staring intently outside.
“No one’s coming; I don’t think anyone will.”
George was much more relaxed and offered Gao Yi, “Smoke?”
It’s rare for French people to offer cigarettes to others, not because of health concerns, but because cigarettes are too expensive.
Now, the cheapest pack of cigarettes in France costs eleven euros, and George’s take-ho pay is twenty-six hundred.
So George offering a cigarette was indeed giving Gao Yi a lot of face.
“No thanks,” Gao Yi declined.
He moved closer to George, hesitated, and said, “We have to hold out a little longer.
My boss is negotiating with France.”
Gao Yi spoke of negotiating with France, not with so individual or departnt, and that ant sothing different to soone like George.
George’s confidence grew.
What Gao Yi needed was to ensure George had enough courage to continue defending during the ti ahead.
George wanted to say sothing to show his confidence and determination, but just as he was about to speak, the older officer suddenly said, “There are more cars coming, a lot of them.
Could it be reinforcents have arrived?”
Gao Yi and George rushed to the door.
Looking out, they saw a string of headlights; clearly, more than one car was approaching.
George looked worried as he said, “I’m wondering, when has our headquarters ever responded this quickly?
Has there ever been a ti like this before?”
“Seems like there hasn’t been…”
The two police officers briefly exchanged words and then said in unison with a rueful tone, “The police always arrive last.”
It’s a classic line from the movies, but in France, it’s the truth.
They knew their own business better than anyone else; others might be oblivious, but George and his colleagues couldn’t afford to be.
George grabbed his rifle and told Gao Yi, “I’ll go first this ti!”
“Alright!
I’ll continue to set up an ambush outside.”
This ti, he would still be ambushing in the yard, but this ti Gao Yi was much better prepared.
In reality, the police station didn’t have hand grenades since it was too small a police station to have them.
However, the attackers who broke in had plenty of them.
The French Luchaire LU213 and 216 types of hand grenades were standard equipnt for the French Army.
The 213 was a defensive grenade, with a fragntation sleeve and steel balls, while the 216 was offensive, without fragntation.
Gao Yi didn’t recognize either type of grenade; it was George who told him they were standard French military issue, which the police didn’t normally use.
Gao Yi collected the grenades and hung them on his combat vest.
He donned a bullet-proof vest laden with hand grenades, gun in his left hand, and his right hand kept free for convenience whether he needed to pull a pin or throw a grenade.
Bent over, Gao Yi stealthily made his way into the yard and hid behind the front of a row of police cars.
The headlights were still on, rapidly approaching the police station.
However, when they got close, a series of seven cars suddenly stopped, and then twelve individuals got out in unison.
There were plenty of cars, but not many people.
These people didn’t linger after disembarking from their vehicles.
They imdiately dispersed, so of them began flanking the police station from a side path, others approached from both sides.
Yet, not a single one headed straight for the main entrance.
“They’re not coming through the main entrance.”
George spoke helplessly.
George had considered opening fire before, but since he hadn’t ascertained the identities of the newcors or seen them with weapons, he couldn’t just shoot on sight as a police officer.
Now that he saw them dispersing and beginning to encircle the station, it was too late to consider shooting.
Their style was different from before.
They didn’t look like they were trained fighters; there was no combat formation, but each one managed to find spots where bullets couldn’t hit them before they disappeared from George’s view.
“These guys are different!
I can’t see them anymore.”
George felt tense.
However, Gao Yi had a good idea of what was happening: the rcenaries were done, it was ti for the CIA agents or maybe assassins to take over.
Assassins aren’t the type to boldly show up, especially knowing there are defenders inside, marksman-ready, with many already dead.
Even the most foolish person would know better than to blindly charge in.
So, what would an assassin do?
Gao Yi thought about it; in his mory, assassins wouldn’t even take this kind of job.
As Gao Yi racked his brain, he suddenly heard a faint buzzing sound.
Looking up, he saw a drone flying low overhead, creating a lot of noise.
It was a civilian drone, the most common kind.
Flying the drone wouldn’t reveal what was inside the building, but it could survey the situation in the yard.
The mont the drone went airborne, Gao Yi knew sothing was amiss, so he imdiately got up and ran toward the entrance.
No sooner had Gao Yi taken off than at least four or five hand grenades flew in.
The grenades weren’t thrown precisely, but the general direction was toward where Gao Yi had just been.
Gao Yi had barely made it through the door when the grenades exploded behind him.
One couldn’t say the assassin was a better fighter than the rcenaries; it was just that the rcenaries, relying on their numbers, had opted for a quick resolution.
In-house combat didn’t call for a drone.
But this ti, these people first ticulously scouted the yard with the drone.
Very cautious, it was characteristic of an assassin’s style.
Watching Gao Yi run into the building, the hovering drone buzzed away, moving from the front to the back of the station.
The mont Gao Yi, who had just ducked into the lobby, quickly pulled the pin on a fragntation-type defensive hand grenade, he held it in his opened palm for two seconds, then dashed out of the building and hurled it approximately in the direction from which the grenades had co.
He couldn’t see past the wall, so he could only aim for a general area, but this ti, Gao Yi decided on an airburst.
The grenade soared over the wall and just as it began to fall, it detonated mid-air, with a lethal radius of fifteen ters.
Gao Yi figured he must have hit at least one or two people.
But after the grenade exploded, there was no sound—no screams, no gunfire.
Gao Yi, having thrown the grenade, darted back into the police station’s lobby.
The situation now was a bit frustrating; not knowing how the enemy would attack, nor how to counterattack.
Gao Yi found it more satisfying to face off with the rcenaries—direct confrontation, just fighting.
Sparring with assassins, though, felt like punching into cotton, soft and without any satisfying resistance, deeply suffocating.
He wondered how an assassin might proceed in this situation.
Gao Yi thought hard, but no matter how much he pondered, it seed like the work of an assassin wasn’t the type of job they would take.
So, could it be possible that the assassins outside weren’t just biding their ti, but also didn’t know what to do next?
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