Tower 58 is so thin and tall that it looks like a vertical giant crane. On the top of the tower, there are powerful searchlights around it, which illuminate the railway freight station at night. The tower sits alone in the middle of a concrete square. A policeman in the room quickly extended the barrel of his weapon out of the upper window, and a bullet was fired from a submachine gun. The bullet hit a closed window on the second floor of a house on a bleak street across from the railway station. There were only two houses and a dusty palm tree outside the train station. One house was painted pink, the other pale green. The paint was peeling off both houses, which were two-story and dilapidated. There are no other houses to live in. Someone is moving behind the closed window. The policeman's bullets were quickly returned. I saw the muzzle of a submachine gun firing from the corner of a window, next to the broken window. The second window opens. Can't see the shooter. Not only did he shoot at the police in the tower, but he also sprayed the whole railway station area, spraying carriages and tracks. Crouching at the back of many carriages, the policemen carried submachine guns one by one. I jumped like a rabbit from one freight car to another. When I got there,304 Stainless Steel Pipe, bullets whistled past me. The guy on the second floor is like a homicidal maniac. The whole area was cordoned off by police and patrol cars. The curious crowd behind the cordon — fishermen, old men, children, and women selling fishing nets. Poor people in a poor neighborhood. Until I gave my name to a senior officer and said,304 stainless steel wire, Louis? Laclos called and asked me to come here. I was just let off the blockade. This officer knows my name. Laclos told him. He pointed to a freight car on the track. Laclos crouched behind it, but I couldn't see him. When I ran, I was scared to death, but I kept running, and the policeman in the tower covered me. He asked Pierre? The house of the man on the second floor of Samad Street was raked with bullets. Shoot the windows up there. There are cops everywhere. The long, sad station was full of them. They were standing close to the house. There must have been other policemen in the house. They were all armed and wearing helmets. Ugly Pierre? Semad Street begins north at Francis. ? Tunell Street To the south, it leads almost straight to the Midi Grove, 304 Stainless Steel Coil ,mirror stainless steel sheet, behind which is the sea. As I said, Pierre? There are only a few houses on the east side of Semad Street. On the left is the open area where Marcondis Wharf is located, with many tracks and warehouses. This freight station is the ugliest and most backward station I have ever seen. The Midi Linyin Avenue runs immediately behind it, perhaps only a hundred meters away from the sea. But everything here is dirty, including the palm leaves of the palm trees. I arrived at the carriage that the officer pointed out to me, and there I saw the short Louis? La Clos 。 He was dressed in civilian clothes as usual and also carried a submachine gun. Good morning He said, in a voice and manner that amazed me. This is no longer the frightened and timid official. This is a man who is furious and determined. You have no weapon? "No." These fools! Why didn't they give you a weapon? We're not playing Indians here. As we spoke, the gun went off, or it was a burst of fire. The window panes burst, the women screamed, the men roared and mingled. What's going on here? I asked. As I told you on the phone, we are not sure which of the Algerians our police informant told us were the most suspicious. We want to be as cautious as possible. Discretion, damn it! He spat in the dust beside the track. His suit is as dirty as my trousers. We're both sweating. The sun was baking mercilessly. At eight o'clock today, detectives from the Central Branch began searching the house for the Algerians. They always work in pairs, both with search warrants. The two who came here rang the doorbell of the damned Algerian family on the second floor. The Algerian — his name was Argo — was at home. He won't open the door. Our people say it's the police. When Argo heard this, he lost control. He started yelling.
” "What's your name?" "He didn't believe a word, saying they were definitely not policemen and he didn't want to be killed like that.". Then he took up his submachine gun and fired from behind the closed door, shooting a man in the abdomen. This damn dog! Laclos spat again. He must have seen something in the window on the second floor, because then he raised his submachine gun and fired. There is nothing. He said later. What happened to the officer? Send to the hospital. Operate immediately. "Will he survive?" "Hopefully.". They're still operating. Anyway, the police are all out for this. Everything we can get our hands on has been transferred here. Russel is here, too, behind the refrigerator car. You can't see him. I couldn't see him, but then his voice came out of a microphone: "Argo!"! Argo! You listen! We are at the end of our patience now! The house is surrounded! You'll never get out of here alive! You give up! The police are standing in the stairwell at your door! You've already killed a man! Do you want to add to the crime? Please throw your submachine gun out of the window, put your hands on your head,304 Stainless Steel Wire, and come out of the house! The sound echoed over the sun-baked railway station. Russel's call was answered by another volley from the second window. I saw La Crosse with a walkie-talkie. The antenna was pulled out. He put the intercom's microphone into his mouth and said, "Leto in the tower, did you hear me?" "Hear." The intercom answered. Now use tear gas. Shoot it through the window. "Good." 。 sxthsteel.com
