Luke said, "We've been watching his house for a while, and there's been no movement inside.

If he's not at the house and you can't find his whereabouts immediately, would you consider releasing the terror suspect?"

"Absolutely not, even if I had the thought, those above wouldn't agree.

So, to prevent Los Angeles from falling into a terror threat, Consultant Li, I need your assistance. I know your ability to investigate cases, plus my understanding and familiarity with the suspect.

Our chances of success are high."

Luke also understood that there's no turning back now. Even if the path ahead is tough, he has to press on.

There's less than 11 hours until the next explosion.

Time is tight; they no longer have time to wait. The two decide to take immediate action.

The FBI special task force is responsible for entering the house to search.

Luke leads people to search the backyard and guards the back door of the house.

Luke had no objection to this arrangement. Although capturing the suspect has merits, it could also lead to getting blown up. Luke has a bullet-proof card, but that's for life-saving special situations, not for rushing into a house that might have a bomb.

The FBI special task force is well-equipped, with bulletproof helmets, night vision goggles, bulletproof vests... practically armed to the teeth.

With a command from Lynn Brouss.

"Bang!"

The FBI special task force stormed into the house.

"FBI."

Almost simultaneously, Luke also stormed into the backyard, "LAPD!"

Raymond guarded the back door of the house with his team.

Luke was leading his team to search the backyard.

The trench in the middle of the backyard was sharply dug, very standard. It was more than a meter deep, with bags of soil piled high around it, forming a nearly two-meter drop.

Little Black lifted the dark green tarp on top of the trench, revealing the entire interior.

Inside the trench was a camp bed with bedding, and some daily items.

Little Black looked surprised, "This guy has been living here, what a freak."

Luke sighed, "Maybe he's accustomed to this lifestyle, it gives him a sense of security."

Little Black said in a gentle tone, "Also kind of a pitiful guy."

Jackson and a few patrol officers were standing guard outside the backyard.

His tasks were twofold: to be ready to support at any time, and to guard the surroundings to prevent anyone from sneaking up on them.

Seeing Luke and others rush into the backyard, he also got nervous, worried about another explosion.

After a while, there were no major noises inside or outside the house, and his fear eased a bit.

Suddenly, he noticed an old white Honda driving nearby, slowing down noticeably as it approached.

But the car didn't stop and continued to drive steadily past the street behind Honey List's house.

It was somewhat dark, and Jackson couldn't see inside the car, but he had a feeling that the people in the car were watching his direction.

He got into the police car and searched the license plate of the white Honda.

After seeing the vehicle owner information, his face changed dramatically.

"Captain, I've found a suspicious white vehicle, registered to Honey List's mother." After Jackson said this, he slammed on the accelerator and started the chase.

Luke was still in the trench and didn't hear Jackson's shout clearly, so he asked Little Black beside him, "What did he discover?"

Little Black also looked puzzled, "I didn't hear it clearly either, he just drove off suddenly. I didn't know the kid could be this reckless."

...

Inside a speeding police car, Jackson focused on driving while looking ahead.

Suddenly, the radio crackled.

"Jackson, what happened?" Luke's voice came from the radio.

"Captain, I found Honey List's mother's car."

Luke asked, "Can you confirm if Honey List is driving?"

"No." Jackson stared at the fast-moving white Honda ahead, "But I can be sure, the driver is definitely not an old white lady."

"Stop them!"

"Roger." Jackson hung up the radio, his eyes turned sharp.

He was the top driver in the police academy driving test.

The car speed increased again.

Jackson turned on the police lights and siren, signaling the white Honda to pull over.

However, the white Honda showed no intention of stopping and continued speeding.

Suddenly, the white Honda made a sharp right turn at the intersection ahead, almost hitting a pedestrian on the crosswalk.

"Fuck, you @#￥%..." a stream of cursing came from the pedestrian by the roadside.

Jackson also made a right turn; to avoid the pedestrian, he lowered the speed but quickly caught up again, signaling the other party to stop once more.

The white Honda still ignored the warnings.

After issuing the second warning, Jackson prepared to stop giving chances. He suddenly stepped on the gas, maneuvering to the left lane beside the white Honda, before sharply turning the steering wheel, crashing into the left rear of the white Honda.

"Bang!"

The two cars collided closely, and the white Honda was hit sideways.

"You might be an excellent soldier, but not an excellent driver," Jackson muttered, flipping the white Honda over.

"Boom..."

The white Honda slid a few meters away, crashing into the nearby guardrail.

Jackson got out of the car, holding his gun with both hands, walking to the white Honda, "LAPD!"

"Don't move."

Jackson crouched halfway, looking into the driver's seat where Honey List was. Due to the rollover, his head was injured, and he had some other scratches, but the injuries didn't seem serious.

"Put your hands where I can see them."

Jackson sternly ordered, ready to fire. He knew very well what kind of enemy he was facing.

Several police cars arrived, more officers coming to the scene to support.

Jackson's nervousness also subsided.

A patrol officer opened the driver's door, and Jackson pulled Honey List out of the car, pressing him against it, cuffing him.

Honey List looked at Jackson and others, his face showing anger, "Why are you arresting me?"

"You're suspected of being involved in a terror attack."

"You're framing me, I didn't do it."

"Behave." Jackson began to frisk him.

"Fuck, don't touch me, I'm not armed."

Jackson seemed to hear a joke, "People like you not carrying weapons? Do you think I'd believe that?"

"You're right, I do like guns, but I've stopped carrying them ever since I almost shot my mother by accident." Honey List glared at Jackson, speaking coldly,

"You should thank my mother, if I carried a gun, you'd be a corpse now."

Jackson's face changed slightly, just as he was about to say something, Luke approached with his team, "Hey, buddy, how's it going? Not hurt, right?"

Jackson shrugged indifferently, "No big deal, I barely needed to try, and it was over."

Luke laughed, "Just be yourself, don't deliberately imitate a certain someone's style, he's not as popular as he thinks."

Jackson "…"

Little Black "…"

Luke walked to Honey List's side, "How's the injury? Need me to call an ambulance for you?"

Honey List wasn't buying it, gritting his teeth, "Quit pretending, what do you really want?"

"Confess your accomplices, and I can help you turn state's evidence."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I haven't done anything illegal, nor do I have any accomplices."

Luke retorted, "Then why were you running?"

Honey List clenched his fists, veins popping on his neck, "A bunch of enemies raided my home.

Alone, unarmed, facing a group of armed enemies, not run, what else to do?

Become a target? Or surrender to the enemy?"

Jackson corrected him, "Hey, buddy, this isn't the Middle East, it's Los Angeles.

We're not the enemies; we're the LAPD.

If you see us as enemies, it means subconsciously you consider yourself a criminal or a terror suspect."

"I'm not a terror suspect, you've got the wrong person!" Honey List glared at Jackson, challenging him,

"If I were a terror suspect, you'd be dead already!"

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