The freight yard was located in Chicago's South Side industrial district. Trucks, trailers, and forklifts moved between the warehouses while workers loaded boxes and pallets at the docks.
All of them, wearing bulletproof vests, formed a circle.
Looking toward the containers waiting to be transferred beside the warehouse in the distance, Olinsky adjusted his hat. A cloud of white vapor rose from his mouth as he spoke.
—Do we know which loading dock he's at?
—I don't know.
Sumner shook her head, gripping her pistol.
—All I can say is that there's a high probability Sims is here.
It was a reasonable argument, and Hank immediately waved his arm.
—Ethan, Antonio, Olinsky, you three check docks two and three.
He looked at the remaining three officers and said:
—We'll find whoever's in charge of the freight depot and locate every container bound for Indiana.
—Copy that.
The six people present answered one after another and dispersed.
Antonio held a portable device and continuously scanned the nearby containers.
The screen displayed a green image.
—This is a thermal-imaging camera.
Noticing Ethan looking at it, he explained casually:
—No matter where Sims is hiding, this device can detect the heat his body gives off.
Antonio raised his hand and aimed the thermal camera at Olinsky, who was standing nearby. A red human figure appeared on the screen.
Olinsky pushed the camera aside and said indifferently:
—I wonder how Halstead's conversation with Lonnie's father is going. I hope it ends well.
Ethan held his AR-15, looking around while simultaneously activating his radar.
Although it only had a surveillance range of twenty-five meters, it was far more useful than the thermal camera.
Antonio also knew there was a possibility that Lonnie's father had killed his own son. He sighed and raised the device in his hand.
Meanwhile, Hank led the other three directly toward the loading and unloading area.
Thanks to their credentials, they quickly found the freight depot office.
Looking at the dockworkers around them, Erin cautiously pressed the button on her radio.
—Be careful. There could be members of the North Side gang here.
After releasing the button, she immediately drew her pistol.
Ruzek and Sumner, who were behind her, tightened their grips on their firearms and cast wary glances at the nearby workers.
Bang, bang, bang.
Hank knocked several times on the glass door, attracting the attention of the person inside.
—Chicago Police.
He turned the handle and walked in with a casual air.
—Are you the manager?
—That's right.
Seeing Hank's police bulletproof vest, the obese man quickly stood up.
—Can I help you?
—How many containers are currently headed to Indiana?
Hank stepped inside.
—Where are they?
—Please, give me a moment.
The freight-yard supervisor quickly rose and moved to one side.
He searched through the tightly packed folders hanging on the wall and pulled one out.
—One moment.
The manager quickly opened the folder, ran his finger down the page, and firmly tapped one line.
—Three containers are being shipped to Indiana today. They're at loading docks three, twelve, and sixteen.
—All right. Thank you.
Hank nodded, preparing to leave.
—Detective.
Seeing his civilian clothes and police vest, the manager asked nervously:
—What happened?
—Are you sure you want to know?
Hank drew his pistol and looked at him impatiently.
—No, thank you.
The manager raised his hands and returned to his seat.
There was no way he could be unaware of the smuggling taking place in the freight depot he managed, and he normally received a substantial cut.
—Ethan.
Hank left the office and pressed the button on his radio.
—Guys, check loading docks twelve and sixteen.
—We'll check loading dock number three.
After releasing the radio button, the four of them moved forward together. The manager's office was located in one corner of the warehouse.
In front of it stretched a loading and unloading area more than a hundred meters long.
The numbers the manager had mentioned referred to the bare doors along the wall, with enormous digits painted above them.
The rear ends of the containers were parked against the entrances.
Warning beeps echoed as forklifts moved back and forth through the warehouse, placing packaged goods inside the containers positioned nearby.
When they reached door three, Ruzek stayed outside to keep watch.
Hank, along with Erin and Sumner, slowly entered and began searching the container.
There were packages of every size inside. A person could have hidden in almost any corner.
The three of them moved cautiously, searching in a circular pattern.
Ruzek looked nervously inside, gripping his weapon tightly.
Beep, beep, beep.
A forklift turned and moved into his path.
The driver looked at Ruzek without changing his expression, and the forklift slowly moved forward, gradually picking up speed.
After traveling all the way to the end, the forklift stopped in front of one of the loading docks.
—Sims.
The driver quickly pulled a pistol from the back of his waistband and shouted into the container:
—Run! There are cops here!
As he shouted, two heavy thuds came from inside the container.
Bang, bang, bang.
After several consecutive gunshots, a man in a brown jacket quickly fled from inside.
—Chicago Police!
Seeing him, Ruzek roared.
He raised his shotgun with both hands and ran forward.
—Drop your weapon immediately!
The person in front of him raised his gun without saying a word.
Boom!
The hair on Ruzek's body stood on end, and he immediately pulled the trigger.
A muffled blast echoed through the loading area.
The calf of the driver who had jumped down from the forklift exploded, spraying blood and flesh.
—Ah!
Seeing that, the gang member's pistol flashed wildly.
Bang, bang, bang.
Ruzek felt as though he had been struck twice in the chest with a heavy hammer.
His vision went dark, and he fell backward. Inside container number three, Hank and the others were searching the interior.
The sudden gunfire outside froze them for an instant. Then they quickly turned their weapons and rushed out.
The moment they emerged from the container, they heard a shout.
Immediately afterward, several shots rang out, and Ruzek fell to the ground.
Erin was horrified. She immediately opened fire as she rushed forward.
Hank and Sumner provided covering fire at once, repeatedly pulling their triggers at the two people in the distance. A burst of gunfire forced Sims to take cover.
The forklift driver, lying on the ground, had nowhere to escape and could only return fire.
Erin grabbed Ruzek by his bulletproof vest and dragged him aside with all her strength.
—Oh, my God.
Ruzek had recovered, shaking his head frantically as he shouted:
—I've been shot!
—It's nothing. The vest stopped the bullets.
Erin looked at the two holes in his bulletproof vest and continued patting his face.
—Shit, it hurts like hell.
Ruzek breathed rapidly.
—Pain is a good thing. It means you're still alive.
Erin immediately sighed in relief.
Sumner fired several times at the forklift driver lying on the ground, but the distance was too great and her aim was too poor.
The constant muzzle flashes from the other side were enough to reduce her accuracy significantly.
Sumner forcibly suppressed her panic and raised her weapon again.
Bang, bang, bang.
Several bullets came in from the side, striking the forklift driver squarely in the head.
A bloody mist immediately spread through the air.
—Go check loading docks twelve and sixteen.
Hearing Hank's words through their earpieces, the three officers outside looked up, following the numbers painted on the wall.
—It's in the back.
Antonio pointed into the distance and quickly moved forward.
When they reached loading dock number twelve, Ethan knew the moment he approached that no one was inside.
However, he could not simply say that, so he had no choice but to wait patiently while Antonio searched the container with the thermal camera.
After confirming there were no suspicious heat sources inside, the three of them moved aside.
The moment he approached the container at loading dock sixteen, Ethan immediately steadied his AR-15 and raised the barrel.
A bright point of light appeared on his radar.
Judging by its position, it was inside the container.
Unlike the busy loaders, that point of light remained motionless.
Beep, beep, beep.
At that moment, Antonio's device also began buzzing, and a bright red humanoid shape appeared on the screen.
They exchanged glances and immediately spread out.
—Sims, run!
Just as Ethan was about to press the radio button to alert Hank, a loud shout came from inside.
Two dull impacts sounded from within the container, and the point of light began moving quickly.
Antonio raised his pistol and fired at the container, producing a shower of sparks.
The ricochet frightened them so badly that all of them ducked their heads.
Antonio awkwardly lowered the barrel, not daring to fire again.
Bang, bang, bang.
The AR-15 did not have that problem. Ethan repeatedly pulled the trigger in the direction the point of light was moving, leaving bullet holes across the container.
Olinsky and Antonio ran inside, following the gap of roughly two meters between the containers.
The point of light quickly emerged from the container, and an intense exchange of gunfire erupted inside.
A scream rang out, and Ethan suddenly appeared from one side.
Through the gap between the loading door and the container, he saw an unidentified man lying on the ground, firing uncontrollably in another direction.
It was not Sims. He appeared to be a member of the North Side gang.
Ethan aimed briefly, and several rounds flew out in rapid succession.
The man's head instantly burst with blood as though it had been struck by a whip, and he collapsed violently to one side.
—Up there!
Antonio's shout came from inside, followed by two more gunshots.
The point of light that had been hiding inside the container had already been marked by Ethan. The person had climbed onto the roof of the container and was fleeing desperately.
Hearing the loud impacts of footsteps and jumps above him, Ethan moved quickly with his AR-15 angled upward.
Sims, dressed in a brown jacket, leaped across the containers like a giant monkey and quickly crossed more than a dozen of them.
Realizing someone was following below, he quickly turned and raised his weapon.
Because of the containers blocking the way, it had initially been difficult to track Sims's movements. But now that he had stopped, he had created an opportunity for Ethan.
Boom!
The AR-15 angled upward and spat fire first.
Ethan's precise shot struck the hand Sims was using to hold the weapon.
The dark pistol, along with several severed fingers, flew through the air.
—Shit!
After letting out a scream, Sims endured the intense pain and continued jumping forward, reaching the end of the row of containers in two or three leaps.
He gritted his teeth and jumped into the pile of snow below.
Thud.
His body landed in the snow with a muffled groan, rolled several times across the ground, and then rose to his feet.
—Don't move.
In that brief span of time, everyone except Erin and Ruzek had gathered.
They aimed a mixture of long guns and handguns at Sims.
—On the ground!
Hank strode out from one side, holding his pistol and shouting.
Before Sims could do anything, Hank shot him in the knee, spraying blood.
The sudden gunshot startled Sumner, who was standing beside him.
—Ah...
Sims roared, collapsing into the blood splattered across the ground.
Sweat covered his forehead as he stared at Hank, breathing heavily.
Thump!
Hank planted his foot on Sims's chest and aimed his pistol at his head.
If he had not still needed answers from him, Hank would have put a bullet directly into the head of a cop killer like him.
Faced with the gun, Sims raised one hand.
The other had been mangled, so he could not lift it.
Hank stared at Sims for a moment before removing his foot.
He holstered his Glock, walked over to Sumner, and smiled approvingly.
—You did well, Detective. The arrest is yours.
Sumner quickly nodded and holstered her pistol.
—Yes, Sergeant.
Sumner nodded and eagerly pulled out the handcuffs she had hidden behind her back.
Only now did she feel that she had truly secured her place within the Intelligence Unit.
—Good work.
Sumner cuffed Sims's hands in front of him while the others behind them exchanged fist bumps and pats on the back.
After slinging the AR-15 behind him, Ethan walked toward the loading dock.
Olinsky, knowing there was another unfortunate officer inside who needed to be checked on, quickly followed. After all, Ruzek was his partner.
Both men slipped their hands inside their bulletproof vests and walked side by side.
The posture was not meant to show off. They were simply trying to keep warm.
The cold had not been much of a problem while they were shooting, but the moment they lowered their weapons, they immediately felt the piercing, icy wind.
—Hey.
As soon as the two of them approached, Erin quickly stood up.
—Are you okay?
—Yeah, don't worry.
Ethan shrugged and smiled at Ruzek.
—What about you? Still alive?
—Please, don't make fun of me.
Ruzek was drenched in sweat.
—You did well.
Olinsky knew that Ruzek had shot one of the North Side gang members in the foot.
He crouched down with a smile and vigorously rubbed Ruzek's face.
—You did very well.
The scene was left in the hands of the patrol officers who arrived a few minutes later.
Uniformed officers cordoned off the area, took initial statements, and kept away the curious onlookers who had already begun gathering nearby.
The rest of the team split up.