Lawson hit another button on the control panel.
The next second, the Dodge Viper dropped a row of spike strips from the rear bumper.
In the dead of night, those strips were practically invisible. The police cruisers tailing him had no idea he was about to pull an item-box trick.
Consequently, when the first cruiser hit the spikes and lost control, a massive pile-up erupted right behind Lawson.
Only three cruisers reacted fast enough to dodge the wreckage, but that maneuver let Lawson pull massively ahead.
They were still out in the suburbs, though. There was barely anywhere to hide, and the helicopters above meant Lawson still hadn't shaken the LAPD.
All he could do was head toward downtown as fast as possible. It was the only way he'd actually lose the cops and clear his wanted level.
Having accepted the Hot Pursuit job, Lawson had already studied the map and prepped a general escape route for exactly this scenario.
Compared to the massive dragnet chasing Lawson, the other racers had gotten incredibly lucky.
LAPD manpower was limited. Frontrunners like Lawson, Martin, and Dom drew the majority of the heat, leaving the rest of the pack practically ignored.
Take Franklin, for example. He had fallen to the back of the pack again during the final sprint because of his terrible car performance.
Franklin got extremely lucky. Not only were there zero helicopters tracking him, even the cruisers completely ignored his Dodge Challenger.
The LAPD probably didn't even think the 1970 classic muscle car was actually part of the race.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck! Scared the shit out of me! I legit thought I was going to prison!"
Megan kept spewing curses. The events of tonight had gone way beyond anything she had imagined.
"Megan, please! I need to focus right now!"
Franklin obviously didn't want to hear the word "prison." Though for a Black guy from the hood, doing time was practically a rite of passage — almost impossible to avoid.
After confirming no cops were tailing him, Franklin finally found an empty corner and pulled over.
Only then could he and Megan finally let their racing hearts settle down.
But once she calmed down, massive doubts started bubbling up in Megan's mind.
"Weird. The LAPD clearly had this meticulously planned in advance. It didn't look like some random tip-off. Franklin, what do you think happened?"
Franklin scratched his head. After that insanely intense underground race, his brain was completely wired and scrambled. He had zero ability to think straight.
"Huh? Beats me!"
Megan frowned, shifting into full analytical mode.
"The LAPD absolutely knew about this underground race way in advance. Otherwise there's no way they could have mobilized that much manpower!"
She felt like half of LA County's cops had just rolled out. Mobilizing a force that size required massive coordination and planning. It wasn't something you threw together with a single command.
"So?"
"Franklin, when did you find out the race was at Mt. San Antonio?"
"About three days ago."
"If all the racers got the details around the same time, the person who leaked this underground race was highly likely on the organizer's side!"
Megan looked highly satisfied with her deduction, but Franklin's next words left her completely speechless.
"What's the point of figuring that out?"
That caught her off guard and instantly deflated her.
The result really was completely useless. Megan wasn't a cop or an organizer. Knowing who the rat was did nothing for her.
Seeing her looking down, Franklin kindly offered some comfort.
"Megan, look on the bright side. At least you know who drove in the May 1st LA freeway loop incident."
That instantly cheered the blonde news anchor right up.
"You're right! I absolutely need to score an interview with that guy!"
Franklin could only flash an awkward smile. He knew damn well that the handsome Asian guy definitely didn't want to be interviewed.
Right then, a flashy red Porsche 911 GT2 appeared not far away. Franklin instantly recognized it as Martin's ride.
"Megan, look! That looks like Martin Bonanno's car!"
"Where? Where?"
Megan quickly spotted the Porsche. The blonde anchor flashed an excited look.
"Franklin, maybe we can score an interview with Martin!"
Franklin stared at Megan, absolutely dumbfounded. He looked at her like she was completely insane.
"What? You joking? That's the young master of the Bonanno family!"
Unfortunately, Megan completely ignored Franklin's warning. She unbuckled her seatbelt, grabbed her camcorder, and stepped out of the car.
But another SUV rolled up. A sharp-dressed young guy stepped out, looking slightly older and more mature than Martin.
Martin stepped out too. He clearly recognized the sharp-dressed guy and opened his arms for a hug.
What awaited him instead was the guy drawing a pistol.
Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!
Suppressed gunshots rang out. Riddled with bloody holes, Martin collapsed into a pool of blood. His female companion let out a terrified scream.
The sharp-dressed guy showed zero mercy and instantly dropped Martin's girl too.
Bleeding out on the ground, Martin stared at the guy in utter disbelief, completely unable to comprehend what had just happened.
"W-why?"
Given that Martin was about to die, the guy actually answered.
"Sorry, Martin. As long as you're around, I'll never sit in that chair!"
Martin ultimately died harboring massive resentment. Having finally achieved his goal, the guy grew visibly thrilled. He ripped at his own tie and let out a low, manic laugh like a wild beast.
However, he had no idea someone was hiding in the shadows, capturing the entire murder on camcorder.
Until Megan backed up and accidentally kicked a glass bottle.
"Who's there!"
The guy instantly snapped his gaze toward the sound, locking eyes directly with the blonde anchor holding the camcorder.
"Fuck!"
He quickly raised his pistol and pulled the trigger. But a standard pistol's optimal effective range is around thirty feet. Past sixty feet, bullet placement is basically out of the shooter's control.
Never believe those Hollywood scenes where guys snipe people with handguns like they're rifles.
"Megan, get back here!"
Megan finally snapped out of it and sprinted desperately back to the Dodge Challenger.
She had been at least a hundred feet away, so none of his shots connected.
Amid the roaring engine, the Dodge Challenger tore out of there.
Face completely dark, the sharp-dressed guy pulled out his phone and dialed a number.
"Yeah. I need your entire crew hunting down a Dodge Challenger right now. License plate is XXXXXXX. There's a pretty white girl and a Black guy inside. Last seen near XXX block."
"Yeah. Whatever it takes. Destroy the car and everyone in it!"
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