187, the hapless Balwin

Located next to the knightly sculpture in the very center of the county town of Pereira, the wide road is lined with gray stone trimmed flower beds filled with all kinds of flowers, and golden ginkgo biloba leaves cover the ground, like a golden silk on the ground.

To the east along the knight's sculpture, there are several Victorian buildings, which were detached in the early 90s, but by the end of the 90s, a large corporation bought the entire plot of land and built a high fence around the perimeter of several small buildings, leaving only one entrance and exit. A guard box has also been erected at the entrance, security guards are on duty 24 hours a day, and thin barbed wire fences have been installed on the fence walls, and cameras have been installed everywhere. The bronze number plate outside the iron gate is engraved with the words "Ripple Manor" in English and Spanish, and the whole manor looks solemn and elegant.

The registered owner of the land is named Balwin, who is 56 years old on his ID card, but he actually looks around 45 years old. He is 183 cm tall, has a strong physique, has a thick brown beard, has long brown hair, likes to wear blue jeans and red T-shirts, and probably has exactly the same clothes in his wardrobe. His life is very rigid and monotonous, even pure-hearted, but whenever someone sees him, he always looks bright. But no one knew about Balwin's job, and few would visit him with much fanfare.

As with the rest of South America, Pereira has many American and European people who like to buy an estate, plantation or horse farm here as a vacation. Although the county is small, there are various underground organizations in operation, and their business is not only extortion and drug trafficking, but also to provide services to those who are powerful, in a word: as long as you need it, we can meet you. And there is a common leader among these people, and that is Balwin.

Having said that, although in the past two years, a new wave of foreign forces has entered the market and killed people and set fires indiscriminately, so that Balwin's power is gradually declining. Since 2004, more than 20 outlets, large and small, have been burned and killed, including brothels, clubs, drug outlets, etc. At least five or more of these unscheduled strikes were directed at a small contingent of mercenaries, the leader of whom was said to be a guy named "Victor". On the surface, Balwin seems to have gone downhill, and his sphere of influence has begun to shrink, and he has taken refuge in the counties and cities around the former Atlantic Province, but his inner hatred and revenge have never diminished.

These days Balwin intends to add another fire to the hatred, and if everything goes according to the newspapers, his plot will soon succeed.

Angangko is a disappointing town for tourists, just a dozen kilometres from Pereira, inhabited by figures with heads and heads. Before that, Angangco was actually developed as a tourist town in Pereira, but nowadays, those who have heads and faces rarely come here, and there is no longer the vitality and prosperity of a small city town, and it looks more lifeless like a suburb of the city. The town is full of characterless houses and streets, and there are no major shopping malls or busy areas. Instead, the streets are lined with shops that look like rows of mushrooms emerging from the ground from a distance. The mushroom pile is dotted with bars, restaurants, laundries, and several gas stations.

Balwin, who was wearing blue jeans as usual, replaced his short-sleeved red T-shirt with a long-sleeved shirt and arrived at Angonko Square at 5 p.m., accompanied by a group of bodyguards who were very friendly to the people. Some of the pre-arranged reporters and a group of paid listeners had already gathered in a small open space in the corner of the square to the right. There were eighty or ninety people in total, mostly men, but also seven or eight women. Most of them wore jeans and T-shirts, and the women wore white robes with the words 'Righteousness' printed on them in black lettering. Directly in front of them was a flatbed truck, and the baffle opened to make it a small stage.

Reporters set up cameras and listeners sat on small benches provided by Balwin's staff, some of whom pulled up banners with Balwin's face and his election manifesto: "Fight Evil, Show Justice." "Promote the rule of law, resist drugs, and give us back the paradise Pereira."

I have to say that Balwin's speech was a bit inflammatory, of course, the most important thing was that Balwin's men were perfectly coordinated - whenever he talked about an important point, the two people standing next to him would lead the audience below to cheer, and judging from the frequency of their cheers, he would talk about a key point every two or three minutes. Whenever his speech drew enthusiastic cheers, Balwin would bow his head and shake his head gently, as if he were uneasy and ashamed of the crowd's loud cheers for him, and as if it was hard to resist their enthusiasm.

There were also discordant voices outside the crowd, and some people walking in the square also gathered around, and some bold thugs cheered indignantly. They all know what Balwin is like, but no one dares to say it, after all, the horror legend in Balwyn Manor is quite threatening in Pereira's underworld.

A blonde photographer approached Balwin with a camera and took a close-up shot, with a beautiful brown-haired reporter standing next to him. Judging from the logo of the photographer's uniform, it should be the logo of a large website, but the female reporter was wearing a very well-fitting professional suit, but no one present noticed whether the two were together. The beautiful reporter suddenly made a gesture: her palm was raised and slashed downward.

Gunfire rang out almost simultaneously inside and outside the stadium and outside the square. Balwin's bodyguards at the entrance to the square, the gunmen at the commanding heights within range, the cronies scattered around the square, and the two military advisors standing next to Balwin all collapsed in a pool of blood in an instant. Even if there was sporadic resistance, it turned into a corpse in a matter of seconds.

The moment the gun rang out, the idle crowd in the square had already scattered and fled, finding shelter and hiding. But the audience did not panic, for them, the difference between the sound of gunfire and the Christmas bell was the size of the sound. They all knew that it was none of their business, so they were very skillful and lying on the ground with their heads in their hands, without the slightest idea of watching the excitement - when the police asked, they really didn't see who it was. By the time they looked up, the gunfire was over.

But the part of the people who raised their heads quickly returned to a state of bowing their heads. They saw that Balwin was not dead, but stood alone on the stage, with his hair wide open and his eyes full of anger, unfazed by the bloody scene. The brown-haired female reporter walked up to the stage with her waist twisted lightly, quickly and cleanly, and stood face to face with Balwin, her soft body standing side by side with Balwin's bear-like body. She held a small but lethal pistol in her hand and smiled at Balwin.

"Greetings, Mr. Volks."

"Walker......." Balwyn shouted angrily, he regretted that he was killed by the other party before it was time to say Vaux? Those of your own subordinates are so vulnerable? Why are they so poorly guarded? Is there a mole?

Before he could finish the name, a small-caliber bullet drilled into Balwin's forehead, making a mess of the organs inside his head. Balwin fell backwards with a full stomach full of questions, his eyes still wide open.

The beautiful reporter walked off the stage generously, a bold reporter lay on the ground, and the camera lens pointed up to record everything, but the brown-haired beauty walked straight to the camera. For a moment, the reporter felt his legs twitch uncontrollably, and cold sweat seeped onto his forehead.

"Get up."

The woman's voice was very soft, without a hint of anger. But the reporter still remembers the smiling murderous female devil in the camera, who was half-kneeling from the ground with difficulty, and honestly handed the camera to the woman.

The brown-haired beauty opened the camera and took away the videotape, and several strong men also rushed into the position where the reporters were staying, smashing all the cameras and cameras. The brunette exclaimed a little angrily, "Bunch of rough men, why are you so rude?" Be gentle with journalists. ”

Then, she bent down and squatted in front of the reporter who was still kneeling, the reporter looked up and could see the brown-haired beauty's purple-red panties, he quickly shifted his gaze, but a voice in his heart kept telling him to take another look, look again, and he couldn't help but turn his head sideways again, but the brown-haired beauty stretched out her hand and pinched his chin, and the laughter was as crisp as a silver bell.

"You're the guts guy, and you're fit to be a war correspondent."

"I'm sorry." These words came word by word between the reporter's teeth, and his whole body was weak, his hands and feet were cold, and he had no strength to support his body.

"Honey, you don't look like a cautious person." The woman's voice suddenly became sharp, "Raise your head and look at me." ”

The reporter looked up.

The woman in front of her has soft skin and good facial features, especially the plump and sensual lips that make people desire, a mouth full of fine white teeth, a swan-like neck and round and slender legs, and a bulging chest is about to come out. It's just that the pupils of her eyes are gray, and even if the woman is smiling, those eyes are cold and merciless, without a trace of laughter.

"Credentials." The woman smiled and stretched out a hand, the fingers of that hand were pointed, and it looked delicate and plump.

The reporter stretched out a hand and picked up the work card hanging on his chest. The woman glanced at it, reached out and took out her wallet from the inner pocket of the reporter's clothes, found her ID card from it, looked at it carefully, and then stuffed the wallet back.

"Oh, Louis, what a rotten street name. Listen, we are an organization that specializes in eradicating evil, called 'Angel Wings'. Ballwin's criminal information, someone will give it to you later, and if I don't see the TV broadcast, we'll go to you, Louis. ”

In the end, the woman's tail note is high and elongated, with a hint of provocation. But reporter Louis doesn't sound like this, it's more like a requiem that will hook his own soul. Of course, he hurriedly agreed.

"Now, you can choose to lie down and wait for us to leave, or you can choose to stand up and get out of here first."

The brown-haired woman reached out and patted Louis's face, and when Louis raised his head, he saw a momentary smile in the woman's eyes, as if the other party had seen through Louis's inadvertent visit and intentional voyeurism just now.

"I love purple." The woman dropped a sentence and stood up and left where Louis was lying on his stomach.

Louis did not dare to turn his head to look around, did not dare to get up and leave the place, he heard the sound of countless cars starting, the sound of electricity on the walkie-talkie, and the whispering of talkies. When the sound of the car leaving, the square fell into a deathly silence, and for about ten seconds, the crowd began to make noise again.

Several farmer cars without license plates roared away, and the brown-haired beauty sitting in the last car picked up the satellite phone from the front seat, dialed the number, and the other party quickly answered the phone.

"All the best?" The other party asked on the phone.

"It's strange if it doesn't go well." The brown-haired beauty's gray pupils softened after the phone was connected, like a piece of melting 10,000-year-old ice transformed into boiling water, her expression was a little more seductive, and her voice became faster.

"Let them remember to send the information, you go to Barranquilla first."

"Wait, wait, don't hang up." The brown-haired beauty knew that the other party was about to hang up the phone, so she quickly shouted anxiously.

"Huh? What's wrong. ”

"My dear, are you also in Barranquilla? I can't wait to be by your side now. The brown-haired beauty chuckled delicately, and she glanced up at the driver who was looking at her from the rearview mirror, her gray pupils quickly returning to coldness. The eyes in the rearview mirror looked away.

"You come back first."

The phone hung up.

The brunette held the satellite phone in her hand and stared at it for a long time.

In Angangko Square, two 10-year-old boys rushed to the scene of the shooting with a package on their backs and skateboards, their faces pale, but they still took out a few diskettes from the package and handed them to the person who looked like reporters.

Louis also has a copy in his hand.

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