Chapter 1093: The Attack (2)

The convoy stood motionless on the interstate in the dead of night.

The driver of the lead truck was about to push the door open and step out to check the situation, but the family member in the passenger seat stopped him. "Don't get out."

He stared into the driver's eyes, his expression conveying a sense of... nervousness. The driver took a deep breath and took his hand away from the door latch.

"What's going on?" he whispered, constantly surveying the pitch-black night outside.

He could see nothing. Visibility was less than ten meters, perhaps even less.

Only within a few meters of the headlights was anything visible; beyond that range, it was total darkness.

Some immense fear or monster seemed to be lurking behind the black curtain of night, poised to strike.

"It might be an ambush," the escort in the passenger seat said, pulling out his weapon and disengaging the safety.

As he spoke, the lights of the trucks and cars behind them were extinguished. The escort then told the driver to turn off his headlights.

Though the driver didn't understand why, he complied.

This was experience accumulated by the Lance family through numerous gunfights. In such darkness, the enemy was hidden, and having lights made them a target.

Switching off the lights was the first step in handling the situation.

"We're getting out soon. You duck down and stay put. Don't go anywhere, understood?"

The escort gripped the driver's arm in the darkness. They had worked together many times and were friends.

The Lance family members never lacked warmth and loyalty toward their friends.

The driver nodded, his breathing becoming heavy and rapid from fear. The young man in the passenger seat reassured him. "Don't worry, it will all pass. When we get back, I'll ask the Boss to give you a bonus."

"And didn't you always ask us what it felt like to be in a gunfight?"

"Now, you're about to find out."

With that, he opened the door. The other three men in the car, armed, quickly exited from the passenger side.

Light sources in the darkness were limited. All they could see were shadowy figures swaying around, impossible to distinguish whether they were people or something else.

"There's a car blocking the road ahead. Let's see if we can push it aside."

The men who had come from the back frowned upon hearing this. "Why not just ram it?"

"It's a truck, and it looks like it's loaded. It's across the middle of the road."

The Federal environment was relatively sound, especially the wild areas. The entire region had good ecological conditions, and this area was near the coast, with plenty of moisture in the air, receiving heavy rain every year.

Heavy rain had a significant destructive effect on the roads. If not properly maintained, the roads would collapse under prolonged water immersion and the constant weight of heavy trucks.

Although the Federation was still the world's premier construction power, repairing the interstate highway, once damaged, would require a lot of time, money, and manpower.

Therefore, when the interstate was first designed, the engineers considered this. All interstates were built much higher than the ground level on both sides.

They first laid a strong foundation and raised the ground, then built the highway on that platform.

This ensured that during heavy rain, water would flow from the road surface to the sides, not soak the highway itself.

The ground on both sides of the interstate was very soft during the rainy season, from spring to autumn, as it was constantly washed by rain and was very damp.

If a vehicle got stuck in the soft ground during this period, it would be difficult to pull it out.

So, unless absolutely necessary, they wouldn't drive off the road. Moreover, the height difference between the highway and the ground made it dangerous to attempt driving off.

Hearing the driver's explanation, the men moved silently toward the car blocking the highway. They opened the door. Someone pulled out a lighter and looked inside—it was empty.

No driver, nothing else—just an empty cab.

Another man checked the truck bed. "It's loaded with rocks."

Hearing this, everyone's mood darkened. This was a clear setup.

"Let's move the car. Everyone push."

It was a good plan. Some of the young men slung their guns over their shoulders. One man climbed into the cab. Just as his rear hit the seat, the horn blared loudly!

"Shit! They rigged the horn to the seat!"

Gunfire erupted instantly all around them, as dense as fireworks.

"Get down! Return fire!"

Some were wounded and fell immediately. Others immediately dropped to the ground the moment the shots rang out, pulling their triggers toward the muzzle flashes in the darkness.

Past 1:00 AM, the interstate saw what was likely the largest and fiercest gun battle since its construction.

Bullets impacted the vehicle bodies everywhere. Some people screamed, others wailed, and some maintained utter silence.

The driver, curled up on the floor of the cab, was terrified. He didn't know how long the gunfire lasted, only that it grew weaker and weaker.

Until, finally, almost no shots were fired.

Lights suddenly flared up around them, illuminating the entire interstate. His breathing became heavy, and fear made his body tremble.

He heard footsteps nearby and some cursing. As the footsteps approached, he heard someone pulling the car door handle.

The next moment, the door was yanked open. Light spilled in from the open door, illuminating his panicked face.

Several guns were pointed at him simultaneously. He swallowed hard and forced a weak smile. "I'm just a driver."

The young man standing at the front raised his hand, stopping his men from shooting the driver. He asked a question. "So, you know where this shipment started and where it ends, right?"

The Perez family found the convoy's route through "reverse engineering."

They had men watching the embassy 24/7. To deliver such a massive volume of liquor, they couldn't just move two or three cases today and three or five cases tomorrow; large trucks had to be used.

By tracking those large trucks, they could determine the origin point.

Then, using their connections in the New Golden City, they investigated and eventually found the trucks were likely coming from the smuggling village in the south, so they set up an ambush on this route.

But they didn't know much more than that. This driver might know more details than they did.

The driver swallowed again and nodded. "Yes, sir."

Paige nodded. "Your honesty has saved your life."

He then went to inspect the rest of the convoy, but unfortunately, the drivers of the other trucks were all gang members. Only the lead driver was hired.

In this era, without satellite navigation or voice guidance, and in this near-pitch-black environment, people could easily get lost without an experienced driver leading the way.

As the driver was pulled from the cab, he saw bodies scattered everywhere.

He also saw the men dismantling some kind of... frame on the ground beside the road.

They had set up something like searchlights on both sides of the road, mounted on portable metal frames and powered by batteries.

When the switch was flipped, they instantly illuminated the entire ground.

The driver was an older man in his fifties, considered high-income. He had seen many films and read many novels. He knew that if these men stood behind the light sources and fired, they would remain unseen, and the stimulation of the light would blind anyone attempting to return fire.

He shook his head slightly. He saw the young man who told him not to move, who had been sitting in the passenger seat.

He lay on the ground, shot multiple times, his clothes completely soaked in blood.

Suddenly, the driver felt a profound emptiness. The fear and panic were gone. His only feeling now was that life was truly boring.

The young man who was chatting and joking with him moments ago now lay on the ground, lifeless forever. He didn't understand the level of loyalty these people had for their so-called "family," nor did he understand what this family had given them.

It was devotion he didn't comprehend. He merely felt the fragility of life as he was pushed into another car.

He watched them handle the bodies crudely. They dumped the corpses by the roadside, piled wood on top, doused them with gasoline, and set them on fire.

The wood was enough to incinerate the bodies throughout the night. By morning, all that would remain were traces of the fire.

If they were "lucky," passing police officers might notice the scene and report it.

If they were unlucky, the remains would stay there, eventually washed away by rain, merging with the land.

The convoy, which had stopped for less than half an hour, started moving again, but this time, their destination was different.

Around 4:00 AM, Lance was awakened by the telephone. He rubbed his forehead and sat up. The call was from the warehouse.

"The convoy, which should have arrived by 3:15 AM at the latest, hasn't arrived, and we have no information. Something must have happened."

In his past experience, Lance highly valued "quantification," not just of materials, but also of time, and everything else.

This was immensely helpful for management, especially large-scale organizational management; it allowed for better control of the entire team.

If they agreed the convoy would arrive at 3:00 AM, it had to arrive at 3:00 AM. The convoy had never missed the schedule before, so it couldn't be a mistake.

"Mobilize people to search along the highway. Something has definitely happened."

He then put on a jacket and went to the study. He asked the butler to bring him coffee, then called Hiram, who was on vacation in Rapa.

Hiram seemed to still be awake, judging by the sounds of women's laughter in the background. This made Lance curious.

"What are you doing?"

Hiram's voice sounded somewhat... Lance couldn't quite describe the tone. "I was about to go to sleep."

The background noise suddenly quieted down significantly. Lance didn't pursue the matter. "Bring your men and your best gunmen to the New Golden City. We're about to make a big move."

Hiram paused for about ten seconds, then his tone completely shifted. Lance now knew what the unusual tone was: Hiram had been somewhat "drunk," but was now sober.

"What happened?" His voice became serious.

"Our shipment was hijacked. There might have been a gunfight."

The sound of Hiram lighting a cigarette came through the receiver. "Perez family?"

"Yes."

"Understood. I'm coming back today."

It was around 3:30 AM now. If they left immediately, they could arrive in the New Golden City in about two days.

Lance didn't say much more and hung up. He then called Melo. "Mobilize more men."

Melo didn't ask why and immediately made arrangements.

Lance then called the farm. "Tell everyone to be vigilant. If anything suspicious is detected, engage them immediately."

He had quite a few men protecting the distillery at the farm. He was least concerned about the farm, but he called to warn them about the current tension.

The farm also had the Lawrence family's cowboy team. These men were cowboys, but if needed, they could immediately become a highly mobile mounted militia.

This was the basis of survival for Federal farms, a tradition of the past and present, though perhaps not the future.

After these calls, Lance sat, waiting for news.

He had increased the convoy's security, but things like this were inevitable unless he assigned hundreds or thousands of men to escort the convoy, which still might not be enough.

As long as the convoy's route and security details were known, the Perez family could plan a targeted attack.

Explosions and landmines were easy to acquire now.

With the war over, much of the military ordnance and firearms that should have been sold to the military were now circulating on the black market. Many had flowed in from the Tanfit Continent, where the war had completely stopped, and many nations' economies were suffering.

Some soldiers, seeking money, would sell their own ammunition, grenades, and other equipment to ordinary people for resources and cash.

Some of these weapons were then smuggled back into the Federation. Therefore, the issue wasn't about increasing the number of guards; it was about information security.

The transport route was supposed to be highly secretive. Being discovered meant only one thing:

Someone betrayed the information to the Perez family.

The New Golden City was a massive metropolitan area, the political and economic center of the Federation, with over a dozen interstate highways leading to it.

In other words, without an insider tip, they wouldn't have known which route the convoy was taking.

Lance pursed his lips. He would find the traitor, but the immediate priority was clarifying the situation.

As he waited, the sky began to change. By nearly 5:00 AM, the sky was almost completely bright.

Daylight came exceptionally early during daylight saving time. Shortly after 5:00 AM, Lance received the news.

The convoy had been ambushed about an hour's drive from the New Golden City. There were signs of a wash-down on the highway, but heavy bloodstains were still visible on the roadsides.

The search team found the location because of the burn marks and the presence of numerous scavenging birds gathered there.

The birds scattered in fear when the search team arrived, drawing their attention to the scene.

"We found some crests left behind at the scene. They belong to the Perez family."

Hearing the expected news, Lance felt no surprise. He instructed the men to return.

Meanwhile, Fran also woke up early that day.

On one hand, as people age, they require less sleep.

On the other hand, he was anxious to know the outcome of last night's operation. He woke up around 5:30 AM.

After washing up, it was nearly 6:00 AM.

When he emerged from his bedroom and reached the first-floor hall, the people gathered there immediately stood up, including Bob and Paige.

Seeing their barely contained smiles, Fran naturally smiled too. He was in a good mood.

He held the banister and slowly descended the stairs. "It looks like I'm waiting for good news, gentlemen!"

Bob stepped forward, supporting him. "We successfully intercepted their convoy yesterday, eliminated their men, and the liquor is now in our warehouse."

Fran laughed heartily. "This is the best news I've heard in a long time!"

He paused, then added, "Did you remember to leave some 'evidence' at the scene to let Lance know it was us?"

Paige confirmed. "Yes, we left two crests."

The Lance family had its own insignia, and the Perez family had their own crest—a brooch-like item.

They considered themselves high-society, and all Perez family members were issued a pin-like crest to wear on their lapels or elsewhere to signify their identity.

Hearing Paige's confirmation, Fran walked to the sofa and sat down. "I don't really care about the money. What I care about is that we finally achieved a victory in our competition with them!"

"Make sure people only hear that the Lance family suffered a huge loss, and that we were the ones responsible for it!"