American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop

The loud roar of an engine surged from behind, nearly drowning out the siren of the Suburban. Before Jack and Rossi could react, the robust "Mammoth" vehicle roared past on the right, disappearing into the night with only its red taillights visible.

Rossi, stunned for a moment, turned to Jack with a "Wow."

"They really treat your baby like that," he teased.

Jack angrily floored the gas pedal. Although both vehicles had V8 engines, the power difference was nearly threefold. They weren't far from the station, and Jack was mostly putting on a show.

When the Suburban finally pulled into the freight station, the "Mammoth" had already parked, its engine off. Jack watched as JJ and Jane, the two long-legged women, jumped out of the vehicle from either side, a sight that was undoubtedly pleasing.

"They're like 'Charlie's Angels,'" Rossi commented as he opened the door to get out.

"We already have three angels, don't we? If we include Garcia, we could call them 'David's Angels,'" Jack joked.

The name "Charlie's Angels" might not be familiar to everyone, but its other name, Angels of Vengeance, was iconic. In the late 1970s, when women revived the shoulder-pad fashion trend and showcased their tougher sides, this TV show featuring three female leads became a sensation across the country.

Rossi rolled his eyes, but the lighthearted moment ended as soon as they opened the car doors.

"I saw him running toward the train, but I lost him. There are two trains stopped on the tracks, and nearly half of the cars are open," a breathless railway cop, armed with a shotgun, ran over to report.

Jack stared at the long lines of train cars parked on the tracks and felt his scalp tingle. They were only five people—he could only hope that Hotchner's team would arrive soon.

"Rossi, you go with him along the northern side. I'll take the middle, and the girls can cover the southern side. We'll move from east to west along the tracks. Okay?"

At moments like this, even if Hotchner were present, everyone would follow Jack's commands without question. The reason was simple—everyone had their expertise, and just as Jack would turn to Reid for the brainwork, tactical situations like these were Jack's domain.

"Two-person teams. If you see anyone, fire a warning shot first. No one acts alone, understand?" Jack gave strict instructions, especially emphasizing safety. After seeing everyone nod and draw their guns, he led the way between the two rows of train cars.

Each freight car was about 13 meters long, 2.8 meters wide, and 2.9 meters tall (not counting the wheels).

To maximize profits, private railroad companies would typically attach over 200 cars to a freight train, resulting in a total length of two to three kilometers.

Jack heightened his senses as he moved through the space between the open train cars. The five of them weren't far apart, and through the gaps between the cars, they could occasionally see the flashlights of their companions.

After about fifteen minutes, they had only checked a third of the train cars when a chorus of sirens began wailing from the west. Hotchner's reinforcements had arrived.

Sure enough, soon their earpieces buzzed with Hotchner's voice. But along with reinforcements, he also brought bad news. "Guys, a train is coming."

Before he finished speaking, a long whistle pierced the night.

"Damn!" Jack cursed inwardly. Without hesitation, he vaulted over one of the train cars and ran toward the railway cop with Rossi.

"Is that train stopping or just passing through?" he asked.

"It's just... just passing through," the cop replied, his breathing heavy from climbing up and down to check the train cars.

"This is bad," Rossi said, echoing Jack's thoughts.

With the incoming train slowing as it approached the station, it gave the suspect a perfect opportunity to jump aboard and escape. They needed to get word to the conductor to stop the train and prevent the suspect from slipping out of the cordon.

The rumbling of the approaching train grew louder. Jack had no time to think. He quickly instructed the two men.

"You guys figure out how to contact the conductor. I'll keep searching along the tracks."

Before he could finish, gunshots rang out from JJ and Jane's direction.

Everyone's hearts tightened, and Jack sprinted toward the sound. "Go get the car; I'll handle this!"

The train, now entering the station, rumbled loudly as its wheels clattered on the overburdened tracks. Jack sprinted at full speed, making it across the tracks just before the train's engine passed. He continued running, now moving against the direction of the train, until he reached a switching point, where he saw JJ running toward him.

"Jack! On the roof!"

JJ had been chasing the train and pointed toward the top of the cars when she spotted Jack.

Following her gesture, Jack looked up. The train was composed entirely of closed freight cars, and the suspect, in a panic, had climbed onto the roof. 

Jane had been in pursuit, climbing up the side of the car, but halfway up, the suspect had cornered her, standing above with a metal spike raised high, ready to strike.

As the spike was about to come down, both Jack and JJ fired their guns simultaneously.

The metal spike fell from the suspect's hand, striking Jane, who let out a scream as she lost her grip and tumbled from the train car.

Jack rushed forward, catching her mid-fall, but let out a pained groan as the impact nearly crushed him. "She really needs to lose some weight," he thought. Even though it was only a two-meter drop, it felt like she'd nearly flattened him.

Thankfully, Jane only had a slight scrape on her forehead. Jack caught her in time and rolled them both to safety, away from the train cars.

As for the suspect, Armando, he wasn't so lucky. Having taken two gunshots, he fell from the top of the train car and was already dead by the time he hit the ground.

——

On the way back to Los Angeles, Emily was in the worst mood of the group. Back at the station, Arturo Torres had broken down in tears upon hearing the news of his brother's death.

And it was Emily who had delivered the news. The sense of justice for the innocent victims couldn't erase the sorrow she felt for others' suffering.

Seeing her in low spirits, Jack handed her a business card. "You might want to reach out to Arturo again through that ICE officer."

"What's this?" Emily asked, confused.

"Roscoe Conklin, owner of a factory in Georgia. She can offer Arturo a well-paying job if you're interested in helping him out."

The electric tricycle assembly plant in the small town of Margrave had seen its production booming. The town, once with a population of less than 2,000, had nearly doubled in size.

Jack couldn't help everyone, but he could help one person. It was a small act of kindness in a world that needed more of them.

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