The world of American TV series: Starting with the L.A. Patrol.

The urban area of ​​Paris is divided into digital districts, which are distributed in a spiral pattern like a snail shell from the inside to the outside, with District 1 as the center and spreading outward. There are a total of 20 districts, which are collectively called Little Paris.

Similar to the unpredictable security distribution in New York, the security situation in Paris is also very puzzling to outsiders. The details of each district are different, but generally speaking, the southwest is better and the northeast is worse.

The 10th arrondissement has two important transportation hubs, the Gare du Nord and the Gare de l'Est. The former leads to Belgium and the latter to Germany, so the mobility of people is extremely high. In addition, Paris's famous red-light district is also located here.

Brian put on a leather jacket, a black suit and a dark tie, walked to a red door and looked left and right.

Not far away, Jack, who was dressed as a postman, nodded slightly at him. Brian turned his head expressionlessly, pushed the door open, strode across the porch to the inner courtyard, where two Eastern European men were drinking beer and playing mahjong for two in the yard.

Seeing Brian walk in, one of them quickly stood up and blocked his way. Although the other sturdy man was sitting still, he also cast a vigilant look at him and quietly put his right hand into his arms.

"Stupid pig." Brian greeted.

The Eastern European man standing in front of him had a thick mustache and a fierce look in his eyes. "What's the matter? We don't accept guests here during the day."

"I'm here to see your boss." Brian stood in front of him, overshadowing the other man in both height and aura.

"There is no boss." The man with a mustache acted like a poor but arrogant person.

Brian took out a business card and handed it to him, with the words "National Police" printed on it.

Law enforcement officers in France are divided into two categories, police and gendarmes. The police are further divided into two types: the national police under the management of the French Ministry of the Interior and the urban police who are responsible to the local municipal government.

These three types of law enforcement personnel can roughly correspond to the criminal police, armed police forces and auxiliary police of a certain large Eastern country.

French urban police do not have the power to enforce the law in criminal cases, and their functions tend to be administrative and auxiliary, while the national police and the gendarmerie have the same functions and can both be responsible for criminal cases.

The difference between the two is that the national police are mainly concentrated in large cities and their surrounding areas, while the gendarmerie is more responsible for small towns and villages. And as the name suggests, they have the power to arrest deserters and deal with crimes within the army.

The mustache guy was not flustered when he saw the business card, "We are not some street thugs. Mr. Macon is in charge of our area."

"Macon has changed departments. I'm in charge here now, so take me to see your boss. I won't repeat myself for the third time. Of course, you have the right to refuse, but I won't be alone when you come to visit me later."

Brian narrowed his eyes slightly and knocked on the earphone hanging on his left ear in a very threatening manner.

The man with a mustache looked nervously at the burly man who was still sitting there, signaled him with a wink to keep an eye on Brian, and then he said "Wait" and turned around and left in a hurry.

Not long after, he reappeared, standing on the steps and tilting his head slightly towards Brian, "Are you armed?"

"In your hand." Brian nodded at the fake business card he was still holding.

The sturdy man who had been sitting there without getting up kept staring at Brian's back until he disappeared at the end of the stairs. Then he turned his head and was surprised to find an old man in a baseball cap standing next to him.

"Stupid pig?" Frank greeted with a smile and suddenly attacked, and his fingers turned into knives, as fast as lightning, directly breaking the strong man's Adam's apple.

"Ho ho." The sturdy man covered his throat but couldn't breathe. He struggled and fell to the ground. He kicked his legs helplessly a few times and then he fell silent.

The red door was opened again, and Jack walked into the inner courtyard with a nervous Cassel.

"Stay here."

Frank had dragged the burly man's body to the corner, covered it with a rainproof cloth, handed his Beretta 92F to his son, patted his shoulder, and took the "Viper" with a good silencer from Jack.

The two walked up the stairs to a terrace, and within sight, they saw a red M&M's thrown in front of one of the corridor doors.

Jack opened the door and went in. In the nearest room on the corridor were two Eastern European men playing cards. When they heard the noise, they looked up at him through the window.

"Puff! Puff!" With two light sounds, a bloody hole appeared on the forehead of each of the two men.

The sound of breaking glass alarmed the people in another room. Someone stuck his head out to check what was going on, and Frank behind Jack raised his hand and fired a shot.

At this time, there was a sound of fighting upstairs. The noise was quite loud, and there were even two gunshots. Frank couldn't help but frowned, because Brian really didn't bring any weapons.

"Do you want to go up and help him?"

"No need." Jack shook his head. Are you kidding? That's Liam Neeson. No one can kill him unless he encounters Darth Maul with a lightsaber.

The two men walked through the corridor and guarded the stairwell, killing three Albanians who heard the noise and came to reinforce, until Brian's hoarse voice came from above their heads.

"It's all done. You better come up and take a look."

Brian, with murderous look on his face, dragged a bearded man with slicked back hair to the stairs like a dead dog, with a captured M1911 in his hand.

"Uh, did you kill them all?" Jack was a little worried. When he was working with these two killers, there were corpses everywhere along the way. He might not be able to interrogate anyone alive.

"This is Mark Ocha, confirmed." Brian kicked the bearded man who was still breathing, which was an indirect confirmation.

Jack stepped over Mark Ocha, who was beaten to a standstill, and walked into the corridor. This apartment building was quite old, and its layout was quite similar to that of an old-fashioned Khrushchev building, with winding corridors and rooms of different sizes on both sides.

The first room was not big, it was a small restaurant with a kitchen. It was in a mess. There were two bodies lying at the door and four more in the restaurant, including the man with a mustache who had led Brian before. A knife was stuck in his chest.

According to the plan they had discussed before, Brian was responsible for impersonating the French National Police and asked to meet Marc Ocha in the name of discussing protection money. Jack and Frank followed up to ensure that no one could escape.

Jack continued to walk forward, while Brian and Frank continued to guard the stairs behind him, looking at his back with conflicting eyes.

This is the Albanian gang's lair, where many kidnapped and trafficked girls are held. But it is also an underground women's brothel, where these girls are forced to receive guests in small rooms every night.

The reason why Brian and Frank's eyes were full of conflict was that they wanted to find Alexis and Kim as soon as possible, but they didn't want to see some heartbreaking scenes, so Jack had to do the rest of the work.

He opened one of the doors, and the smell of cheap perfume mixed with some indescribable smell filled the entire room. There was only a single bed in it, and a untidy girl was sleeping there. The loud noise outside just now did not wake her up.

This scene was not at all charming, but rather caused people strong physical discomfort, because one of the girl's hands was handcuffed to the radiator, and the other arm was covered with pinholes and circular scars from cigarette burns.

The second room, the third room, Jack opened the doors one by one along the corridor, and the scenes in the rooms were similar.

Some rooms had single beds, some had double iron beds, but without exception, every girl was handcuffed, and there were more or less needle holes and scars on their arms from drug injections.

After checking all the rooms, Jack secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Although he had expected it, he was still very glad that Alexis and Kim were not among these girls.

-

A group of foreign journalists rushed into the red gate, with the burly Russian News Agency reporter and the nimble Reuters reporter leading the way.

The French police who arrived a little later looked at it all in amazement, not knowing how to stop these media personnel who were known for their fast running.

Across the street not far from this den, in a Citroën sedan commonly seen on the streets of Paris, Cassel, who was sitting in the passenger seat, put down his mobile phone, took out the SIM card, broke it in half, and threw it into the trash can on the side of the road along with the mobile phone.

"All the news agencies in various countries I know have been notified. In two hours at most, the situation inside will spread all over the world."

"Let's go." Frank, who was sitting in the back seat, sighed and put his baseball cap on the face of Mark Ocha, who was still unconscious beside him.

Jack started the car, and the tires of the Citroen sedan rolled over the cobblestone roads unique to France and disappeared at the end of the street corner.