"Are you planning to go around from the west?" the sheriff asked Harris.
"If he's really on the north ridge, we'll see him better from the east. There's a cliff there too, with a gentle slope and suitable height, offering a wide field of vision."
Jack chose to trust Harris's judgnt; after all, the sheriff had ntioned that the militia had used this place as a shooting range before.
"Take your walkie-talkies, tune to channel 23. The sheriff and I will go to the front to distract him. Jack, you guys get into position and report. The rest of you go through the middle, up the gentle slope from the north, be careful to stay hidden, and get as close to him as possible."
Hotchner said, attaching plates to his body armor; he left the most dangerous task to himself.
"I'll go with you." Rossi smiled and took a box from the trunk, opening it to reveal a pair of sneakers.
Reid glanced curiously at the rifle in Jack's hand, while simultaneously tightening his grip on the wooden gun case hanging at his waist, just as Harris noticed.
"Here's a suggestion. The way you carry your gun makes it look like you're begging soone to steal it." Harris mocked.
Hotchner didn't hold back, retorting on Reid's behalf, "The last person who thought that way got his head blown off right in front of ."
The others glared at the outspoken old militia leader, though they all enjoyed teasing Reid, they wouldn't stand by and watch him be bullied by an outsider.
Reid, however, didn't seem to care, not even responding to Harris, instead joking with Hotchner, "Actually, I've been wanting to tell you this, but I was actually aiming for his feet that ti."
Jack gave him a thumbs up. Impressive, this kid dares to joke with the poker-faced Hotchner now.
Emily giggled and gave him a push, and together with JJ, the three of them walked along the path towards the gentle northern slope.
Jack drove, taking Rossi and Harris to the eastern cliff. The slope here was indeed very gentle; he drove until they were halfway up the hill before stopping.
"This is it, perfect angle. I once took down a gray wolf here."
Harris, leading the way, nonchalantly flicked a rattlesnake away with a stick before diving into the withered grass.
Just as he had said, the view from here was indeed excellent, offering a clear view of the situation on the opposite cliff top.
The distance between the two sides was no more than 300 ters. Jack lay down beside Harris, able to clearly see his face through the scope.
Henry Foster was pinning a pretty girl to the ground, tying her up with rope.
"Hotchner, we're in position," Rossi said into the walkie-talkie, lying beside Jack.
"He really turned himself into Francis Goring."
Jack noticed that Henry Foster had torn off the bandages from his face, revealing a fresh wound in the exact sa spot as the scar on Francis Goring's face.
On the other side, Hotchner was also in position, holding a gaphone and shouting Francis Goring's na directly at the cliff top, instead of Henry Foster.
"Francis Goring, can you hear ? Channel 2, let's talk."
Rossi also switched his walkie-talkie to channel 2. Henry Foster was indeed carrying a police walkie-talkie, and everyone could hear his voice clearly.
"Yes, I can hear you. This is my territory, not yours. Get out of here, or she'll die."
"That son of a bitch is too close to that girl, I can't aim." Harris cursed under his breath.
"Jack?" Rossi looked at Jack.
"It's difficult, the wind speed is at least level 5, but it's not a big problem. Don't rush, he hasn't gotten nervous yet. Have Hotchner distract him and make him as far away from the girl as possible."
Rossi nodded, switched the channel back to 23, and whispered a few words to the sheriff next to Hotchner.
Jack looked down. To his right, along the path, JJ and her two companions, along with two local police officers, were still trudging along; it would be at least another ten minutes before they reached a relatively closer distance.
To his left, below the cliff, Hotchner stood in the middle of the clearing, hands raised, holding only a walkie-talkie.
"I just want to talk to you."
"You want to talk? Then let's talk! But if you dare co near, she'll be shot, understand?" Henry Foster roared into the walkie-talkie from the mountaintop, his emotions rising.
"She'll be the first to die, understand?"
"Was your FBI policy also 'shoot to death' during the Ruby Ridge incident?" Harris suddenly asked.
Jack didn't speak, knowing he was referring to Rossi, who was about his age.
"No then, but now it is." Rossi glanced at him, directly addressing his pointed question.
"So now I'm standing where you were back then, isn't that right?" Harris's tone was sowhat self-deprecating, as if he had just realized he had beco soone he once despised.
"Co on, Harris, you know this isn't the sa as 30 years ago." Jack tried to smooth things over for Rossi, who was clearly using a fallacy.
"I was there, one of the six negotiation experts sent to negotiate." Rossi unexpectedly revealed the truth.
"It was a tragedy. The sniper didn't receive orders to fire. Of course, this isn't shirking responsibility; I'm just stating the facts. But now, I'm ordering you to fire."
"This madman on the other side can't be captured alive. Hotchner is using his life to draw their attention, so fire when the ti is right."
"I must admit, this kid next to , you, that injured pretty girl, and that guy with the stern face — they're all good people. It's over. You're all welco to co to my bar."
Harris stopped talking and focused on aiming.
On the other side, Hotchner was still rambling on, "We know you. When you were 15, your father kicked you out of the house. He was a drunkard, and he abandoned you."
"Since then, you've been in and out of prison many tis, living a life worse than death, until Francis took you in. But I'm curious, did he know that you had been secretly in love with him all along?"
"Shut up! You bastard!" Henry Foster roared, his voice echoing through the valley.
"Don't get captured alive, rember him." Then his muttered words ca through the walkie-talkie.
"Release the girl. I'll order a clearing. Just the two of us, let's talk it out. There's no need to go that far." Hotchner continued his rant, exposing himself to an assault rifle less than a hundred ters away.
"Shut up, you have to do it, you have to!"
Henry Foster suddenly slamd the girl down on her knees, straightened up, and raised his AR-15, ready to fire at Hotchner.
"Bang!"
"Bang!"
Two gunshots rang out almost simultaneously.
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