Chapter 114 Highway of Death, Skinned Brothers

On the way to training camp.

Dean looked at the scenery outside the window, feeling a little bored.

The driver was a bald black man with an expressionless face and fierce facial features. He was the kind who could easily blend into the Somali pirates with an AK47.

The two of them spent more than an hour together from the time they got in the car to now, but they only exchanged two words.

One sentence is to check the identity.

One sentence is that Dean asked several times how long it would take to get to the training camp.

The other party’s answer is always: Immediately!

"Dude, do you mind if I smoke in the car?"

The black man didn't even look back.

Di~

The windows open automatically.

Well, that means yes.

This guy didn't even want to look at him or even nod his head!

Dean leaned against the car window depressedly, took out a cigarette, lit it, looked at the scenery outside, and took a long drag.

He found that his second-level mind-reading skills were useless in front of the person in front of him.

Because you can't face a sculpture and analyze anything useful.

This guy is very professional.

Just then.

Outside the driveway, an inconspicuous small tree passed by Dean's eyes quickly.

Dean's pupils narrowed.

He exhaled a puff of smoke and pretended to be casual: "Man, are you sure we are going to the base? Why do I feel like we have already driven almost two hundred kilometers?"

half an hour ago.

They've been here!

"Discovered?"

Sima, a bald black man who was originally expressionless, fell down and glanced at the time next to him: "You have very good observation skills. Open the partition above your head. There is a drawing board on it. If you can draw our route map,

Then your camp permit will be approved."

"Does this thing need to be tested in the camp?" Dean said with a look of displeasure on his face, taking down a small white drawing board with a grid like that used by children.

"Haha." The black man laughed, turned the car to the side of the road, and said in a kind tone: "I didn't need it, but who said you are Anthony's student? By the way, Dean, that is the drawing board I bought for my daughter.

You use it more gently."

Hear the words of black people.

While writing and drawing on the drawing board, Dean asked curiously: "Is Anthony famous in your group?"

"Of course!", the bald black man nodded matter-of-factly:

"Sir Anthony is a special agent of the FBI.

He has taught many outstanding students.

And many of those people have now quit the front line and become new training instructors.

Such as me.

Formal introduction, my name is Massa, the trace tracking expert at the training camp, and also your senior."

Dean shrugged: "Well, I met a guy from the Security Bureau before and he recognized me. Now it seems that Teacher Anthony sent my information to you."

"Yes, we have an internal security group to help each other. This is also a means of self-protection."

Massa sighed: "Many times, for some purposes, our lives are worthless, so we must learn to unite so that we can have more choices when we are threatened."

"But you didn't open the back door for me, man, I doubt your words." Dean smiled and handed over the map he drew.

Memorizing terrain routes is his instinct.

His previous life in the sewers taught him a lot.

Of course, it was difficult for Dean to be as relaxed as he is now. At most, he could only remember some obvious terrain features.

He now clearly knew how many detours Massa took, how long each stretch of road took, how many roads he changed, and other details.

This is the benefit of raising your mental power to a higher level.

Massa took the drawing board, looked at it, and replied: "I'm sorry, I also want to take care of you, but Mr. Anthony won't let me. You will understand this in the future."

Sudden.

His voice paused and he uttered a curse word: "FK, did you install positioning and navigation?"

With some disbelief, Massa took out a map around Los Angeles and compared the routes. He was shocked to find that the driving route Dean drew was not only basically the same as the one on the map, but also almost the same length.

Dean exhaled a puff of smoke leisurely: "If you blindfold me, maybe I can draw more accurately."

"Well, the people who can be accepted as formal apprentices by Mr. Anthony are indeed perverts. It's a complete waste of your talent to stay in the Police Detective Bureau."

Massa muttered a few words and handed a box to Dean: "The people before have already started the second phase of practical training. This is the information."

“What is the first phase of training?”

"Some basic things, such as criminal psychology, informatics, trace science, etc., of course, cannot be taught too much. It just gives them an impression so that after they leave, they will know how to teach themselves."

The short-term training mainly focuses on the vision and ideas for solving crimes.

Dean felt a little pity.

He is learning things very quickly now. If he could learn from him again, it would be easy to add a few more skills to the panel so that he could improve them later if needed.

But I still have the dragon-slaying knife in my hand.

Don't be in a hurry.

Open the box.

Inside is a stack of photos and information.

The photos include men and women, old and young.

There were three or five together.

There are also a dozen or so people together, similar to a family photo.

Each photo has a number, and those files are the detailed information corresponding to the photo numbers.

Inside the box, there are a total of thirteen photos, totaling seventy-three people.

Dean quickly flipped through the information and quickly discovered the common points:

First, these people all disappeared while traveling on U.S. Route 66.

Second, no matter how many of these people there are, there must be one of them who has been a police officer for many years, or a soldier who has recently retired from the army, or even a retired member of the SEAL team.

Third, the areas where these people finally lost contact are all located in the "Talia Mountains".

The information is also specially marked with information about the ‘Taria Mountains’.

It used to be a holy land for gold prospectors. During the development of the western region, many people panned for gold sand in the river there. Now there are also some tourists who like to try their luck there.

As for U.S. Route 66, Dean himself knows it.

U.S. Route 66 is the mother highway of the United States. It has witnessed the rise and prosperity of the western United States. It symbolizes dreams and realizes the American dream.

This road, which had been removed from the American Highway Map fifteen years ago, fell into disrepair.

But it has a unique historical position.

It has become a check-in point for many car travel enthusiasts.

There are too many elements here.

Several words immediately came to Dean's mind: hunting game, hunting in no man's land, fatal curve.

These are all famous road homicide cases that occurred in the early years.

Rich material, empty spirit.

Many young men and women in the United States will be unable to resist the impulse one day and take a trip that means they can leave or die.

Because they forget that no man's land is dangerous and disorderly.

Some perverts saw the opportunity and joined this feast.

Either for money, or because they are tired of hunting wild beasts, they regard the same kind as prey, or they fall in love with those young, silly, sweet girls, and are ready to take them back to a wooden house in the wilderness to imprison them for fun.

In short.
To be continued...