Chapter 10: The Doctrine of Superior Information (Seeking Continued Reading)

After making his decision, Milton turned directly to a nearby officer who was inspecting the scene.

“How many rioters are there in total?”

The officer glanced at his superior for permission before responding seriously, “Based on the evidence at the scene, there appear to be six individuals on two motorcycles.”

At the same time, he reproached Milton, “Your checkpoint shouldn’t have let such obvious targets pass through. This is a serious dereliction of duty.”

It wasn’t my fault they got through.

Besides, that officer wasn’t exactly a saint. If he died, so be it.

Milton felt no regret for the fallen officer and continued, “What about their weapons? What are they using?”

“There’s insufficient evidence at the scene to be certain,” the officer said, glancing at his notebook. “But judging by the bullet casings and what we know about the Van Camp faction, it’s highly likely they were using TEC-9 submachine guns.”

“We’re sure their guns were fully automatic and equipped with high-capacity drum magazines.”

“Automatic sears are tightly controlled items—you guys at the checkpoint should have been more vigilant!”

...

The notorious Intratec TEC-9, simple and reliable in design, fires 9x19mm rounds. Technically, it’s just a semi-automatic pistol.

But it’s cheap, perfectly suited, and easily modified for full automatic fire, making it one of the favorite weapons among gangs everywhere.

A simple automatic sear can convert this “semi-automatic pistol” into a fully automatic weapon, firing over 600 rounds per minute!

Its firepower is ferocious.

In fact, it’s essentially a compact submachine gun.

One can imagine that poor officer was riddled with bullets almost instantly.

Having identified the enemy’s firepower, Milton ignored the officer’s complaints and asked, “Anything else? Body armor? Grenades?”

Milton had been a minor military enthusiast in a past life, so this knowledge was useful for asking critical questions at a crucial moment.

The officer looked at Milton as if he were crazy. “If they had the money, wouldn’t they find a way to buy a black-market ticket to the U.S.? Do you know how expensive bulletproof vests are?”

Milton was momentarily stunned, then realized that in this era, bulletproof vests were still extremely costly and scarce strategic resources.

Even a relatively low-level NIJ Level III bulletproof set would cost at least $10,000 here, and often it’s unavailable at any price.

Around 2010, with Dongda’s entire supply chain entering the market, corresponding equipment prices dropped to a few thousand RMB per set.

In this era, which gang would be willing to spend $10,000 on expendable gear for their foot soldiers?

That’s a fortune most people could never save in a lifetime.

Relieved to hear the enemy lacked protective gear, Milton let out a sigh—this was one of the few pieces of good news.

Many misunderstand bulletproof vests, thinking either that wearing one instantly turns someone into a towering mech immune to bullets, or that they’re useless because bullets still cause broken ribs and severe internal injuries.

In reality, both notions are incorrect.

The ballistic standards strictly regulate how much the plate can bulge upon close-range impact, measuring the force on the wearer—unless a low-grade plate tries to stop a bullet beyond its protection level, even a shot from 15 meters won’t cause fatal or disabling injuries.

Of course, pain, temporary loss of function, and minor internal bleeding are unavoidable. Ballistic plates are consumables that can be damaged, and there are vulnerable gaps between plates, so the idea that wearing one makes you invincible is equally flawed.

“If the enemy wore body armor, it would be a real problem… but luckily! Six compact submachine guns, no armor, and a surprise attack—there’s still hope of victory.”

Milton eased his mind and asked the final key question, “Which direction did they head?”

The officer checked his notes and pointed toward the town. “Based on the footprints and witness statements, they likely hid somewhere in town.”

Milton pressed for more detail.

Why so many questions? Planning to investigate?

You haven’t even cleaned up your own checkpoint.

The officer looked to his commanding sergeant, who nodded, before reluctantly adding, “We don’t know the exact location, but we suspect it’s around the old street black market, hiding in some safe house.”

“But that’s just a guess. We still have to follow procedure—tighten the perimeter from the outside in and advance slowly. If we guess wrong, they’ll escape.”

“The old street area is full of smuggling black pharmacies, black markets, underground casinos, brothels, and addicts… it’s a mess. If you go, be careful.”

Milton opened the door, tossed out a distant “Thanks,” then slammed the accelerator, speeding toward the direction indicated by the police.

At least at this moment, Milton held a slight informational advantage over the assassins!

He had to act quickly to maximize the use of this edge.

Ultimate victory often comes from accumulating one small advantage after another.

Watching the pickup truck speed away, the junior officer turned to his superior with displeasure.

“Boss, why are we cooperating with them? Who knows if the checkpoint is in cahoots with those gangs?”

The sergeant didn’t look up, leisurely making notes, and calmly retorted, “Then how do you know if the police department isn’t colluding with those gangs?”

Who really knows if the police department has been corrupted?

The officer mulled over the words and was suddenly chilled to the bone.

...

Milton stared ahead, planning to open his interface once the road conditions improved, exchanging equipment while traveling.

He didn’t trust the police’s so-called “encirclement” and didn’t believe they could really find the assassins.

To placate the officers’ anger and reassure the citizens, no one dared openly shield the killers of their comrades; the front-line officers were indeed investigating seriously, no doubt about that.

But what about the higher-ups in the police department? What about the other officers forming the perimeter?

Would Milton bet his life on the police leadership and checkpoint having no ties to gang forces? On the encirclement being completely uncorrupted?

If any link in the chain failed, the whole plan would collapse.

And in such a corrupt place, failure was almost guaranteed.

To entrust his survival to others and hope for luck?

Absolutely impossible!

Milton resolved to personally take out the safe house harboring the assassins.

The pickup truck sped toward the town. Seeing the road ahead clear and few pedestrians or vehicles, Milton didn’t hesitate and immediately opened his interface.

He navigated to the weapons and equipment exchange page.

ps: In 1994, the ballistic protection standard would have been NATO NIJ 0101.04, but for clarity, I’ve used the 06 standard throughout.