But Jimmy had no choice. Although he was not familiar with the roads, the city roads were all like this. It was practically impossible to find a wide enough space to make his move.

After following for two more intersections, at the upcoming intersection, the travel vehicle suddenly signaled a right turn. "This driving habit is quite commendable," thought Jimmy, perking up. Regardless of whether it was a feint, he had to be prepared. If it really turned right, then when it slowed down for the turn, it would be the ideal opportunity.

Jimmy immediately accelerated. The vehicle in front slowed down to turn and was directly hit by Jimmy's car on the right rear door, skewing it toward the oncoming lane. The driver, caught off guard by the sudden incident and trying to remain steady, hit the brakes and swerved the steering wheel, attempting to correct the direction of the car. Unfortunately, he still ended up colliding with another vehicle on the road.

After the successful PIT maneuver, Jimmy decelerated and turned right, steadied his car, and then turned around immediately, only to find himself unlucky as an NYPD police car performed a PIT maneuver on him, hitting him on the left rear side. Jimmy's car nearly spun in place, turning 180 degrees.

"Swoosh swoosh swoosh," several police cars surrounded Jimmy's car and came to a stop. Several NYPD officers got out, guns pointed at Jimmy, "Driver, raise your hands, let me see your hands!"

"Fxxk! I'm an FBI agent!" Jimmy, having several handguns aimed at him, didn't dare make any sudden moves, and could only shout furiously that he was an FBI agent, just as the police baton shattered the glass of the driver's side window.

"I'm an FBI agent, don't get agitated, I have identification on me." Jimmy shouted frantically. Finally, NYPD caught on and instructed Jimmy to take out his credentials, "I'm getting my credentials, don't shoot. FXXK, check that travel car, see if the driver is still there!!!"

Jimmy reached into his suit with his right hand to get his credentials and handed them to the NYPD officer who had smashed his window. The officer examined the credentials, then looked at Jimmy, "Get out of the car."

Jimmy, with his hands raised, got out of the car, "I have a weapon on me, don't touch my gun."

"Turn around, put your hands on the car roof. Wait." The NYPD officer, holding Jimmy's credentials, stepped back two paces and pressed the radio to make contact with the dispatch center.

"Someone check if the driver of that car is still around!" Jimmy, obediently standing by his car, hands on the roof, couldn't turn around and could only shout to the NYPD officers to check it out.

"There's no driver in the car; he must have run into the residential area. A colleague is already pursuing him."

Jimmy's mind was buzzing. What a mess this turned out to be.

"All clear, Agent Jimmy, sorry. Duty calls."

Jimmy turned around and retrieved his credentials, "Surround the area immediately, contact the dispatch center and your officers, and determine the whereabouts of the driver of that car. He is a suspect in a murder case."

The NYPD officers surrounding Jimmy also felt awkward, they quickly dispersed and followed the location reported over the police radio by the pursuing officer.

Now Jimmy had no idea where to pursue the suspect, so he could only follow the NYPD personnel through the alleyways. Thankfully, the FBI's phones are shock-resistant and durable. Jimmy was still able to call Chris and report the current situation.

Chris was speechless too; he had already notified the NYPD dispatch center that an agent was pursuing a suspect, yet Jimmy was still mistaken for the suspect and detained.

It was only because Chris had informed the dispatch center that the NYPD officers were able to confirm Jimmy's identity so quickly. Otherwise, just contacting the FBI's Manhattan office would have taken several minutes.

While Jimmy and the others were searching for the driver, NYPD had arranged for a tow truck to remove Jimmy's car and the travel vehicle, clearing the traffic, and Chris arrived at the scene about fifteen minutes later.

Jimmy and the others were still investigating the driver's whereabouts in the neighborhood. It was certain that he was hiding in one of these residential buildings. However, awkwardly, Jimmy hadn't seen the driver's face, and the police chasing him could only confirm that it was a short, curly-haired Caucasian, as they had only seen him from the back and thus couldn't confirm his appearance.

They could only wait for Chris to arrive and then start searching the residential buildings. And it had to be Chris leading, otherwise, they couldn't tell who the driver really was.

Fortunately, with the assistance of several NYPD officers and under Chris's leadership, they eventually caught the driver. It took quite a long time, almost an hour, but finally, with a hint from a resident's glare, they pulled the person out from his home. Thankfully, there were many officers present, and the driver, weighing his options, renounced armed resistance and ultimately dropped his handgun and surrendered.

Jimmy and Chris thanked the NYPD officers for their cooperation, took the driver back to the FBI office in Chris's car, as he required immediate interrogation and thus was not taken directly to the detention center.

Chris found someone to accompany him into the interrogation, whereas Jimmy had his own task. He collected a vehicle from the administrative department and led a forensic team to the police parking lot, where he took charge of investigating the travel vehicle. The two separated, each going about their own tasks.

Upon arriving at the police parking lot, Jimmy first went to check his own vehicle. His assigned car's trunk had a full set of equipment, which had been reminded to NYPD when the car was towed, and they had preserved it well. There was even a police officer specifically accompanying him to the parking lot to watch Jimmy's car, exhibiting truly commendable service. Of course, mainly to avoid any complaints from Jimmy, being aimed at with guns by a group of policemen was not a pleasant memory.

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