Seeing that they had arrived at their destination, Simmons temporarily set aside his thoughts, opened the door, and got out first.
It would still take some time for headquarters to investigate the suspicious vehicles and analyze the alien remains. They might as well finish the task at hand first.
But just as Simmons led his men briskly through the hedge outside and into the yard, his gaze sharpened.
A brand-new red Porsche convertible sat quietly before the neatly trimmed lawn, identical to one of the cars Simmons had just seen in the surveillance footage!
Although he could not yet confirm that this was the same car from the footage, Simmons's instincts told him that this was no mere coincidence!
"Seal this place off! Don't let anyone get away!"
Simmons immediately had his men spread out and secure every door and window that could be used for escape. He himself led several men straight to the front door and rang the bell.
Soon, a slightly overweight middle-aged man opened the door, his face full of confusion.
"Ronald Witwicky?"
After seeing the man, Simmons asked bluntly.
"It's Witwicky! Who are you?"
The middle-aged man corrected him, then asked in confusion.
"We're with a government agency. Sector 7!"
As he spoke, Simmons displayed a silver badge somewhat resembling a police badge.
The middle-aged man frowned as he looked at the badge, blinking involuntarily.
"Never heard of it."
"You never will!"
Simmons said decisively, then stared into the man's eyes and continued, "Your son is Archibald Witwicky's great-grandson, correct?"
"It's Witwicky!"
The middle-aged man—Sam's father, Ronald Witwicky—corrected him again with displeasure, though he had indirectly confirmed Simmons's question.
Having confirmed the target's identity, Simmons had no intention of wasting any more time. Looking at Ronald, who was still blocking the doorway, he bent down