"Mr. Friedman, I just received news that the Blackwater Assassination Team in Asia has been wiped out and the target has disappeared again.&*..com fastest update**"
The peaceful atmosphere in the office suddenly stagnated, and a loud noise suddenly erupted.
Coffee cups, pen holders, pens, telephones, documents and desktop ornaments were thrown out violently, as if cluster bombs of various types were dropped intensively, and they hit the spandex carpet in the office of the Director of Lockheed Operations.
, some weak objects even fell apart as a result.
A large amount of mocha coffee quickly penetrated into the carpet. A full cup of mocha only left a large wet stain on the carpet that smelled of burnt bitter wheat, and even a few drops were splashed on the sofa.
I'm afraid the cleaning staff on duty today will be complaining about this. If it's not cleaned up within 24 hours, I'm afraid there will be permanent marks on the carpet, and even mold spots that are difficult to clean will grow.
"Damn, damn, did the people of Blackwater grow up eating shit? What kind of goods did they send? Are they idiots? They can't even handle a pilot. Tell me, who are we dealing with? Is it?
God? Is it so difficult? I paid three million U.S. dollars for this, and yet it’s foolproof. It’s bullshit foolproof. It’s just trash. I need them to give me an explanation.”
Mitch Friedman, the director of Lockheed Operations, became furious and threw everything in sight and everything that could be thrown out of his desk.
How great is the hope, how great is the disappointment.
I thought it was a seamless plan with the best manpower, but the reality hit me and Mitch Friedman seemed to have aged ten years in an instant.
Just as he was yelling in an imageless manner, was he dealing with God? How could it be so unfavorable?
"Sorry, Mr. Friedman, Blackwater said that they will continue to send people to perform tasks without charging any additional fees. They said that the Chinese are too cautious, even the strategic partners who provide them with intelligence work
We also suffered great losses.”
The German employee Hegel Morstein regretted why he was so ingratiated with the operational planning expert Mozalievsky and actually took the initiative to report the newly received intelligence to his supervisor on his behalf.
Looking back now, this was a really bad, stupid idea.
Hegel suffered an unreasonable disaster, and when his supervisor Mitch Friedman furiously cleared the table, his half-cup of coffee got stained on his newly purchased suit.&*.
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This is really unlucky. He has to go on a date with his new beautiful girlfriend after get off work today. He originally planned to wear this outfit for two days and then return it without even taking off the label, but now he has to Bite the bullet and keep it. Once washed, this set of clothes cannot enjoy the unconditional return service.
Two months of salary were wiped out for this high-end suit that served as a storefront, and there was still a lingering smell of coffee.
Oh, my God! Later, I should borrow some perfume from Miss Tracey at the front desk to cover up the smell of coffee, and then make up an excuse to cover it up.
Not to mention how depressed Hegel was feeling at this moment.
"I don't care about these. Tell the people in Blackwater that what I want is the result. As a customer, the money I should pay has already been paid to them. The rest of the process is their business. I only want the result. What about the combat robots and combat maneuvers?"
As for the armor, haven’t I sent an action team to bring these powerful equipment to cooperate with them, are they using it?”
Mitch Friedman's roar almost sprayed foam directly into Hegel's face. He stared at him as if he were an enemy and almost pounced on him, grabbed him by the collar and interrogated him.
In fact, Mitch Friedman really wanted to do this, but he held back.
"This was also explained in the report sent by Blackwater. There was no way to bring these equipment to the situation where the target appeared. The other party was well protected and they could not find a chance to use it. In addition, the British had already
I once sent an email to urge us and asked when we would pay the balance."
Hegel carefully conveyed the news from several companies and organizations that provided services to Lockheed Operations. He glanced at the scattered A4 papers that were smashed on the ground. One of them was a pile of printed reports from Blackwater Company.
However, the supervisor who first heard the bad news may not be in the mood to read any more at the moment, so he can only rely on his own memory to repeat the contents of the report.
"It's really troublesome!" Mitch Friedman unbuttoned the collar of his shirt with force and tilted his tie to one side. He put his hands on his waist, his chest rose and fell, and breathlessly muttered to himself: "Damn British guy,
Greedy John Bull dared to ask for 10 million US dollars in just one attack. It was simply extortion and extortion."
The chairman pointed out that Mitch Friedman contacted fellow British fighter manufacturers and paid a lot of money, but even with the most advanced unmanned fighter jets and the most elite combat teams, he was still unable to do so.
After the success was achieved, the opponent was reluctant to let his fighter jets perish together with the target, and ultimately failed in success.
Because of the damage to the fighter jet, the other party offered a sky-high repair fee. It originally only cost one million US dollars in appearance fees, but suddenly it raised a claim of 10 million US dollars.
The wool comes from the sheep, and Target will not pay for the repair costs of the scarred unmanned fighter jet. Naturally, the money falls on Lockheed.
The house leaked during the rainy night, and he lost money and humiliation. The furious Lockheed Operations Director already wanted to personally strangle the pilot codenamed "Dragon Knight" to death. This guy was the culprit of this big trouble, and he was still
Carefree and at ease, the Lockheed family dignitaries therefore vented their anger on the operations department.
As long as this "Dragon Knight" is not dead, Director Mickey Friedman will have trouble sleeping and eating.
"Hegel, what's going on here without you?" Mitch Friedman, who was finally decadent and weak, waved his hand in a low voice, "I understand, you go ahead."
"Yes, sir!" Hegel responded with his head lowered, without any expression on his face.
Even though I had to pay two extra months of salary to buy this expensive suit for no reason today, which meant I lost a lot of money, I still didn't dare to show my dissatisfaction to Mitch Friedman.
An unemployed person is not qualified to pick up that pretty girl.
Just as Hegel was about to step out of the office and leave this terrible place, the voice of Director Mitch Friedman came from behind again. He froze and his feet froze in mid-air.
"What's the matter? Sir!" Hegel's face almost looked like he was about to cry, but he straightened his neck and did not dare to turn his head.
There is heaven in front and hell behind, stepping on the Yin and Yang world, suffering in the body.
God, please let me go. I’m thirty-five this year and I’m still single. Except for my mother, I’ve never even touched a woman’s hand. I’m just hoping to have sex with the beautiful woman tonight.
, Mr. Supervisor, please show mercy and save some face for me.
"Call that guy Mozalievsky for me."
boom!
After regaining his breath, Hegel Moststein finally lost his balance in the mixture of sorrow and joy, and hugged the floor outside the door fiercely.
These days, I am unlucky and implicated.
"Mr. Director!" Mozalievsky walked into Mitch Friedman's office anxiously.
"Are your things ready? Bring them over..."
"Here is my letter of introduction and military ID!"
At the gate of the Fifth Space Training Center, about 17 kilometers away from the Jiuquan Satellite Launch Center, Lin Mo, who was riding on a motorcycle, handed his ID to the gun-wielding soldier who looked wary.
The motorcycle did not stall, but idled slightly, and the rustling sound of the internal transmission chain under the engine cylinder could be vaguely heard.
After something went wrong on the road, both Lin Mo and Nong Lan, who was acting as bait, gave up their original course of action.
Nong Lan and Bayu got off the train at Hengyang Station in Hunan Province and followed the agents of the Security Bureau to go fishing without knowing where they were going.
Lin Mo did not wait for the k1168 train to go all the way to the terminal in Xi'an. Instead, he got off the train in Wuchang and took the bus directly. He then transferred to taxis and town minibuses to Luoyang, then went north to the sun, and turned around.
Going south to Yan'an, a series of dazzling routes made Lin Mo and the intelligence personnel entrusted by "Dark Night" confirm that there was no longer a tail behind, and then they officially turned to Xi'an, and took a bus from Xi'an to Lanzhou.
Lin Mo spent several thousand yuan to buy a domestic straddle-type motorcycle in Lanzhou. He tied his large suitcase to a separate shelf and relied on the GPS positioning chip and map on his watch to arrive.
Jiuquan, after asking around, found this training center that was already a military restricted area.
The confidentiality level of this aerospace training center is even higher than that of ordinary military bases. It cannot appear on navigation maps or various tourist maps. Lin Mo can only ask for the road where the address is located and follow the house number.
Look for it along the way.
There is an endless high wall outside, with an aluminum wire mesh attached to it, surrounding the entire training center. People who don't know may think it's just a factory or a farm.
"Please wait a moment." The gun-wielding soldier glanced at a comrade in the duty room with professional distrust. The soldier took out a scanner and walked out, scanning Lin Mo's body.
Read it again.
The Type 95 automatic assault rifle in the hand of the soldier on guard moved deliberately and seamlessly with a special sense of balance. It should be an empty gun, but the ends of the four magazines inserted into the black body armor on his waist vaguely revealed the bronze color.
Figure of 5.8 mm caliber bullet.
There was also a big wolfdog sitting on the ground with its bloody tongue sticking out. It tilted its head and looked at Lin Mo. The animal's spiritual sense sensed that this human riding a motorcycle seemed to be emitting a faint terrifying aura.
ps: Asking for rewards and monthly votes this month!