This is a four-story, not majestic, yellow square building. The walls on the first floor are made of gray-black bluestone, which looks a bit solemn and cold.
At this moment, it is already January, and it has begun to snow lightly in Moscow. There is white snow everywhere, and the temperature is below -6 degrees.
There is no yard here. There are two closed doors directly in front of the building. Entering into the building, there are sentries and guards at the door.
A black Volga sedan stopped at the gate. Guards with armed guns came up to check their documents, then saluted and waved back, and the gate opened with a bang.
The car slid into the building and stopped in the parking lot.
A young man with falcon-like eyes got out of the co-pilot, glanced around briefly, then walked to the back of the car and opened the tailgate.
Alexander Kovich, head of intelligence for FSB Europe, got out of the car wearing a black coat.
Surrounded by two attendants, Alexanderkovic boarded the elevator and reached the third floor.
Walking through the long corridor, I finally stopped in front of an office.
He turned back and waved gently to the two attendants. One of the attendants handed the black briefcase in his hand to Alexanderkovic, then turned and left.
Carrying a black briefcase, Alexanderkovic reached out and knocked on the door.
"Come in, the door is unlocked."
Although it is already 1 o'clock in the evening, the owner of this office does not seem to be resting.
Pushing the door open, Alexanderkovic gently closed the door.
This is a very spacious office with brown wooden floors. There is a huge desk on the east side of the house. There is a sofa and a coffee table in front of the desk, which is a place for receiving guests.
A big, bald man with a slightly fat head was leaning on the table, looking at documents, and from time to time he signed the documents with a pen in his hand.
The room is very warm because there is a heater.
Taking off his coat and hanging it on the coat rack at the door, Alexanderkovic strode towards the large desk.
The bald man raised his head from behind the desk and stopped writing.
He stood up, walked around the table to greet him, opened his arms and gave Alexanderkovic a Russian hug.
"Davarisi, you said you have an urgent matter and you want to see me for an interview. Is it really so urgent that you need to fly back from Eastern Europe?"
"It is indeed urgent, Comrade Director." Alexanderkovic pointed to the sofa: "Can you sit down and talk?"
"Of course, my dear Alexanderkovitch." The director smiled, and his smooth face was like a shelled egg, which made people look very comfortable and friendly.
He turned back to his desk and pressed the call bell.
"Zoya, send me twice as much coffee to the office."
"OK."
A female voice that was not young came from the other end.
Obviously, this is the secretary of the director.
The director works at night, so the secretary will naturally not leave.
After arranging coffee, the director returned to the sofa and sat down. He looked at Alexanderkovic and asked: "Okay, now if there is any emergency, we can talk about it. In fact, if it is not a big deal, you can talk to me on the phone.
.”
"An interview is necessary." Pressured Shankovic took out a pocket recorder from his black briefcase, "Baron Harvey called me four hours ago. Of course, as a bridge of communication with Europe, I have the responsibility to
Our conversation has all been recorded, and I think you will know clearly what it is about, Director, after listening to the phone call."
There was a gentle knock on the door, and Zoya, a secretary in her forties, walked in with two cups of hot coffee and placed them gently in front of the two of them.
The director ordered: "Zoya, lock the door when you go out. I won't see any guests for the time being."
"Okay." Zoya withdrew, locked the door and closed it gently according to the director's instructions.
After Alexanderkovic saw the door closed, he turned around, reached out and gently pressed the play button.
Alexanderkovitch's thick Russian English accent and Baron Harvey's typical Cockney accent came from inside.
The director listened quietly, while Alexanderkovic sat aside wringing his hands, his eyes never leaving the director's face as smooth as an egg.
After twenty minutes, the content in the recorder was finally played.
The director picked up the coffee cup, took a sip, and put it down.
"Davarisi, since London is asking for cooperation, what do you think? After all, you are the intelligence director of the European region, and you know the people there better. I am willing to listen to your professional opinions as a reference."
Obviously, this is a good leader who does not jump to conclusions and respects front-line supervisors.
Alexanderkovic said: "Based on the current situation, I agree to cooperate with them."
"I need a reason, otherwise it will be difficult for me to convince my superiors." The director held the coffee and stared at Alexanderkovic intently.
"Because according to the situation reported by Baron Harvey, six transport planes are currently flying to our border, and then the planes are loaded with an estimated more than thirty tons of XS gel explosive. This explosive is colorless and odorless and can be mixed with anything.
The color is made to look like plastic products, and it can be made into any shape according to the poured mold. This is a big threat to safety. If it is really transported to the North Caucasus, it may be obtained by some people with ulterior motives.
, the situation in that area has been undercurrents. It looks calm on the surface, but in fact it is still an area we focus on monitoring, so I think the risk is very high. There is an advantage to cooperating with Baron Harvey. They have been tracking the Holy City Army and the Black Sun.
It has been a long time, and we have a lot of information on this incident and these two organizations, which we urgently need."
The director did not speak, but kept nodding.
He suddenly stood up, returned to his desk, pulled out a document from the table, then returned to the sofa and handed the document to Alexanderkovic.
"Look at this intelligence report."
Alexanderkovic took the document and began to flip through it quickly.
While he was flipping through the pages, the director picked up the coffee and briefly introduced the contents of the document to him while drinking it.
"This intelligence was sent back from Africa 0 hours ago. According to the description in the intelligence, today under the leadership of MI17, their commando team conducted an infiltration raid in the desert of northern Somalia, and something happened there
There was a violent explosion. Later, according to our informant in the Somali transitional government, MI17 was tracking a weapons manufacturing factory of the Black Sun and the Quds Force, and determined that the location was there. However, for some unknown reason, the weapons factory suddenly exploded.
Raise everything to the ground."
"This report says that no one was injured?" Alexanderkovic's eyes left the document and returned to Alexanderkovic's face, "This is a bit strange."
"Well, yes, maybe it's because there is no one there anymore, or the retreat has been completed, and the explosion is just to destroy evidence." The director said: "It seems that your judgment is correct. We do need to cooperate with Harvey.
We know that the XS gel explosive fell into the hands of some people in the North Caucasus, which is indeed very detrimental to our security."
Alexanderkovic suddenly felt a shock in his heart. The director already had the answer in his mind. The opinion he just asked him seemed to be an expression of respect for him, but in fact it was a test of his judgment.
If I object to cooperation, I'm afraid the director will question his ability and professionalism.