A Lincoln SUV drove into a small courtyard, its headlights illuminating the door in white.
Stopping in front of the garage door, CIA Deputy Director Cook pushed the door open and walked towards the mahogany door.
His steps seemed a little slow and he looked tired.
Use your fingerprint to unlock the door and walk into the living room.
It was dark, and nothing could be seen in the room. Only the soft carpet under his feet gave Cook a familiar feeling.
"Alice!"
He stood in the darkness and called out.
No one answered.
His two children were already working and studying in other places. Because of his work, he lived near Langley, Virginia. However, the nature of his work meant that the relationship between him and his wife was not warm. Although the marriage was maintained,
It has long been boring, and the couple has become the two most familiar strangers living under the roof.
It seems that my wife Alice is not at home, maybe she went to attend some party.
Turning on the light, Cook saw today's newspaper on the table in the living room. The hourly worker had been here today, maybe she had brought it in.
Sitting down on the sofa, Cook grabbed his hair with both hands and rubbed his face vigorously, as if to squeeze the fatigue out of every pore.
The phone suddenly vibrated.
He glanced at the number and saw that it was his immediate boss, Director David.
Pressing the call button, Cook already had some ominous premonitions, but he still asked calmly: "David, it's me, Cook."
"I shouldn't have called you at this late hour, but I just came back from DC and I have to inform you about something." Director David's voice was neither salty nor bland, and there was nothing unusual about it, as if he was speaking at the service desk.
A computer-synthesized voice said, "You have been quite busy at work recently. Considering your physical condition, the superiors have decided to give you a temporary holiday. You can come back tomorrow to hand over your work. Levinson will communicate with you. He will temporarily
I will follow up for you."
Levinson is another deputy director and can also be said to be Cook's competitor.
Let Levinson take over his job?
A wry smile appeared on Cook's lips. He suddenly felt a bit hungry and wanted to go to the kitchen to get something to eat.
He picked up the newspaper, took the phone, and walked towards the open kitchen, saying: "I know, David, I messed up."
It's useless to say anything now. Departments like CIA always look at the results. No one cares about the process, but the goal must be achieved.
David is not a member of the Flying Eagle Project. Of course, he will not go out of his way to defend himself or take the blame for himself. Of course, there is no reason to take the blame for himself without any responsibility.
The decryption of the "Achilles Heel" plunged the entire Eagle Project into panic. In the data stored on the hard drive, there were dozens of high-level officials of the Eagle Project involved in secret transactions with Black Sun, Holy City Force and other organizations.
people.
These people are located in key government departments, military circles, intelligence agencies, and even financial streets and Wall Street. They are all members of the core of the Flying Eagle Project.
Once the information is leaked, especially if it is captured by the press, it will be a huge scandal.
David went to DC today to have a meeting with senior officials in Washington, apparently to discuss how to deal with this problem.
Now the results seem to have come out. The temporary suspension he did was probably just waiting for the gunshot to go off.
After hanging up the phone, Cook walked to the kitchen sink in a daze and put the newspaper on the table next to him. Suddenly, a news headline came into view.
“Fleet Commander Vice Admiral Robert died mysteriously in his residence in Bahrain”
"Robert...poor Robert..."
Cook murmured to himself.
In the past half month, this is not the first high-level executive of the Eagle Project to die under mysterious circumstances.
Mo Min, a big figure in key departments such as the House of Representatives and the Ministry of Defense, died mysteriously before.
He glanced at the news content and suddenly sneered.
"...However, after the US military investigation, no evidence of murder was found. As for other clues, they have not been released to the outside world for the time being. However, the suspicion of murder by others has been ruled out..."
"Sent a suspicion of homicide..." Cook felt a chill in his heart and felt extremely ridiculous.
The success or failure of heroes has no truth, and there is no truth for losers.
He felt as if there was a fire burning in his throat and was dying of dryness, so he picked up the cup and turned on the faucet.
The water flowed into the cup. Cook raised his head and drank the water in the quilt. He felt that his mouth was still dry, so he turned on the faucet again.
Suddenly, he reached out to the cupboard under the sink.
"Mr. Deputy Director, don't move." A very familiar voice came from behind, "There is a pistol there, but I took it."
Cook's hand dropped weakly, turned his head and said feebly: "I knew it was you."
Next to the refrigerator in the kitchen, a man suddenly appeared like a ghost.
Cook raised his head and glanced around.
"Stop looking, your security system has been cracked," the person said.
Cook was stunned for a moment, then showed that helpless wry smile again.
The security system of this house was installed by CIA technicians, and it is impossible for the person in front of me to crack it, unless...
"Mist, what's the matter? Are you here to seek justice from me?" Cook looked at the former Delta Force member in front of him and said with a joking look on his face: "You think that by killing me, you can clear your wrongdoing.
?”
"This is your pistol." Mist held a P226 pistol with a silencer in his hand and shook it slightly. He shrugged, then shook his head and said: "No, I know some things very well.
But I think I will be happier after you die, which is at least a good thing for this country."
"Good thing?" Cook seemed to have heard the funniest joke in the world, and suddenly burst into laughter, with the veins on his forehead exposed.
After he finished laughing, Cook looked at Mist with a pity look: "Who do you think you are? You are just a worthless little pawn, a chess piece at the mercy of others. In our chess game,
You don’t even have a chance to end!”
"Really? What would you think if I told you that I got the information in Achilles' Heel?" Mist said.
Cook said coldly: "You are just a little lucky, and you have joined forces with that boy named Qin."
Mist said: "So, not only did I walk into your chessboard, but now I have knocked you down."
Cook immediately shook his head: "No, no, no, you are wrong. With your little skills, even if you get the entire decrypted hard drive, it will be useless. The person who wants the information inside has got it, that is, our mortal enemy."
It's only useful when you arrive. It's not you who brought me down, it's the people behind you."
Mist didn't say anything. He had to admit that what Cook said made sense.
"Do you think that taking me down will satisfy your poor patriotism? It's ridiculous, you don't know anything, you don't know anything at all. You don't even know who the boss behind the scenes is.
,I said it right, right?"
Mist nodded: "Yes, I don't know, but I don't care. What I want is for you to die. Whoever framed me must pay the price."
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"You are really too naive. Do you think you can still reverse the verdict?" Cook glanced outside the room. "You are from the Delta Force. You should know very well that a chess piece that should not know anything about Titus completed the mission.
What will happen next? Maybe... there is more than one sniper outside now aiming his gun at this place..."
Mist said calmly: "I know, my boss wants me to die."
He also looked outside the house.
Then he turned around and said, "But do you think a top Delta Force member wouldn't check his surroundings before entering a room?"
Cook was stunned for a moment.
Mist smiled: "They all fell asleep and had a long, long sleep."
"Then why are you coming in?" Cook asked, "You can leave."
"As I just said, whoever frames me will die." Mist's tone was so stubborn, even paranoid.
Cook was stunned again, and suddenly smiled bitterly and said: "It seems that I misjudged you at that time. I should have recruited you, not your pig teammates."
"There is no regret medicine in the world." Mist said: "Well, I don't have time to waste here. What I want to say is, do you settle it yourself or should I do it?"
He took out a small box from his pocket and threw it on the table.
"The latest poison, your product, is like having a heart attack when eaten, leaving no trace. I don't think you need me to analyze the pros and cons for you, death or immortality, and what the consequences will be. You know it yourself. If you want to ruin your reputation, then you can make a fuss about it."
It's up to you whether you want to gather people or leave a good name for yourself and die in the line of duty due to overwork."
Cook picked up the small box, opened it, took out a small red pill, put it in front of his eyes and looked at it.
"By the way, I have another question. If you don't mind, you can explain it to me before you die," Mist said.
Cook said: "Why should I answer your questions? To answer questions for a person who comes to kill me? Am I sick?"
"Remember what I said before, I will kill anyone who tries to frame me," Mist said.
Cook's cloudy eyes suddenly lit up and he smiled.
"They are the same people as us, the same, do you understand? We are all two branches separated from an ancient organization with a long history..."
"Your predecessor was the Ku Klux Klan."
"That's right." Cook said, "But one thing you forgot is, before the Ku Klux Klan, where did the Flying Eagle program come from?"
Mist shook his head.
Cook said: "Your boss and we both originated from the same ancient organization, the organization that can print its mark on banknotes. Do you understand? It's just that we became more radical later, and they are conservatives. They
Think that because we are radical, we will mess up their plan to control the world, so they must eliminate us. This is your boss. So, don’t think that if you kill me, things will be over. It will never be. Do you understand? This
This invisible war is still going on! Hahahahahaha"
After saying that, he raised his head, threw the pill into his mouth, and swallowed it.
Mist watched as Cook's face quickly turned red, and then he fell against the cabinet, twitching on the ground, and kept grabbing his collar, as if trying to loosen the button.
He stepped forward and unbuttoned the top button with his gloved left hand.
There was a trace of haste in Cook's eyes, and he squeezed out the last two words: "Be careful..."
Then, the look in the eyes of this senior executive finally dimmed completely, he breathed his last breath and stopped moving.
Mist stood up, carefully took back the box, then exited the kitchen and left through the back door.
After leaving Cook's house, he took off his shoe covers and gloves, put them in his arms, stood up the collar of his jacket, buttoned up the hood, then walked to the next street with his hands intertwined, and got into a parked car.
Chevrolet sedan on the street.
After a few seconds, the car started, slowly slid along the street, and finally disappeared into the night.