My own war game

Chapter 187 Lone Ying
bang bang bang! ! !
Chug tug tug tug! ! !
"Catch him! He's been shot in the leg and can't run far!"

"Catch him alive! Don't let him commit suicide!"

On a street corner in Copenhagen, gunshots and German voices could be heard from the alley.

A team of SS soldiers rushed into a small house. A man in civilian clothes fell to the ground covered in blood. When he saw the enemy coming in, he barely raised his weapon.

boom!
A bullet penetrated the man's shoulder and knocked his pistol out of his hand.

The man lost his ability to resist and collapsed to the ground.

An SS major blew into his pistol and leaned down to face the man on the ground. "Mr. Clementi?"

The man looked at the other person with mocking eyes and grinned, with blood all over his teeth.

"Do you think I'm lying to you?" The major pulled the man's hair and forced him to look at him.

"Pope, Cazorla, Sharyev, these are all members of your team, right? Do you want to guess which one of them exposed your whereabouts?"

When the man heard the names of his online and offline friends, despair appeared in his eyes, but he quickly shut up.

The major admired the expression of his prey with great satisfaction. "But you are a team of five, and it seems that you are missing a telegraph operator, Miss Jima. Can you tell me where she is?"

The man stared at the SS major blankly, and soon his eyes became dull.

"Oh no! Quickly pry open his mouth!" There was a chaos among the crowd, and then a bitten capsule was taken out from the man's broken mouth.

Someone pried open the man's eyes and looked at his pupils, then reached out a finger and felt the blood vessels on his neck.

The man shook his head. "It's too late. It's poisonous. He was just stalling for time."

"Bastard!" The major kicked the fallen body hard.

"Search the whole house! Don't leave a rat unattended."

The SS soldiers rushed into the room like wolves and tigers, and the sound of clanging and banging could be heard.

"Report! No one was found!" The sergeant in charge stood at attention and saluted.

"Did he run away?" The major rubbed his chin and shouted to the people around him.
"Search the street ahead!"

"Sir, what should we do with this guy?" Someone pointed at the corpse on the ground.

"Find a place to throw it away. Do you still need to ask me about this?" The major took out a handkerchief and wiped his hands in disgust, then walked out the door.

Two soldiers dragged the body's feet out of the house, leaving a long trail of blood on the ground.

The sound of military boots faded away, the door was slammed shut, and the strong smell of blood gathered again.

There was a slight sound of "click", and the blanket under the corpse, which had been soaked in blood, moved slightly. This was the only place that had not been searched.

The blanket was lifted, and the secret door underneath was lifted up. A woman with a dusty face and a pistol crawled out from underneath.

The only survivor of the British Copenhagen intelligence team, telegraph correspondent Gemma.

Everything happened so suddenly. Jima's team received an order from London three days ago, asking them to assassinate a German weapons expert. However, the information provided was very little, and even the other party's appearance was just a very blurry photo.

The instructions from London were "at all costs", which meant that the mission had to be completed even if all members of the team were killed.

They were already prepared to act, but the Gestapo and the SS were clearly ahead of them.

Just now, she lost her superior, who was also her last colleague. Now she is alone, without superiors, without support, and only a vague order.

Jima looked at the dark red mark on the ground and clenched his fists.

She is not dead yet, the mission is not over yet!

Her target has been exposed. This place has become unsafe. If she appears on the street like this for no more than 5 minutes, she will be arrested.

However, as a professional intelligence officer, although she is not good at fighting, she is also capable of protecting herself.

Taking out her handbag, Jima went into the small room in the house. A small bottle of potion was smeared on the exposed skin. The girl's fair skin began to turn dark yellow. Special makeup powder was applied on her eyelids to make her eyes look a little smaller. A few freckles were dotted on her face with an eyebrow pencil.

An Asian face appeared in front of the dressing mirror.

The lake green women's jacket was worn inside out, turning into a plain white work outfit without any decoration. The high heels were put into a handbag and replaced with a pair of spare earth-gray flat shoes.

A black wig covered her originally flaxen hair, and a beautiful young white girl turned into an Asian worker with a sallow face and a bitter expression after more than ten minutes.

Cross-dressing is Jima's unique talent, and also the capital for her survival in MI6.

Jima opened the back window of the house and jumped out. She pressed her wig with her hand and walked onto the street at a leisurely pace. When she passed a dark alley, she dropped the handbag containing her high heels.

A team of patrolling soldiers came towards them. Jima forced herself to stay calm, but the soldiers just glanced at her casually and continued walking forward.

After turning a few streets, Jima came to a small hotel and got a key from the locker at the front desk.

Walking up to the third floor of the hotel, Jima opened the innermost door with the key.

Inside the room was a maid outfit and fake ID that had been prepared in advance.

This was her new identity, an Asian cook at a newly established weapons research institute in Germany.

The original cook only went there once, so she probably wouldn't have left a deep impression on others, and Europeans have face blindness when looking at Asians.

Although it is risky, she still has a chance of getting it right.

Originally, she was just a part of a series of assassination plans, but now she is an orphan and she needs to complete the assassination mission alone.

Without any support, information or evacuation route, Jima walked into the gate of the weapons research institute with the determination to die.

The cafeteria manager was a fat German man weighing over 200 pounds. He held his ID in his hand and looked Jima up and down without saying a word.

Jima was so nervous that her nails were about to break. She was not good at fighting, and she would surely die if her identity was exposed.

"Why are you here just now?" Jima breathed a sigh of relief at the supervisor's complaint.

"Sorry, I was, uh, a little unwell yesterday."

"Okay, this won't happen again. The professor can't get used to the food here and wants oriental flavors. We searched all over Copenhagen to hire someone who knows how to cook oriental cuisine. So how good is your Chinese cooking?"

"Uh, it's okay, I mean very good..." Jima answered stiffly.

"Well, get to work! Dinner's going to be in two hours!"

Jima walked into the kitchen alone with an embarrassment on her face. Although she had managed to get in, she had no idea how to cook oriental cuisine.

When she was at a loss, she noticed an Asian man rummaging around in the kitchen.

(End of this chapter)