Extreme germ phobia

Chapter 347 Whose Intelligence is Being Insulted?
The elderly Americans looked at each other, completely bewildered.

"Let's go take a look!" Wilson jumped off the road first, wading around the garbage blocking the way, and rushed to the water's edge to pull a model airplane ashore.

The propeller is still spinning; upon inspection of the navigation equipment, problems were found with the coordinates and orientation.

“I’m all set!” Wilson said. “Let’s look at the others!”

Everyone rushed over to check the rest of the model airplanes, and after a thorough inspection, they all stared at each other in disbelief.

"How is it?" Wilson asked.

"no problem.

"Mine is fine too!"

Wilson was even more confused. There was nothing wrong with it, so how could it have come back on its own? Even if there was a malfunction, it's impossible for all the model airplanes to have the same problem, right?
He felt something was wrong, but couldn't quite grasp the key point.

"Wilson, what should we do with these model airplanes? Should we take them back?" a thin old man asked in a low voice.

His name is Harry, the same name as that little boy who has magic.

Wilson hesitated for a moment: "Take it back first!"

If the cause cannot be found, the launched model airplane will still circle back on its own.

The group hurriedly carried all the model airplanes they could find back to the car, then returned to their base dejectedly.

After a long day of work, everyone was exhausted, but Wilson didn't care and immediately began a thorough inspection of the model airplane.

Everything turned out normally.

Wilson decided to try again, and went to the beach early the next morning to put the model airplane into the water.

Everything was normal at first; the model airplane successfully entered the water and headed eastward towards the rising sun.

Wilson and the others didn't dare leave, anxiously watching the model airplane as it drifted further and further away... Half an hour later, the first model airplane to return came into view.

Wilson's face immediately darkened.

Over the next two hours, the remaining model airplanes returned to the beach, and even their positions when they landed were exactly the same as when they set off.

A group of old Americans were speechless, racking their brains but unable to find the reason.

Harry couldn't help but ask, "Could it be a ghost?"

Wilson shook his head: "There must be some reason we haven't found!"

He wanted to solve the problem himself, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find the reason. So he had to contact the priest in charge of the area and send the model airplane that had returned automatically to him.

Wilson received a reply the next day: the model airplane was fine, the navigation equipment was working properly, but there was a major problem with the data!

Data shows that everything was normal after the model aircraft left the shore, but after only a few minutes, the positioning data became distorted, reversing the cardinal directions and causing the model aircraft to turn back towards the direction it came from.

Wilson was full of doubts. Wasn't this supposed to be satellite positioning? How could satellites malfunction?
"It's not a problem with the satellite." The priest's face was ashen. "The satellite is controlled by the Michal family. If the Michal family wants to, they can change the direction however they want."

Wilson was completely dumbfounded. Could satellites really be used like this?

He feigned surprise, but secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

The navigation devices were all distributed from above, so no matter what problem occurred, it couldn't be traced back to him.

"You should go back first. The smuggling plan is suspended," the priest said. "Go back and collect more spores for later use."

Wilson shrugged: "Spores are hard to collect, how about using mycelium instead?"

The epidemic area has no shortage of infected people. You can find any unlucky person who has been infected and harvest a lot of mycelium, which is much easier than collecting spores.

“Yes!” the priest nodded.

The priest watched the crowd leave, his brow furrowing deeper and deeper.

He had just received news that the East District headquarters had been attacked by the US military, his father had died in the bombing, and several high-ranking officials had been arrested, almost wiping out the entire East District leadership.

The lack of means for horizontal communication among believers in different regions has led to a fragmented and disorganized society.

Overnight, the once-great organization was reduced to the brink of collapse. Every member with any power was busy vying for control and profit.

However, he also received another message: Mike, one of the top executives, announced that he was taking over the East District and explicitly demanded that all branches stop the pointless smuggling operations.

Whether it's human or lab rat.

There were already voices questioning Mike within the organization, but the priest felt it was too early to place a bet and planned to wait and see.
-
Miyako Palace, underground office.

The heavy alloy explosion-proof door slowly opened, and Hilde, dressed in a sharp suit, strode in and whispered in George's ear, "Major General Frank has arrived."

Hilde is the current Chief of Staff of the White House and enjoys George's deep trust.

George rubbed his face, sat up straight, and said in a hoarse voice, "Please let him in!"

Hilde left and quickly ushered a tall officer in a naval uniform into the office. Just as he was about to stand at attention and salute, George waved him off, saying, "No need, sit down!"

He pointed to the sofa and sat down there himself.

Frank hesitated for a moment, but ultimately obeyed and slowly sat down.

George looked haggard; his once impeccably styled blond hair was now plastered to his scalp as if it had been frostbitten, and his former spiritedness was nowhere to be seen.

George stepped forward and leaned forward, saying in a very serious tone, "Frank, my friend, I need your help!"

Frank was taken aback: "Sir?"

George didn't speak, but stared at Frank with a particularly deep gaze: "I don't need to tell you what the situation is now, do I?"

Frank nodded: "Of course."

He responded to the gaze with a questioning look.

"So we have to do something to change all of this, don't you think?"

“I completely agree,” Frank said.

These words struck a chord with him.

“Excellent!” George smiled. “I have a secret plan that requires your involvement.”

Frank's heart skipped a beat, and his expression immediately became much more serious: "A secret plan?"

“Yes, the kind that’s highly classified.” George leaned back, placing his hands on his raised knees. “To put it simply, you have to get in touch with the Apostles through the intelligence department and make contact with their higher-ups.”

Frank's heart skipped a beat: "I don't understand what you mean. How can I come into contact with an extremist organization like the Apostles?"

"Come on, Frank." George had a knowing look on his face. "Even a pile of shit has its uses. The Apostles are indeed very extreme, but moderation has its advantages, and extremes have their uses." Frank suppressed his racing heartbeat: "I don't understand what you mean."

“I know you better than you think, Frank!” George took a document from Hilde, placed it on the table, and pushed it towards Frank with two fingers. “Just follow the plan.”

Frank looked down at the documents, then looked up at George, his expression hesitant.

“Open it and take a look, be careful,” George encouraged.

Frank picked up the document and began to read it, but he quickly looked up in horror: "Sir? How can this be?"

“Why not?” George retorted firmly. “Fighting the plague is the shared responsibility of all mankind and the whole world. It’s not just our own business. We’ve been fighting this for ten whole months, ten months!”

His voice grew louder and more agitated, and he abruptly stood up: "Ten months ago, we were the sole superpower in the world, but what are we now? What have our loyal allies been doing all this year? Cutting ties with us, severing all communication, blockading the entire Americas, and trapping us on this continent to die!"

Frank was stunned by George's anger and quickly stood up, saying, "Sir, calm down!"

“I am very calm!” George’s chest heaved violently. “I have already said that the plague is not the responsibility of our family, but the responsibility of all mankind and the whole world. I will not allow anyone to shirk responsibility, nor will I allow them to stand by and watch us make a fool of ourselves. Those shameless hypocrites must pay the price for what they have done!”

At this point, George's emotions finally calmed down a bit, and he sat back down: "Milky Way will surely become great again, and you, my general, will become a hero of Milichay!"

hero?

Frank instinctively gripped the document: "What about those innocent soldiers who died?"

“They are also heroes of Milijian,” George said.

Frank said with difficulty, "I really find it hard to accept such a plan..."

"Major General!" George pressed down on the document. "You are a general of the United States. No matter the time or place, you must prioritize the interests of the United States. Isn't it worth sacrificing a little for the future of the United States?"

"But……"

"Don't give me a 'but,' just tell me, yes or no!" George didn't give Frank a chance to speak at all, his attitude was very tough.

Frank remained calm inside, but outwardly he looked extremely troubled. After a long while, he nodded firmly: "Okay!"

“Very good!” George smiled.

The two discussed some more details until Frank left, at which point George returned to his desk and sighed wearily.

Hilde lowered her voice: "Sir, will he follow our plan?"

“Why not?” George countered. “I’ve made it pretty clear. He’s not stupid; he should be able to guess that we already know he’s been in contact with the Apostles.”

Hilde asked curiously, "Aren't you worried he'll run away?"

“No, not at all.” George smiled confidently. “On this point, the interests of the Apostles and us are aligned; we’re just using each other… Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing, and hopefully Frank knows too.”

And there are apostles!

He added in his mind.

Afternoon, Jinhai Bay Base.

The light rain that had been falling all morning finally stopped, and the shy sun had just peeked out, but the air was still filled with a damp atmosphere.

A helicopter landed at the base, and Frank jumped off with his briefcase. Several American soldiers in full protective gear immediately surrounded him and conducted a full examination.

This is the most important submarine base on the east coast of Milijian, and its strategic position is extremely important.

Not long ago, this area was a safe zone, but as the epidemic area continues to expand, the Golden Bay base is now surrounded by the epidemic area, and a large number of infected people wander outside the base every day.

To prevent infected individuals from storming the base, the military not only deployed a large number of guards, but also dug several trenches outside the base, laid more than a dozen barbed wire fences and tens of thousands of landmines, completely surrounding the base, making external transportation only possible by plane and ship.

The soldiers first checked everyone's identification to confirm their identity, then tested their breath for spores, and finally checked everyone's personal belongings.

Frank offered his briefcase: "Need to be checked?"

"No, of course not," the sergeant politely declined.

According to regulations, everyone entering the base must undergo a thorough inspection, but for Frank, as one of the base commander's deputies, this privilege meant little.

"Let's check it out." Frank opened his briefcase and showed the contents.

The sergeant examined it carefully and returned it politely.

After completing the inspection, Frank got into the convertible jeep used only within the base and quickly arrived at the office building. He found a secluded corner, tore open a compartment in his briefcase, and took out the hidden phalloidin.

He put on a protective mask, poked a few small holes in the bag containing the phacoemulsification agent, stepped on the table, and put the bag into the ventilation duct.

Frank left quickly, leaving behind only the slowly released hallucinogen.

Unexpectedly, the substance took effect even faster than expected. Before Frank had even left, he heard a heated argument coming from afar.

He instinctively quickened his pace, and as soon as he stepped out the door, gunshots rang out behind him.

Frank quickened his pace, driving himself to the dock. He slammed on the brakes, jumped out of the car, and ran towards the submarine, shouting, "Quick, quick, something's happened! An emergency! Leave port immediately!"

The officers on duty on the submarine were dumbfounded: "General, this is against regulations!"

Not only is the captain absent, but a third of the crew is also on shore. How can they depart from port and set sail?
Frank's face darkened: "I told you, this is an emergency..."

Before the words were even finished, the base suddenly sounded a combat alarm, and guards from all directions rushed to the office building at top speed to deal with the emergency.

By this time, the American soldiers who had inhaled phalloidin had already fought their way from inside the building to outside, and gunfire was deafening.
Frank emphasized again: "Now, follow my instructions and set sail immediately!"

He spoke with great confidence, but in his heart he was having doubts. Was this submarine the one that was planned?

The officer on duty hesitated and struggled, but finally made up his mind: "Set sail!"

Not only Frank's submarine, but also other nearby submarines were ready to leave port.

Fearing an outbreak at the base, the military had already prepared contingency plans, and now they are simply executing them according to the pre-set conditions.

Half an hour later, the chaos subsided, but the base's office building caught fire, and it took more than two hours to extinguish the blaze.

Later that day, the Rice Palace announced that the Apostles had attacked the Golden Bay base, resulting in the destruction of the office building, damage to several houses, the deaths of more than 100 people, and injuries to more than 300 others.

Most importantly, the apostles used unknown means to hijack a submarine that was about to leave port, numbered SSBN-343.

The submarine was carrying several submarine-launched cruise missiles and several submarine-launched intercontinental ballistic missiles. Its current whereabouts are unknown.

The news caused an uproar, with strong demands for the Yonex Palace to release detailed information about the submarine.

What is meant by "unauthorized means"?

The apostles were just a makeshift operation; how could they possibly break into a heavily guarded naval base and steal a submarine?
Whose intelligence are you insulting?
(End of this chapter)