Starting from South America, speeding through the world

Chapter 122 Florida
Mikhail Cogarnichanu Air Base, Romania.

It was 5:10 a.m., before dawn.

In the distance, on the runway, a gray-white C-17 was parked at the edge of its parking position, its tail compartment closed.

Zhou Yi, carrying a bag, walked into the military personnel registration area and handed over a folded authorization letter.

That was a copy of a standard joint instruction execution memo.

【TOP SECRET//SAR-G//ORCON/NOFORN】

→File type: Joint Deployment Authorization Memorandum, JDA-93A
→Operation Code: CJCS EXORD 093-A/25
→Operation Code Name: SABLE-PINE
→Authorized by: CENTCOM / JRC (O-9), DIA / LC (O-5)

→ Issuing Authority: CENTCOM / Directorate of Special Operations (MacDill AFB)
→Confidential Identification Code: DELTA-R
"The personnel listed have been granted exemptions from the special access program channel in accordance with the contingency deployment clause of the Joint Operations Plan Execution System. The deployment route is a non-standard configuration channel."

The lieutenant glanced at it, and his brows immediately furrowed.

"Sir, you are not on our boarding list."

“Of course not,” Zhou Yi said calmly. “I’m working at SAP.”

The second lieutenant pursed his lips and handed the document to the sergeant behind him.

"Contact the operations duty room and have the SCIF duty officer go online to SIPRNet and verify using DELTA-R."

The sergeant nodded and quickly went backstage.

Ten minutes later, a major in a combat jacket walked over, looking tired with slightly wrinkled epaulets, clearly having been woken up at the last minute.

"what's your name?"

"John."

The major looked down at the authorization letter, and when his gaze fell on the signature at the bottom:
——LTG JR CARTER (USA)
——LTC L. CARTER (DIA/NSD)
He paused for a moment, then his attitude immediately improved.

"Uh... please come with me."

As soon as he finished speaking, the major led Zhou Yi into a temporary SCIF unit.

The room wasn't large, with metal explosion-proof walls, and inside there was only one SIPRNet terminal with an encryption module installed.

He logged into the system, brought up the verification platform, and entered his number:
“CJCS EXORD 093-A/25”.

A few seconds later, an encrypted verification receipt popped up on the screen:

【CONFIDENTIAL//SIPR/DELTA ACCESS VERIFICATION】

→Task access permission: Verified
→Task ID: DELTA-R /Reference CJCS-93-A
→Access Level: SAP-RESTRICTED / Non-MANIFESTED OPERATOR

→Identity matching: Confirmed
→Transfer route: MKAB / C-17 / 2-L compartment
→Priority: TIER 1 / Execute immediately
→Permission Override Record: DIA-NSD Mission Liaison (L. CARTER)

→Additional instructions:
No Interview

No logging

No delays allowed.

—Dispatch source: DIA / Fort Belvoir OPS 440C
—Timestamp: 0503Z
The major stared intently at the timestamp on the screen, his gaze hardening.

0503Z, 5:03 GMT.

It's not a pre-generated task chain, but something that's just been launched and released.

Within the military system, this type of "dynamic link verification" only occurs in two situations:
First, the task is too sensitive to pre-determine identities;
Second, the signatory wanted this matter to appear in the system "as late as possible".

The latter is more troublesome because it implies a higher level of access.

However, whatever it may be, it's not something someone of his level can investigate.

The major didn't delay any longer, took off his communication headset, hung it around his neck, and nodded towards the platform.
"I'll take you there."

McDill Air Force Base, Florida, United States.

Local time, 11:43 a.m.

The rear cabin of the C-17 slowly opened.

The sunlight suddenly shone in, making one's eyes sting.

The heat wave, carrying humidity, hit us in the face.

At the end of the runway, two aircrew members were following a fuel truck.

In the distance, a UH-60 had just taken off, kicking up a cloud of dust.

Zhou Yi stood up, stretched his shoulders, stuffed the stolen parts into his pocket, and then got off the plane.

No one came to pick them up.

There were no security checks or inspections.

He took his phone out of his pocket and reinserted the SIM card.

AT&T's service is still terrible; even 3G takes forever to load.

After a while, the two-segment signal indicator finally appeared in the upper left corner of the screen.

“I’ve arrived.” Zhou Yi found Lucas’s number and sent him a text message.

A few seconds later, the message arrived:
"Okay, don't move yet, wait for my notification."

Zhou Yi raised an eyebrow in surprise.

They were in a real hurry before, but now they've suddenly softened their stance.

It's likely that something went wrong internally.

For projects of this level, the process of who takes the lead, who handles the aftermath, and who makes the payments—once money is involved—is never straightforward.

After all, it's 2013 now, and Washington is practically a minesweeper game.

Zhou Yi wasn't too disappointed.

Just treat it as a way to relax.

With that thought in mind, he took out a cigarette, lit it, and then walked through the military passage to the outside.

There happened to be a taxi driver standing there, parked nearby.

The Mexican-looking man waved at him.

"Hey bro, where are you going?"

"The intersection of Harley Road and 44th Street".

"Temple terrace? That area is almost entirely booked by university students."

"I don't come back often."

The driver nodded, asked no more questions, and started the engine.

The radio was playing the midday news.

"In central Florida, a naked man wielding a knife jumped into a state trooper's vehicle and fled into a wetland. He is currently being searched."

The driver clicked his tongue, then shook his head with a smile: "This place never disappoints."

"what?"

"Didn't you hear? There was another incident just now. A naked lunatic stole the police car keys."

Looking out the window, Zhou Yi casually asked, "Why did he steal the keys?"

"Who knows? Maybe they're just too hot, or maybe they're high on drugs."

"He succeeded?"

"Almost succeeded, the state troopers fired—but you know, their accuracy has never been great, especially against white people." The driver shrugged.

The broadcast continues:

The man is undergoing a mental health evaluation; this is the ninth similar incident in Florida this month.

Police are advising residents to avoid making eye contact with unsuspecting individuals who are naked without apparent reason.

The street scene outside the window looked as if it had been steamed, with blurred edges and glaring sunlight.

Zhou Yi leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes to rest.

Nearly thirty minutes later, the taxi turned into the residential area of ​​Temple Terrace.

This place is located at the intersection of the University of Tampa and the University of South Florida.

It is home to white-collar workers, students, veterans, and a group of people of unknown origin who are doing well.

Of course, that includes him too.

The property that Zhou Yi purchased was not registered with an owner in the registration system.

The transaction went through three roundabout routes, with the accounts handled through a shell company in the Cayman Islands, and Lucas also provided assistance in the process.

In exchange, Lucas also stuffed some "dirty stuff that can't be put into SIPRNet/JWICS" into the house, a tacit understanding between them.

The taxi was parked on the side of the road.

"That's it?"

"Correct."

After paying, Zhou Yi got out of the car, dragging his bag, and walked to the front of the yard.

It was a three-story building, backing onto the Hillsborough River, with a market value of about $800,000.

However, the place is clearly very different from when he left.

The lawn was neatly trimmed, and the shrubs along the edges were pruned into rounded shapes, showing that the residents had indeed put thought into it.

The garage door was open, and a two-door sports car was parked inside.

Zhou Yi frowned.

what's the situation?
(End of this chapter)