Starting from South America, speeding through the world

Chapter 180 One Meal, Two Tables of Guests
Washington.

eight pm.

Northwest corner of DuPont Roundabout.

Roadblocks were placed across the middle of the road.

The wind stirred the shadows of the trees, casting dappled patterns on the ground.

Nearby is a red brick building steeped in history.

The main entrance was brightly lit, but there was no red carpet or media reporters in sight.

Only security personnel dressed in dark suits and wearing transparent headsets stood on both sides.

Silence, gun at his side, wary eyes.

In the depths of the night sky, the occasional low-frequency hum of a helicopter flying by could be heard.

A hundred meters away, several construction vehicles were parked, with the words "Special Economic Zone Infrastructure Maintenance" sprayed on their sides.

A newly approved construction permit is affixed to the corner of the windshield.

Several masked "technicians" sat in the rear cabin, fully armed and wearing headsets.

Mike raised his night-vision goggles and stared at the figures flashing across the grayscale image.

“The Vice President has arrived, number B-3,” he said softly. “He’s four minutes ahead of schedule.”

"Confirmed," came the response from Group Two through the earpiece.

It was quiet inside the car.

The captain idly adjusted his tactical vest.

A few minutes later, the report came on again.

"Get off B-17, Senator."

"Which state?" the co-pilot asked.

"Florida."

"Is he here to make an appearance, or to take the blame?" someone asked with a laugh.

The captain shrugged. "It makes no difference, we'll all die."

"Wait, he arrived at the same time as C-3."

"Who?"

“Citadel’s biggest financial backer.”

"There are actually some big shots who dare to show their faces? They've got guts."

The passenger scoffed, "Tonight will be a perfect replay of the 'Wall Street miracle'."

“Feels good to liquidate[1].” the captain joked seriously.

Upon hearing this, everyone burst into laughter.

Mike also gave a slight smirk.

But soon, the camera captured another important figure.

“Hollon’s here, B-2,” he said. “And with his journalist daughter.”

"Why are you looking around like that?" a teammate casually asked over the headset.

In the video, Hollen stands on the porch, his gaze sweeping across the distance before suddenly pausing for two seconds.

"Damn, have they spotted us?"

"He's just too nervous," the co-pilot said. "He's been so busy lately, it's enough to scare him to death."

"It would be abnormal if we weren't vigilant."

The captain's tone was slightly playful, "After all, we're here."

Mike did not join the discussion.

His fingers twitched slightly as he continued to adjust the focus.

"B-27, enter."

"Who?"

"The former chairman of the budget committee just flew in from Connecticut."

"Record."

The scene was packed with people, all of whom were high-ranking and powerful.

Unfortunately, the attendees did not dare to linger outside and quickly entered the building after a brief exchange of pleasantries.

This undoubtedly makes the identification process more difficult.

Fortunately, two other groups were conducting the process simultaneously, which facilitated cross-verification of the results.

Just then, a strange face appeared at the door.

Asian.

Gray suit, dark blue shirt.

Dressed appropriately and behaved politely.

Even though there was nothing wrong, Mike still felt something was off.

He narrowed his eyes, turned up the magnification again, and focused his gaze on the man's shoulder—

It's too wide.

It's not high body fat, nor is it the kind of bulky, overweight look typical of fitness enthusiasts.

The suit fabric pressed down along the trapezius muscles without any wrinkles.

Moreover, when he walks, his center of gravity is on his heels, and his front foot lands very lightly.

These are physical characteristics typically found in individuals who have undergone extensive military training. They are essential for maintaining composure in unknown environments and being prepared for evacuation at any time.

“There’s a problem,” Mike said in a low voice. “Who is he? I don’t remember seeing him in the files.”

The captain took the night vision goggles and then looked down at the terminal.

After a dozen seconds, he said, "The authorization is there, by a corporate representative, a defense company from Massachusetts."

"However, it was submitted at the last minute."

"What's his name?" Mike was still uneasy.

John Gerrard will replace the original CEO.

"Even so, I still recommend paying close attention."

"I trust your judgment." The captain nodded and made a note of it.

He thought for a moment and then said, "The timing is about right, we can start preparing."

Suddenly, the atmosphere in the rear compartment changed.

Everyone moved in unison.

Mike also temporarily put down what he was doing, tuned the frequency to the preset setting, and then turned off the voice channel, leaving only signal recognition enabled.

The passenger in the front seat was also busy.

He bent down and pulled a long, hard-shell weapon case from under the base.

With two "clicks," the fastener came undone.

Inside lay an M3E1 MAAWS.

The shoulder-fired heavy firepower system currently in service with the U.S. military.

The barrel is shorter and lighter than the older model, making it suitable for quick single-person carrying.

The man carefully removed the cartridge, placed it horizontally on his lap, removed the cover, and confirmed that the rifling was clean, the interface lock was secure, and the ignition tail was not loose.

Then, I placed my finger on the safety pin, but instead of turning it, I just ran my fingers around the pivot.

"It's equipped with HE441?" the captain asked.

"Yes, as requested by the boss."

"Fire at the designated time without confirming the location of sight."

"clear."

No one thinks this is an exaggeration.

The M3E1 paired with the HE441 was designed purely for slaughter and to create a visual spectacle.

The captain glanced at his watch one last time and called out:
"The execution order will proceed as originally planned."

"Ten-minute countdown."

Everyone lowered their heads, tapped their watches, and synchronized them.

Mike stared at the ticking timer and closed his eyes.

Heavenly Father, grant me clear eyes and steady hands.

He silently recited a prayer in his heart.

Let me walk through the dark places, so that I am not led astray.

Watch over my teammates and protect them from evil.

If you summon me, please take me away quickly, so that I may die a worthy death.

I have not come for anger, nor for glory.

I came solely for my duty.

Amen.

Zhou Yi sneezed.

The woman standing to his left subconsciously turned her head, smiled, and said, "Bless you."

Zhou Yi nodded his thanks and replied politely, "I just came in from outside, and the temperature changed a bit too quickly."

"The weather has been quite cold lately," the woman said, pulling her glass back slightly to avoid touching his elbow.

At this moment, an older man turned to look at Zhou Yi, seemingly noticing the words on his name tag.

"Did you come with Miles?" he asked.

"I was just temporarily pulled in to fill in for someone else."

Zhou Yi lied without batting an eye, making no mention of Lucas's behind-the-scenes efforts, saying, "He had some problems during his layover in Tel Aviv."

The other person raised an eyebrow. "No wonder I didn't see him tonight."

“Quite common.” Another short man in a suit joined the conversation.

“Some of our people were there last time, and a lot of their batteries were taken away.”

"18650?"

"There's also a spare antenna and a few screws. Okay, I admit that sounds dangerous."

This remark elicited a burst of light laughter.

at this time--

"It sounds like your trip is going to be much more exciting than I expected."

A female voice sounded.

Zhou Yi turned his head and saw Natalie standing not far away, looking natural with a smile on her face.

　[1] A pun, which can refer to "liquidating" assets or "liquidating/eliminating" a target.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)