Starting from South America, speeding through the world

Chapter 190 Political Asylum
Two o'clock in the morning.

The lights in the living room are a warm yellow.

Tamara sat on the sofa.

Saying she was sitting wasn't entirely accurate, because she looked more like she was curled up on it, with her skirt all wrinkled up.

She was still wearing the blue suit from the banquet, and the pearl necklace around her neck had lost its luster and was covered by dried bloodstains.

Natalie sat in the chair opposite her, typing on her phone.

The white light shone on her cheeks, revealing no emotion on her delicate features.

"You said they could all receive that video, right?" Tamara spoke for the first time, her voice bitter.

Natalie didn't look up, she just hummed in response.

Who did you send it to?

"A lot of people."

"media?"

"Including the media."

"Do you know these people?"

"know."

Tamara's voice grew faster and faster, as if she would go mad if she stopped.

Will they broadcast it?

“Of course, they haven’t been very welcoming to McCann these past few weeks.”

"why?"

"He's affecting their ability to make money."

Natalie paused, sent a final message to Zhou Yi, and then completely deleted the software.

"To them, your statement was a pledge of allegiance."

Tamara swallowed hard; her hands were trembling.

"Then... what do they think of me?"

"what?"

“I mean,” the woman’s eyes darted around, “what will they think of me? In that video?”

The two looked at each other across the coffee table.

Are you worried about what others will think of you?

“Not ‘others’,” Tamara whispered. “It’s everyone.”

“My family, my children, my church, and the supporters in my constituency.”

"I was holding a gun. I was crying, and they saw me."

At this point, Tamara could no longer continue, as if gripped by immense fear.

“You want to know how they should view the fact that you killed my father?” Natalie asked gently.

These words were like a bullet, piercing Tamara's last psychological defenses.

Her lips opened and closed several times, but she couldn't say anything.

The silence lasted for a few more seconds.

Finally, Natalie sighed and said softly, "You did it to survive."

"Me too."

"So I don't blame you."

Tamara stared blankly at Natalie, a fleeting look of astonishment, fear, and even a hint of bewilderment in her eyes.

After a long silence, she managed to squeeze out a sentence: "So what do we do now?"

"We'll wait."

"What are you waiting for?"

"Wait for McKinsey's people to arrive."

"You want to stay and get arrested?!"

Tamara nearly jumped off the sofa. “We have to apply for political asylum, right now, to Mexico, Canada, even Cuba—”

Before she could finish speaking, she frantically rummaged through her bag for her phone.

No service.

There's nothing in the top right corner of the screen.

Tamara instantly realized what was happening and stiffly raised her head.

Natalie continued to look at her calmly.

For some reason, tears streamed down her face.

“I want to live,” Tamara said.

"You will live."

"I don't want to die, Natalie, I really don't."

“Someone needs to see us.”

"What?"

“Someone,” Natalie repeated, “needs to see us.”

Tamara still didn't understand, she just kept shaking her head, her chest heaving violently.

"I don't want to make a decision anymore; I've already made one."

"In the banquet hall. I don't want to choose again. I don't want to die."

Natalie didn't say anything more.

She bent down and pulled a flat, hard-shell bag from under the coffee table.

LiveU LU300. An old friend of war correspondents.

Then, under Tamara's bewildered gaze, he inserted the camera module into the interface and turned on the power.

The device immediately displays its startup screen.

The system attempts to connect four SIM cards, establish an aggregated channel, and establish a secure connection through a preset VPN gateway.

A few seconds later, the indicator light turned green.

Signal interference does exist, but there are still ways to exploit it.

Natalie tapped the screen to confirm that the delayed caching function was enabled, and then selected to upload the video to the backup server.

After doing all this, she finally asked, "Do you trust me?"

Tamara was stunned, tears streaming down her face.

"I don't know," she said with difficulty, "but you're all I have left."

Natalie took one last look at the terminal.

Green signal, stable upload, cached data written to the cloud.

She pushed the camera into the gap next to the sofa, aiming the lens at Tamma.

The next second, the hands on the clock started to move.

2:05 AM.

Sudden--

boom!
A heavy blow.

The door frame is vibrating.

Tamara screamed and shrank into the corner of the sofa, covering her head with her hands.

Immediately following were two more heavy blows.

The metal lock cylinder snapped open, scattering fragments everywhere.

Four agents filed in quickly, fully armed, with "FBI/JFFT" markings on their chests.

"Lie down! Raise your hands!"

"Watch the ground! Don't move!"

They shouted at them sternly.

Tamara collapsed to the ground, desperately crawling backward, her vision blurred by tears and sweat.

Natalie also remained in a prone position and slowly raised her hands.

“I am a journalist,” she said. “I am unarmed.”

The two leaders immediately stepped forward.

One person pressed the muzzle of a gun against her shoulder blade, while another bent down to search her body and check her communication equipment.

"Safety."

"Number 03, identity confirmed, take him away."

"Target two confirmed, proceed with detention."

Snapped!
Snapped!
Two disposable nylon straps were quickly slipped onto the wrists and fastened behind the back.

Tamara was still trembling, her lips quivering: "We didn't do anything wrong. We did nothing."

"Shut up," the man warned coldly.

He had barely finished speaking when the voices of his teammates sounded from the side, tinged with a hint of panic.

"Captain, look at this."

The man knelt down and pulled out the backpack next to the sofa.

The indicator light is still flashing.

Flip the device to display the viewfinder image you just recorded.

Sofa, Tamara, masked man.

Including himself.

The logo on his chest was clearly visible.

The room fell silent in that instant.

"Fuck your mother." The captain turned his head sharply and cursed.

"Turn it off."

"Immediately activate shielding and isolation measures, and prepare for digital forensics."

Outside, someone approached carrying a portable signal jammer, aimed it at the target, and turned on the antenna.

The machine emitted a faint buzzing sound.

The image on that terminal began to jitter, delay, and blur, until it froze completely.

"Data transmission interrupted, device disconnected from network, cache paused."

The technician looked grim. "But the upload is already complete."

The captain walked up to Natalie, stared intently at her, and then silently drew his sidearm.

Natalie looked at him.

There was no panic, nor did they beg for mercy.

It's hard to say whether it was because they felt emboldened or because they had no more attachments after Hollen's death.

The muzzle of the gun was pressed against his forehead, the cold metal pressed against his skin.

The captain hesitated for a long time before finally putting away his pistol.

"Take them all away, fucking!" he said through gritted teeth.

(End of this chapter)