Farming Life Starting in Africa

Rosen leaned against the shadows at the alley entrance, waiting patiently. After about a minute, the church door was pushed open again, and the bald man from the church walked out.

He looked around and walked towards a pink Beetle parked by the roadside.

Rosen's lips twitched. The image of a burly, broad-shouldered, bald white man driving a small, cute car designed for stay-at-home women was indeed not easy to digest.

He adjusted his expression and stepped out of the shadows before Frank could open the car door: "Hello, Mr. Moses."

The church door handle was already on his arm. Hearing the sound, he turned around. His gaze fell on Rosen's face, his eyes slightly narrowed under the streetlight. "Were you calling me?"

Rosen stood a short distance in front of him, the streetlight shining from the side, dividing his face into light and shadow: "Yes, Mr. Frank Moses."

Frank took his hand off the car door handle and turned to face Rosen. Many people knew his nickname, but few knew his real name.

Frank asked with a dangerous glint in his eyes, "What is it?"

Rosen didn't beat around the bush; he looked Frank straight in the eye and asked, "Can you tell me where we can get the physical and cognitive enhancement drugs for Project Treadstone?"

Upon hearing the words "Operation Treadstone," Frank's muscles tensed for a moment. His gaze lingered on Rosen's face for a brief instant before he asked, "Can you tell me how you found me? And where did you learn about Treadstone?"

His voice was like a sharp knife just drawn from its sheath, sending chills down one's spine.

Project Stumbling Block was a top-secret CIA program.

This plan was not approved by Congress and was outside the scope of regular administrative oversight, making it a failed project in the Black Ops assassination program.

The ultimate goal of this plan was to train super agents for some of the CIA's top executives and use these agents as tools for private purges.

The church—that is, the executor Frank was assigned by the higher-ups to eliminate all those who knew about the mission after its failure—was aware of all the details of the plan.

Now, a strange Asian man, knowing his real name, has found him and wants to obtain the results of Project Treadstone, which has stirred up a storm in his heart.

Rosen shrugged. "You want to talk to me about this on the street?"

Frank shifted his gaze from Rosen's face and glanced at both sides of the street.

The streetlights were already on, and a grocery store across the street was still open, its window light shining onto the road. It would be a bit much to talk about this on the street; we couldn't very well kill everyone on the street afterward.

Frank tilted his head slightly towards the church: "Follow me."

He turned and walked back to the church entrance, pushed the door open, stepped aside to let Rosen in, then followed behind, closing the door behind him. The sound of the lock echoed in the empty church.

He walked to the confessional, raised his hand and turned on a small lamp. The dim yellow light shone from the lampshade, illuminating half of his face.

He tilted his head and gestured towards the confessional.

Rosen watched this action with amusement, thinking it looked like he was begging for forgiveness from a priest. He didn't head towards the confessional.

"Let's talk here." Rosen didn't want Frank out of his sight; if he secretly called in a bunch of backup to ambush him, that would be troublesome.

How did you find out about Project Treadstone?

"I've heard of Jason Bourne. He was a successful test subject for this project."

Frank's eye twitched slightly when he heard the name: "You know where he is?"

Since Jason Bourne jumped into the East River in eastern Manhattan, the CIA has had no further contact with him.

Rosen shook his head: "I don't know."

He spoke frankly, admitting that he genuinely didn't know where Jason Bourne was.

Frank was somewhat disappointed upon hearing this answer. If he could find Jason Bourne, dead or alive, he could retire early and enjoy his retirement.

"Alright, now that you've asked so many questions, it's time to answer mine. Where are those two medicines?"

He knew the drug was produced in Manila, Philippines, but he didn't know the exact location.

Frank looked Rosen in the eye, not avoiding his gaze. "I can't tell you that. Unless you can help me find Jason Bourne."

Rosen shrugged, indicating that he couldn't help. "Nobody can find him. He doesn't have fixed coordinates; he keeps changing his location by taking advantage of the city's mobility and blind spots in surveillance. He never stays in any city for more than forty-eight hours."

Frank said with certainty, "Then why do you think I'd tell you where the drugs are?"

Rosen didn't answer immediately. He walked to the first row of benches.

"You just lied to Barney. The mission on Vilana Island was far more difficult than he imagined. I doubt he'll ask for a fair wage, and I seriously suspect you have no intention of paying the balance."

Frank's lips curled into a barely perceptible smile. He said matter-of-factly, "So what? As a mercenary, he offered the price himself; I didn't mislead or deceive him. I didn't even haggle over the number he quoted; I agreed to it outright."

He never mentioned not paying the final payment; he originally intended for the suicide squad to take the blame.

"No, you deceived him. Your target was definitely former CIA agent Monroe, while Barney thought your target was Garza. Should I continue?"

Frank's expression didn't change much. After a long while, he said, "It doesn't matter if you tell Barney. If he doesn't want to do it, there are plenty of other people who would."

Rosen said calmly, "Heh. What if I exposed that your CIA agents are growing and manufacturing drugs on the island, and that the profits from those drugs are your CIA's illicit income, operating outside of congressional oversight?"

"You're practically asking for it!"

"Too many people want me dead, and they're all serving Satan in hell now," Rosen said with a mocking tone.

Frank squinted and thought for a moment before saying, "You think you can get the potion just because of this? You're dreaming."

"If I expose your Treadstone or Black Heather projects for Jason Bourne, I believe your director can retire in Guantanamo Bay, and of course, there's also the Ghost Protocol."

Upon hearing about the Ghost Protocol, Frank immediately had a bad feeling. This kind of thing couldn't be known by ordinary people; it was at least known to high-ranking CIA officials or high-ranking officials in the government's power centers.