Dragoon fighter

"Mr. Friedman, I just received news that the Blackwater assassination team's Asian operations team has been wiped out, and the target has disappeared again. There is no pop-up window."

The peaceful atmosphere in the office suddenly stagnated, and a loud noise suddenly erupted.

Coffee cups, pen holders, pens, telephones, documents and desktop ornaments were thrown out violently, as if cluster bombs of various types were dropped intensively, hitting the spandex fiber carpet in the office of the director of Lockheed Operations. Some weak objects even fell apart as a result.

A large amount of mocha coffee quickly penetrated into the carpet. A full cup of mocha only left a large wet stain on the carpet that exuded the aroma of burnt bitter wheat. Even the sofa was splashed with a few drops.

I am afraid that the cleaning staff who are on duty today will be complaining about this. If it is not cleaned within 24 hours, I am afraid that the carpet will leave permanent marks and even mold that is difficult to clean.

"Damn, damn, did the people at Blackwater grow up eating shit? What kind of goods did they send? Are they idiots? They can't even handle a pilot. Tell me, who are we dealing with? Is it the emperor? Is it so difficult? I paid three million U.S. dollars for this, and you still say it’s foolproof. It’s bullshit foolproof. It’s just rubbish. I need them to give me an explanation.”

Mitch Friedman, the director of Lockheed Operations, became furious and threw everything in sight and everything that could be thrown out of his desk.

How great is the hope, how great is the disappointment.

I thought it was a flawless plan and the best start, but the impact of reality made Mitch Friedman feel as if he had aged ten years in an instant.

Just as he was yelling in an imageless manner, was he dealing with the emperor? How could it be so unsatisfactory.

"Sorry, Mr. Friedman, Blackwater said that they will continue to send in missions without charging any additional fees. They said that the Chinese are too cautious, even the strategic partners who provide them with intelligence work. We also suffered great losses.”

The German employee Hegel Morstein regretted why he was so ingratiated with the action planning expert Mozalievsky, and actually took the initiative to report the newly received intelligence to his supervisor Oiri on his behalf.

In hindsight, this was a terrible, stupid idea.

Hegel suffered an unreasonable disaster, but when his supervisor Mitch Friedman swept away the table in a rage, his newly purchased suit was stained by the supervisor's half cup of coffee.

This is really unlucky. He has to go out on a date with a beautiful new girl after get off work today. He originally planned to wear this outfit for only two days and then return it without even taking off the label, but now he can't. If you don’t bite the bullet and keep it, once washed, this outfit will not be eligible for unconditional returns.

Two months of salary were wiped out for this high-end suit that served as a storefront, and there was still a lingering smell of coffee.

Oh, you should ask Miss Tracy at the front desk to borrow some perfume later to cover up the smell of coffee, and then make up a reason to cover it up.

Not to mention how depressed Hegel was feeling at this moment.

"I don't care about these. Tell the people in Blackwater that what I want is the result. As a customer, the money I should pay has already been paid to them. The rest of the process is their business. I only want the result. As for fighting, combat maneuvers As for the armor, haven’t I sent an action team to bring these powerful equipment to cooperate with them, are they using it?”

Mickey Friedman's roar almost sprayed the foam directly into Hegel's face. He stared at him as if he were an enemy, almost grabbing him by the collar and questioning him.

In fact, Mitch Friedman really wanted to do this, but he held back.

"This was also explained in the report sent by Blackwater. There was no way to bring these equipment to the situation where the target appeared. The other party was so tightly protected that they could not find a chance to use it. In addition, the British had already entered the country again. Once, he sent an email to urge us and asked when we would pay the balance."

Hegel carefully conveyed the news from several companies and organizations that provided services to Lockheed Operations. His eyes glanced at the four scattered pieces of paper that were smashed to the ground. One of them was the printed report of Blackwater Company. However, the supervisor, Da Ru, who first heard the bad news, may not be in the mood to read it at the moment, so he can only rely on his own memory to retell the contents of the report.

"It's really troublesome." Mitch Friedman forcefully unbuttoned the collar of his shirt and tilted his tie to one side. He put his hands on his hips, chest rising and falling, and breathlessly muttered to himself: "Damn British guy, greedy. John Bull, who was sent out once, dared to ask for 10 million U.S. dollars. It was simply extortion and extortion."

The chairman pointed out that Mitch Friedman contacted fellow British fighter manufacturers and paid a lot of money, but even with the most advanced unmanned fighter jets and the most elite combat teams, he still had to wait for 1 day. After returning in vain, the opponent was reluctant to let his fighter die together with the target, and ultimately failed in success.

Because of the damage to the fighter jet, the other party offered a premature repair fee. It originally only cost one million US dollars in appearance fees, but suddenly it mentioned a claim of 10 million US dollars.

The wool comes from the sheep's body, and the target will not pay for the repair cost of the scarred fighter jet. Naturally, the money falls on Lockheed.

The house leaked and it rained all night, and money and money were thrown in. The furious Lockheed Operations Director wanted to personally strangle the pilot codenamed "Dragon Knight" to death. This guy was the culprit of this big trouble. Yi was free and at ease for a day, and the dignitaries of the Lockheed family directed their anger at the operations department.

As long as this "Dragon Knight" is alive, Director Mitch Friedman will have trouble sleeping and eating.

"Hegel, what's going on here without you?" Mitch Friedman, who was finally decadent and weak, waved his hand in a low voice, "I understand, you go first."

"Yes, sir," Hegel responded with his head lowered, his face expressionless.

Even though I was forced to pay two extra months of salary to buy this expensive suit for no reason today, which meant I lost a lot of money, I still didn't dare to show my dissatisfaction to Mitch Friedman.

An unemployed person is not qualified to be that pretty girl.

Just as Hegel was about to step out of the office and leave this terrible place, the voice of Director Mitch Friedman came from behind again. He froze and his feet froze in mid-air.

"What's the matter? Sir" Hegel's face almost looked like he was about to cry, but he straightened his neck and did not dare to turn his head.

In front is Yaotang, behind is hell, stepping on the realm of yin and yang, suffering the torment of the body.

Emperor, please let me go. I am already thirty-five this year and I am still single. Except for my mother, I have never even touched the hands of a woman. I am just counting on the beautiful woman tonight to indulge in sex. Supervisor Da Ru, I beg you to be merciful and save me some face.

"Call that guy Mozalievsky for me."

boom

After regaining his breath, Hegel Moststein finally lost his balance in the mixture of sorrow and joy, and hugged the floor outside the door fiercely.

Those who are unlucky these days are also implicated.

"Mr. Director" Mozalievsky walked into Mitch Friedman's office anxiously.

"Are your things ready? Bring them over" -

"Here is my letter of introduction and military ID"

At the gate of the Fifth Space Training Center, about 17 kilometers away from the Jiuquan Satellite Launch Center, Lin Mo, who was riding on a motorcycle, handed his ID to the gun-wielding soldier who looked wary.

The motorcycle did not stall, but idled slightly, and the rustling of the internal transmission chain under the engine cylinder could be vaguely heard.

After the road went astray, both Lin Mo and Nong Lan, who was acting as bait, gave up their original course of action.

Nong Lan and Bayu got off the train from Hengyang Station in Hunan Province and followed the agents of the Security Bureau to go fishing without knowing where they were.

Lin Mo did not wait for the second train to ride all the way to the terminal in Xi'an. Instead, he got off the train in Wuchang, took buses, taxis, and township minibuses and transferred continuously to Luoyang, then to Beishang, and then turned back and headed south. Yan'an, a series of dazzling routes, made Lin Mo and the intelligence agents entrusted by "Dark Night" confirm that there was no longer a little tail behind, and then they officially turned to Xi'an, and took a bus from Xi'an to Lanzhou.

Lin Mo spent several thousand yuan to buy a domestic straddle-type motorcycle in Lanzhou, tied his large suitcase to a separate shelf, and relied on the g-positioning chip and map of his watch to arrive in Jiuquan. After asking around, I found this training center that was already a military restricted area.

The confidentiality level of this Hangyao training center is even higher than that of ordinary military bases. It cannot appear on navigation maps or various tourist maps. Lin Mo can only ask for the road where the address is located and follow the house numbers. Look for.

Outside, there is a high wall that stretches to no end, with an aluminum wire grid on the outside, surrounding the entire training center. People who don't know may think it's just a factory or a farm.

"Please wait a moment." The gun-wielding soldier glanced at a fellow soldier in the duty room with professional distrust. The soldier took out a scanner and walked out, scanning Lin Mo's body. Read it again.

The Type 95 automatic assault rifle in the hand of the soldier on guard moved deliberately and seamlessly with a special sense of balance. It should be an empty gun, but the ends of the four magazines inserted into the black body armor on his waist vaguely revealed the bronze 5 .millimeter caliber bullet figure.

There was also a big wolfdog sitting on the ground with a bloody tongue sticking out. He tilted his head and looked at Lin Mo. The animal's spiritual sense sensed that this humanoid body riding a motorcycle seemed to be emitting a faint terrifying aura. .

To be continued