Chapter 206
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Chapter 206: The Grievance of Lockheed Martin
Trouble?!
Upon hearing Colonel Xie’s words, Lin Mo was initially taken aback but quickly smirked. Did he not already have enough trouble? Ever since arriving in this world, he had been embroiled in constant trouble, and his emotions soon returned to calm indifference.
“You have quite the mental resilience. If I hadn’t told you, you’d probably still be in the dark,” Colonel Xie lowered his voice. “Did you once make an emergency landing and run into an American pilot?”
“I did have an emergency landing; what about it?” Lin Mo felt a stir in his heart but didn’t directly confirm meeting an American pilot. The ongoing conflict between India and Pakistan had already raised eyebrows with the involvement of Chinese volunteers. Adding an American to this mix would certainly change the nature of the war.
But how did Colonel Xie find out? He had taken care of the man personally and left no traces behind. Could he have resurrected him?
“Hey!” Seeing Lin Mo’s reaction, Colonel Xie understood that the intelligence from the secret channels indeed related to Lin Mo. He shook his head, his tone turning intriguing. “This guy was a major from the U.S. First Fighter Wing, named Larry Henry Vincent. Of course, that’s a fake name. His real name is Larry Lockheed, one of the heirs of the Lockheed Martin company—one of the major aerospace corporations in America.”
Wow! For Lin Mo, Lockheed Martin was almost like a household name, famous for producing the elite F-16, F-117, F-22, and F-35 fighter jets, as well as the C-130 Hercules transport aircraft, Trident missiles, Hubble Space Telescope, and the “Sea Shadow” stealth ship. Each of these was well-known around the world and made Lockheed Martin a globally recognized space vehicle manufacturer. Furthermore, they wrote more software code annually than even the tech giant Microsoft.
Lin Mo had somehow tangled with such a formidable family, and he had done it himself without batting an eye.
No wonder Captain Feng had flown in personally and asked about that pilot directly. Apparently, the Americans could be surprisingly efficient in contacting domestic intelligence departments.
Seeing Lin Mo’s expression, Colonel Xie realized that he must have faced Major Larry Lockheed. Holding onto his last glimmer of hope, he asked, “Have you seen him? Do you know where he is? Lockheed Martin is frantic about finding him; they’re offering a $5 million reward for his whereabouts—alive or dead.”
Lin Mo knew exactly what Colonel Xie meant.
What a pathetic guy; he probably got turned to ashes by a Blazing Light Fireball.
Although Lin Mo was tempted by the bounty, since he had already silenced the man, where could he possibly look?
He could only roll his eyes and mime slitting his throat with his hand.
Hiss!
Colonel Xie’s mouth twitched. It was indeed Lin Mo’s doing. This guy was far harsher when acting than any soldiers, and as expected, it was likely that things didn’t look good for Larry Lockheed, especially since he had done it so cleanly.
“Alright, alright! I understand now. Let’s just keep this from the Americans; let them guess,” Colonel Xie ground his teeth, thinking of ways to help Lin Mo cover his tracks, grateful that this guy was savvy enough. If the Americans caught even a whiff of a trace, their troubles would be enormous.
No matter who it was, as long as they were Chinese, they would go to great lengths to protect Lin Mo. After all, this Lockheed scion foolishly ran to India to test the LCA “Tejas” fighter jet and collect data on its structure and performance. To complete the nearly thirty-year product cycle, the Indians were surely eager to curry favor with the old-school American fighter jet manufacturer—any hint of information would be immensely beneficial for them.
Testing was one thing; participating in real combat was another.
And to top it off, he chose to go up against Lin Mo’s fighter squadron.
While mountain ambush tactics could yield surprising results at ordinary times, facing an opponent with an advanced light mirror technique array was tantamount to signing a death warrant.
China’s ace pilots did not allow just anyone to mess with them; touching the tail of this tiger was a sure path to peril.
As expected, the average pilots met their demise at the hands of the aces, as both Tejas fighter jets were taken down without resistance.
Of all misfortunes, running into Lin Mo while opening fire on him was akin to seeking their own death.
Even understanding the truth, Colonel Xie found it hard to imagine how fate had mysteriously placed Lockheed’s heir, Major Larry Lockheed, directly in Lin Mo’s line of fire, with no chance of escape.
Had the two pilots confronted each other, only one could survive; Colonel Xie would undoubtedly support Lin Mo’s decision to eliminate Major Lockheed without hesitation.
“What’s to fear? When soldiers come, we stand ready; when floods come, we build walls. If they dare to lay a hand on us, once my “monstrous” project is complete, I’ll fly straight to America and launch a night attack on Lockheed Martin’s production base, leveling it to the ground,” Lin Mo sneered, fueled by a deeper understanding of fighter jet operations since participating in the long-range refueling assault on Bangalore, India.
Fighter jets served more purposes than merely interception.
With the meticulously designed “monstrous” forward-swept variable wings fighter jet, combined with the Void Magnetism ability of the gold giant dragon and its defensive capabilities, its missile-like speed, bird-like agility, and ultra-long endurance would make Lin Mo’s “monstrous” jet a nightmare for most aerial knights worldwide.
Back in his dorm, though it had remained vacant for quite a while—with occasional tidying up by staff—the place was still quite clean and tidy. This was a privilege for pilots; they only needed to focus on flying missions while dedicated personnel handled the logistics.
Picking up the tactical tablet he hadn’t used in a long time, Lin Mo checked the recent happenings at the base.
Squad One had dispatched a small team to hunt down East Turkestan insurgents within the country.
Squad Two was engaged in training and reconfiguring, updating to the latest individual combat gear, with improved digital information functions. It seemed the research department for digital single-soldier armor was perfecting the equipment through practical combat situations.
Squad Three was off the grid, executing a secret mission; led by Squadron Leader Chen Renkai, they consistently undertook the most dangerous tasks. It was uncertain how many would return intact this time.
Squad Four was training new recruits, active near the border, tackling bandits and roaming militants for practice. The elite soldiers, drawn from local units, were all formidable fighters, making cooperation a challenge.
Squad Five was in Pakistan; when Lin Mo and the others returned, they had gone to help the Pakistanis train new recruits. Captain Feng would likely need to return to Pakistan for a while after his homecoming.
Recently, the base had welcomed fifteen new recruits, all seasoned veterans. To join the Night Special Forces, the first requirement was proven combat experience. The Night Special Forces wasn’t a place for rookies; every member was accustomed to life and death. The first order of business was to write a will, which could be in any form—text, audio, or video—to avoid regrets should anything happen.
Among the messages recently received, Lin Mo found one that raised his brow. It was a forwarded note from the Intelligence Group stating that Lockheed Martin was pressuring the government for information about the family heir. The CIA had directly contacted Chinese intelligence through unofficial channels.
Though there were formal channels for communication, the involvement of American pilots in the conflict with the Pakistanis could not be publicly acknowledged. It would spark a global scandal, meaning Lin Mo had to tread carefully.
“Oh, if only I had taken the live capture, I would have made millions!” Lin Mo shook his head in regret. Lockheed Martin was offering a bounty of millions; had he demanded more aggressively, he could have raked in tens of millions.
His finger continued to swipe on the screen, uncovering another message. “Huh?!” Lin Mo exclaimed in surprise. “Three Yellow Chick, how did this guy know my under-the-table contact details?”
His tactical tablet had a unique ID bound to his identity; only those familiar with that ID could send him messages, similar to email or real-time chat.
“Hmm! Aerospace manufacturer? I thought Chen Haiqing was just talking big. I didn’t expect it was actually happening!” Lin Mo found the message from “Three Yellow Chick,” Chen Haiqing, who had previously mentioned plans to establish an aircraft manufacturing facility. To Lin Mo’s shock, the setup was already underway, and he had been invited to attend a product showcase. The support from various key domestic institutions included the 601 Institute (Shenyang Aircraft Design Institute), 608 Institute (Zhuzhou Aviation Power Machineries Research Institute), 611 Institute (Chengdu Aircraft Design Institute), 613 Institute (Luoyang Electro-Optical Equipment Research Institute), 649 Institute (Guizhou Aviation Engine Design Institute), and 52nd Institute (Inner Mongolia Metal Materials Research Institute).
The nation’s cutting-edge military technology was integral to these specialized manufacturers, and their hidden connections ran deep. They swiftly acquired the necessary licenses, directly purchasing an aircraft manufacturing plant. Renovations and recruitment were conducted simultaneously; after six months of integration and purchasing substantial production equipment, they were collaborating with experts from multiple design institutes to trial samples while also manufacturing essential components for fighter jets and secretly preparing designs for their prototypes.
