Chapter 552

Chapter 552: Completely Unrelated

“Dragon Knight!”

Even if turned to ash, he would recognize the person who caused Lockheed immense losses, nearly booting him from his position as operations manager. Now, even Lockheed had to suspend actions due to pressure from China.

How ironic—enemy meets on a narrow road; no enemies ever meet without reason.

Mitch Friedman ground his teeth in frustration.

To take this guy down, Lockheed’s financial report this year showed a five percent drop in revenue. For just this one person—damn it! This income could have quickly built a small consortium or a wealthy family for anyone else.

As if sensing the hostile gaze, Lin Mo turned to look and spotted a U.S. military colonel standing alongside a group of men in suits, all staring back at him.

The looks they exchanged seemed to harbor deep-seated hatred.

A group of ants!

If necessary, the Dragon Knight could effortlessly eliminate them all.

Lin Mo quickly reached a conclusion and turned to help his teacher, Yan Guoqiang, off the bus.

For some technical reasons, they recognized him, but he couldn’t recognize them.

After leaving Area 51 and not having Gold Coins with him, Lin Mo suddenly exuded an inexplicable murderous aura, a sharp quality accumulated from the Dragon Knight’s past slaughter.

The experts beside him remained completely unaware; to them, Lin Mo was merely a promising student, benefiting from his teacher’s experience and looking to broaden his horizons.

“What are you staring at, Mr. Mitch Friedman!”

Colonel Jett noticed the Lockheed operations manager lost in thought and raised his voice slightly.

“Ah! Um!” Mitch Friedman snapped back to reality, letting out a few meaningless sounds before gritting his teeth and saying, “A terrifying person! Damn it, seeing him here, I truly wish to never deal with someone like that in my life.”

To eliminate that guy, Mitch Friedman had to settle for just his base salary this year. The despicable person had even dared to turn around and extort Lockheed.

“Ha ha, Mr. Mitch Friedman, you’d better be careful. Don’t forget my warning: absolutely do not cause trouble for those Chinese. I can only give you 72 hours; after that, you must withdraw unconditionally.”

Colonel Jett smiled faintly, showing no interest in involving himself in Lockheed’s troubles with the Chinese. He was an employee of the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), not a lackey for Lockheed.

“I understand!”

Mitch Friedman muttered, feeling the weight of the situation.

On one side was the trouble Boeing had stirred up, and on the other was Lockheed’s own predicament. Who knew how these two enemies meeting would affect each other?

“White Wolf, I need to tell you some bad news!” Major Mo leaned against the embassy window, catching a glimpse outside. Their room was in a perfect position; even though it was in a corner, it offered a clear view of the hotel entrance.

“What?” White Wolf glanced at Major Mo, his subordinate not pausing as he polished a pistol.

Seeing White Wolf unfazed by the news, Major Mo smiled and added, “Lockheed’s people have arrived! You’ll have to figure this out yourself.”

“Damn it!” White Wolf couldn’t hold back his curse.

If it weren’t for the Pacific Ocean to the west leaving him nowhere to escape, he could only seek a way out to the east. However, Nevada was the driest state in America, with most areas covered by snow-capped mountains, canyons, and deserts, offering limited resources for survival.

To survive and complete their mission, both White Wolf and Yellow Sparrow had no choice but to head towards Las Vegas.

Being blocked in this gambling city by Lockheed’s people and U.S. authorities was no surprise to him.

White Wolf could only rely on the cover provided by the Chinese embassy’s military attaché team protecting the Chinese aviation experts; however, the premise was not to involve the experts in any trouble—that was the embassy’s bottom line.

Now burdened with enough troubles, the Chinese side didn’t wish for their aviation experts to be caught in the crossfire, though both mattered greatly.

As intelligence personnel executing a mission abroad, they were always prepared for self-sacrifice, but they wouldn’t just throw their lives away without reason.

“What are you planning? This room will definitely be searched; we can’t refuse.”

Seeing White Wolf calmly polishing his gun, Major Mo looked at him with questioning eyes.

He only knew that the man in front of him was here for a special target item, engaged in underhanded work.

Although he didn’t understand the importance of the item, Lockheed was aggressively pursuing it, indicating that they had likely succeeded.

This target item must be something significant; otherwise, the country wouldn’t risk so much to carry out such a mission. He had heard of commotion near Las Vegas and Palmdale, which was akin to a small-scale war.

What Major Mo didn’t know was that the target item for White Wolf was right on the small table in front of them, a shiny silver knife quietly resting next to a barely touched steak.

“Send a steak, penne pasta, French snail soup, and some salad to all our experts’ hotel rooms. Oh, and throw in a few more dishes; let’s have one for everyone.”

White Wolf wore a confident smile, seemingly not worried about the Lockheed pursuers at all. Perhaps they were in the elevator, ready to burst in any moment.

Known as the combat equipment with the highest destruction rate, the “Dark Diablo” under the codename White Wolf was also the most experienced rotorcraft pilot in the domestic intelligence agency. Time and again, he had escaped death and turned danger into safety, so how could these petty Lockheed fish affect him?

This time was no exception; the country’s most advanced rotorcraft, the “Flying Wolf,” had already been lost under his command. Who knew what “x Wolf” aircraft awaited him next, all funded by taxpayers’ hard-earned money?

Thus, every outing was costly, and unless absolutely necessary, he wouldn’t deploy this destructive figure.

Having weathered great storms, White Wolf couldn’t possibly be disturbed by such a minor situation.

“Room service?”

Major Mo furrowed his brow. With Lockheed on their doorstep, how could White Wolf remain so unfazed? Did he still feel invincible?

“Trust me!” White Wolf flashed a bright smile, more confident than ever.

“Alright!” Major Mo, still puzzled, went along with this strange request.

Sending food while Lockheed arrived seemed completely unrelated—what was going through White Wolf’s mind?

Major Mo felt utterly confused.

Under the orders of the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), the hotel had cleared out other guests, occupied by various aviation delegations. The hotel staff found it much easier, and Major Mo’s request was quickly fulfilled, with food-laden carts being sent up to the floor of the Chinese delegation.

“The Lockheed people have finished checking the lower levels and are about to come to our floor.” Major Mo closely monitored the actions of these uninvited guests. There was no need for any deliberate hidden observation; even openly keeping watch was a completely reasonable and legal action for the military personnel protecting the aviation experts.

No one appreciated having unexpected visitors trying to scan the room back and forth.

Knock, knock!

There was a knocking sound at the hotel room door.

“Room service!”

White Wolf breathed a sigh of relief, got up to open the door, and ushered the food inside. He instructed the server, “Don’t take that plate away; I haven’t finished it yet. Wait for my signal before coming to clean up, just like for the other rooms.”

He slipped a ten-dollar bill as a tip into the server’s hand, who smiled widely and nodded repeatedly, “Yes, of course, sir.”

Major Mo glanced at the server—an unfamiliar face, likely involved with the CIA. It seemed a waste of that ten dollars.

However, what White Wolf did next puzzled Major Mo even more.

White Wolf actually lifted the tray and pushed the door open to take the food outside; wasn’t that absurd? He hadn’t finished his own portion, ordered an extra, and now was taking it out? Was he out of his mind?

“Hey, where are you going?” Major Mo couldn’t help but ask.

White Wolf turned his head while holding the tray, saying, “I’m going to deliver food to someone else.”

He had quietly wiped clean the silver knife next to his steak and discreetly swapped it with the one in the tray.

“…”

Major Mo was completely confused.

Just then, the elevator doors opened, and a group of people surged out aggressively.

Mitch Friedman exchanged a glance with his subordinates, who promptly took positions at the elevator and stairway, glaring at the CIA agents.

Although one belonged to the government and the other to a corporation, both were currently engaged in the same task—locking down the floor and preventing anyone from moving freely.

Knock, knock, knock! There was knocking in the hotel corridor.

“Conducting a security check! We have reliable information that terrorists have placed a bomb on this floor. For your safety and that of others, please cooperate. Thank you!”

Mitch Friedman concocted a semi-credible excuse and successfully opened one hotel room after another.

As each door opened and the puzzled faces of the guests were revealed, Mitch Friedman signaled for several subordinates to enter rudely, wielding electromagnetic scanning devices to begin their search.

“Fenrir” alloy had a lesser-known secret; it reacted particularly well to electromagnetic scanning devices, appearing as large as a signal source. No matter how it was hidden, for their handheld detection devices with a probing distance of about one meter, it was utterly impossible to conceal.