Chapter 571

Chapter 571: No One Laughs Last

“Finally, the hot potato is gone!”

White Wolf watched as the intelligence personnel disguised as garbage collectors took the "Fenrir" alloy away, loaded into a garbage truck that left the hotel through the back door.

It was a pile of used aluminum foil and discarded silver knives, with the "Fenrir" alloy cleverly hiding among them, making it hardly noticeable.

He risked his life and endured countless hardships to secure the "Fenrir" and managed to send it away safely, thanks to that guy. If that person hadn’t suddenly left the hotel and attracted most of the forces away, their superiors wouldn’t have been able to arrange personnel to relocate it.

Major Mo, the embassy military attaché, saw White Wolf’s look of relief and said, “White Wolf, you should head back to the embassy tomorrow. Enjoy a nice week in America before returning home to report.”

This “report” was a double entendre, encompassing both the normal duties of a military attaché returning to report and the secret operations personnel doing the same.

Charlie’s garbage truck drove towards a processing facility on the outskirts of Las Vegas, where the area was sparsely populated. This expansive garbage treatment plant continuously processed various types of waste from the city, breaking them down into metals and other materials. Recyclable materials were gathered again, biodegradable waste was directly decomposed biologically, and what could not be processed was sent to the boilers to be burned, converting it into electricity for the city.

Almost no garbage was left for landfills; the garbage treatment plant always found ways to utilize various types of waste, turning them into money.

In short, relying on the garbage disposal businesses of big cities felt like being next to a treasure trove, reaping plentiful rewards.

The driver, Wade Allen, hummed a tune while gripping the steering wheel, occasionally chatting with his co-pilot, the Mexican assistant Terry Jackson.

They wore sealed work suits resembling hazmat suits, as their job inevitably exposed them to various odors. If they got a smell that couldn’t be washed away, it would mean unbearable disaster. Despite the heat, they had to wear them; luckily, they could enjoy a free hot shower before going home at the end of the shift.

“We’re almost there; in half an hour, we’ll reach the place. That means green cash, Wade! This will be our biggest income of the day, almost equivalent to our annual salary! How about we find a girl in town tonight?”

Terry Jackson glanced at his watch. He and the driver were peripheral personnel of China’s Foreign Affairs Department, typically not involved in anything classified. They just happened to be given some tasks and received small allowances to help with family expenses. They kept a low profile, and no one knew they were doing odd jobs for the Chinese.

“That sounds like a good idea! I want a blonde bombshell! Haha! But let’s split the bill.” Wade Allen’s big, chunky hands slammed onto the steering wheel, incredibly tempted by his colleague’s suggestion, as if he wanted to smash the wheel down.

However, after a moment, he sighed, “I need to be home before midnight!”

“Ahahaha! Wade, Wade, you guy! I’m impressed! You’ve become such a good boy after getting married. My God, is this still the Wade Allen I knew, or has he been swapped out?” Terry Jackson burst into even louder laughter after a brief pause.

“Come on, you henpecked guy! Your Savannah is like a little hen, flitting around your little ones. When would she have the time to manage you? Just go out and enjoy yourself! Give her the leftover dollars when you get back; she’ll be delighted. And if you spend it all, it doesn’t matter. After all, life should have some fun.”

The two exchanged jokes shamelessly.

For these two American locals, as long as it wasn’t a threat to national security (which they mostly were unaware of), it was effortless to lend a hand occasionally, especially when dollars were involved.

The garbage truck had left Las Vegas, and beyond the city’s outskirts, the scenic highway revealed nothing of the urban prosperity—just desolation, with the road occasionally covered in a thin layer of sand.

Las Vegas was never a city reliant on natural scenery; it lay in a subtropical desert climate, amidst the mountainous regions, canyons, and deserts of Nevada’s harsh environments.

Yet, it miraculously survived due to the gambling industry, a city built up with money.

“Look, what’s that?” The driver suddenly spotted a small black dot rapidly approaching from the right front, trailing a thin white smoke, which stood out starkly against the desolate backdrop.

“Where?”

“Over there!”

“Oh my God! That’s a missile! Who did that? Quick, reverse! It’s coming right at us!”

Boom!

As the sudden roar of the solid fuel jet engine echoed in Wade Allen’s and Terry Jackson’s ears, they had no time to turn the vehicle around. The truck, slowing to 40 mph, suddenly flipped over with a massive crash as they tried to steer it.

“What kind of monster is that?”

Terry Jackson lay helplessly in the truck bed, adopting a strange posture, his blurred vision catching glimpses of several tall figures in trench coats, their faces obscured, gliding past with a faint, hissing sound.

The odd, thick objects in their hands resembled unfamiliar weapons, seemingly searching for something while emitting monotonous, strange electronic sounds.

Terry Jackson would never connect the news he heard on the radio about Hollywood makeup materials being stolen with the attack he faced today.

He strained to look for the driver, Wade Allen, but found the cabin empty. Soon, he spotted that heavyset man lying motionless by the side of the road, oblivious to his fate.

Suddenly, he remembered the assignment they received today, realizing that something important must have been on their truck. Damn it! He hadn’t expected to be this unlucky. If he had known, he wouldn’t have taken this job. Oh God, please save me! He could no longer endure the pain and fainted.

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!

“Target detected, electromagnetic reaction index matches, confirmed as ‘Fenrir’ alloy! Mission accomplished! Exiting city monitoring system, executing transfer plan.”

“Activate camouflage plan, prepare to establish survival base!”

A container truck sped past the overturned garbage truck and disappeared at the end of the road.

Lockheed’s Laboratory 41 had yet to discover that their “Lion Star 4” humanoid combat mechanical soldiers had unexpectedly appeared here, successfully executing a theft.

“Did you say theft? Our stuff was stolen?”

Major Mo, the embassy military attaché, was having afternoon tea with White Wolf when he suddenly received a call with news that shattered his calm demeanor.

The garbage truck carrying the “Fenrir” alloy had yet to reach its designated location when it exploded. When the waiting intelligence personnel noticed something was wrong and found the truck, everything inside was gone.

“What’s happening?”

White Wolf was surprised to see Major Mo so pale after receiving the call.

“‘Fenrir’ has been stolen!” Major Mo looked at White Wolf and said each word clearly, his expression unchanged.

“What?” White Wolf was dumbfounded. Their plan was foolproof, with multiple diversionary actions in place, not to mention several misleading strategies. Even the CIA and the original owner, Lockheed, had been drawn away by that ace pilot known as “Dragon Knight.”

Unexpectedly, as if with foresight, the Foreign Affairs Department in charge of overseas intelligence operations activated a new set of powerful weapons, the “Dragon Guard” digital tactical armor. In just a few days, more than a hundred operatives from various forces had been either directly or indirectly linked to that “Dragon Knight.”

This marked an unprecedented and severe casualty in the history of espionage. With the involvement of the “Dragon Guard,” it almost turned into a small-scale war.

“Superiors are already investigating. It seems a group we don’t know about did this. They are very patient and calculating! Damn it, we have to find a way to get it back.”

As Major Mo spoke, he nodded while pacing back and forth in the room. The patience of the opposing party and their timing had exceeded their intelligence personnel’s expectations. Who could it be? Suspicion weighed heavily on Major Mo’s mind.

The Foreign Affairs Department’s meticulous actions rarely met with failure, yet the opposing force had taken the “Fenrir,” which was about to be relocated back to the country, without any sign. This was like a slap in the face for all personnel involved.

Almost the entire intelligence network in America for the Foreign Affairs Department was shaken. Many secretly laid networks sprang into action, moving among gas stations, traffic hubs, shopping malls, hotels, and other places, determined to unearth who dared to steal at the last moment.

Neither China nor other powers would allow missing out on the next technological revolution.

No one laughs last.

“Hey, buddy, it’s 500 dollars per person! Got it? Just one day, and I guarantee you’ll be on the other side of the border. I, Juan, keep my word; I’m always reliable.”

Juan Ceres was a smuggler, specializing in human trafficking. He was used to seeing Mexicans smuggling into America, but today was unusual—an American was looking to be smuggled into Mexico.

“Okay, can I use a card?”

“If you use a card, it’ll cost you an extra twenty percent. That’s the rule. If you want to save some money, cash is your best bet. I warn you, don’t try to pass off counterfeit bills.”

The man in front of him wore a mask and sunglasses, seemingly not wanting anyone to see his face. However, his skin had a sickly hue, and he felt devoid of life.

Juan’s Chihuahua was acting strangely, barking sharply at this new customer, forcing him to multitask as he tried to soothe it quietly.