Chapter 270: A New Breakthrough
"Bang!" Marvin pulled the trigger, and the female agent's head was blown apart by the large-caliber revolver bullet.
Ron's eyes lit up, and he had a better impression of Marvin, because he was using the same Smith & Wesson M500 revolver as Ron himself. He was really a man of taste.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome," Ron shot down an agent who was positioned on top of the container and firing. He kicked the female agent's rocket launcher into his hand and turned nimbly.
Behind him, an agent with a rocket launcher on his back just emerged from behind another pile of boxes, and was about to take advantage of Ron's distraction to attack him, but he didn't know that his action had already been reflected in Ron's sight by the side mirror of the car next to him.
"Go to hell! Sneaky bastard!" Ron pulled the trigger.
The rocket whizzed toward the agent, trailing flames. Just then, the agent, also carrying a rocket launcher, finally reacted and pulled the trigger.
But it was too late. His rocket had barely left the launch tube, less than three feet away, when it was struck directly by Ron's rocket. The two rockets collided mid-flight.
With a tremendous explosion, they detonated simultaneously, instantly shredding the agent. The blast of the two rockets blew the remains onto the container behind them, forming a gruesome silhouette.
However, the silhouette was made of body parts, which was rather disturbing.
"I'm not eating hamburgers anymore," Ron said, feeling a bit nauseous.
In the command center, the satellite imagery was temporarily rendered useless by the thick smoke from the rocket explosion, completely obscuring Ron and Frank's group.
When the smoke finally cleared, the target individuals were long gone.
"Damn it! Can someone tell me where Frank got those helpers?" the commander raged. "Intelligence Department, what are the facial comparison results?!"
"According to our facial recognition, the old man with the tactical gear is Frank's former teammate, Marvin Boggs," the subordinate reported faithfully, holding the information.
The commander nodded, removed his headset, and rested his arm on the desk. "Then who was that young man who just eliminated my best operative? That skill definitely couldn't belong to someone unknown!"
"Well..." the subordinate hesitated. Unsure whether to speak, the commander saw through his thoughts.
"Based solely on facial recognition, it's Hobbs, the FBI's Los Angeles division chief. He's the favorite and most capable officer of our immediate superior, Anonymous..."
"What?!" the commander's eyes widened in disbelief. "The FBI is involved?"
"Maybe not."
"What do you mean? Say it all at once, don't hesitate." The commander frowned.
"I just checked with the surveillance satellite. Ten minutes ago, Hobbs was training with his daughter's soccer team. So the person just photographed..."
The commander's brows furrowed even deeper. What was going on? Was even the FBI interfering in the CIA's affairs now?
Or was it that someone deliberately used the face of an FBI director to deceive them, trying to lead them down this wrong path?
The correct answer is of course the second one.
That's right, the "Hobbs" photographed by the satellite was Ron in disguise.
But it wasn't as complicated as the commander thought. Ron had no intention of dragging the FBI into this. Disguising himself as Hobbs was purely out of his personal amusement.
"Boss, why did you make your face look like Hobbs? Do you have a grudge against him?" Joe asked curiously.
He'd already met Hobbs once before, on Valentine's Day, and judging by their interactions, he suspected they might have had a feud.
"No, I simply think this face is more suited for dramatic occasions," Ron replied cheerfully, stroking his fake face.
He could already imagine Hobbs's expression when he was called in by Anonymous and reprimanded. It would surely be quite a spectacle.
"Frank, where are we going next?"
"If we want to find out why we're being hunted, there's only one place to go," Frank replied after a moment's thought.
Joe: "Are you talking about the CIA's Langley headquarters? That's where all the CIA's operational files are stored."
"Yes, but that place is heavily guarded. We'd be dead if we went there," Frank said with a hint of frustration. "Come on, we need to find some more help."
Although Frank spoke of finding more help, his eyes remained fixed on Ron. He had long since learned Ron's true identity from Joe, and he knew what Ron's current fake face meant.
It meant free access to all important departments of the CIA and FBI.
Although Hobbs was the head of the FBI's Los Angeles division, he also had another identity within the CIA, which was why he was constantly involved with Anonymous. This had long been an open secret.
"What are you looking at me for? You're not expecting me to break into CIA headquarters and help you steal data? I wouldn't do such a thankless job,"
Ron shrugged. "But I don't know if I should call you old-fashioned or complain about your slow thinking. In this information age, don't you know that all CIA confidential documents are electronically archived?"
Ron typed on his phone for a while, and soon, a top-secret CIA document was sent to the encrypted phone he used to keep in touch with Paige.
"You're making spy work really boring," Sarah couldn't help but complain.
"Hey, lady, being a spy isn't some ridiculous game you grew up watching in novels and movies," Ron retorted. "Real intelligence work is all about minimizing risk for maximum reward. If you don't believe me, ask your boyfriend."
Sarah glared at Ron angrily, her chest heaving with her rapid breathing. Her neckline was showing some cleavage, but Ron wasn't interested.
He was poring over the document, his brow furrowing at first, then suddenly relaxing. A smile curved his lips, and finally, he almost burst into laughter, leaving the older men around him baffled.
"What does the CIA file say?"
"Nothing. The CIA has expunged almost all information about the Guatemala incident from their archives." Ron handed the phone screen to the older men. "But interestingly, this file mentions someone who isn't on the journalist's list."
Ron scrolled to the bottom line. Between two redacted paragraphs, only a single name remained.
"Alexander Dunning."
"Dunning is the president of Armscorp Industries, one of the most prominent defense contractors for the Pentagon." Frank suddenly grew serious.
"He's also a criminal, secretly involved in arms trafficking."
(End of chapter)
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