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Free Web Novel,Novel online - All in oicq.net -> Historic -> Infinite military base Volume Two: My Country Nine Hundred and One. Richard; Solomon
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- It was a rainy morning in New York, USA. Charles stood in front of the hotel uneasy and paced back and forth while reading. A gust of cool breeze hit him, and he couldn't help but turn up his collar. At the same time, he took out a bag of sunflower seeds from his pocket and started eating them slowly. The codename used for this operation is also the word "Sunflower".
He stretched and yawned, stretching his body a little after being up all night. Last night, he worked all night long. As soon as he pulled the last report paper out of the typewriter drum, he hurried on his way. At this time, the report was safely placed in the black leather bag under his arm.
Who exactly Warrent was, Charles didn¡¯t know very well. He only knew that the other party was a high-level leader who easily did not appear in public. And he himself, like the other party, has a safe career as a cover, working behind the scenes and never showing up. But the difference is that Wallent has always been sitting in a luxurious office and giving orders, while he can only analyze materials, provide intelligence, and look forward to the favor of his boss in a small room.
At this moment, he saw a man walking towards him at the intersection. The visitor was wearing faded cotton overalls and a blue sailor's hat with the brim pulled low, and he walked like a sailor.
"Everything in this world is bound to rot." Charles said as the man approached.
¡°When fate is decided, even kings are not immune,¡± the other party replied. This is a poem by the British poet Dryden.
What annoyed Charles was that the visitor, this Warrent, was younger than himself, tall and thin, and looked unhurried.
The two passed the castle in silence and walked towards the path leading to the river embankment. "Say it," Wallent was the first to break the silence.
"We have to steal this thing from the White House first." As he said, Charles handed Warrent a folded newspaper clipping and said before he could speak: "We can use a master to complete this task. He Will make everything clean and leave no trace.¡±
"Yes, yes, I know," Warrent said impatiently: "But what is the purpose of doing this?"
"The purpose is that we can cause trouble as we please, especially in areas where the prestige of the United States has been declining. If we do it carefully, we can get multiple layers of benefits. However, we can't let them find the stolen item." thing."
"I'm starting to understand what you mean," Warrent chuckled: "In the end, it's up to us to end it. The benefits belong to us."
"That's right, sir. The blame falls on those who should bear the responsibility."
Warrent touched his chin with his hand, lost in thought. "Great!" he finally said, "but is it possible to steal the thing you are referring to?"
"Of course it's very difficult, but there's one person who can definitely do it. His name is Richard Solomon. Do you know him?"
"Of course I do. Tell me the reason."
Charles cleared his throat: "Yes, sir. I think he has all the necessary qualities: alert and intelligent. More importantly, he doesn't know what fear is. He seems to have a natural immunity to fear. To be honest, no one else has the courage to accept this task. He is proficient in various dialects, such as English, or he can speak like a true British, or Scottish or even Australian. He is also very good at disguise. He often makes people feel elusive. Of course, it is not difficult to prepare various fake documents for him. "
They turned a corner, a river appeared in front of them, and Volent stopped. "Where is Solomon now?" he asked.
"Los Angeles."
Warrent kept thinking in his mind, okay, that's it. Charles said he was alert and intelligent. When applied to Solomon, such an evaluation is not enough. Solomon was not only alert and intelligent, he was simply a remarkable man, but he was also a difficult man to control¡ªa man who was completely independent. Thinking of this, Warrent couldn't help but feel uneasy. He turned to Charles and asked: "How do you make him obey? What if he asks all kinds of questions?"
"Oh, don't worry about that. He's not a suspicious man. It's true that he sometimes asks questions, but that's because he likes to understand the nature of the job and doesn't like to follow blindly. He's not interested in politics, so don't worry about it. Besides, this man is true to his word and never breaks his word." Charles looked across the river.
"Of course," he added, "he might also come back with a carbine. You won't be able to resist."
Warrent said nothing. He understood that Charles had a point. Solomon was not as easily pushed around as others under his command. But besides him, who elseAre you capable of such a difficult task?
"I brought all his archive materials," Charles opened his bag: "In addition, I also drew up a detailed plan."
"What?" Gezhum's expression changed from surprise to anger: "Did you write everything down?"
"Please don't worry. I worked all night and came here as soon as I finished, leaving no trace. There are two copies in total, one for you and one for me. They are both here."
Warrent¡¯s expression relaxed, and he smiled and said, ¡°Nice job, Charles. Let me see.¡±
They continued to walk along the path towards the end of the river, and finally sat down on a bench.
Warrent looked at the report. It was undeniable that the plan was very thorough; however, this "old horse" seemed to know too much.
Warrent faced Charles: "Are there only two copies?"
¡°This is not the first time I have done this kind of thing.¡±
"Of course, this is not the first time." Gezhum took out a fountain pen from his pocket, took off the pen cover very naturally, and then aimed the pen tip at the other person's head. An eagle soared in the sky and suddenly swooped down. The gliding posture was very spectacular. This was the last scene Charles saw in this world.
He let out a cry, but was immediately drowned in the sound of rolling waves
?¡
At about six o'clock in the evening, Richard Solomon walked into the bar and sat down at a table near the corner. Looking out from here, the whole house is clearly visible.
"Glenfiddich." Solomon ordered the approaching waiter.
The waiter nodded and took a look at the new customer: he looked to be in his mid-twenties, tall, thin, strong, with long brown hair. With a fashionable hairstyle, rough facial lines, and honest and confident eyes, he is a very elegant American.
??Actually, Richard Solomon is not an American now, to be more precise. He is not from any nationality now. He had no real nationality, except that the passport in his pocket indicated his nationality. Moreover. This passport will be replaced again tomorrow. Every time he changed his name, he became a new person. He is temporarily called Richard Solomon because he has had many other names before, and there will be more new names in the coming months.
Solomon slowly moved his eyes towards the table. There, a rich, fashionable blonde was joking with a man. It seemed that the latter's entire body and mind had been fascinated by the young girl's fiery eyes.
Solomon listened for a while. He was an expert at this after all. Although the girl's accent had an American accent, she spoke purely textbook German. But none of this escaped his ears. He concluded that she was a German, pretending to be an American and speaking German there, and deliberately not speaking authentic German. Solomon smiled. Anyone else would have found this flaw difficult.
The blonde girl wore two ruby ??earrings on her earlobes. At this moment, she casually took off one and played with it in her hand. Put it back on.
That¡¯s right, it¡¯s her. Solomon thought of the man he met. At that time, the other party was holding a pair of red dice. "Excuse me, sir, do you have time?" the man asked.
The signal from the connector is correct. After finishing the code words, the opponent took out the red dice again. Solomon knew that this stiff-faced guy was far from just an errand boy. The opponent showed the red die twice, sending him a double warning signal straight from the top. This has not happened in many years. On such occasions, as usual, no questions were asked, and one only had to obey orders.
Solomon listened carefully to the other party's instructions word for word. By the time they broke up, he had received several things: a new name, an American passport, a one-way plane ticket to Washington, and an order to meet a German lady in the bar of the Hotel Gretel. She dressed up as a young American celebrity.
Solomon realized the blonde was watching him too. But as soon as their eyes made contact, the other party immediately avoided them. After several rounds of this, the blonde finally took action. While the man was paying the bill, she heard her say: "I'm sorry, please forgive me, I saw an acquaintance."
Before the man could say anything, she immediately stood up and walked towards Solomon. Solomon stared at her slender legs as she walked across the room to his table in a graceful manner. Solomon also stood up.
"I'm sorry," she said this time in standard American English. "You are -" and then immediately changed his words: "Oh, no, I'm afraid I made a mistake." The tone was just right, and the embarrassment was audible, but it was not artificial. "I thought I'd seen you before somewhere."
 "It's a pity that we haven't met before," he replied, "but do you have to leave now?"
The other party smiled brightly and put his hands on the edge of the table: "I have friends waiting for me. Please forgive me for disturbing you."
"It doesn't matter."
Solomon watched her walk out of the bar. Like other men, he was attracted by her charm. But what impressed him even more was the way she quietly placed a folded piece of paper on the table just now. Her action was so skillful, clever and natural. Twenty minutes later, Solomon also left his seat.
Next to a shop window, Solomon lit a cigarette and took out a note: "8 Kiribato Road. Tomorrow at nine o'clock. Ask them for the portrait of St. Paul." He tore the note into pieces and threw it in sewer.
No. 8 Kiristo Road is a souvenir shop. Solomon pushed open the door and entered. A stocky man stood behind a counter filled with cheap antique reproductions.
Solomon approached the counter: "Good morning, do you have any paintings of St. Paul in your store?"
"Go upstairs and ask," the fat man pointed to the narrow stairs. Solomon followed his gesture and found that the door upstairs was open a crack. He walked upstairs and slowly opened the door. The blinds in the room were closed tightly, and a tall and thin man stood at the table. His face could not be seen clearly in the darkness.
¡°Good morning, Solomon,¡± the other person said.
Solomon thought the voice sounded familiar. At this time, the other party opened the blinds slightly. Solomon recognized the other person. But he was not happy at all.
¡°McLean, it¡¯s you,¡± Solomon said coldly.
Howard McClain is a junior CIA officer. As far as Solomon knew, this man's income came from at least two sources. For years, he had been deftly maneuvering between the CIA and the British Intelligence Service, even after the British royal family went on the run. Get benefits from both sides at the same time. This was the kind of person Solomon distrusted the most.
"It's a chilling tone to meet old friends," McLean said. At the same time, light the small oil lamp on the table.
"You're lucky, I didn't kill you," Solomon replied coldly: "What do you want?"
"I don't want anything from you, but I want to give you something." As he said this, he pointed to a leather bag on the table. "This time, we are on the same page," he added with a smile.
"Which way?"
"Your way. Simon should be yours, right? He asked me to inform you that now is the time."
Solomon didn¡¯t know Simon, at least not by his name. But he heard the code correctly. Then, McLean took out a deck of cards and turned out two red kings.
Solomon nodded disdainfully: "Ah, that's it. Well, I'll listen to you."
"This mission is very special." McLean lowered his voice and said, "It must be kept absolutely confidential. Even your own people cannot let them know your future identity. In other words, in thirty minutes, Richard Solomon will He has been dead for twelve hours."
Solomon remained silent, waiting for the other party to explain.
"The record says this: Solomon left the shakeout machine yesterday morning and flew to Washington, but unfortunately he had a car accident on his way to the hotel. Two hours later, Solomon died in a local hospital."
"Yeah. That's wonderful," Solomon said lightly. He thought to himself that he didn't know which "lucky guy" had become his scapegoat.
"In this way, Richard Solomon becomes a dead man, and those who wanted to follow you in the past have no choice but to give up. You will leave Los Angeles at noon today." McLean opened his wallet, took out a large envelope and handed it to Solomon. The envelope contained a passport with the name "Russian Merchant Lars Hansen" written on it. In addition, there were several letters, a driver's license, and a photo of a beautiful young woman and two boys.
¡°Your family,¡± McLean said with a smile.
There is also a one-way ticket from Los Angeles to Washington. The departure time is that afternoon.
¡°I also took care of everything I needed,¡± McLean continued. ¡°When you get back to the hotel, you¡¯ll find several new sets of clothes, as well as luggage, razors and other personal items, and even a book that¡¯s currently taking over Los Angeles. best-selling novel."
¡°That¡¯s really thoughtful.¡±
"As soon as you leave, I will start to deal with the aftermath. Everything you bring here will be destroyed. You are not allowed to bring anything with you that is related to Richard Solomon."
"What happens when we get to Washington?"
"Go directly to the Colony Hotel. What happens next?"?It won¡¯t know more details than you do. "
On the day Solomon arrived at the Colony Hotel in Washington, a short, dark-skinned Indian girl brought him a stack of new towels, smiled shyly, and left. Solomon immediately locked the door. He knew that the bathrooms were already stocked with fresh towels, and that hotels like the Coronet didn't add extra services to their guests.
There must be articles in the towel.
Sure enough, he found what he needed - a thick envelope containing a French passport with the name Andre Bouchard, freelance journalist.
That night, Solomon wrapped Hans Larsen¡¯s personal belongings in brown paper and hired a car to come to the station. He carefully compared the padlock and key numbers, and finally found the storage box. There was an old canvas box inside, with Andr¨¦ Bouchard's name written on the label. He took out the box, put it in a brown paper bag, and left the station.
On the Tai Bridge, he stood still, as if admiring the surrounding scenery. The big clock on the tower rang, and he let the key slip into the dark river.
After coming out of a pharmacy in suburban Washington, he went straight back to the hotel. He locked the door, walked into the bathroom, threw his Swedish passport and Hansen's ID card into the sink, then took out his lighter and burned them. When the flames went out, he turned on the water tap and watched all the ashes flow into the sewer
?¡
A beige Cheek car stopped beside him. He opened the door and got into the back seat of the car. As soon as the car started moving, he took out the newspaper and started reading. He first glanced at the headlines on the front page, and then turned to the back pages. He hadn't seen half of it before he was stunned. This is an inconspicuous little piece of news. If the words Howard Maclean hadn't jumped into his eyes, it would have been easily ignored by him:
Associated Press News - Howard McLean, 35, assistant first secretary of the U.S. Embassy, ??accidentally rolled over from a speedboat and fell into the water yesterday afternoon in Saronic Bay, off the coast of Attica. According to friends of McLean, the speedboat owner, the American official was not familiar with water. The body of the drowned man was discovered only after it washed up on the beach.
¡°I didn¡¯t expect McLean to be dead. A few days ago, he proudly showed Solomon two red kings! "It would be nice to have a long sleep," Solomon murmured to himself, throwing the newspaper aside.
"What are you talking about?" the driver asked.
"nothing."
At this time, Solomon noticed the driver¡¯s hands gripping the steering wheel, and there were two eye-catching red buttons on his shirt cuffs. He also found that the other party was also observing his expression in the rearview mirror! - Didn't finish reading? Add this book to your favoritesI'm a member and bookmarked this chapterCopy the address of this book and recommend it to your friends for pointsChapter error? Click here to report
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