jack-yin

[jack-yin]

The Topest Of Killer

CHAPTER ONE

December 23, 2021.

     107 Plank Street, SN District, Altoona, Pennsylvania.

     One of the nameplate of [Bai Niu Information Network Service Company] is hung on the wall of a three-story building with a typical American red brick exterior.

     7:30 in the morning.

     Tommy Blanc puts on his badge and walks into the office with a cup of Starbucks—just like an ordinary office worker.

     "How's it going?" Tommy put his backpack on the seat and glanced at the screens hanging on the wall.

     The colleague on duty shrugged his shoulders, turning his pen boringly: "Everything is normal."

    Then tommy sat down blankly, took a sip of the coffee he had brought, and stared at the screen on the wall for a while.

    In tommy’s sight, three different split screens respectively display different satellite images.

     The three different real-time satellite images show the same target which is on a certain area of the high seas and the target is being monitored in real time by three different satellites.

     Tommy manipulated it in front of the computer: "Forty minutes later, the No. 3 satellite enters the blind zone. Switch to the No. 6 satellite to continue monitoring."

     And then he stared at the screen for about a minute, then sat down and looked at the watch on duty monitoring records.

     "You said..." The colleague walked to Tommy's side and sighed while leaning on the back of his chair: "...How long do we have to do this job? I have been in this place for three years. "

     Tommy looked back at the young colleague and smiled: "Isn't this job bad? High salary, high benefits, all insurance is paid for, and I commute to and from get off work on time every day. I hope this job will continue like this-- You should really see what the outside world has become like."

     The colleague murmured, with a hint of unwillingness in his tone: "I fucking transferred from the Navy's early retirement, not for this kind of boring waste of life."

     Tommy sighed and touched his pale hair: "When you reach my age, you will understand how valuable it is to have a secure job."

     ·

     [Bai Niu Information Network Service Company]

     The registered capital is 500,000 U.S. dollars.

     On paper, this is a very ordinary information processing company.

     The business scope includes: information consultation, information processing, network erection solution provision, etc. According to the registration data of the municipal system, this company has been operating well for the past eight years, and the books and taxation status are clean. Even the vultures of the IRS (IRS) can't find any problems.

     ——Of course Tommy knows that these clean and unremarkable accounts are actually made by the vultures.

     In fact, this [Bai Niu Information Network Service Company] is just a cover.

     Its true identity is a secret surveillance agency under the Langley Building (CIA).

     Eleven members of the monitoring team, including Tommy, are all professionally trained monitoring and information analysis and processing personnel, as well as four security personnel transferred from the military.

     In addition, the monitoring authority of six satellites can be mobilized at any time, and a water-cooled high-density server hidden in the basement of the building is used for information analysis and processing. And can enter the red authority of the federal highest security information network at any time.

     Eight years ago, when the company was first established.

     At that time, Tommy Blanco, who had just been transferred from a certain intelligence analysis department of the CIA, looked at the boss of the newly established surveillance team, standing in front of him, pointing his eyes and the surveillance screen. Roaring at myself, the foam almost hit my face. ·

     "We have only one job!

     All eleven monitoring members are divided into three groups of shifts, six satellites have sub-time monitoring permissions, and 100 hours of coverage monitoring data storage server!

     All the goals are for one thing: stare at that damn guy!

     Stare him firmly! !

     Make sure that there are no blind spots, no dark time periods, no blind spots, all-weather, all-year-round, stare him to death! ! This is not my request! It was the order of the Langley Building, the order of the White House! "

     ·

     Yes, stare at that guy.

     To be precise: It is on the open sea, with a certain latitude and longitude as the center, and the radius does not exceed 200 nautical miles.

     According to the order: the target is a boat, and there is a person on the boat... this person, this boat, must move within this range, absolutely, absolutely, absolutely not allowed to exceed this area of activity, otherwise...

     At that time, Tommy, who had just arrived, couldn't help but ask his boss a question: What if he ran out? "

     I remember that at that time, the boss with a fierce expression was taken a back suddenly, and a strange tinge appeared in his eyes.

     "...If that happens...it's not something we can handle. There will be someone else to deal with it...I hope the fuck can be done...Um no, I hope that terrible thing will never occur."

     ·

     In eight years, 2894 days and nights. 69456 hours.

     Tommy has been staying in Altoona, monitoring this target.

     Fortunately, the situation the boss said has never happened.

     There are many times, Tommy could not help but have such years: he, a senior intelligence information processing expert of the CIA, was arranged in this small town in central Pennsylvania, and he stayed for eight years. If he said it, he spent eight. Years of life are here just to...

     Watch a ship that is always in circles.

     Would anyone believe this kind of thing?

     ·

     For eight years, Tommy has also thought about why so much manpower and material resources are needed to monitor such a ship that is always swimming in a radius of 200 nautical miles. What's on this boat? Who is on this boat?

     What Tommy Blanco didn't know was that in addition to Country M, there were intelligence organizations from more than six countries and regional alliances around the world. A similar organization was also established at the same time one night eight years ago.

     The goal and mission are also very consistent: staring at this ship!

     ·

     Tommy took his last sip of coffee, threw the paper cup in the trash can, and then glanced at the time.

     It was eight and one in the morning.

     It's less than ten minutes until the 69457th hour of my tenure in this company.

     He stretched subconsciously and glanced at the screen on the wall.

     On the screen, the logo representing that ship is moving.

     "It seems to be a bit fast?" Tommy couldn't help rubbing his eyes, wondering if he had made a mistake.

     And the direction of the target's movement is getting closer and closer to the critical point of the 200-nautical-mile radius drawn by the surveillance!

     Tommy opened his mouth subconsciously.

     A few seconds later, when the ship’s logo finally touched the critical point on the screen...

     Tommy suddenly jumped up like an electric shock, his expression horrified.

     "WTF!!!"

     The sound came from behind. Two colleagues in the same group who were on duty watched the screen together, and one of them made a sound.

     Tommy instantly felt a rush of blood in his mind... as if he had been working for eight years and was waiting for this moment.

     At this moment, Tommy, as a civilian intelligence officer, didn't realize any more. In addition to shock, there was even a hint of ridiculousness in his heart.

     ...Actually, really, it happened?

     Tommy reacted immediately and hurriedly picked up the phone on the table and pressed a button.

     "BOSS, something went wrong."

     "What" the boss's voice came from the phone.

     Tommy swallowed and spit: "Red alert."

     On the other end of the phone, there was an angry curse—as if the boss spilled coffee.

     ·

     Four minutes later, in an office in the Langley Building (CIA headquarters), a gloomy-looking middle-aged man picked up the phone and listened to it, then silently put it down and cursed: "WTF!"

     Eight minutes later, in the largest office of the White House, an old white man picked up the phone and after listening, he couldn't help but uttered a curse: "WTF!"

     ·

     11:21 AM local time on December 23, 2021.

     British Lowy Hill Island in the South Pacific.

     The door of a local shop on the hillside.

     A middle-aged man in a sweater is sitting on a rock and smoking.

     The middle-aged man sat on the rock and turned to look down the mountain until a silver yacht next to the pier slowly drove away before he lit another cigarette.

     But after only one sip, he started coughing violently.

     But the middle-aged man didn't seem to care. Instead, he turned around and beckoned to a vendor who was sitting next to a shop not far away, covered with fruits.

     The vendor seemed to be taken aback.

     "Okay, come here." The middle-aged man frowned and sighed with a cigarette in his mouth: "Let your people come out too."

     The vendor seemed to hesitate, but finally gritted his teeth and slowly got up and walked over.

     He took off his jacket as he walked, revealing the tactical vest inside. Do two actions at the same time.

     One is to let the companion show up.

     The other is raising his hands high, indicating that he has no intention to attack.

     With middle-aged people as the center, on the hillside, around nine o'clock and three o'clock, from the bushes and the hillside, a group of heavily armed soldiers quickly filed out.

     The middle-aged man examined it and whistled: "Six tactical teams, is there anything else?"

     The trader slowly walked in front of him: "There are four sniper positions aiming here. There is a navy submarine in the water standing by nearby. As long as I give an order, your men and that ship will not go far. We will sink it!"

     The middle-aged man turned his lips and smiled disdainfully: "Put away this meaningless intimidation. You can't afford that price. Now, you must have a satellite phone on your body, right? Let me talk to someone who can count."

     "You shouldn't tear up the agreement, you walked out of the safe zone we agreed on!" The vendor looked gloomy: "The Langley Building and the White House are very dissatisfied with this."

     The middle-aged man shook his head: "Then let those dissatisfied guys go to hell. Now, let me talk to someone who can really take charge."

     The vendor gritted his teeth, turned around and took out a satellite phone, whispered a few words after connecting, stood up straight subconsciously, then turned around, and handed the phone over with complicated expressions.

     The middle-aged man took the call with his cigarette butt between his fingers.

     His eyes looked at the coastline in the distance, as if carelessly. Then he made a grimace: Hello, Mr. President......um...um...Hi! Don't curse!

     "...Okay, okay, I see, now is no longer the time to complain." The middle-aged man was smoking while talking on the phone: "When any agreement expires, I have been at sea for eight years. It has given the great America enough face, and now, I just want to step on the soil on the land and smoke a cigarette"

     "...We don’t have to go around in circles. You know my physical condition very well. You will check even a piece of potato every time my ship buys. You also know the medicines I use regularly. Your medical experts must have backed out mine. The physical condition and the progress of the illness, right?"

     "Then make a deal, yes, the last deal, now is the time."

     "The 16 sets of nuclear bomb codes I stole from you will all be invalidated, and all anti-detonation procedures will be automatically cancelled after three months. My request is simple: three months. Three months, you can’t Take any measures to hunt down my people. My people will dive underwater and disappear completely from this world."

     "As for three months later, you can do whatever you want, I can no longer control."

     "This is my final condition. If you accept it, we can open a champagne remotely to celebrate. If you don't accept it... BOOM! The local nuclear bomb exploded. Isn't it exciting?" The middle-aged man held the phone slightly away from his ears. At one point, there seemed to be a roar on the phone.

     The middle-aged man continued to laugh, then his face became serious and said: "Okay, stop slapped on the table, put away your acting for Congress. I will just ask you, is it a deal? Mr. President?"

     The phone went quiet, the middle-aged man whispered something to the phone and returned the phone to the vendor.

     The vendor answered the phone and hung up with a complicated expression.

     A few minutes later, a bottle of champagne was delivered.

     The vendor opened it by himself, but the middle-aged man threw away the cup and took the bottle.

     "The taste is average." After taking a sip from the bottle, the middle-aged man curled his mouth: "Considering the time is tight and the task is urgent, you can immediately bring out a bottle of champagne instead of mouthwash. I am satisfied with the efficiency of the Langley Building. ."

     As he said, he raised the champagne bottle and made a toast gesture to the sky.

     "They are watching us with satellites, aren't they." The middle-aged man smiled.

     "So, is this the last moment?" The vendor suddenly sneered: "It was included in the list of the most dangerous persons in 14 countries, and 32 countries are prohibited from entering and wanted. The most notorious terrorist black hand in the world, Underground King, your end, is it today?"

     "You seem to have an enemy with me?" The middle-aged man smiled and looked at the vendor.

     The vendor shook his head and said with irony: "Me and the three departments of the Langley Building, more than 400 elites of the American intelligence service, have been serving you for the past eight years." Speaking of the word "service" At that time, this guy was a bit gritted his teeth.

     "Hahahaha." The middle-aged man laughed: "I just like your expression: I can't understand me, but I can't get rid of me."

     "This is not a joke." The vendor said solemnly, "Master Lucifer!"

     When the middle-aged man heard the name, he suddenly wiped a sharp edge in his eyes, raised his eyelids, and smiled: "Actually, I don't like the nickname you gave me. According to the tradition of my hometown, I like it better. Others call me... Yama!"

     The middle-aged man put down the champagne bottle and lighted another cigarette.

     But this time, his fingers are already slightlyTrembling.

     The vendor's gaze flickered, and he secretly made a gesture, and the surrounding armed men tried to move closer.

     "It's useless." The middle-aged man smiled and pointed to his head: "The brain tumor cells have spread to the cerebral cortex and are pressing on the right spine. Besides, I have taken some medicines that allow me to accurately grasp the time of death. There is still life left..."

     The middle-aged man glanced down at his watch: "Ten..."

     "nine."

     "Eight."

     The vendor exclaimed: "Stay back!!"

     The armed men quickly dispersed.

     The vendor rushed forward and helped the middle-aged man.

     The middle-aged man raised his head and smiled: "How can you think that someone like me could let yourself be captured by you? The one in the White House understands, but you don't. Five...four..."

     The vendor gritted his teeth: "Fak! I will catch all your companions! I swear!!"

     The middle-aged man looked disdainful: "Don't brag, you don't have the ability, and your president doesn't dare to give this order. Three...two...one."

     "I wish I could look at them again, but... Angels should go to heaven, and demons like me, let's go to hell..."

     "Zero! Hell... I'm coming... Hahaha..."

     Seeing the middle-aged man slowly closing his eyes, he lost his breath...

     The vendor sighed and waved his arms.

     Armed personnel rushed quickly, and prepared medical personnel swarmed.

     After cursing in a low voice, the vendor tore off the tactical vest and threw it to his men. He caught a medical expert: "I don't know much about medicine, but he said that brain tumor cells spread to the cerebral cortex, and they also compress the spine... people……"

     The medical expert looked weird: "I can only say that even a Siberian white bear can only lie in a hospital bed under such circumstances, and can't move a finger."

     The vendor's eyes were complicated: "But just a minute ago, he was smoking a cigarette, drinking champagne, and yelling at each other over the phone with our president."

     "...I can only say that this is a miracle." The medical expert stammered.

     "Huh!" The vendors often exhaled and looked solemnly: "Fortunately, this miracle... is over! For the United States, it is a blessing! This demon has finally gone to hell... No, it should be said that he is back to hell! It should belong to that place."

     ·

     In 2000, 11:45 am on the 23rd of December.

     The Eighth Vocational High School, JN District, Jinling City, Sudong Province, China

     Senior two (6) class

     A teenager suddenly woke up from a sleeping position on his stomach on his desk.

     On the podium, the math teacher was pointing at a question on the blackboard.

     Given log3(x-2y)+log3(x+2y)=1+log3x+log3y, find the value of log2x-log2y...

     The math teacher threw away the chalk, and then looked around, staring at the boy, pointing his finger at him.

     "You, Chen Nuo! You come up to solve it."

     The boy's gaze was blank, he slowly focused, looked at his surrounding classmates, looked at the classroom, and then at the blackboard...

     The afternoon sun, the shabby classroom, the white walls...

     Looking at the series of math problems on the blackboard...

     "Emmmm... this is really... hell..."

     The young man suddenly sighed with a wry smile. The eyes are as bright as stars.

     Half a lifetime away, come back...

     Still a teenager.