If that's all, he must thank the only Holy Father, but whoever thinks that working ten hours a day will be done, then he must be too naive.

"Ding Ding Ding..."

Gibson, who had finally fallen asleep after taking some medicine, was woken up by the troubled phone ringtone. He opened his blood-red eyes in pain and grabbed the phone at the head of the bed. The dim 2.4-inch screen on it was showing an incoming call number.

Ah, yes, this call number has almost become the source of his nightmare in the past six months.

Resisting the urge to throw away your phone, Gibson answered the phone: "Matt, can't you let me sleep peacefully? I put a banana in your toilet toilet, so you always call me?"

"Then I have to thank you for this banana, which prevents me from continuing to suffer from constipation. I have time to tell me where you bought the banana... But now, you are about to get up."

Matt Curtis was unapologetic across the phone: "I'm already outside your house."

"Oh shit."

Gibson complained, hung up the phone, grabbed a piece of clothing next to him and put it on, then picked up the necessary documents, and then walked out the door.

The heavy rain outside was still continuing. On such a late night, a black SUV outside the door was parked outside the lawn, and it was just a little short of suppressing the curb.

Needless to say, looking at this parking technology, there is no one else except Matt Curtis.

In the heavy rain, Gibson opened the passenger's car door and sat on it, "What's the emergency? I thought I could have a good sleep today... I worked for several days in a row, would I want me to die suddenly? The criminals would die of laughter. The staff of the BVF were not killed by them, but died suddenly at the workplace... Of course, I know that this would not appear in the newspaper the next day."

"Listen, you can say this to me, but don't continue to say these words in Seri. You know, that guy Ruffalo is a stingy guy. He has long been dissatisfied with you saying bad things about him behind your back."

Matt Curtis, who stepped on the accelerator and rushed into the invasion of the heavy rain, almost lost all his hair, held the steering wheel and did not forget to advise Gibson.

"If I could help me make up my mind to get rid of the matter, I might be grateful to our director."

Gibson shook the rain on his clothes and said sarcastically.

"This is a good job. I know that jobs are not easy, but which job can be both easy and earn a lot of rewards?"

Curtis said.

"That's too much. With my conditions, the rich girls in Eliza Street will fight for me... Don't look at me with that look. I have this opportunity before half of my hair falls off." Gibson paused, "Actually, it's not too late now. No matter how tired I am, I will do ten long-lasting push-ups every day. I have such capital."

The two talked, and after half an hour, the SUV, which had shattered the dark scenes and rainstorms, approached the door of the Military Information and Maintenance Hall.

There are still more than two hours left before working hours in the morning, and there are no people all the way through it, but at the booth in front of the gate, the lights are always on 24 hours a day.

Curtis rolled down the window, guarding the two armed secret service personnel at the booth, illuminated the flashlight and then looked at Curtis and said, "Mr. Curtis, Mr. Gibson... for routine inspection, please open the trunk."

"certainly."

Curtis and Gibson looked at each other and realized that the situation seemed a bit serious, and they had never been so strict before.

The two special service personnel belong to the "Armed Police Special Service" of BVF. They were wearing black and orange striped uniforms with reflective letters printed with the abbreviation of BVF. They were extremely reflective in the dark night and could be seen from a distance. In Priscilla, citizens' deepest and most popular impression of BVF is probably from these special service armed police. Generally, where these special service armed police appear, things that ordinary police cannot solve, must involve homeland security.

A special service armed policeman stood in front of the driver's seat. Although he knew Gibson and the other two, he still paid attention to their every move. He held the flashlight in his left hand and grabbed the handle of the gun holster at his waist with his right hand.

Another special service armed policeman quickly walked to the open trunk, twisted the flashlight, looked through the trunk for a while, then squatted down and glanced at the bottom of the car. After confirming that it was safe, he gestured to his companion in front of him.

"Okay, Mr. Curtis, Mr. Gibson, you can go in."

After checking correctly, the anti-collision lifting column in front slowly leveled down, and Curtis continued to drive into the gate.

"The inspection tonight is much stricter than before. Look at their nervous look just now, is there some big shot?"

"Maybe it."

Gibson didn't put his mind here. After the parking was finished, they got off the car and found that two armed secret service personnel with guns were standing in front of the elevator gate of the underground parking lot.

"Good evening, Mr. Curtis, Mr. Gibson."

The two armed secret service personnel seemed to know them and greeted them friendly.

Gibson and the others smiled back until they walked into the elevator and looked at each other in surprise, feeling the solemn atmosphere.

The elevator that rises from the underground parking lot cannot reach the fourth floor directly, and can even reach the first floor. Here, there will be an armed special service staff on duty waiting here on weekdays, but now there are four people.

The two of them walked into another elevator in a hurry in their "eyeful eyes".

"I feel like a prisoner."

Curtis took a deep breath.

"Maybe they just treat us as prisoners first."

Gibson pinched his temples, his tired eyes betrayed him, he was already too sleepy at this time.

Fourth floor, BVF Operational Intelligence and Technology Department.

Unlike other floors, even in the middle of the night, there were many people working overtime and on duty in the Operational Intelligence Technology Department. However, in the memory of Gibson working here, he had never seen so many people working overtime at night behind the elevator door that was opened.

It feels like I'm at work normally during the day.

"Matt, Carl, you guys..."

A staff member holding the documents saw the two and pointed to the conference room across the corridor: "The meeting is in progress, and you are on the list, be careful, the director is here too."

Director?

The two showed a look of surprise. They had never attended the night meeting chaired by the director.

Don't dare to delay, move forward quickly.

A staff member was waiting at the door of the conference room. When they saw the two of them coming, they nodded and reached out to open the door.

As soon as I entered, I only listened to a loud talk.

The congressman table was filled with BVF's senior management. On both sides of the congressman table, there were two circles of chairs. They were elite personnel from various departments, with at least fifty or sixty people.

As soon as they came in, they attracted everyone's attention. Looking at the two late guys, some sneered and some expressionless. The former is mostly elites from various departments, while the latter is senior executives.
Chapter completed!