Chapter 437 DSS Diplomatic Security Bureau Asks for a Monthly Ticket
September 9th.
10 o'clock in the morning.
There had been no outbound missions for more than a week, and for safety reasons they were not allowed to go out. The six-man GRS team, which was almost getting moldy after staying at the base, was all called into the conference room.
It was a video conference call, and on the other side of the TV screen was the head of GRS, Glen Doherty.
When all the participants arrived, Grandoherty entered the meeting agenda and said: "Ambassador Stevens arrived in Benghazi from Tripoli yesterday morning, and he has moved into the temporary residence of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs."
"Why not let him come to us? The intelligence station is safer in every way." Tyrone asked.
"This ambassador is not a casual politician. He is serious. He truly believes in the power of diplomacy. If he wants to win the hearts and minds of Libyans, he cannot do it in a secret station that does not exist." Grandoherty
explained.
Intelligence work has always been secretive, and the CIA's intelligence station here has never been made public.
The nearby Libyans only knew that it was rented by an American and that there were already some Americans living there.
The real identities of the Americans living here are unknown to the Libyans.
"Ambassador Stevens and the State Department's personnel are forced to live in the temporary consulate. What does it have to do with us?" Tanto complained sharply.
Tantuo's complaint was also a question for everyone, and Long Zhan and others looked at the TV screen curiously.
Granducherty continued to explain: "In order to win the hearts and minds of the Libyan people, the ambassador showed a friendly attitude and did not bring a large group of people. He was only accompanied by a three-person DSS security team.
Unlike you, the security personnel of the State Department are very familiar with the environment here. The ambassador originally insisted on hiring a local driver, but it took a lot of effort to persuade him to give up."
"you mean……"
Long Zhan frowned and guessed, "Should we be the drivers and nannies?"
"That's right."
Granducherty nodded, winked and joked: "A driver who has received professional training, has comprehensive abilities, and receives a high salary."
"The stationmaster won't agree. He won't let us do anything at all. He just wants to keep us at the intelligence station and guard his one-third of an acre of land." Oz complained.
"It's okay if he doesn't agree. Someone at a higher level will ask him to do so. The ambassador should enjoy the highest treatment. We at GRS are the highest level here."
[To be honest, I have been using Yeguo to read and catch up on books recently. I can switch sources and read aloud with many sounds. www. Android and Apple are available.]
Granducherty said it very confidently, and it was actually true.
The GRS, composed of special forces and outstanding veterans, is at the ceiling level in terms of capabilities in this country whose regime was overthrown by militias.
"Okay, when do we start taking action?" Teague asked.
"You can go over now to learn about the situation at the station and meet with the ambassador so that follow-up work can be carried out," Granducherty said.
"OK, let's do it."
Tyrone stood up, clapped his hands, and arranged: "Gibran and Oz come with me. We will go to the temporary consulate, and the others will stay at the intelligence station."
As Tyrone's mission was handed down, the video and telephone conference came to an end, and everyone got up and dismissed the meeting.
The Ministry of Foreign Affairs station is not far from the intelligence station, the straight-line distance is only 1.5 miles.
Long Zhan, Tyrone and Oz set out in a Mercedes-Benz SUV, drove along the empty city streets, and arrived at the temporary consulate in less than 10 minutes.
Except for the Libyan militiamen they met on the road, they all spit at their cars and showed strong hostility.
There were no other accidents, and no one followed to cause trouble.
However, there was a noisy situation at the gate of the temporary consulate. A dozen Somali militiamen were arguing around an American with a gun.
While a security guard was using a detector to check the vehicle for explosives.
Long Zhan rolled down the car window a little and roughly heard the reason for the quarrel.
The ambassador only brought three DSS with him this time, and could not guarantee the safety of the temporary consulate at all, so he hired a group of militiamen from the February 17th Martyrs Brigade, which had reached an agreement to cooperate with the US government, to do security work.
Now the militiamen think their wages are too low and will go on strike if they are not given a wage increase.
Tyrone handed the pass out of the car window and handed it to the security personnel who came to check the certificate. He tilted his head and said: "These people are from the February 17th Martyrs Brigade. Isn't it very interesting that they can quarrel with the boss while at work?"
"
"If you can only get 28 dollars a day to protect Americans, and you have to bring your own bullets and weapons, I would definitely be very unhappy and give up my job long ago."
Long Zhan relayed the information he heard from the noise in an entertaining way.
His current salary is 1,200 yuan a day, which he still feels is a bit low.
A salary of 28 yuan a day...
Long Zhan would rather sleep at home!
"Bang~bang~"
The security personnel who used instruments to check the vehicle patted the hood twice with their hands, and then made a gesture with their hands to indicate that they could drive in.
"These guys are unreliable at first sight. It's a waste of money to hire them as security guards."
Oz, who was in charge of driving, was very disdainful and looked down upon this group of Libyan militiamen. He started the vehicle and passed through the slowly opened gate.
There were many people inside the temporary embassy, including aunties and uncles who were cleaning the place.
"welcome!"
The off-road vehicle Long Zhan was riding in was parked at the door of the main building. An American who appeared to be of Indian descent came down the stairs with a fat black man.
The most distinctive feature of the two men is that they have shaved off all their beards, leaving only the two patches on their upper lips.
It looks a bit funny.
Being able to stay here like masters, and even taking the initiative to receive Long Zhan and his party, the true identities of the two people have been revealed.
Assigned by the State Department as an agent from DSS, the U.S. Diplomatic Security Service.
"Are you competing to grow a beard?" Tyrone, who was walking in front, joked.
"We're betting $100 on who can grow the longest in a month."
The Indian-looking agent touched his beard, stretched out his right hand and introduced: "I am Scott Wickland, an agent of the Diplomatic Security Service."
The fat black man also extended his hand and introduced himself: "Dave Urban, nice to meet you."
"Tyrone Woods."
As a representative, Tyrone shook hands with the two of them and introduced Long Zhan and Oz one by one without any trouble.
"The Ambassador has something to do. He is not here for the time being. I will show you around first."
Scott warmly invited Long Zhan and his party, led them all the way into the hall, opened his hands and said: "Take a look, isn't it beautiful?"
The layout of the lobby is indeed very luxurious, as if you have walked into a British classical mansion.
Various famous paintings can be seen everywhere on the walls, the crystal lamps on the ceiling seem to be free, and even the carpets on the floor are expensive.