What Long Zhan said was reasonable and reasonable, coupled with Tyrone's inner attack, the stationmaster's eyes began to wander, and his stubborn ideas began to waver.
"Intelligence station, we need help. If you don't come here, we will all die here."
At this critical moment, Scott from the consulate sent a request for help.
It's equivalent to an assist.
Tyrone, who had been threatened by the webmaster with breach of contract and did not dare to act without permission, saw the webmaster's wavering and completely let go due to Scott's request for help.
He turned around and walked towards the car, shouting at everyone: "Go to hell, get in the car, let's go."
"Amao, get in the car."
The GRS team couldn't wait for a long time. After hearing Tyrone's instructions, they all got on the bus. Long Zhan even pulled the Libyan translator who was in a daze before getting on the bus.
"Amao, you are not allowed to leave here."
The webmaster did not stop the GRS team from leaving. He had obviously made a compromise and stopped Amao from leaving out of shame.
"Amao, get in the car, hurry up, we have to go."
Tyrone, who had already sat in the car, shouted loudly through the car window.
Amao hesitated because the stationmaster stopped him. Since he didn't want to offend either party, he basically lost his autonomy. He reflexively opened the back door and got in.
"Amao, you bastard, I'm going to fire you."
"A bunch of damn bastards, you are not allowed to leave, stop now."
The stationmaster stood there and roared, but did not walk over to block the car like before, watching as the convoy started and drove out of the gate.
At this time, the time has reached 10:03 pm, nearly half an hour since the attack.
"The webmaster seems to be furious. When the ambassador comes back, he will definitely terminate the contract. I'm going to find a job selling insurance."
Long Zhan's mentality is still so stable, and he is still in the mood to joke before danger.
The total number of times he has been on the battlefield in his two lifetimes cannot be described as having experienced hundreds of battles. At least he started in Qianzhan, and going to the battlefield has become as familiar as drinking water. It is difficult for Long Zhan's mentality to be unstable.
"Money can't make me do things without conscience. Those bastards are waiting to be slaughtered by us."
Tyrone was much more tense in comparison. He was driving with his eyes straight ahead, his expression extremely solemn, and still revealing a cold murderous intent.
"Tripoli, we are in a critical situation, please find a way to help us."
"GRS, have you set off?"
"Damn it, damn it, the fire's getting in, we need to move somewhere."
As calls for help continued to come from the car radio, Tyrone became increasingly anxious and controlled the car to run as fast as possible.
10:09.
1.5 miles is not very far at all, and the convoy drove close to the temporary consulate in a few minutes.
However, at an intersection more than 200 meters away from the consulate, a group of armed Libyan militiamen set up a checkpoint and blocked the road.
The Libyan militia armed forces located in Benghazi are numerous, chaotic and without any signs.
The militiamen blocking this intersection are members of an organization that is hard to tell at first glance.
Since there was an armed pickup truck parked on the roadside and a powerful W85 anti-aircraft machine gun mounted on the back compartment, Tyrone had no way to force his way through and could only stop at a safe distance of about 10 meters.
"The Martyrs Brigade knows we are coming on February 17th."
Teague, who was sitting in the back seat of the off-road vehicle, put his head between the two front seats and frowned at the militiamen in front of him through the windshield.
Long Zhan, who was sitting in the passenger seat, said abruptly: "Are you sure they are the February 17th Martyrs Brigade? Not accomplices of the attackers?"
The location where this group of militiamen appeared was indeed very shaky, making it impossible to distinguish friend from enemy.
It is possible that the February 17th Martyrs Brigade came to support, but felt that it was not worth risking their own lives to save Americans, so they stopped here to watch.
It is also possible that the Taliban religious group that attacked specifically set up roadblocks here to provide cover for the attackers.
Because of the possibility that he was an enemy, Tyrone did not get out of the car rashly. Instead, he sat in the car and watched, collecting some information for reference.
In this way, even if you really encounter enemies, the bulletproof off-road vehicle can help them evacuate from the intersection.
"Tyrone, what happened to you?" the stationmaster asked over the radio.
The vehicles used by the CIA were all equipped with GPS positioning. Through the monitoring equipment in the intelligence station, the station commander could see that the convoy suddenly stopped on the road before it reached the consulate.
"We were about 200 meters away from the front door, and someone set up a roadblock to block the road."
Tyrone looked at the militiamen beside the roadblock, shouted and waved in the direction of the convoy, and at the same time picked up his mobile phone to reply to the stationmaster.
Long Zhan understood Arabic and understood that these soldiers were saying there was danger ahead and told them to leave quickly.
After hearing these shoutings, Long Zhan was basically at a loss.
"They are shouting for us to leave the danger zone. They are most likely people from the Martyrs Brigade on February 17. They dare not go there because they are afraid of death, so they only dare to stop here and wait and see." Long Zhan said to Tyrone.
It happened that the station commander also asked on the radio at this time: "Are they allies? The February 17 Martyrs Brigade? Or are they blockers of the Islamic Sharia?"
"It's impossible to judge accurately. We're evaluating it, and no one is wearing uniforms here."
Tyrone replied conservatively to the webmaster, but with Long Zhan's reminder, he felt a little more confident, opened the car door and walked out.
"Come down, Amao, it's your turn." Tyrone opened the back seat door and said.
"I didn't come here to be killed. Are you sure you want me to pass? Let me reiterate again, I am not a combat interpreter."
Amao was really scared and got out of the car hesitantly and reluctantly, his hands trembling.
"I'll accompany you there."
Long Zhan saw that he was so cowardly and worried about bad things, so he simply opened the car door and got out.
With Long Zhan, who looked like a humanoid Mount Tai, by his side, Amao, who was only about 1.7 meters thin and as thin as a stick, finally received a shot in the arm.
"Just go ahead calmly. I'm here to ensure that nothing happens to you."
Long Zhan held a light machine gun in his right hand and pressed his left hand on Amao's shoulder. He half pushed and half pushed Amao towards the roadblock ahead.
With Long Zhan's "tough" appearance and strength, he really has the confidence to say such "big words".
The militiamen at the roadblock saw that the people getting off the car had weapons in their hands and did not take any warning actions, which further confirmed Long Zhan's suspicion.
[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.]
There is only the February 17th Martyrs Brigade in Benghazi, and they will not react when they see Americans with guns.
The two of them arrived at the road station smoothly. The militia leader with a slicked back hair walked out of the militia group and took the initiative to negotiate with Long Zhan and Amao.