January 2011, Las Vegas Airport murder case, the next day. Song Jiahao found Fu Ming, three hours ago.
United States of America, somewhere in New York.
A man with an oriental face wearing a windbreaker walked into the lobby of a hotel. He took off his woolen hat, patted the snow on his body, and strode towards the front desk.
The time now is noon, and the female receptionist inside the front desk is drowsy. Although the weather outside is relatively cold, and New York is also in the midst of a snowstorm, the air conditioner in the room is turned on fully, and the floor-to-ceiling glass windows are shrouded in fog, reflecting the reflection.
The light allowed people inside the room to see only the hazy scenery outside.
"Miss, have you ever seen this person?" The Eastern man took out a photo from his arms and photographed it on the table.
His voice woke up the female receptionist at the front desk.
"I'm sorry, sir. I can only say that I don't know." The female receptionist spread her hands. "We have to keep the customer's information confidential. This is his personal privacy."
"In other words, this person does live here?" The man sneered. "Thank you very much!"
The female receptionist looked at the man with a different look as he walked into the elevator. Before he could call the security personnel, the elevator door had already closed.
The moment the female receptionist hesitated, the man had already found the name and room number he wanted to see on the record book under the female receptionist's hand. He saw the female receptionist glance down, and
The record book inside the counter is right where the receptionist is looking.
This kind of little trick is really commonplace for this man. After the man stepped out of the elevator, he stopped in front of the house number. He reached out and knocked on the door, but there was no movement inside.
Just when he sighed and was about to turn around and leave, the door to the room creaked open from the inside.
"Song Jiahao, you are indeed here." The man sighed. This hotel was where he and Song Jiahao stayed when they last came to New York to perform a mission. As a safe house, it still attracted little attention. Since yesterday, Las Vegas
After the Vegas Airport incident, Song Jiahao suddenly disappeared without a trace. People in the organization were guessing that he must have come here.
The man knows Song Jiahao very well, they are the closest comrades-in-arms.
"Old Han, you're finally here!" Song Jiahao quickly turned around and packed his things. He also planned to burn everything related to him, including towels. He would not leave any personal information here.
, including DNA. "Has the organization found a way to get out of here? Oh my god, I don't even dare to make a phone call, CIA is going crazy now!"
The man's name is Han Yongbing, he is a comrade who has accompanied Song Jiahao for two years, and can be regarded as his leader and master. He understands all the behavioral characteristics of Song Jiahao, because he taught Song Jiahao all these. Han Yongbing looked at what was happening
Song Jiahao, who was busy destroying the traces he left behind, slowly frowned.
"How did things develop to this extent? Why were you stopped by airport security personnel when you were trying to do something?"
Song Jiahao said without looking back. "How do I know! No one else stopped me, but they stopped me! It's unlucky for people to have cold water stuck in their teeth. Don't talk about it, how can we leave here?" Song Jiahao
Having almost prepared all his things, he just needed a fire to burn them all. He put all his things, including towels and other clothes, into the bathtub, and poured extremely volatile water over them.
Lighter kerosene, kerosene is very cheap, only a few dollars a bottle, you can buy it casually, but it is enough to burn these things. When it is almost burned, just rinse it with hot water from the shower, and nothing will be left.
Next. He wiped almost everything clean to make sure there were no fingerprints left. Even his shoes were deliberately one size too big.
Song Jiahao turned around and said, "Borrow me a light!" When he turned his face completely, the sight in front of him shocked him.
Han Yongbing was holding an M1911 pistol and pointing it at his head.
"Old Han, what do you mean?" Song Jiahao looked at Han Yongbing with an incredible look.
"Xiao Song, I'm sorry..." Han Yongbing frowned, but the gun in his hand was trembling. "We can't take you away, there really is no way. The whole territory is blocked, in order not to leak the secret
...I can only do this. This is a task assigned to me by my superiors. Soldiers have to obey orders as their bounden duty." The corners of Han Yongbing's mouth were twitching. Although this was an order, he still couldn't immediately follow Song Jiahao's orders.
He shot while his back was turned. He felt that even if Song Jiahao wanted to die, he could not let him die inexplicably.
"I knew from the beginning that this way of serving would not end well, but I really didn't expect that I would die in the hands of one of my own people, and I really didn't expect that the person who killed me would be you.
!" Song Jiahao sighed and shook his head. He took out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it for himself. "You can't do it."
After Han Yongbing heard this, he trembled again.
"If you are really so cold-blooded, when my back is turned to you, you can shoot and blow my head off. I won't even have time to react. You can't do it." Song Jiahao finally sighed.
"The organization sent you here to leave me a way to survive. Because they know you can't do it, you will let me go, I will disappear and hide my identity, and I will live for the rest of my life."
Han Yongbing put down his pistol and lowered his head. "Before I came here, I had already thought about what to do. But, Xiao Song, you are my brother!" Han Yongbing walked to the window and opened the curtains.
Perhaps the following scene is normal in the eyes of ordinary people. But in the eyes of Han Yongbing, something is wrong. "The organizational considerations have been very thorough. We are not willing to give up any of our comrades..."
Han Yongbing has been in the organization for seven or eight years. He has killed everyone from eighty-year-old women to five-year-old children.
There are no principles, no bottom line, no benevolence and morality, only loyalty, only orders, and only interests. Han Yongbing would have doubts about those so-called orders at the beginning, but now, all he can do is obey. He is a machine, if not
With this incident, Song Jiahao is about to become a machine, a killing machine.
Dealing with terrorists, capturing key intelligence criminals, assassinating defectors, and retaliating against the families of spies in other countries are all things they have done. They are a group of people who do not exist, whether it is the military, the police, or domestic
No one abroad will recognize their identity.
They do not have any law enforcement power, and what they do will not be legally recognized even in China. They are people walking in a gray area. They can only survive by relying on their own abilities. Even if they see domestic
The policemen all hid and walked away.
The organization will not provide them with any protection.
"I want to let you go, but some people don't want to let you go!" Han Yongbing wiped the fog on the glass window and looked at the heavy snow outside the window and the pedestrians hurriedly walking on the street despite the heavy snow. He noticed that two cars were parked.
At an intersection not far from this hotel, every ten seconds, a Westerner would get out of the car.
Those people looked very ordinary and were dressed very casually, but they were different from passers-by. Most of the passers-by had snow on their bodies, but they had just got off the car and looked very clean.
A total of six people came down and walked into the hotel door without exception.
In fact, CIA did not want to make this matter too big. The person who died was a defector. In order to provide the US government with intelligence about the Chinese military, the news media hid this fact, which prevented the US government from sending everyone to find it.
The killer is Song Jiahao. They can only come here secretly to deceive others.
If you can't deceive others, at least you can favor yourself.
Han Yongbing took out another pistol that he had already prepared, and just handed it to Song Jiahao when he heard a knock on the door outside. He slowly walked towards the door.
Song Jiahao checked the magazine, pulled the bolt of the gun, and loaded the bullet with a click. He pointed the muzzle of the gun at the wooden door, preparing to shoot through it.
It is impossible to have room service at this time. Even if the CIA people find a waiter to trick the door into opening, they can only blame the waiter for being unlucky. After all, compared to the waiter's life, Song Jiahao is still
I feel that my life is more precious.
But before Song Jiahao could pull the trigger, there was just a bang, and the door was blown open from the outside with golden sparks. Smoke and dust flew everywhere. Song Jiahao and Han Yongbing were stunned for a few seconds.
Only then did he come back to his senses.
"Smoke bomb!" Han Yongbing looked at the cylindrical object rolling on the ground, and smoke continued to flow out from the object.
Song Jiahao covered his nose with his left hand, raised the gun with his right hand and decisively pulled the trigger. The bullet flew not far before hitting the first CIA officer who ran out of the smoke.
The CIA member fell to the ground without even a cry. He was lying on the ground twitching continuously, and he couldn't see clearly how much blood was on the ground.
"You go first, I'll cover!" Han Yongbing also fired continuously into the smoke. A painful scream came from the smoke, and then the bullet flew out of the smoke again, grazing Han Yongbing's head.
He flew out. "You used to always cover me, this time it's me!"
Song Jiahao gritted his teeth. He didn't care about being polite at this time. He looked back at Han Yongbing who was constantly changing magazines. Han Yongbing's cover position was indeed better than his own. And since he was closer to the window, he had a higher chance of escaping.
.
"Old Han, take care!" Song Jiahao turned around and shouted, directly broke the window, jumped from the third floor, and then hit the roof of a car hard, making the car whine as he smashed it.
The windshield was all broken. He rolled down from the car and was covered in mud and water. Because it was snowing, the cars on the road were not going very fast. Several cars stopped in front of him, and the driver stuck out his head.
He cursed loudly, but when he saw Song Jiahao still holding a gun in his hand, he didn't dare to speak anymore.
Song Jiahao looked up at the room, but heard a gunshot behind him, and then a heartbreaking pain came from his waist, almost making him faint.
He subconsciously turned back to fight back, and two bullets flew about ten meters with a roar, and the enemy fell to the ground. "There are indeed people down there!" In normal times, he would definitely have noticed whether there was anyone down there, but now, he was too worried.
Han Yongbing was in such a predicament that he was distracted for a few seconds.
If within these few seconds, the CIA officer's marksmanship had been more accurate, the bullet would not have hit Song Jiahao's waist.
He desperately covered his wound to stop the bleeding, but blood continued to seep out from between his fingers. He knew that no one could help him now. In his mind, he suddenly remembered the man he bumped into at the airport yesterday.
that person.
He remembered that it was an Asian face with a Chinese flavor.
Han Yongbing was still struggling to hold on in the room, with only one bullet left. He originally wanted to keep this bullet for himself, but an oval-shaped object rolled out from the smoke and slowly stopped in his head.
Underfoot.
Fragmentation grenade, he knew that he no longer needed the last bullet.
The grenade exploded under his feet, and the atmosphere caused by the explosion made the whole room a mess. The smoke emitted by the smoke bomb was also shaken away by the shock wave. Even the window frames of the two dilapidated windows were shaken.
It fell, and broken glass was scattered on the sidewalk below the window. Pedestrians stopped and watched the explosion, and some were still taking pictures with their mobile phones.
A CIA officer raised a pistol and pointed it at Han Yongbing's head. He slowly walked over and kicked the pistol out of Han Yongbing's hand. Han Yongbing's body was beyond recognition, his clothes were all black, and his head and chest were covered with...
There was still blood oozing out, the wound was deep, and blood flowed all over the floor.
Even so, this CIA officer still shot Han Yongxin twice in the chest. Because Han Yongxin killed four CIA officers in the previous battle, and this was still under the obstruction of smoke.
Song Jiahao staggered along the path to avoid being discovered. He saw a parking lot, stole a car skillfully, and sat in the driver's seat. Then he sighed and used the rag of his shirt.
He bandaged his wounds with fragments and tried his best to stop the bleeding.
Not far away, there was a dull explosion. Song Jiahao's hand shook, and the bandage was too strong. The wound hurt and he grinned. He probably knew what happened.