madnovel Chapter 114 The Prototype of "Black Water"
Chapter 114 The Prototype of "Black Water"
Chapter 114 The Prototype of "Black Water"
Half an hour later, Qin Han stared dumbfounded at the scene at the villa entrance, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.
A military green Dodge mid-size truck, like a ruthless beast, barged into this peaceful middle-class community.
Fred's Lincoln followed closely behind, and with a sudden stop, the Warner executive was nearly thrown out of the driver's seat.
"Qin! The stuff's here!" He jogged into the yard, panting as he pointed at the truck bed.
A communications soldier dressed in U.S. military uniform and carrying a large canvas bag nimbly jumped down.
Without any unnecessary words, he directly unloaded his backpack on the villa's lawn and took out a complex set of equipment.
"Bill's busy with the Vietnam withdrawal, he's not in Washington. He said some things are too inefficient to handle by telegram, so he just sent a guy and a whole bunch of equipment over."
This was a set of cutting-edge equipment in 1973 that would have made intelligence spies from any country envious—a portable maritime satellite mobile base station.
The enormous folding antenna, resembling a strange metal umbrella, slowly unfolded on the villa's lawn under the skillful pulling of the soldiers.
In this era, there were no satellite phones, let alone mobile phones. The equipment in front of us represents the pinnacle of US military communication technology at that time, capable of transoceanic communication.
The communications soldier moved with practiced ease, and soon the equipment was connected to the power supply, filling the air with the faint, distinctive odor of vacuum tubes being preheated.
"Sir, the link has been locked, and the channel encryption is complete." He took off the heavy headphones on his head, handed a black microphone to Qin Han, took a half step back, saluted, and assumed a standard at-ease stance.
Qin Han took the microphone, secretly admiring General Bill's "pragmatic spirit," and said, "I am Qin Han."
.
A static tone came from the microphone, followed by a two-second pause: "Qin? My friend, you always manage to bring surprises to my boring life."
General Bill's voice came through the receiver, and even though it was halfway around the world, you could tell he was in a good mood. You could even hear the crisp sound of ice cubes hitting a glass.
Qin Han ignored the other party's teasing and recited the code the old general had written to him: "Sir Samuel sends his greetings, old soldier, beach, flame, never die."
""
The sound of ice hitting the ice disappeared instantly.
"My God—" Bill's voice came again, tinged with surprise: "That stubborn old man Samuel, with his foul temper, actually told you this?"
"When I introduced you to him in Hawaii, I just wanted the old man to earn some money for drinks. It seems he already considers you a brother in arms."
"Let's save the small talk for next time we meet, Bill," Qin Han said quickly. "I almost got shot by a .45 caliber bullet on a beach in Hawaii."
"The people who fired the shots were not street thugs, but a well-trained squad."
Over the next five minutes, Qin Han revealed the assassination attempt on the beach, the veterans' counterattack, and the collusion between "Oni-ya Jiro" and Consul Sato, which he extracted from the assassins.
On the other end of the line, Bill's breathing became increasingly heavy.
"Sato? That shorty at the Los Angeles consulate?" He scoffed, his tone noticeably changing. "These guys have been too comfortable on the West Coast. Do they really think that with a few politicians in Washington backing them up, American law is just toilet paper they can use to wipe their asses?"
"Qin, you've really handed me a peerless sword this time."
Qin Han knew very well why Bill on the other end of the phone was so excited.
If we can follow Sato's lead and give the "Japanese clique" within the military and government systems a good talking-to, it will definitely make him very satisfied.
Moreover, there may now be a squad of heavily armed assassins lurking in the United States.
If we can expose these people, those bastards will be humiliated at congressional hearings and may even be forced to resign.
"Leave the surveillance to me. Before dawn, I'll get all the Los Angeles military police and the FBI agents who don't fall for the Japanese tricks up their sleeves in motion. I'll know whether a fly is male or female as soon as it flies out of the consulate."
Bill's voice rose a noticeable octave: "As for you—Qin, I heard from Fred that you're going to buy a fire-breathing guy? I must say, you never disappoint me."
"What I need isn't just a few handguns for self-defense." Qin Han had already clearly outlined the shape of the power that was about to be born in his mind:
The idea is to design a future Blackwater company that can both protect its own people and become a money pit for the wealthy.
"I plan to establish a professional security company. The company will operate completely independently, and I need it to have a quasi-military level of equipment."
A loud whistle came from the other end of the phone.
"Security company? Like the British tricks? In London, there's a veteran who just retired from the Special Air Service named David Sterling."
"That old guy started a company called Guardian International, which recruits all retired special forces soldiers."
These mercenaries are now taking on private jobs all over Africa and the Middle East, doing work that governments can't easily get involved in, and their annual profits are more substantial than those of a medium-sized oil company.
"If you want to replicate this model in Los Angeles—Qin, this deal has great potential. I'd like to take a stake in it personally. I'll cover all the funding, qualifications, and government backing."
"As long as you can secure all the gun licenses and exemptions from inspection, we can sign the equity agreement at any time." Qin Han was very clear-headed; at this critical juncture, money was the least important thing.
What he lacks most right now is a protective umbrella like Bill Gates, one that would allow him to legally open fire on American soil.
"I'll personally compile the weapons list for you." Bill seemed more composed when talking about his expertise: "Don't be fooled by those automatic rifles in Hollywood movies. Under extreme pressure, a recruit will just spray M16 magazines all over the ceiling in three seconds."
"I suggest starting with the Remington 870 shotgun as your primary weapon. For beginners, it offers a higher margin of error than any assault rifle. As for heavy body armor and tactical communication equipment, I'll send them to you through the garrison's disposal facilities and exercise damage 'storage'."
"Once the training instructors from Hawaii land, the military warehouses near Los Angeles will open their doors to you."
"It's a pleasure working with you." Qin Han hung up the phone and tossed the receiver back to the communications soldier.
Fred remained seated on the steps, his arms wrapped around his knees, watching the communications soldier skillfully disassemble the antenna and reel in the cable.
"Qin—" He swallowed hard, his voice trembling slightly, "Judging from what you just said about suppressing firepower—are you really going to fight a war in Hollywood? No way!"
"Of course not, Fred." Qin Han walked to his side and patted his slightly stiff shoulder. "I'm just preparing to clean up the mess, letting those who shouldn't be here stay where they belong—hell!"
The two pushed open the villa's door; everyone was already ready.
Bruce Lee had changed into a black long-sleeved training uniform that was easy to move in, with flat cloth shoes on his feet and a simple travel canvas bag beside him.
Stallone stood in front of the sofa, holding the Rocky script in his hands as if it were a bulletproof vest protecting him from bullets.
Renee shielded young George behind her. Although there was fear in the girl's eyes, there was more calmness and resilience. Clearly, this flight to Hong Kong had matured her considerably.
"Fred, is the pick-up car ready?"
Fred rubbed his cheeks vigorously, reverting to his shrewd and capable producer persona: "Both cars are waiting outside the back door. As for the Sheraton Hotel, I've already contacted the security supervisor and had them vacate two executive suites with security guards."
"Okay, everyone, let's go."
At 2:30 a.m., the streets of Los Angeles were as deserted as a ghost town. Two Ford sedans, without their headlights on, silently drove through the Hollywood neighborhood and into the underground parking garage of the Sheraton Hotel, relying on the dim illumination of the ground lights.
It wasn't until he watched Bruce Lee and his group enter the hotel via the elevator that Qin Han's tense nerves relaxed a little.
"Fred, I'm afraid you'll have to go through this difficult time. I've already asked George to stay out of school and that they should stay indoors as much as possible and avoid the windows."
After settling in, he changed to an inconspicuous Citroën and drove to Chinatown, heading straight to the Chinese Consolidated Benevolent Association.
Seeing that the boss's master had arrived in the middle of the night, the underling who was guarding the place at the door quickly went inside to inform him.
Not long after, Zhou Ruofei, with her hair disheveled, rushed out and asked, "Master, you're back from Hong Kong? Why are you here alone so late? Did something serious happen?"
"Let's talk inside." Qin Han put his arm around his apprentice's shoulder and quickly went inside.
Soon, several underlings brought over some brewed hot tea, leaving only the master and apprentice in the room.
Looking at his apprentice, whose mind was full of questions, Qin Han took a sip of hot tea and said with a smile, "Ruofei, do you want the brothers of the 'Joey Gang' to spend their whole lives holed up in Chinatown, making a living by collecting protection money and selling smuggled cigarettes?"
Zhou Ruofei chuckled self-deprecatingly: "Master, do you think I don't want to lead the brothers on the right path? But once we leave Chinatown, it's white people's territory. If we insist on not getting involved in illegal activities, it's just too difficult to leave."
"Then I'll give you a chance now," Qin Han said solemnly. "I'm going to set up an armed security company. Several reliable instructors are already on their way, and a batch of US military equipment will arrive soon."
"I need you to do one thing right now: pick thirty of the toughest, most disciplined, and absolutely loyal men from Joey's gang to form the company's first core team."
Zhou Ruofei's breathing quickened for a moment as she looked up at Qin Han, as if trying to confirm whether she was having a ridiculous dream.
"US military equipment? And instructors?" A barely suppressed rage ignited in his eyes: "Master, you mean—we're going to act like those legitimate security groups, carrying guns?"
"It's not just about carrying guns." Qin Han put his hand on his apprentice's shoulder and said seriously, "Besides protecting Mr. Bruce Lee's safety, you will have a steady stream of orders and endless money in the future."
"But I also need to make the danger clear to you: a group of Japanese far-right extremists carrying heavy weapons have infiltrated Los Angeles. Their target is very clear: the lives of me and your master's master."
The wildfire in Zhou Ruofei's eyes instantly turned into a chilling killing intent.
Without any hesitation, he knelt down on one knee before Qin Han with a "plop": "Master! What kind of danger is this? This is Los Angeles, do you think we'd let the Japanese devils ride roughshod over us?"
"I'll gather all the core members immediately and spread the word!" he growled through gritted teeth. "If they dare to show their faces, the brothers will beat them to death with their fists."
"You—stand up. I don't want you to fight to the death. You need to change this mindset of street brawling."
Qin Han pulled him up and earnestly instructed, "The enemy is a suicide squad, and they have equipment. What do you have to fight them with?"
"Have the brothers spread out and work in shifts around the clock. If they see any suspicious Japanese faces, report to me immediately."
"Remember, I want intelligence, not to trade our brothers' lives for the enemy's bullets."