The four Libyan armed militiamen present here are not professional soldiers, let alone orphans. They have families, parents, wives and children just like ordinary people.
What a terrifying war power the U.S. government possesses, and what horrific "offensives" it has carried out.
People in war-torn countries know this better than anyone.
Hearing Tyrone's threat, and the fact that his life was already in Long Zhan's hands, the middle-aged man's expression turned ugly.
However, due to the issue of face, I could not embarrass myself in front of my younger brother, so I forced myself to show off and said: "I have the right to choose for myself, and I can pay for my country..."
"Really?"
Long Zhan interrupted him and mocked: "Even if you can give your life for your country, will your wife, children and parents be willing?
If your whole family, young and old, died, do you think your death would still be meaningful?
No, it won't. When you die, someone will soon take your place and occupy your house and money. No one will remember you. "
Long Zhan's words were very direct and explicit, completely tearing off the disguise of the middle-aged man in the hat.
In order to save his own life and allow his family and friends to live a few more days, the middle-aged man finally chose to lose face.
"You won't be so lucky next time."
After weakly threatening Long Zhan, the middle-aged man in the hat waved his hand forward.
The armed militiamen who had blocked the exit of the alley obediently gave way, and the cars blocked in front began to flee one after another.
Soon, there was no longer any vehicle blocking the road in front of Long Zhan's jeep.
"You made a smart decision."
Long Zhan patted the middle-aged Hao Ma on the face, ignored the middle-aged Hao Ma's eyes that almost burst into flames, and easily threw him out with one hand, slamming him into the alley wall.
Tyrone put the handbrake in gear and stepped on the accelerator, and the jeep spewed black smoke and rushed out of the alley.
Only the angry armed militiamen were left, helplessly watching the jeep leave.
The threat of attack drones mentioned by Tyrone will kill their relatives, which is too much of a deterrent to these militiamen.
No one wants to risk the lives of his entire family for two people who have no grudges or grudges.
The jeep rushed out of the alley and drove quickly towards the center of the city under the driving of Tyrone. Long Zhan asked curiously: "Do we really have an attack drone?"
"There's no support whatsoever. This is the poorest intelligence station I've ever been in." Tyrone complained.
"All right."
Long Zhan curled his lips and didn't ask any more questions.
It has been several years since the outbreak of the Libyan civil war to its current end, and the government agencies of various countries in Libya have basically been abolished.
The facilities and institutions that the United States maintains in Libya are basically temporary.
Temporary means that the preparations will not be very sufficient, there will not be a large amount of material and financial investment, and it cannot be officially compared in many aspects.
Even if the CIA's intelligence station in Libya has drones, the number will be very limited.
When the number of drones is limited, more consideration will be given to the selection of surveillance targets, and there will be no need to photograph a few armed militiamen on the roadside.
In other words, this group of militiamen know nothing and are easy to deceive. Anyone with a little professional knowledge will find that there are many loopholes.
…
A few minutes later.
The jeep passed through the city center and entered the CIA's Benghazi station next to a ranch on the edge of the city.
This is a "private place" that covers an area of several thousand square meters and has a swimming pool and four independent one-story flat-roofed buildings. It is surrounded by high walls and electrical grids and is highly guarded 24 hours a day.
The security personnel outside the high wall wearing casual clothes or even slippers and wandering around with guns are armed militiamen from the February 17th Martyrs Brigade.
The combat effectiveness of these people is so low that they are not even qualified to enter the door.
"Man, look at these new goods, the sale of Gaddafi armored vehicles, and all kinds of luxury cars over there, all kinds of models. We made a lot of money because they were stolen, hahaha."
Tyrone introduced the car to Long Zhan enthusiastically. After the jeep stopped and got out of the car, he threw the key to the CIA agent next to him and said, "I drove the car at the airport, so remember to check it carefully."
"Is this the case where people who are close to vermilion are red, and those who are close to ink are black?"
Long Zhan was very surprised to see that a former Navy SEAL could do such meticulous counterintelligence work after spending some time in GRS.
"Come, come here, I'll take you to see the boss."
Tyrone waved to Long Zhan and strode towards a house on the right.
Long Zhan followed and opened the door and walked into the hall. He found that there were more than 10 CIA intelligence personnel inside, working intensively on various matters.
Some people are on the phone, some are listening, and some are tinkering on the computer.
Intelligence is a very complex job, involving more fields and levels than special forces, and it is also a job that requires more meticulousness and patience.
Long Zhan already has two CIA "associates", one is a senior agent and the other is a senior intelligence officer. It can be said that they know the work of the CIA quite well.
Without stopping too much along the way, I walked through the hall and arrived at the innermost office.
Tyrone opened the door and walked in carelessly, shouting to the bald middle-aged man sitting behind the desk: "Boss, do you have time now?"
"This guy must be the head of this intelligence station."
Long Zhan walked in and looked at him secretly, not rushing up to say hello.
"I don't want to hear you complain."
The bald stationmaster said impatiently, obviously already aware of the "quarrel" between Tyrone and the headquarters commander on the way back.
"You built this secret spy base with iron walls and monitors, but all kinds of blue-eyed Westerners come in and out here all day long. If you want to avoid international incidents, let me command my team."
Regardless of whether the webmaster wanted it or not, Tyrone walked directly to the desk and said it.
"Local conflicts are resolved by local people. This is the first rule given to us by the State Council. We are foreigners, foreigners who are not welcomed by the locals. We are spies, and you are bodyguards. Your job is to protect us, not to go there." stir up trouble."
The bald webmaster also spoke in a low tone, and had completely different views from Tyrone.
"Yes, we are bodyguards, and I am the bodyguard captain, so please do me a favor and give me all my people, and I will take full command." Tyrone requested.
"You are very good at making yourself fat and strong, but you don't know how to obey orders."
The bald webmaster finished speaking unhappily, opened the drawer and took out a stack of documents, waved his hand to Long Zhan and said: "New big guy, come here and sign this document, and you will work here from now on."
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