Conan: Begins to collaborate with Miss Bayonetta and become famous

Chapter 785 Don’t even think about taking off without my permission

The dusk was as dark as ink, enveloping the Ramstein Air Base in Germany.

The apron was empty and solemn. A massive military transport plane lay quietly in the center like a dormant steel behemoth, its cold metal shell glowing faintly in the darkness.

The hangar door was half open, revealing a faint light from inside, like the half-open eye of a giant beast.

In the distance, the silhouettes of several military transport planes loomed in the deepening night, like silent sentinels.

A black car glided silently in front of a man in a suit, its taillights flashing twice in the twilight and then going out.

The car door opened, and Baijiu, dressed in a neat black suit, stepped out of the car with an upright posture and strode towards the man - the Minister of North American Operations, the "Aircraft Hair".

In the distance, several soldiers in black uniforms seemed to notice something, turned around tacitly, and silently evacuated the patrol area.

The guy with the haircut was holding a folder tightly in his hand, his knuckles turning slightly white from the force.

His expression was solemn, and when Baijiu approached, he nodded slightly and said, "Baijiu."

"Minister." Baijiu's voice was low and steady.

The man with the airplane head didn't exchange pleasantries and directly opened the folder. The edges of the papers were slightly lifted and pressed against each other due to his movements.

He frowned and handed one of the pages to Baijiu: "The phone you unlocked is connected to a server in Iceland. We successfully cracked a key piece of information."

Baijiu's eyes were as sharp as an eagle, instantly locked onto a black and white photo on the document.

In the photo, a man and a woman stand side by side.

The woman wore sunglasses, her long hair draped over her shoulders, her face expressionless, her lips pressed into a cold line. The man beside her had short hair, his head bowed slightly, his brows knitted, his lips pursed, his expression a mixture of worry and contemplation.

Baijiu's heart moved slightly: This woman... Although the sunglasses covered most of her face, her outline and temperament were surprisingly similar to those of a famous actress.

"Alana Misopolis," the pilot's voice was clear across the empty tarmac. "Activist, philanthropist. 'White Widow' is her nickname."

He paused, his tone tinged with sarcasm. "Charity is just a cover. Arms dealing and money laundering are her real business. Her extensive political connections provide her with the perfect umbrella of protection."

The two walked side by side towards the giant transport plane.

The pilot continued, "Lark will be meeting with this 'White Widow' tonight to negotiate the delivery of an unidentified package. We can only assume it is our lost plutonium core."

He kept walking. "It's in a private club at the Grand Palais in Paris, where she's hosting her annual fundraising dinner. All the details are in the documents."

Baijiu flipped through the folder quickly, and a picture of a magnificent building came into view - a towering dome and numerous columns, showing its luxurious style.

"Midnight," the pilot said, his voice firm, looking forward. "If Lark doesn't show up, the White Widow will disappear with the package and sell it to the highest bidder."

The two men walked under the huge curved hatch of the transport plane.

The cabin was spacious, with rows of cold-light lamps lining the ceiling casting a pale light, illuminating the complex network of pipes and equipment. The cold metal floor reflected the cold light.

The pilot stepped onto the cabin floor and glanced down at his watch. "That means you have two hours to find Lark."

A gust of cold wind blew past, ruffling Baijiu's hair. He raised his hand to tidy it up and was about to speak, "Minister, there's something I need..."

"No need to say more." The pilot raised his hand to interrupt, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

The corners of his mouth curled up in a very faint, elusive arc, and he looked at the white wine with complicated eyes - there was understanding, scrutiny, and even a hint of imperceptible fatigue in his eyes.

"Berlin," the pilot's voice deepened, "is a difficult choice. Plutonium core, or your team."

He paused for a second, his eyes sharp. "You chose your team members. Now, the entire world, and our organization, are in crisis."

Baijiu remained silent, a barely perceptible shock flashed in the depths of his eyes, his forehead was slightly furrowed, and the corners of his tightly pursed mouth seemed to want to say something, but was once again blocked by the nose of the plane.

"There's something essential inside you..." The man with the airplane head spoke with a strange penetrating power, as if he could see through people's hearts, "that prevents you from making a cold-blooded choice between one life and millions of lives."

"You think this is your weakness." Feijitou suddenly raised his hand and pointed at his chest, his emotions a little excited, and his saliva almost splashed on Baijiu's face. "But to me, this is your greatest strength!"

"This at least means," he patted Baijiu's shoulder hard, with a force that carried a sense of entrustment, "one day, I can count on you to save my life!"

The pilot took a deep breath, seemingly trying to calm himself, but his voice was still a little excited: "Although I was transferred here from the North American Operations Department, it's nominally a horizontal transfer..."

He twitched his lips in self-mockery, "Some people say it's a demotion! But I still came!"

He looked directly into Baijiu's eyes and said word by word, "Because of you! Because this mission is for you to carry out!"

These words both explained why he was here - he was willing to be demoted for the sake of liquor;

It was also a declaration - he trusted Baijiu unconditionally and was willing to repay the favor from the last mission.

In this cold and harsh organizational system, Baijiu felt a touch of personal and warm trust for the first time.

Feijiu leaned forward slightly, close to Baijiu's ear, and lowered his voice very low, with unquestionable weight: "Don't make me regret it."

"Thump, thump, thump, thump..."

A steady and rhythmic sound of footsteps, coming from far away and getting closer, broke the silence in the cabin.

A pair of shiny black leather shoes for men and a pair of pointed high-heeled shoes for women walked side by side on the smooth metal floor, making a crisp echo.

The first person to catch my eye is a black woman. She's dressed in a sharply tailored black coat, a pearl necklace adorning her neck, radiating a gentle sheen. Her hair is meticulously short, her brows sharp as a knife, exuding a decisive and undeniable authority. The simple hoop earrings in her earlobes add a touch of sophistication. She exudes a powerful aura, as if every step she takes is a step towards an invisible path of power.

Following closely behind was an exceptionally tall man in a suit. His features were sharply defined, as if chiseled by a knife or an axe, his thick brow furrowed, his eyes as deep as a cold pond. Beneath his high nose, his lips were pressed into a cold, hard line, and the thick stubble above them added a touch of ruggedness and age. His body, clad in a suit, was densely muscled, and even through the fabric, one could sense the explosive power of a bodybuilder, like a volcano poised to erupt at any moment.

The woman walked straight to the open cabin door, her eyes like lightning, directly at the white wine in the cabin and the plane head. She opened her red lips slightly and said in a cold voice: "Call."

The tall man behind him immediately pulled out his cell phone and quickly put it to his ear. His voice was deep and powerful, carrying an irresistible command: "Shut off the engine."

"Om-"

The roar of the transport plane's massive engines instantly faded, then died away completely. The cabin fell into an abrupt silence.

Baijiu and Feijitou, who were talking, turned around at the same time, their faces full of confusion and vigilance.

When the pilot heard the familiar "tapping" sound of high heels hitting the metal floor, he instantly understood the identity of the person.

He calmly patted Baijiu's waist, signaling him to be patient. He took half a step to the left, tilted his head, put on a playful smile, and looked out of the cabin door.

Sure enough, it was the man and woman from before.

The woman stopped in front of the plane, a suggestive sneer on her face: "Erica, what do you think you are doing?"

The woman called Erica swept her gaze across the nose of the plane like an icicle, and the air around her seemed to freeze.

Her eyes were sharp as knives, carrying an undisguised murderous intent: "Perhaps this is your mission."

She raised her chin slightly, her tone full of absolute control: "But you have to understand, this is the plane under my jurisdiction."

The corners of her mouth curled up in a triumphant arc, her eyes challenging, "Without my permission, it can't take off!"

As a veteran in the organization, the crew cut obviously wouldn't be easily overwhelmed by the other party's aura. He frowned slightly, his tone filled with obvious impatience: "We don't have time to argue with you here!