bookbashuk Page 25
Page 25
“Yes, sir,” Hill replied immediately, his fingers flying across the control panel.
Just then, Natasha Romanov, standing in the shadows behind Fury, felt a very slight vibration on her wrist of her special communicator, as if she had been bitten by a mosquito.
Without changing her expression, she quickly glanced at the miniature display screen hidden inside the wristband while adjusting her posture.
A encrypted message from Hawke consisted of only a few simple characters and a pre-defined code.
Content: Delaying the investigation into the Big Foot Gang.
45. Looking forward to the next Smith machine squat... [Requesting flowers]
Natasha maintained a calm expression, but inwardly she cursed Hawke. Did he really think of her as a subordinate to be commanded?
If it weren't for the anticipation of the next Smith squat...
But Hawke's actions were indeed faster than she had anticipated; clearly, he had also set his sights on the Bigfoot Gang, or rather, something deeper behind the Bigfoot Gang.
Fury turned around, his one eye sweeping over the core commanders and senior agents behind him, including Hill, Natasha, Coulson, and several other senior agents qualified to carry out the mission.
“This investigation,” he said in a low voice, “requires absolute secrecy and maximum efficiency. The personnel…”
He paused for a moment, his sharp gaze scrutinizing everyone present.
Hill is an excellent executor, but she is already overworked.
The other senior agents each have their own missions or are on Fury's "suspicious list".
Fury's gaze finally settled on Natasha.
She is exceptionally capable and has a complex background, but she is completely under her own control.
Although his performance in the Hawke incident was less than satisfactory, he seems to be one of the cleanest and most immediate candidates at this moment.
Natasha felt Fury's gaze, and her mind raced.
Delaying the investigation, and insisting on taking the lead to control the pace.
Preventing a full scan by a network of this "X-ray vision" level is virtually impossible, but there is still room to manipulate the "selection" and "pacing" of the investigation.
She didn't speak immediately, but instead took half a step forward without making a sound, her gaze falling on the data stream of the Big Foot Gang's core members that was scrolling on the main screen.
A plan took shape instantly.
A few seconds later, she let out a very faint, uncertain inhale.
The sound was particularly jarring in the silent analysis room.
Fury's gaze swept over them.
"Romanov?"
Natasha seemed to hesitate for a moment, her brow furrowing slightly, before pointing to a name flashing across the screen: "Chief, this guy... 'Razor' Carlos Montoya. The tech broker for the Bigfoot Chicago branch."
Fury glanced at the file of the unassuming South American man: "What's wrong with him? The records show he's just a middleman."
“His file is ‘clean,’ consistent with the identity of a low-level tech peddler,” Natasha said with professional caution. “But last year in Budapest, when I was dealing with the ‘Nightingale’ smuggling network, I intercepted one of his encrypted communications. The sender used a ghost protocol with seven layers of hops, and the recipient’s ID was completely erased, but the encryption shell used by one of the abnormal hops… its underlying code characteristics are extremely similar to an unactivated experimental encryption module that I found in the logs of a backup server at Lane Technology three years ago when I was chasing ‘Viper’ in Brazil.”
As Natasha spoke, she pulled up the operation log from that time and showed it to Fury.
“Ryan?!” Fury frowned.
The name itself was enough to trigger his sensitive nerves, especially when it involved advanced alien technology and potential leaks!
“Similarity doesn’t equate to a direct connection, Director,” Natasha added immediately, appearing calm and objective. “It could simply be something Ryan Technologies borrowed and modified from an open-source project years ago, or it could just be a coincidence. But the problem is—” she shifted her focus, pointing to Montoya’s name on the screen, “this encryption shell appeared on a ghostly communication hop of a low-level broker seemingly unrelated to the Foot Clan’s core, precisely around the time I intercepted the communication. And Hawkley, the Traveler, is, as everyone knows, connected to the Ryan family with a vast intelligence network and top-tier resources. If…”
She didn't finish her sentence, but the meaning couldn't be clearer: if Hawke or his forces had already infiltrated or made contact with even the outermost members of the Foot Clan through some extremely covert channel, then S.H.I.E.L.D.'s use of the "X-ray Vision"—a large-scale, high-intensity network scan—would be tantamount to announcing with fanfare right under Hawke's possible surveillance network's nose—"Look! S.H.I.E.L.D. has discovered alien treasures in the Foot Clan and is doing everything in its power to trace the source!"
Fury's face turned extremely ugly. He could almost see Hawke's face, which was both roguish and incredibly shrewd, hiding in the shadows of some data stream, mocking S.H.I.E.L.D.'s actions, perhaps even using S.H.I.E.L.D.'s investigation results to get ahead of them, or... set a trap.
That wretched Ryan kid, he's absolutely capable of it!
Natasha's words precisely linked his deepest concerns with his most sensitive current actions.
“Your concerns… are very valid, Romanov.” Fury’s voice was as if pulled from an ice cellar. “Any trace of Hawke is enough to raise the risk rating of this investigation.”
He remained silent for a few seconds, his mind racing as he weighed the options.
Let Hill use a "X-ray vision" to perform a comprehensive scan, which would be the most efficient, but it would cause too much disruption and the risks would be uncontrollable.
other people?
Who can guarantee that they don't have some connection with the Hawke or Lane families?
Who can guarantee that there won't be any problems under the enormous temptation of alien technology?
Fury's single eye finally locked onto Natasha, with a scrutinizing gaze and a hint of forced reliance:
"Plan changed. The 'X-ray Vision' network will be used temporarily only to support intelligence gathering and physical clue tracking on the periphery, and direct deep scanning of the Big Foot Gang's core network nodes will be suspended."
Fury made the decision.
"Natasha Romanov, you are in charge of the independent infiltration and investigation mission. The objective remains the same: to trace the origins of the Foot Clan's alien technology. However, the operational method will be changed to 'Lone Star' mode. You may utilize necessary resources, but all operations must prioritize secrecy and counter-surveillance."
The so-called Lone Star mode is a single-line mode: reporting only to Fury;
Offline: Maximizes physical contact and reduces electronic traces;
Low speed: Prioritize obtaining absolutely reliable intelligence without being detected by third parties.
46. What new tricks will the grown-up king come up with? [Seeking flowers]
“Understood, Chief.” Natasha’s voice was steady and powerful. “I will infiltrate like a shadow, ensuring that the investigation proceeds undetected. The operation will commence immediately.”
She nodded slightly, turned and left, her steps still silent.
Fury watched her leave, then picked up his coffee cup and gulped it down in frustration.
A bitter taste filled the air. They thought they'd struck gold, but it turned out a cunning venomous snake might have been lurking in the mine all along.
Natasha's "discovery," though merely a speculation based on similarities, was like a thorn in his heart, forcing him to choose the most conservative, slowest, but perhaps safest path: having his most elite and cautious agent, Natasha, act alone like a ghost.
Natasha stepped out of the absolute isolation zone of the "cube," and in a secluded corner, a tiny device on the inside of her wrist emitted a confirmation signal: Done.
Upon receiving Natasha's message, Hawke's eyes widened in surprise!
So fast? No wonder she's Black Widow!
-------------------------------------
Two hours passed in the city's night.
Hawke did not wait idly; he and Emily, with their restored strength and lingering passion, once again indulged in the waves of passion they shared.
As Emily drifted off to sleep again, satisfied and exhausted, the encrypted satellite phone beside her pillow vibrated at just the right moment.
Hawke quietly got up, walked to the window, and answered the phone.
“It’s time for the customer satisfaction survey, Hawke.” Cipher’s voice carried a hint of weariness, still languid. “Your ‘shopping list’ is packed and stored in your encrypted cloud.”
Hawke immediately picked up his tablet and logged into the cloud.
A staggeringly detailed list was on display: TCRI's seven compliant factories, two secret factories, four compliant laboratories, and three secret underground research facilities in the United States, with precise coordinates, satellite image coverage, key personnel and their background networks, code names and brief descriptions of major ongoing projects, security level assessments, and even estimated patrol and shift change times... Cipher's intelligence capabilities were terrifying, and this task far exceeded expectations.
"How was it? Are you satisfied with the teacher's efficiency and quality?" Cipher's voice carried a hint of self-satisfaction, and the sound of clinking glasses could be heard in the background, as if he were rewarding himself.
Hawke's gaze swept over a description on the screen about the "Sentinel-level" security measures for the underground research facility, and a satisfied smile appeared on his lips.
“Precise, efficient, and far deeper than expected. Cipher, your work,” he paused, his voice low and resolute, “is, as always…perfect! Flawless!”
He used the word that represents the highest praise in a certain circle.
“Flawless?” Cipher chuckled on the other end of the phone, like a cat being tickled. “I like that description. But, kid, you know what? It’s 3:47 a.m., my beauty sleep time.”
She deliberately dragged out the last syllable, "Perfect work deserves perfect compensation. 500,000 is the base amount. What about overtime pay? What about compensation for emotional distress? My beauty is priceless."
Hawke could almost picture her lounging on the luxurious sofa, swirling a wine glass, her eyes gleaming mischievously.
He relaxed, leaning back against the cold windowpane, his voice carrying a rare hint of ease and teasing:
“Beautiful Ms. Cipher, your beauty is enough to eclipse the stars, and staying up all night only adds to your dangerous allure. As for overtime pay…” He paused deliberately, “I thought that ‘perfect’ compliment I just gave you was the highest level of emotional comfort? Or perhaps you would prefer me to express my gratitude in a different… more ‘personal’ way?”
A very soft gasp came from the other end of the phone, followed by Cipher's voice, tinged with a dangerous laugh: "Oh? Another way? Tell me, Hawke... little boy. Three years have passed, and you've grown bolder and your tongue has become even smoother? I'd like to see what new tricks the grown-up king can come up with."
“It takes time to prepare the tricks, Cipher. I guarantee you’ll get your money’s worth.” Hawke finally withdrew from the overly dangerous probing, but the temperature in his tone hadn’t completely cooled. “Keep the signal on and wait for my message. This ‘list’ is just the beginning.”
"Hmph, you little rascal who keeps me hanging on." Cipher snorted, a hint of languor mixed with a touch of unfulfilled regret. "Alright, considering your fairly sincere praise, I'll put the overtime pay on your tab. Remember, you owe me a personal, perfect service feedback. Next time we meet, hopefully not at three in the morning."
Without waiting for Hawke's response, she cleanly and decisively cut off the communication.
Silence returned to the room, broken only by Emily's even breathing.
Hawke put down the cold satellite phone, his eyes sharpening like an eagle's once more.
He glanced through the exorbitant list of $500,000 plus an outstanding debt once more, and his understanding of TCRI's outline and weaknesses became clear.
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Sunlight streamed through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the office of the chairman of the Lane Group, located in the heart of Manhattan.
The air was filled with the rich aroma of top-quality coffee beans.
Hawke, dressed in a perfectly tailored dark suit, sat in the head seat.
Two powerful women sat at his desk.
On the left is Andy, CEO of the Lane Group.
She was dressed in a smart pantsuit and was quickly flipping through the tablet in her hand, which displayed complex financial data and market analysis reports.
On the right is Emilia, the soon-to-be CEO of Lane Capital.
At this moment, she was a different person from the professor she was at Columbia University. Instead, she was wearing a custom-made beige suit, her blonde hair was styled in an updo, revealing her elegant neckline and a pair of striking diamond stud earrings.
47. Action begins [Requesting flowers]
Hawke sent the information to the two men; it was a condensed version of the essence of TCRI's core assets and financial weaknesses, based on preliminary screening and analysis.
“Two beautiful ladies,” Hawke began, his voice low but instantly lowering the atmosphere in the entire conference room, “target locked: TCRI.”
Andy looked up, his brows furrowed slightly, but he didn't interrupt.
Emilia's eyes flashed with a sharp light, and she leaned forward slightly, like a mother leopard that had spotted its prey.