CM The future I see without you

Cohen held a small box with two antennas in his hand. The green indicator light on the box flickered, and after holding on for five seconds, it went completely dark, and the entire vertical locker fell into a dark silence.

She gritted her teeth and forced herself not to make any noise, but the wound on her calf was in severe pain, the bullet penetrated the gastrocnemius muscle on her calf, and the tourniquet that Jacques roughly tied up only stopped the bleeding.

Cohen curled up in the dark cabinet, tensed his nerves, and looked out through the ventilation hole of the cabinet door. Seven or eight short-barreled hunting guns passed by, and the crisp sound of loading came from his ears, and the dense footsteps The sound faded away with the cursing sound, Cohen didn't dare to relax at all, she dropped the completely destroyed GPS, and tightly grasped the Colt that Jacques gave her before leaving, it was his last weapon.

Estrada leaned against the thick wall and glanced back. The group of armed thugs were attracted by the distant sound and walked away. The huge built-in cabinet stood quietly in the corner. Fortunately, they No trace of Cohen's blood was found on the bare concrete.

"How's it going?" he asked.

Jacques dropped the walkie-talkie in his hand, shook his head, and said, "Someone has set up a signal jammer here, and external and internal communications are completely interrupted."

"Damn it!" Estrada cursed, and he reached out to wipe the sweat off his brow and asked in a low voice, "What are they trying to do? A live-action Hunger Games?"

Jacques shook his head with an ugly expression. It was originally a simple capture mission but turned into a passive escape. Even, as the captain, he didn't know how many people survived.As soon as he entered the door, there were three crazy strafing shots. Jacques could only quickly pull the stunned Cohen aside, and the aluminate cement wall was instantly splashed by the blasted debris.

Jacques looked at the densely packed bullet holes with lingering fear, and realized that he had fallen into someone else's trap.

The group of thugs with extremely lethal modern weapons were shooting around the abandoned chemical plant, and the 7.62mm Tokarev pistols and bullets attacked from all directions were designed to pierce body armor, Mrs. Jacques said. Knowing the power of this weapon, the capture team was completely regarded as a white mouse in the palm of their hands.

When Estrada was about to complain again, Jacques stopped him suddenly and said, "Someone is here."

A few seconds later, both of them heard the sound of footsteps rubbing against the concrete floor. It seemed that there was only one person humming a strange tune in pure American English. door.

Jacques beckoned to Estrada, and the two of them, one on the left and one on the right, leaned against the huge load-bearing wall and outflanked it.The young man nodded to his teammates. Estrada locked the back of the thin man with the only remaining Smith & Wesson military police pistol and gun. Jacques rushed up from the hiding place, elbowed his neck, and blocked him. The throat made him unable to speak, and his nose bleeds when he clenched his fist with his left hand.

Estrada put the gun to his head and whispered, "Damn it, one more scream and I'll..."

Jacques gave him a blank look and said, "He's already passed out and can't hear you at all, don't bother."

Only then did Estrada realize that the thin man rolled his eyes, his pants and crotch were all wet, and the air was filled with the smell of urine. Jacques pulled out the gun he was holding and said, "Mpp7."

Suppressing his nausea, Estrada groped the fallen man from top to bottom, then took out a gun from the back of his waist, and said, "□□92, what is the origin of this group of people? The equipment is in the black market..."

"I don't know." Jacques said, throwing one of the man's remaining two magazines to Estrada, "but for sure, they didn't expect us to make it back alive."

"Why?" Estrada didn't understand. This was just an ordinary arrest operation, and the superiors only sent a ten-man Swat to assist.

Jacques used the hemp rope next to him to tie up the man and threw him in a corner, saying: "We have secrets in our hands that they don't want to make public, or they want to hold us back, for a bigger plan."

"what?"

"Let me ask you, what is the day after tomorrow?" Jacques carefully looked out of the room and whispered.

Estrada suddenly realized, 911.

After confirming the safety, Jacques came to the cabinet door softly, he knocked lightly three times, and the cabinet door opened from the inside by itself. Cohen's face was pale, sweating profusely, she put down the Colt nervously, and said, "Jacques..."

Jacques shook his head and asked directly, "Have you seen Jessie since you came back from Baghdad?"

Cohen's eyes widened, and she understood everything at once. She nodded in a daze, and said, "She gave me a USB flash drive, and I, I put it in..."

Before she finished speaking, the sound of short-barreled hunting and guns being loaded suddenly came from the empty factory, followed by a burst of intensive shooting.

Estrada said with a bad face, "I heard Trace's voice."

Trace is a member of the former anti-terrorism team. He has participated in two Iraq wars and worked as a field investigator in the FBI for four years before being transferred to the team. Discipline and order are Estrada’s first impression of this man. He likes it. The thrill of having it all in his hands, but if he let out such a miserable roar, Estrada couldn't believe what the hell was going on over there.

Jacques stuffed his Burley, tower, and a clip into Cohen's hand, replaced his Colt, and said: "You stay here first, and we leave you with our walkie-talkie. Hurry up and get in touch." outside world."

Cohen took a deep breath and nodded. Estrada closed the door carefully, and followed Jacques out of the room quietly, leaning against the shadow at the foot of the wall, and kept approaching the place where the thugs were making noise.

Through the fence on the second floor, Estrada saw five young men with white cloths on their faces gathered in the center of the hall on the first floor. They held MPP7 in their hands and laughed and cursed arrogantly. There were also three older men vigilantly surrounding them. , glance around.

At the corner of the green passage at the farthest corner, Jacques saw the lost seven Swat players and Trace and Campbell in his own group.

Trace's face was flushed, his veins were bulging, and he tightly hugged a swat player who passed out in his arms, staring at the thugs outside.

Jacques thought for a while and said, "I'll distract them, you go to Trace and count the number of people."

Estrada gave him a worried look, but just nodded.

Jacques crawled to the other corner, aimed at the three men in charge of protection, and pulled the trigger calmly and quickly.Before the boys gathered together could recover from the excitement of shooting, they saw their parents collapsed before their eyes. They roared in disbelief and raised all kinds of guns in their hands. The black muzzles sprayed Bright flames, hundreds of lead bullets formed a subsonic bee swarm, completely surrounded the huge marble counter standing in the direction where the parents fell.

Soon, the roar of excitement was replaced by screams of pain. Estrada turned his head and saw the dense lead bullets bouncing off the marble countertop, then bouncing off the floor and ceiling, covering the boys from the front, upper, left, and right .

That Jacques had disappeared, and the boy howled as he retreated and changed clips.

"Trace, how are you?" Estrada asked nervously.

Trace glanced at the more or less colorful teammates around him, and shook his head with an ugly expression.

Campbell looked at Jacques who was bending over from behind, and said in a low voice, "One team member was shot in the sternum and died on the spot. Two limbs were hit by stray bullets. We put them in the laboratory on the second floor. What about you?"

Jacques glanced at the Swat team member whose chest was not rising in Trace's arms, and said, "Cohen was shot in the right calf, on the second floor."

The people around fell silent when they heard the wailing outside and the sound of being loaded. They all cast their eyes on Jacques' face, wondering what to do next.

Jacques' temples were bulging and painful, he blinked, and sweat fell into his eyes along the curly hair on his forehead, constantly tingling his sensitive nerves.He glanced at the group of FBI elites, and said, "Campbell, go to the third floor, where the fire exit is the switchboard of the whole building. Estrada and you," Jacques pointed to the remaining seven Swat team members, and continued : "Suppress the shooting, I want those bastards to stay in this hall, understand?"

"What about me?" Trace asked.

Jacques said: "There are four sports cars parked in the southeast corner of this building. I think, with your degree in applied physics from Texas A&M University, you can start them without a problem? Oh, yes, there may be signal jammers outside."

"They still have sports cars?" a young Swat hiding behind almost screamed.

Jacques nodded and said to him: "They may treat us as rabbits on the hunting ground. In this case, why don't you sell a few more places to those rich and stupid Yankees?"

Estrada was taken aback by Jacques' words, and then realized that the group of thugs whose brains seemed to be at the level of gorillas, although equipped with modern killing weapons, were not necessarily terrorists from Iraq. Some of the boys were probably From the continent beneath my feet, I grew up listening to the American national anthem.

But according to the order given by Jacques, once the professionally trained FBI agents shoot, there is no room for redemption.

Jacques nodded firmly. He even put a new heavy magazine on the MPP7 he snatched, and said: "I will go to the second floor to be the last line of defense. I must deal with this group of monkeys within 10 minutes. People need medical treatment as soon as possible.”

**

After 10 minutes, Jacques successfully got into the roaring Porsche, and quickly changed to manual transmission. The blood-red speedometer lit up. He turned off the electronic stability system in the car, and Cohen, who was sitting in the passenger seat, had a hunch Like holding on to the seat belt.In the next second, Jacques stepped on the accelerator all the way to the bottom, and the Porsche was ejected from the spot. Cohen was thrown onto the car door, his whole face stuck tightly against the glass and unable to move.

The fiery red Porsche shuttled like a crazy beast on the mountain road, the headlights pulled out the twisted light, Jacques seldom stepped on the brakes, and the Porsche slid through corners one after another. It disappeared, and the tall buildings of the city gradually appeared in front of us.

Cohen clenched the USB flash drive in her hand, bit her lower lip, the sunset glowed red on her chocolate-colored face, she didn't even know what would be waiting for them just going back like this.

**

Compared with the speed of Jacques' life and death, the BAU side is extremely peaceful. The central air conditioner strictly controls the indoor temperature at 24 degrees Celsius. Holding a sapphire blue pen, after thinking about it, he filled in a string of letters in the blank.

"Oh, five and a half minutes!" Alex Black pressed the timer in his hand and smiled, "Congratulations, Doctor, you have completed the crossword puzzle in such a short time!"

Reid put down the pen in his hand, raised his eyebrows, and said: "Actually, I can go faster. You know, there is actually a theory about pattern recognition here. Based on it and some of my experience, I found that looking horizontally More efficient than looking vertically, because in traditional reading, the sequence and dwell of the glances helps other eye movement tasks, such as completing crossword puzzles."

"Oh, it sounds complicated." Ashley walked over with a coffee cup and said with a smile.

Reid glanced at her, the smile on his face gradually receded, and he didn't know what to say for a while.Thoughtful Alex stood up to make way for an aisle, and said, "It's complicated, but I'm actually interested. Crossword puzzles are a good way to pass the time. Why, do you like it too?"

Ashley shook his head and said, "Maybe I'm stupid and not suitable for these, uh, these intellectual games."

"Ignore them." Rossi joked to Ashley as he came in through the gate with a bag. He put a newspaper on his desk and said, "Have you read today's daily paper? I'm sure you haven't."

"What's wrong?" Alex asked.

But Rossi just smiled inexplicably, turned and went upstairs.

Reid opened the folded newspaper suspiciously. On the first page was a huge color photo of Hollywood actress Lila and a man kissing in the swimming pool. There were also some unknown but imaginative guesses written in number two boldface.

Reid froze. He quickly scanned all the descriptions. These entertainment reporters did not describe the identity of this man in detail, but any of his colleagues could recognize him. Shared by the FBI.

But the real headache was that he didn't know if Jacques had seen the report.

"Isn't this..." Alex glanced at the news above and said, "Isn't this the female celebrity in our case last time? Why do you..."

Reid sighed and explained: "She, she accidentally, forget it, we accidentally fell into the pool, she kissed me, I didn't know there was a reporter next to me, oh my god, Alex, I was forced to..."

Alex laughed. She looked at Jacques, who was troubled and troubled, like she was looking at her adolescent son. She said, "Reid, don't be like this. Do you know that what you are saying now is illogical?"

"Really?" Reid looked at him, his eyes full of anxiety, and he muttered, "What should I do? Jacques is coming to pick me up from get off work later, I don't think he knows about it yet, I haven't told he……"

"Oh, then you have to figure out a solution quickly." Alex said, glancing at the clock on the wall.Wait for the minute hand to make another turn and they can get off work.

Reid leaned back on the chair with a dead face. He flipped through the newspaper casually. The red, green, and green graphs in the financial section unreasonably increased the boredom in his heart. He directly turned to the last political section. The huge headline on it made him stunned instantly Holding back his expression, Reid blinked his eyes, and it took a full three seconds before he was sure that he did not make a typo.

It read: "The anti-terror heroine Jessie Johnson was assassinated in the hospital this morning. The FBI chief claimed that it was an accident." The following long speech did not provide more information, but just described Jessie Johnson's previous deeds.

Reid thought for a while, put down the newspaper in his hand, took out his mobile phone and called Jacques. According to this time, he should still be at home.

But the phone rang for a long time and didn't answer.

**

The fiery red Porsche didn't drive into the main road, but avoided the monitoring on the road, bumping and bumping from the muddy path to the outskirts of Quantico. Cohen only knew that there was an upscale community in which the FBI lived. top executives.

Jacques parked the car on the trail in the backyard of a gray and white building, flipped over a few times, and flashed into the villa.

Today is a rare free time, it will be late, Mr. William turned on the huge projector, clicked on an old Italian love movie, hummed a little song, and was about to go to the kitchen to get some fruit. When he turned around, he was startled by the silent Jacques one jump.

"Oh, God, what are you, what's going on!" The middle-aged man who was about to be bald screamed in disbelief, "How did you get in! My alarm..."

"Come on, what's the use of those things at critical times?" Jacques frowned and looked around back and forth, then threw the MPP7 that still smelled of gunpowder smoke on the leather sofa, and said, "Just you?"

"What else?" William was helpless. He put down the remote control in his hand and shook the young man's dirty clothes. The dusty dust fell on the smooth floor. Four bullet wounds, and black blood clots still clotted on his left arm.

"I need your help with something." Jacques breathed a sigh of relief. He took out a thin silver-white notebook from the bottom of the coffee table with ease, stuffed the USB flash drive that Cohen gave him, and said.

"what's up?"

Jacques will click to open the file with a memory of only 96K, and the computer screen instantly turns black, and then densely packed yellow circles light up. When the final pattern is formed, William finds out that it is a map of the Republic of America.

"I need a warrant for Keven's arrest and," Jacques said, turning the screen to the powerful MP, "many search warrants."

"You know this doesn't conform to the procedure at all, Jacques." William shook his head and refused, "How about Keven, who is also your immediate superior, what kind of evidence can an inexplicable map be?"

Jacques nodded knowingly. He pressed the computer screen, sat down on the white leather sofa, put his arms around the congressman's neck affectionately, and said, "But the program doesn't allow you to sit in this position, William."

William thought for a while, put the newspaper under the sofa pillow in front of the young man, and said, "If your evidence can be more sufficient, I just know some people..."

The headline above about the assassination of the heroine was shocking. Jacques froze for a moment, then laughed again, and said, "The torch is ready, and now there is only one person who holds the torch."

William smiled, the boy was no longer the same boy as before. Although the young man was smiling and kept talking about potential benefits, his eyes showed a coldness like a sword.

"Jacques, Jacques," William patted his face affectionately, and said regretfully but fortunately, "You should study politics, Mueller misunderstood you, you are a born politician."