Chapter 82

2000, February 2.

Middle East.

Beirut, the capital of Lebanon.

Local time: 11:11.

In the Middle East region, for people living in stable countries in Europe, Africa, Asia, etc., it is forever linked with turmoil, war, refugees, or terrorists.

Actually, putting aside those labels, the Middle East's environment is absolutely gorgeous.

The Mediterranean coastal region is comfortable and pleasant, deserving the name of true blue skies and clear seas, emerald-green crystal-clear waters, and skies clear for thousands of miles.

Otherwise, people would not discover ancient cities and relics with histories stretching back five thousand years in countries like Lebanon, Iraq, and Turkey.

Today in Beirut, the weather is pleasant, the sun is shining, and the temperature is around eleven or twelve degrees.

At Beirut's northernmost port, many cargo ships can be seen docked.

Port workers are busy operating forklifts and cranes to load and unload cargo.

However, cruise ships at the civilian port are extremely rare.

After all, countries including Lebanon are indeed chaotic; even if tourists know the environment is beautiful, they dare not readily come to visit.

At this moment.

A cruise ship that plies a route around the Mediterranean coast is slowly entering the civilian port.

The passenger and cargo gangways are lowered.

Workers who have been waiting a long time use the cargo gangway to move living supplies onto the cruise ship.

People who have been aboard for a long time disembark via the passenger gangway to sightsee, rest, and dine near the port.

This cruise ship only stays for half a day, so passengers and workers alike are rushing.

However, there are also passengers whose destination is Beirut; after disembarking, they each go their own way.

Leon is among them.

He had a split blond hairstyle, wore a lightweight black windbreaker, sand-colored work pants and combat boots, and slung a military-green backpack over one shoulder.

Leaving the cruise ship and walking out of the port, Leon looked around, carefully observing this city steeped in Middle Eastern charm.

Finally, Leon focused his gaze on a red two-door sedan.

He quickly walked over and knocked on the passenger-side window.

After the driver lowered the window, Leon asked in somewhat broken Arabic: 'Yada… hanbu (Are you going)?'

The middle-aged male driver, wearing a red-and-white checkered headscarf and a thick beard, gave Leon a once-over and replied in very standard English:

"Get in."

"Thanks." Seeing the driver could speak English, Leon opened the door and got into the passenger seat.

"Where to?" the driver asked as he started the engine, shifted gears, and released the handbrake.

"To the US Air Force Base outside Beirut." Leon said, pointing southeast.

After the vehicle started and entered the street, the driver held the steering wheel with his left hand and extended his index and middle fingers with his right hand to indicate to Leon: 'US dollars.'

"Heh~!" However, Leon gave a look that said 'don't try to fool me' and said: 'One hundred, otherwise I'm getting out right now; don't think I don't know the local rates!'

???

The driver realized Leon seemed not easy to overcharge, and angrily said: 'One hundred thirty, otherwise I won't break even, and you're still going to the US military base!'

"Deal." Leon readily agreed.

Driver: "..."

The rest of the way was silent.

Leon could finally enjoy some peace and quiet, appreciating Beirut's unique architecture.

Once the vehicle left the city and reached the suburbs, it was an endless desert landscape.

Leon is now a regular employee, no longer the 'intern newbie' he once was.

Moreover, Leon has his own unique insights about taking taxis.

Ordinary drivers really can't overcharge him anymore; he's no longer the Leon who, when taking a taxi from the airport to the Venice police station, spent 77 euros.

Although the company gives him ample travel allowance, he saves where he can, after all it's the company's money.

Although he still doesn't understand why his superiors never let him touch the company's vehicles, he has grown accustomed to it.

Arriving in the suburbs.

Crossing the desert.

During the drive, Leon repeatedly saw US military convoys on patrol or performing other missions.

After about half an hour or so, the air force base situated on the south side of the road gradually came into Leon's view.

When they were only about a kilometer away from the base in a straight line, they encountered a checkpoint set up by the US military on the road, forcing Leon to pay and get out.

The driver turned around and headed back, while Leon proceeded on foot toward the military checkpoint.

"Stop! Hold your position and don't move; submit to our inspection!"

Before he even got close, a fully armed US Marine gripped his weapon and loudly warned Leon.

Seeing this, Leon likewise shouted back: 'CIA!'

Seeing Leon voluntarily reveal his identity, and given that there were already several CIA personnel at the base, the Marine stepped forward and said:

"Show your identification."

"Okay." Leon took out the relevant documents from his pocket and handed them over.

After receiving the documents, the Marine reported Leon's information to the base and soon received an order to let him pass.

Afterward, the Marine returned the documents to Leon and had a comrade drive a Humvee to take Leon to the nearby base.

———————

…

13:02.

The border area between Lebanon and Syria.

US Angel Air Force Base.

Inside the base command building, a small operations meeting room.

"Gentlemen, eighty kilometers south of Damascus, the capital of Syria, a town called Sheheba has encountered a sudden situation."

A roughly fifty-year-old US Army Lieutenant Colonel stood at the front of the meeting room, his expression extremely solemn as he spoke to those present.

On the soft screen to the lieutenant colonel's left was a satellite overhead map marking various areas.

Among the more than twenty people seated here, more than half were US Army Green Beret officers, and another six were wearing civilian clothes as 'CIA'.

Leon was also among them.

In fact, the Red Queen detected the anomaly befalling the US forces here immediately.

So she immediately intercepted the US forces' report to their superiors and pretended to be a superior communicating with the US forces.

As a result of the communication, they first dispatched CIA investigators, who were intelligence personnel disguised as such, to come here to assist the US forces in the investigation.

The identities of Leon and the others were said to be a disguise, but in fact they had already been entered into the US file system by the Red Queen.

Before the Red Queen confirmed the details of this anomaly and proactively deleted Leon and the others' data, they were all bona fide CIA investigators.

That lieutenant colonel paused for a moment, then continued: 'According to the report, Sheheba was enveloped in thick fog as of last night.'

However, this morning, two Marine Corps patrol convoys, following routine, entered Sheheba to carry out security maintenance missions, after which they successively lost contact with the base.

Until now, no civilians or Marines have been seen emerging from the fog, and any electronic detection equipment cannot allow us to peer into the situation in Sheheba.

Therefore, the primary mission of the Green Berets is to protect the CIA investigators sent to enter Sheheba to gather intelligence, and the secondary mission is to locate and rescue the two Marine Corps units that have lost contact.

(End of chapter)