American Detective: Starting as a Rookie Cop in an American TV Show

Chapter 1317 The Intruder "Governor"

In fact, nothing was done. Just a briefcase nuclear bomb was placed under the Kremlin. At least that's how the original drama set it up.

Jack now can't figure out which one is more real, his previous life or the world today. To be exaggerated, there were also many magical events in his previous life, and they were better known to the world.

If we look at this world from an ordinary person's perspective, it actually looks more "normal".

But after Jack experienced a series of "big events", he always had the illusion that if there were no him or people like Frank Moses and Harry Tasker, the world would be like 911/ every day.

"So that's why the NSA is looking for Frank Moses?" Jack walked into the cemetery, where there was a grave that had already been dug, with a standard "six feet" depth, and the coffin was already placed next to it.

"I don't know. I just know that they got a number and found the CIA, and took away some of his files."

Harry's answer did not surprise Jack. Sure enough, a strange connection occurred again. It seemed that the "machine" gave the numbers of Frank and Marvin.

Thinking of this, he couldn't help but feel moved. Since this world likes to play with hodgepodge so much, why not... play with the big one?

"Harry, are you free right now? Let's go visit Fort Meade."

Harry on the other end of the phone clearly understood his implication, and a hint of smile appeared in the Governor's signature bass voice. "Are you sure that 'R.E.D.' needs our help?"

Fort Meade is to the NSA what Langley is to the CIA and Quantico is to the FBI.

Jack said that the visit to Fort Meade certainly did not mean going to the NSA headquarters with Harry, but to the NSA office near New York.

Frank must have been taken there for questioning, but the NSA has always been known for being a mysterious department, so he didn't know the exact location. But Harry, who is now the boss of "Omega", definitely knows.

"From my experience dealing with these 'R.E.D.s', no matter whether they get involved actively or passively, nothing is simple.

You'd better ask someone about the details of Night Shadow. I'll see you later."

After Jack hung up the phone, he raised his hand and knocked on the coffin lid. "Marvin, if you don't come out, I will call the gravedigger back and bury you for real."

There was a noise in the coffin, and after a while, Marvin's muffled voice came, "Jack, please push it from the outside. I just found that this thing can't be opened from the inside."
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"Is this old guy who dresses himself up as a cowboy really an 'R.E.D.'?" Harry felt like his idol was shattered after meeting Marvin.

Jack shrugged helplessly, "Considering that your CIA has been feeding him psychedelics for 10 years, it's a miracle that he can stand here and communicate with you normally now."

At the funeral, Marvin, lying in the coffin, was dressed in a suit and had makeup applied by Anna, who was guest-starring as the undertaker. He looked much more normal at that peaceful moment than he does now.

Now Marvin has taken off his formal suit and put on a T-shirt with a cartoon pattern of Roger Rabbit on it, which has long been washed and faded. In the middle of winter, he only wears a long woolen coat on the outside.

He wears Texas-style ripped jeans and leather boots with spurs on the heels, and a cowboy felt hat on his head. He can seamlessly fit in on the set of a western movie in Hollywood.

At first glance, Marvin's outfit is actually quite "sharp brother". Jack, who was hit by the old joke, shook his head and looked at the "Governor's Happy Gun" on his waist. The Winchester M1887 lever-action shotgun, like Jack's previous life, was reproduced by some companies and sold well because of its strong appearance in some movies.

For example, the one in Marvin's hand is an imported product, produced by the famous Serbian military industrial enterprise "NORINCO".

It's just that the movie in Jack's mind is a little different from what people in this world have seen. He looked at Harry with a strange look and asked a strange question, "Have you ever tried to use this shotgun with one hand and load and shoot continuously?"

Harry gestured subconsciously, "It's not a big deal, but what's the point?"

"Maybe it's useful when you need to shoot while riding a motorcycle." Jack's answer left Harry a little puzzled, but he was soon attracted by the sudden explosion in the building in front of him.

The three were now in a remote factory area west of Newark. In front of them was an obviously old brick-concrete building, which concealed the NSA's secret office.

Let's go back to five minutes ago. Frank waited for nearly two hours after being sent here, and was then taken to the interrogation room after a body search.

The layout of the interrogation room is quite consistent with the sense of vicissitudes of time displayed on the exterior of this building belonging to the NSA. Even the tables are old-fashioned wooden styles, and it can be seen that they are not used often.

A middle-aged man with a big belly who looked like a supervisor struggled to straighten his big butt on the chair, and slammed a thin yellowed file in his hand on the table with a "bang".

He did not introduce himself, but chose to get straight to the point, "I have a document from the CIA that shows that you have performed a series of special missions during the Cold War.

We know you are familiar with Russia, so we want to know how much you know about the Night Shadow Project?"

Frank blinked, confirming that he had never heard of these words in his career, and then he slowly said, "Believe it or not, I really don't know what the 'Night Shadow Project' is."

Although the NSA is often jokingly referred to as the "No Such Agency," its mystery mainly comes from its low profile.

Just like Jack rarely sees NSA agents, their main duties are somewhat similar to those of the FBI's BAU. As an intelligence collection and analysis department, the NSA employs a large number of mathematics PhDs, computer experts, and linguists.

Although there are occasionally NSA agents performing missions outside, in certain professional fields, not to mention some of the special agent units under the CIA or DHS, even the FBI can surpass them.

At least the interrogation room where Frank was at the moment was obviously not professional enough. Not only was it simply furnished, without one-way glass and a special surveillance room, but even the sound insulation was very poor.

Therefore, at this time, the three people in the interrogation room heard the muffled sound like frying beans coming from outside.

"What's that sound?" The fat supervisor looked around and asked the young subordinate behind him in confusion.

"MP5 with silencer, the range is about 150 yards." Frank replied with a grim expression.

(End of this chapter)