“Mr. Oliver, we’ve found several bombs in the basement. And that’s not all—there’s something down there that looks like a virus, too.”
The bomb specialist had barely finished when Darren showed up with his team, catching the tail end of the conversation.
What the hell?
Darren stared at Oliver. “Mr. Oliver, what’s going on? Bombs and a virus? Seriously?”
Everyone needed to get out. Now.
The bomb specialist wiped sweat off his forehead. “We need to evacuate.”
If they didn’t, they might not make it out alive.
But Oliver shook his head. “We can’t pull out. Not yet.”
Leaving now would only make things worse.
Darren frowned. “Let me call in some experts, see what we’re dealing with. Don’t panic. If there are bombs, I’ll get the best bomb squad here ASAP.”
This was a residential area. If anything went off, the whole block—factories, apartments—would go up with it.
Darren rubbed his smooth scalp, his voice tight with anger. “Those bastards. How could Americans do this to their own people? None of them are getting away with it.”
They’d all pay for this.
“Mr. Oliver, you should get your team out of here. It’s too dangerous. I’ll start clearing the area and bring in more specialists.”
Oliver replied, calm as ever, “Already done. My specialists are on their way.”
Darren blinked. “Already?”
He barely had time to process that before a few familiar faces walked in.
“Sheldon? What are you doing here? I haven’t even called you yet—how did you know there was trouble?”
“Mick! I thought you had another assignment and couldn’t make it. Why are you here? Is it because we’re old friends?” Darren grinned, slapping Mick’s shoulder. “You’re a real brother, man!”


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