203. Conspiracy theories

The Office of Senior Military Officers at the Headquarters of the National Security Service in Bogotá, Deputy Director of the Operations Bureau of the National Security Service and Assistant Director of the National Security Service, Julian Brown. Betnis's uniform was crisp and spirited, and the folds on her face were all the more evident in her uncontrollable smile. On the main sofa opposite him sat Deputy Minister of Justice Moore. Jonis. Jonnis was a man of good manners, tall, balding, and wearing a thin-rimmed black-rimmed pair of glasses, and despite his high position in the bureaucracy, Betnis was more commanding than he was.

This is how the entire military and police bureaucracy is constructed, completely isolating the likes of Bettniss from the bureaucracy that oversees the NSA. This clearly fuels the arrogance of the bureau's personnel, and Bettniss is even more reluctant to disguise his disdain for such a department, which is a secret police force that has more evidence than the surveillance system has.

In front of Jonnis was a steaming cup of coffee and a stack of small snacks, which had not been touched much, and the coffee was already the third. His appetite has long since disappeared, and beneath Bettenis's amiable and low-key exterior will be seen by a keen observer to see that Bettensis has the potential to be powerful, especially after being promoted to deputy director of the Operations Bureau, and the information transmitted from all sides is very worrying.

"These situations look bad for you." Jonnis said lightly, he had repeated this sentence several times, and his small eyes and light golden eyebrows made him look a little cramped.

"I realized." Betnis nodded, and took a sip of the delicate coffee cup in her thick hand. Although the position of deputy minister in front of him is much higher than him, but now it is in his own office, his own home field, and Betnis does not take the other party too seriously.

Through floor-to-ceiling windows, both men could see the stone-walled triangular building not far away, which houses the joint office building of the Justice Department and the National Security Bureau. The building is only six stories high, surrounded by mountains on three sides, and occupies a large area on its own. The exterior walls are painted black and gray, and can be stained with white spots from acidic bird droppings. Both of them frequented the building, where the marble ledges, the decorative parapets, and the balustrades on the balconies looked like old men in their twilight, exuding the smell of old buildings, neglected and uncared for.

"It stands to reason that the candidates for your department should be chosen by yourself, so that the efficiency will be greatly improved." Jonnis picked up his coffee, put it to his lips, and looked at Betnes' empty plate on the table. Betnis's snack had already been swallowed by its owner in a few quick bites, and the person in front of him was acting like eating, just to replenish energy, not caring about what he was eating, "However, we happened to find that this incident made it difficult to sleep." ”

"You've made it clear." Bettness said. He hated himself for a while, and often had to be respectful to some high-ranking bureaucrats to the point of servility, and originally thought that when he sat in a certain position, he would not need to worry about these, but now he realized that the higher he climbed, the greater the risk.

Looking at the polite supervisor of the supervision unit in front of him, Bettensis added, "But we don't have conclusive evidence to prove that Vaux's actions violated national security, and for the current situation in Colombia, Vaux is the best candidate - his low profile has won the favor of too many people, his wealth can be converted into activity funds, his network can bring advantages to our arrests, and his company can solve more employment problems...... the benefits are needless to say, so, before there is conclusive evidence, The NSA will stand by its opinion. ”

"Your people are careless in matters of national security and endanger the interests of all. See how your men are doing? I really can't laugh or cry, what's the use of your doors closed so well? Don't forget that your back door is swaying in the wind and the wind chimes are tinkling, so can you just pretend you can't hear or see it? When Joannis said this, he made no secret of his disgust.

"Don't exaggerate." Bettnes waved his hand, "We have a lot of work that we don't need to report to you, to be honest, we still have a good impression of Vaux on the contrary, some of his things are in our hands for our use, this is the real status of national security." ”

"Can you guarantee that?" Jonnis blinked, reached out and removed the frames, took out a cloth from his pocket and gently wiped the lenses, and after putting them back on, his thin face was covered with majesty, and asked again, "Can you guarantee it?" ”

After saying this, he leaned forward, crossed the coffee table, and patted Betniss on the shoulder with one hand, "I hope you can guarantee that if there is a storm in this matter, I am afraid that you will not be the only one who will step down, and it may not be as simple as stepping down." ”

This gesture of Joannis is both intimate and threatening.

"This is a matter of course." Mr. Deputy Director of the Operations Bureau swallowed fiercely, "Besides, we are still in the test. Don't be so short-sighted, it's just politics, I thought you would know better than I did. ”

"Too sensitive."

A wave of disappointment struck, and Jonnis pushed the frame of his glasses with his hand again, as if there was a thousand pounds on the bridge of his nose.

"It's not just time sensitive, some institutions need fresh blood. It's even more that this position is too sensitive. My concern is that you think you can control everything, and then you end up being manipulated by others. Betnes, our enemies are not only drug dealers and underworld organizations, but also people who can subvert everything and have a lot of dirty methods. That's all I have to say. ”

After leaving this sentence, Joannis got up from the sofa, and Mr. Deputy Attorney General always wore a gray suit and a white shirt, looking shrewd and capable. It's just that his movements are a little slow to get up, so you can see that he is really old. A 50-year-old man is at the age of struggle, but he feels in his heart that he should accept the reality - it's time to retire.

……

Nixon, a black man, left the Hotel des Nations, where he was staying, on Kahn Street, a few blocks from the Suray Mall on Cassig Avenue. The Hotel is a very humble little hotel, and the guests are diverse, but the price is expensive and the decoration is elegant, which is why Nixon liked to choose this place to stay.

It didn't take long to walk along Cassig Avenue before he came to a small bar in Arauca. Cheesy red neon lights flashed to outline the bar's name: Madame Pompeii Club. The bar is located in the basement and is dimly lit during the day. He sat down in a cubicle against the wall and began to wait. The hand-made black-and-gray worsted wool double-breasted suit on his body made him look like a fool around in such a place, more like a politician in a high position or a wealthy businessman, and like a thriving lawyer, although he didn't know that his beard and untrimmed hair for a long time made him look like a bad person to mess with.

The bar was filled with the smell of choking smoke and human sweat. Nixon couldn't stand it, he thought that his hair and clothes would stink when he left, and he didn't like it. He looked at the time, and the watch he was wearing was a top-of-the-line Patek Philippe watch, one of the few things he allowed himself to indulge himself in and outstanding: expensive suits, watches, and good food. Nixon thought that if you had no passion for food, art, and music, what decent options did you have?

Now, though, he has friends. Whenever he thought about it, Nixon would have a relaxed smile on his face.

The covenant was late. Nixon had little patience to wait, and he could not tolerate procrastination.

He had waited for half an hour before the lord arrived, a large, rough-looking man named Santo. The dark-haired Santo sat silently in the cubicle and laid a worn black woolen bag in front of Nixon.

Nixon unzipped the small black bag, which contained two metal objects and several passports. The metal objects are two Walther P99s with mufflers in rows of holes. There are 6 passports, corresponding to Mo Lei and other four people, and Nixon himself has two.

"Where's the bullet?"

Santo replied sullenly, but his voice was soft and pleasant, and it did not match his appearance, "Comes with a full magazine." Sir, the environment is sluggish and there is no profit. ”

Nixon burst out laughing, zipped up, and put his hands on the table to look at Santo, "You mean, I overpaid two bases of bullets, and you said you didn't give it to me because you didn't make a profit?" ”

Santo reached into his pocket, and Nixon's eyes looked at him calmly.

"Oh, your money."

Nixon grimaced and pushed back the small stack of odds and bits that Santo had pushed over, "I don't mind spending money, but I hate roadblocks, Santo, you take back the money, tell me you're my sincere friend, okay?" ”

"Oh, my brother." Santo shrugged his shoulders and took back the money, "Your trust is too important to me. ”

"But can you be more punctual in the future?"

"It depends." Santo shrugged his shoulders lazily and lowered his melodious voice to a very low level, "You know. ”

"Oh my God, national security is counting on someone of your character, I'm really worried." Nixon exaggeratedly cracked his mouth and placed the black bag beside him, "So, what about the information I need?" ”

"Verbal communication."

"Uh-huh, I'll listen to you."