Chapter 285: Ron, the Master of Deflection
Mr. Nobody's eye twitched, barely containing his frustration. Auditing the Pentagon? What a threat!
Well, it wasn't without precedent. Historically, the IRS had dispatched agents to investigate Pentagon military expenditures multiple times.
Of course, while each incident created bureaucratic chaos, they never uncovered any major scandals—just nitpicking minor infractions before ultimately backing down.
But the IRS did cause considerable headaches for Defense Department officials.
"This is a matter of national security. I believe I have the authority to request everyone's cooperation. Actually, this directive didn't originate from Defense, but from the National Security Agency." Mr. Nobody produced an authorization and slammed it on Ron's desk.
The document was stamped NSA.
Ron, who had been whistling while cleaning his weapon with a carefree attitude, suddenly felt his mood shift.
The NSA—National Security Agency—is America's most secretive intelligence organization. So classified, in fact, that most civilians are completely unaware it exists.
They often joke that NSA stands for "No Such Agency."
But in reality, nobody dares underestimate this organization.
"Fine, what's the situation this time?" Ron reassembled his sidearm, holstered it, and slumped back in his chair. "Let me be crystal clear: if this gets too intense, it might trigger my PTSD episodes again. If I can't serve my country, that's not on me."
Ron opened a drawer and retrieved a medical evaluation bearing his name. Ron's diagnosis was combat-related stress disorder—something he'd prepared for particularly demanding assignments.
An NSA visit always meant trouble, so Ron was taking precautions.
"Don't worry, nothing too strenuous. I just need you to travel to Berlin and retrieve something." Seeing Ron's tone moderate, Mr. Nobody finally relaxed.
"Because this item is extremely classified and sensitive, I won't provide any official authorization. Everything requires you to infiltrate covertly and extract the target..."
"In other words, if I'm captured by foreign operatives, you'll completely disavow any knowledge and publicly declare it was my rogue operation, correct?" Ron's eyes suddenly sharpened, keenly identifying the core issue.
His strategy was exposed, but Mr. Nobody showed no embarrassment: "That's correct, but if you can accomplish this for us, I can guarantee you..."
"Hold on!" Ron interrupted his pitch. "You're saying this mission might involve serious combat, right?"
"Yes, which is why..."
"No 'why' about it! I don't know what's happening but my head is suddenly pounding!" Ron's expression became theatrical as he clutched his head and shouted with exaggerated acting: "It must be my post-traumatic stress disorder recurring! Sorry, I can't assist you with this operation."
"Ron, we've worked together long enough that you should help me out."
Mr. Nobody smoothly extracted an encrypted tablet from his briefcase and handed it to Ron: "Hobbs's intelligence is solid. The electromagnetic pulse device that vanished in the Persian Gulf was transported to Berlin by Liberation Front arms dealers.
It can cripple an entire metropolitan power grid! No lights, no electricity—instantly reverting to the Stone Age. Consider how devastating this would be in modern warfare."
"Hey, since this is Hobbs's intel, why don't you send that muscle-bound guy to handle it?" Ron gestured impatiently.
This sounded incredibly complicated, and he wanted no part of it. Following the principle of "better him than me," Ron immediately identified the perfect scapegoat from Mr. Nobody's briefing.
"You know perfectly well that Hobbs alone can't manage this. It requires a team—a sufficiently capable team."
Mr. Nobody stood up, his gaze scanning the operatives outside Ron's office window one by one, unable to conceal the envy and admiration in his expression.
If he had such a team at his disposal, would he even need Ron's assistance? His right-hand man Hobbs could handle everything.
"Don't even consider it. Those people are under my command!"
"But they're funded by the federal government."
"I don't care. They're my operatives, and nobody reassigns them without my authorization."
Ron also rose from his desk, shouting protectively at Mr. Nobody. He knew he had to make some concession today, or this bureaucrat would never leave him alone.
"How about we negotiate a deal?"
"What kind of deal? You going to loan me your smartphone?"
"That's the one thing off the table, but we can discuss alternatives. You mentioned needing a team, didn't you?"
Ron paced across the office, contemplating.
He had a viable candidate in mind: Toretto and his crew. Not only were they exceptionally skilled, they'd previously collaborated with Hobbs on operations. He believed Hobbs would appreciate their leadership.
However, he was concerned they might encounter additional complications. While one was technically a reformed criminal and the other a federal agent, Ron always considered Toretto a friend.
Before his dimensional transition, the seventh Fast & Furious film had just premiered. Based on that conclusion, it seemed like a perfectly satisfying ending, with no further complications anticipated.
Perhaps this crisis was a sequence from some obscure action movie starring Dwayne Johnson?
Ron hesitated. Given Furious 7's resolution, he couldn't imagine what would happen if they continued the franchise.
Los Angeles had already been devastated in previous installments. If they made another sequel, they couldn't possibly take the action into space, right?
Ridiculous! The screenwriters would definitely be crucified by fans for such an absurd concept.
With this reasoning, Ron finally decided: "I can help Hobbs contact Toretto. You've encountered that group in Dubai before. They're all expert drivers. I believe they can handle this assignment perfectly, but you must promise not to treat my friends as expendable assets and provide them substantial compensation afterward."
"Of course, no problem," Mr. Nobody agreed readily. He was so accommodating that Ron briefly wondered if his real objective was convincing Toretto to come out of retirement.
However, this thought flashed through his mind and was dismissed. Instead, he retrieved his phone and dialed the familiar number.
(End of chapter)
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