Daily life of an American TV drama agent

"What's going on?! Can't you get in touch with the president yet?!" the vice president angrily asked loudly in the presidential rescue command room of the White House. As for whether he was happy in his heart, outsiders didn't know.

"No, all communications in that area have been cut off. We can only confirm that the president is still safe and sound through images obtained from military satellites."

The vice president said angrily: "There are images from satellites? Then why don't you send people to rescue the president immediately?!"

"Because the UK is a sovereign country, sending people to the UK without authorization is an act of aggression. We believe that this act will greatly damage our alliance."

The secretary next to him explained tremblingly.

"This means that we can only count on the British Secret Service to rescue the president, right?" The vice president tapped his fingers on the table. No one knew what he was thinking: "Or, have you tried Asking the British government for help?”

"No," the secretary shook his head helplessly and switched the picture on the screen: "The new British Prime Minister was killed in the first attack. Now there is no one in the entire UK who can take charge."

The Vice President nodded silently.

In fact, the bureaucracies of all countries have made plans in the event of the unexpected death of a leader, and stipulated how temporary powers should be replaced. But the problem is that none of the gentlemen in Downing Street want to take the blame.

"Okay, then it seems we can only rely on ourselves. Is Mike the only one left in the entire Secret Service now?"

"Uh..." The secretary's voice was a little tangled, and other people in the command room also looked embarrassed. The vice president felt something was wrong and quickly asked: "What's going on?! Tell me!"

"You'd better watch it for yourself." The secretary said, and the scene on the big screen suddenly changed to a bunch of Arabs wearing headscarves, strutting on the streets of London, lighting bonfires and roasting beef taken from the butcher shop nearby. The vice president rubbed his eyes, almost thinking he had seen it wrong.

"I remember asking, where are the other Secret Service members? What do you mean you're showing me these nasty terrorists?"

"No, I'm not mistaken, Mr. Vice President," the secretary's face became even more embarrassed, and all the officers in the command room lowered their heads in shame: "After our facial analysis and comparison with big data, we are very sure that this Among the gang, 17 are all agents from our Secret Service, and one is Ron Lee Cooper, an Inland Revenue agent who was specially named by the British Foreign Office to accompany the president before he left."

"What?!" The vice president was shocked: "Are you saying that Ron rebelled with the Secret Service agents?!"

"I think so."

Everyone lowered their heads in shame, but the vice president's eyes flashed with joy, but he immediately concealed it. However, before he could react further, the satellite image suddenly changed.

The man in the red turban who was toasting to the terrorists suddenly threw the wine glass into another man's face, quickly took out a dagger and slashed his throat. The man fell to the ground with blood foaming from his throat. At the same time, something similar The situation happened to others too.

As if there was a sudden internal strife, one group of turbaned men launched a sneak attack on another group of turbaned men. Before the other group could react, they were cleared away. Everyone in the command room was shocked.

"I think they may not have rebelled, they are just fighting in another way, although this fighting method is not very aboveboard."

In the city of London, the first turban to launch a sneak attack was able to take off the turban, revealing Ron's face: "Beautiful, pretty, guys, this is already the sixth wave. If these idiots are always so easy to take the bait, We can clear the entire city of terrorists in one night."

An old lady raised her hand hesitantly: "But isn't our mission to rescue the president? Why haven't we seen the president until now?"

"That's really a problem," Ron nodded. He was already a little carried away because of the consecutive victories: "How long have we been here?"

"Five hours, from dawn to dusk."

Ron lowered his head and began to calculate. The terrorist attack started at three o'clock in the afternoon. The place they were in happened to be the only way from London to the airport. If there was a plane taking off from the airport, they would definitely be able to see it. , but for five hours, not a single plane took off.

And the cars passing by them were all terrorists who launched the attack. Not even an American or British figure was found. This means that until now, the president has not escaped.

"Guys, I have some very sad news for you. The president may still be in town and we need to find him now."

“But London is so big, where are we going to find the president?”

"Go to the embassy!" Ron thought for a moment and suddenly had an idea.

"Go to the embassy? Didn't you say there was a trap? Didn't Mike know?"

"Of course he knows, but until now. He has not brought the president out of the city, which means he is in big trouble. In this case, he can only risk taking the president to the embassy for a gamble. Let's go there. Even if you can't meet Mike, you can still get some news about him. Guys, pack your things and go! But before that, we need to go to another place first."

As he spoke, Ron showed a smirk on his lips.

On the other side, on the road five blocks away from the embassy, ​​a car was driving rampantly on the street.

"Mr. President, I have to tell you in advance that although this car is bulletproof, it cannot protect against politicians with poor driving skills." Mike complained helplessly. He fell to the ground with the helicopter without fainting, but the president had just driven a short distance Road, he was already a little dizzy.

"I haven't driven a car in six years since I became vice president. What else do you want!" the black president said helplessly: "Where are we going now?"

"Go to the embassy."

"Embassy? Isn't that playing into their hands?"

"Yes, but we have no choice," Mike said with firm eyes: "I believe Ron is not dead. When he can't wait for us at the airport, he will definitely want to come to the embassy to see us. As long as I'm here..."

Before Mike finished speaking, several figures holding assault rifles suddenly appeared from the street corner.

"Turn right quickly!"

As soon as Mike shouted, the bullets shot out a string of sparks on the bulletproof car. Fortunately, the president reacted in time, turned the steering wheel suddenly, swung the car sideways, and immediately plunged into another road.

"What do we do now?" the president asked as he scrambled to control the car.

"You are responsible for driving and I am responsible for shooting. Remember, no matter who stops you, don't stop!"

As he said that, Mike opened the car door, holding the handle in one hand and the pistol in the other, leaning out his whole body diagonally. It was impossible not to lean out, because there was a terrorist standing in front of them with a rocket launcher pointed at them. .

"Now! Turn right!" The car made a very ugly drift at the intersection and pointed the front of the car towards the other road. The terrorist would put his finger on the trigger, but he didn't want to hit Mike just because of the turn of the car. The muzzle of the gun was pointed in his direction, and he pulled the trigger first.

But 0.1 millisecond later, the terrorist also pulled the trigger. When the bullet penetrated the terrorist's head, the rocket had already flown over with a long tail flame.

When there was no time to spare, the car finally got into the alley before the rocket hit him, but the rocket that lost its target could only move forward. In front of him was another group of terrorists who were hunting.

"Boom!" The rocket fired by the terrorists actually killed another group of terrorists.

"Well done! If you're not president, you might be a good agent as an agent!"

"Thank you. If I were not a politician, I would definitely consider your suggestions."

Mike and the president high-fived each other.

"Are we safe now?"

"Yes!" Mike nodded happily: "We succeeded! Turn right at the next intersection and you'll find the embassy! We..."

Before he could say the words "saved", a large truck suddenly sprang out of the alley on the side of the road and hit their small car unexpectedly. After knocking the small car over for several times, it fell upside down to the ground.

When Mike came back to his senses and opened his eyes, he saw that the truck that had just caused the accident not only did not leave, but instead parked arrogantly next to them. A pair of terrorists got out of the truck and surrounded the car.

Mike's eyes were splitting but there was nothing he could do. At this moment, a burst of gunfire sounded like popping beans, breaking Mike's despair.

"Tu tu tu tu..."

After the clear gunfire of the AK47, a big hand took the president out of the car, and then reached out to Mike: "You look like you need help, man?"

"I knew you weren't dead!" After being pulled out of the car, Mike excitedly punched Ron in the chest.

"This is not the place to talk. Come with me." Ron rubbed his chest and refused to talk nonsense to them. With a wave, the Secret Service agents gathered around: "Expand the tactical formation and move forward to the west!"

"Wait! Ron, the airport is on the east side." Mike grabbed Ron.

"Of course I know, and so do the terrorists. Therefore, whether it is to the west where we just came, or near the embassy, ​​a conservative estimate is that there are at least 1,000 terrorists operating in this area. We have to go west first to avoid the terrorists. Only in concentrated areas can it be possible to bring the president back, understand? I don’t know how the idiots in the British security department let all these people in."

After saying that, Ron didn't forget to complain.

"I understand, what should I do?" Mike picked up a terrorist's AK rifle.

"Listen, I have a good idea, but the method may not be so fair." Ron looked at the president with evasive eyes.

"As long as you can get the president out of London safely, whatever it takes is fine."

Mike was the first to express his position, and the president also nodded: "I assure you in the name of the President of the United States that from now on, everything you do will be for the national interests of the United States."

"OK, this is what you said, then let's start taking action, we just need to do this..."

In the unfinished building in London, the terrorist leader was pacing back and forth anxiously. There were various pieces of broken tableware on the ground. It was exactly what kind of quarrel had just happened here: "What's going on? There's only half an hour until eight." Yes, why haven't you arrested the president yet? I also plan to chop off his head in front of the whole world through live broadcast on the Internet."

"Our people have just locked the location of the president. He was being taken by a bodyguard towards the embassy. But when our people were about to catch him, he was captured by another group of unidentified men wearing turbans. People attacked."

When the subordinate reported, he glanced at the other person next to him with angry eyes.

"Listen, we have no time to fight now. Send everyone out. No matter what, we must completely block them in the city!" After the leader scolded his men, he asked: "Where are these people now?"

"Their whereabouts are very strange. They are heading to the west of the city, but the embassy and the airport are not there. I wonder what they plan to do?"

The leader frowned and pulled up a map of London on his computer. After observing it carefully for a long time, he finally said slowly: "I guess they may have seen through the trap we set. Maybe they want to go west to seek help from the British military. No matter what, they must not be allowed to leave the city. If they cannot be captured alive, then kill them and send everyone out! Go!"

When saying this, the leader ignored one thing, that is, on the west side of London, in addition to several military camps outside the city, there was once the largest slum in the UK in the city. After modern transformation, although it looks It looks pretty, but it's still home to the vast majority of London's poor people.

Although the management of guns in the UK is not as lax as in the United States, ordinary people can still get a gun as long as they find a way. This has also contributed to the high crime rate in this area. It is not an exaggeration to say that everyone is evil.

Imagine how much of a sensation it would cause when several pickup trucks with open cargo boxes filled with banknotes and various jewelry and gold passed through this neighborhood?

Especially these pickup trucks. After Ron gave the order, he opened the cargo door at the same time and let all the belongings fall to the ground like garbage. They were hidden upstairs in the slum. The pairs of eyes behind the windows immediately turned green. Eyes like hungry wolves.

Before the motorcade had completely passed by, they rushed down from the upstairs with various weapons and jumped into the ocean of banknotes, jewelry, and gold to swim freely.

But the good times didn't last long, and soon another convoy caught up.

"Bang! Get out of my way! Don't stop us from doing our work!" The terrorist in the car fired a shot into the sky and shouted loudly.

But who would have thought that this shot would stab the ant's nest. The people who were fighting for property looked up, and their hungry wolf-like gazes made him shudder. However, this was not the most terrifying thing. The most terrifying thing was that everyone aimed their guns at him in unison. .