Solving the case: Combining the police dog's olfactory genes at the beginning

Zhao Zhenhai nodded vigorously beside him, adding into his phone, "I've flown over 10,000 hours and trained no fewer than forty students, and I've never seen anything like this. The way he sat in the cockpit, it was like the plane was his own. I asked him if he had ever learned to fly Gulfstreams before, and he said it was his first time flying this one, even saying something like 'the principles are similar'—this isn't about principles, it's clearly—"

He was halfway through his sentence when he suddenly realized he was calling the police, and he swallowed the rest of his words.

The operator asked, "Did the hijacker say where he was going?"

Lu Chuan and Zhao Zhenhai exchanged a glance.

"I didn't say it."

Lu Chuan replied, "But looking at the navigation coordinates he entered... it seems like he's flying east."

"East? To the East China Sea?"

"Yes. We're not sure either, but he did enter an eastward route."

The operator quickly recorded the information and then said, "Sir, we have recorded the information you provided and will report it to the relevant department immediately."

Please wait where you are with the captain. Airport police officers will be there shortly. Please cooperate with them for further questioning.

"Okay, we'll wait on the tarmac."

Lu Chuan hung up the phone and let out a long sigh. A fine layer of sweat had formed on his forehead, and the back of his shirt was soaked with sweat.

He glanced at Zhao Zhenhai and found that the other man was not in much better shape either; his face, which had been tanned by the sea breeze, was now somewhat pale.

"Old Lu, do you think... calling the police will cover this up?"

Zhao Zhenhai asked in a low voice.

"Whether we can hide it or not is not important."

Lu Chuan put his phone back in his pocket, his gaze still fixed on the empty blue sky. "The important thing is, we called the police. No matter who investigates, we are the 'victims'."

The plane was hijacked, we called the police, they responded, took our statements, and all the procedures were followed. As for Sister Jiang's ten million—that was a gift from her to calm our nerves; it had nothing to do with the hijacking.”

Zhao Zhenhai was silent for a few seconds, then grinned and said, "With a brain like yours, it's a shame you're not a screenwriter."

Lu Chuan didn't laugh. He knew very well that ten million wouldn't be so easy to get. Next, they would face successive investigations from the Dali Judicial Bureau, the National Security Bureau, the Air Force, and the Civil Aviation Administration. Every link had to be flawless, and every detail had to match up.

If a flaw is exposed, this ten million will be a life-saving sum.

But he doesn't regret it.

Because he trusted Jiang Qinqin, and Jiang Qinqin trusted Luo Fei.

This is enough.

In less than five minutes, several police officers from the airport police station arrived. The one in the lead was a deputy director in his forties, surnamed Sun, who was burly and had a face with a layer of oily flesh that gleamed in the sunlight.

Two young police officers followed behind him, one carrying a body camera and the other carrying a notebook.

Deputy Director Sun walked up to Lü Chuan and Zhao Zhenhai, looked them up and down, and asked, "Did you call the police?"

"It's us."

Lü Chuan nodded.

"Tell me the whole story in detail, from beginning to end, without omitting a single detail."

Lu Chuan took a deep breath and began to speak.

He started his story at 6:30 this morning—how he received Jiang Qinqin's call to arrange a flight to Haiwei, how Zhao Zhenhai rushed from his dormitory to the airport to prepare for the flight, how the two of them waited on the tarmac for more than an hour, and how the man in work clothes suddenly appeared.

He spoke in great detail, explaining every time point, every action detail, and every dialogue segment clearly, as if he had prepared it in advance.

Zhao Zhenhai provided additional technical details: how the man lifted Lü Chuan onto the gangway with one hand, how he mastered all the instruments on the Gulfstream G650ER in three minutes, how he kept every parameter within the standard range during the one hour and twenty minutes of flight, and how he completed a landing that even he, a captain with ten thousand hours of flight time, could not find fault with.

The more Deputy Director Sun listened, the more his brows furrowed.

He wasn't an aviation expert, but he knew what kind of aircraft the Gulfstream G650ER was—it was recognized as one of the world's most advanced large business jets, with hundreds of buttons and switches in the cockpit, and dozens of steps in the pre-flight system self-check alone.

Someone who can figure out all the operations in three minutes is either a genius or a professionally trained agent.

Are you sure that person is Luo Fei?

Deputy Director Sun asked, his tone clearly suspicious, "I saw Luo Fei's wanted poster, and the face and features in the photo are not quite the same as your description."

"I'm not sure if he is Luo Fei either."

Lu Chuan shook his head. "But he said he was Luo Fei, and—I can't be mistaken about his eyes. They're not ordinary eyes; I've only ever seen that kind of look in my life."

Deputy Director Sun was silent for a few seconds, then turned to the young police officer next to him and instructed: "Check the airport surveillance footage, all the recordings from 6 a.m. this morning until now, including the terminal, the tarmac, and the area around the runway, don't miss a single blind spot."

Additionally, contact the Shuibo Airport control tower to retrieve all of B-7788's takeoff clearance records, call recordings, and radar trajectory data.

"Yes."

The young police officer responded and turned to make the arrangements.

Deputy Director Sun then looked at Lü Chuan and Zhao Zhenhai: "You two come with me to the station to give your official statements."

The two did not resist and obediently followed the police officer.

At the same time, the news had already reached the ears of the highest levels of the Great Xia Dynasty at the fastest speed through the channels of reporting at each level.

Upon receiving the report from the airport police station, the Civil Aviation Administration of China (CAAC) immediately activated its emergency response procedures. In the CAAC's safety monitoring center, dozens of LCD screens simultaneously switched to displaying airspace monitoring footage from the southeastern coastal region.

On the radar screen, a white dot was moving at high speed above the East China Sea, heading directly towards Japan. Next to the dot were the flight number, altitude, and speed markings—B-7788, altitude 11,000 meters, speed Mach 0.85.

"The target is flying due east at cruising speed."

The monitor's voice echoed throughout the center: "Based on the current course and speed, you will enter the Osaka Air Defense Identification Zone in approximately forty minutes."

The duty officer at the Civil Aviation Administration of China was holding the phone with a slight tremor in his hand. A private business jet registered within the territory of Great Xia had been hijacked by Great Xia's most wanted criminal and was flying towards Great Xia's number one strategic competitor.

He knew better than anyone how serious this matter was. He took a deep breath and dialed another number.

"Received from Air Force Command, Level 1 Emergency."

Ten minutes later, the battle alarm was sounded at an air force base in the East China Sea.

Red warning lights on both sides of the base runway began flashing wildly, and a piercing alarm shattered the tranquility of the base. Four fighter pilots sprang from their chairs in the duty room, grabbed their helmets, and ran toward the hangar.

Their footsteps echoed rapidly and loudly in the metal corridor, the zippers and metal buckles on their anti-G suits clanging as they ran.

Inside the hangar, four J-16 heavy multi-role fighter jets had completed all takeoff preparations. The munitions mounted under the wings gleamed coldly under the lights—two short-range air-to-air missiles, two medium-range interceptor missiles, and an external fuel tank mounted under the fuselage.

Ground crew removed all wheel chocks and cables, putting the fighter jet in a ready-to-start state.

The pilots jumped into the cockpit, fastened their seatbelts, activated their oxygen masks, and started the engines. The two turbofan engines of the J-16 roared deafeningly at the same time, spewing out two blazing orange-red flames from their exhaust nozzles.

The hangar doors slowly opened, and the runway outside reflected a blinding white light under the midday sun.

Four fighter jets taxied out of the hangar in succession and entered the runway in a two-aircraft formation. After the control tower issued takeoff clearance, the lead pilot pushed the throttle to the maximum afterburner position, and the fighter jet, like a released slingshot, rushed rapidly down the runway.

The noses lifted, the main landing gear lifted off the ground, and the two fighter jets soared into the sky at a steep angle of attack. The wingman followed closely behind, taking off in less than ten seconds.

Four J-16s met in the air, forming a standard four-aircraft formation, and sped towards the East China Sea at supersonic speed.

The clouds beneath the wings were torn to shreds by the high-speed airflow, and the wakes left four white trails in the blue sky, like four straight arrows pointing eastward.

The lead pilot pressed the communication button: "Eagle Nest, Eagle Nest, the Falcon formation has taken off and is rapidly approaching the target airspace. It is expected to reach the intercept position in fifteen minutes. Please provide instructions."

The radio crackled with a reply from Air Force Command: "Mission clear—intercept the hijacked Gulfstream G650ER, serial number B-7788, and force it to return. All means may be used if necessary."

"Falcon received."

The lead pilot turned off the communication channel and glanced out the window at his wingman. The four fighter jets maintained a distance of one kilometer above the clouds, the August 1st Army emblem on their fuselages particularly conspicuous in the sunlight.

He knew perfectly well what "using any means necessary" meant—if Luo Fei refused to return, they had the authority to shoot him down.

His orders were that the plane must not be allowed to enter Japan's airspace.

Fifteen minutes later, the Falcon formation arrived at the target airspace.

On the radar screen of the lead pilot, a white dot appeared about 80 kilometers ahead, at an altitude of 11,000 meters, at a speed of Mach 0.85, flying eastward with a stable heading.

Next to the spot of light, the information read by the IFF system was displayed: B-7788, Gulfstream G650ER, civilian business jet.

"Target captured."

The lead pilot reported, "No target was detected within visual range."

"Continue to approach and prepare for visual interception."

Four J-16 fighter jets sprinted at supersonic speed, rapidly closing the distance to their target. Sixty kilometers, fifty kilometers, forty kilometers—finally, a tiny, bright white dot appeared in the visual range of the lead pilot.

The spot of light stood out against the blue sky, like a silver rivet nailed to a blue curtain.

"The Falcon has visually spotted the target."

After the lead pilot finished reporting, he maneuvered his fighter jet to turn, cutting in from the left rear of the Gulfstream G650ER in a smooth arc, and taking a position parallel to the target.

The wingman flanked from the right, while two other fighter jets stood guard above, forming a standard interception and encirclement formation with the four aircraft.

Up close enough to see every detail of the Gulfstream G650ER with the naked eye—the streamlined white fuselage, the slightly upturned winglets at the wingtips, the striking gold phoenix emblem on the tail, and the blurry figure behind the cockpit windshield.

The lead pilot connected to the international emergency frequency and then pressed the call button.

"Gulfstream B-7788, Gulfstream B-7788, this is the People's Liberation Army Air Force of Daxia. You have entered a restricted airspace. Your flight behavior violates Daxia aviation law. I order you to immediately change course and return to base. I repeat, return to base immediately."

There was no response on the radio.

"Gulfstream B-7788, please respond immediately. Your actions constitute a serious violation of the law. If you do not obey orders, we have the right to take all necessary measures to force you to return to base."

Still no response.

The lead pilot frowned and glanced out the window at the Gulfstream G650ER. The aircraft maintained its original course and speed, its nose steadily pointing due east, showing no intention of turning.

The people in the cockpit didn't seem to care about him at all.

"Eagle Nest, Falcon Report—Target Denies Response. Requesting Further Instructions."

The Air Force command center quickly responded: "Continue to broadcast messages and apply maximum pressure on him."

The lead pilot took a deep breath and pressed the intercom button again. This time, his voice was colder and harder than before: "Luo Fei, I know you're listening. I don't care who you were before, now you're a Class A wanted criminal in Great Xia."

You have hijacked a civilian aircraft and are illegally leaving Great Xia's airspace. I have the authority to open fire on you at any time, and you have no chance of escape. Final warning—return to base immediately, or you will be shot down within five minutes.

Did you understand? Return to base immediately.

Inside the cockpit of the Gulfstream G650ER, Luo Fei heard every single word.

He sat in the driver's seat, his hands firmly gripping the side lever and the accelerator.

Outside the windshield, the sky was filled with blue, a deeper blue above and a lighter blue below, with a thin layer of white clouds in between, like a layer of rising water vapor suspended between heaven and earth.

Looking out from the left front of the windshield, a J-16 was flying parallel to him, the missiles mounted under its wings reflecting a cold metallic luster in the sunlight.

Luo Fei did not move.

It wasn't that he didn't care, but that he knew he couldn't turn back.

He took out the Huawei Starlink phone that Lü Chuan had given him from his pocket and turned on the screen. The signal bars in the upper right corner of the phone were full—the Starlink communication module had automatically connected to the low-orbit satellite overhead, and the signal was even better than he had expected.

He opened a live streaming app pre-installed on his phone and logged into the official Douyin account of the Ganjiang team.

This account was registered by the Ganjiang Special Police Team three years ago. It usually posts short videos showcasing training exercises, equipment, and team members. (End of Chapter)