Starting from South America, speeding through the world

Chapter 357 Anren, Rise Up!
July 13th, 7:42 AM.

Saigon, third floor of the U.S. Embassy.

The air conditioning at the CIA liaison office is malfunctioning.

Robert Lake was sweating profusely and wished he could strip naked and stay there.

He casually tossed the report onto the table and asked:
"There's still no progress on the investigation from June 20th?"

The head of operations shook his head. "There are no survivors at the scene."

"The Vietnamese side arrived twenty minutes after the shot was fired."

"They said it was done by the Viet Cong, but the station chief didn't believe them."

Robert did not ask for the specific reason.

CIA station chief Tom Sever was a man who didn't like to hear questions.

Especially the questions raised by the embassy.

It was broad daylight outside.

At the street corner, the military police conducted their routine morning inspection.

Several soldiers stood in the middle of the road, and motorcyclists were occasionally called off.

“Nguyen Cao Ky postponed the military meeting again last night,” said the head of operations.

"The advisory team originally planned to go to District 23 with him, but it was canceled."

"The explanation they gave was that he wasn't feeling well."

“You are very dissatisfied,” Robert commented succinctly.

"The station manager is very dissatisfied—that's why I'm here today."

Robert sensed a hidden meaning in the head of operations' words.

He took a deep breath and walked back to the table.

"What can I do for you?"

"According to procedure, we must give advance notice before carrying out the operation."

"MACV has no objections?"

"No. They believe a new, effective government would be beneficial to the war."

"Very good, that means there is a consensus internally."

Robert was about to say something more when the telegraph machine suddenly started.

The next second, the Vietnamese translator from next door pushed open the door and entered, looking tense.

"CCTV, priority highlighted in yellow," she said as she put on her headphones.

"This is not a routine announcement."

The woman sat down and began copying.

The paper tape moves between the rollers, and the rhythm gets faster and faster.

For a moment, the only sound in the office was the mechanical clicking of machinery.

"8:02," the woman read aloud.

"CTZ-3 reports that Nguyen Cao Ky's convoy was attacked on the M113 section of the highway."

Robert's brow furrowed, and he instinctively glanced at the head of the operations department.

The man's expression showed a moment of surprise.

"Initial reports indicate that the explosive device completely destroyed two vehicles."

No survivors have been confirmed at the scene.

"It cannot be ruled out that President Nguyen Cao Ky was attacked and killed."

The air seemed to be stagnant.

The woman looked up, her hand still resting on the paper.

Robert remained silent.

There were no men in the operations department either.

At 8:04, the phone rang.

The ringtone was exceptionally jarring.

The head of the operations team turned around and answered the call.

He listened for only three seconds, then covered the receiver and said:
"Further information from the airport: There were a total of five people in the convoy, four dead and one seriously injured."

"Including Ruan Gaoqi."

The man's voice became dry as he spoke.

Robert stared intently into the other person's eyes.

Only now do I believe that none of this was staged.

Even the CIA was kept in the dark.

Upon realizing this, Robert's heart sank.

"Are there any American advisors accompanying you?" he asked in a low voice.

The head of operations nodded.

"An advisory lieutenant colonel, possibly Mike Willing—"

However, before he could finish speaking, the phone rang again.

The telegraph machine was then started.

The room grew increasingly stuffy, and Robert raised his hand to wipe the sweat from his face.

"The Finance Minister's motorcade was bombed on Lewis Avenue."

"There were no survivors."

"Early this morning, the vice chairman of the National Defense Commission was attacked en route."

"The accident wasn't discovered until 6:45."

"The explosive device is a vehicle-modified version."

Reports rang out one after another.

People were shouting in the corridor, and the footsteps became increasingly chaotic.

The head of the operations department, however, had no time to attend to anything else.

His face was ashen; he grabbed his coat and strode out.

Robert watched his retreating figure, feeling a chill run down his spine. Too much information was flooding in, all vying for attention.

It makes it difficult for people to distinguish between what is important and what is secondary.

The woman also stood frozen in place, her mouth agape, as if she had forgotten to breathe.

He was just about to lift his foot—

Suddenly, the floor shook.

a bit.

The low-frequency vibrations came from below.

Then, a huge, muffled thud exploded.

The shockwave engulfed everything in an instant.

The windows shattered all at once, and shards of glass swept across the room.

Before Robert could react, he was violently thrown backward.

His lower back slammed hard against the corner of the metal table.

He fell to the ground, unable to breathe, and could not hear any sound.

It’s over.

Robert tried with all his might to turn over, but found that his right leg was completely unresponsive.

A dull ache mixed with numbness, like waves of electric shock.

It spread from the lumbar spine to the groin.

That's not a regular sprain.

He tried to cough, but instead a fishy, ​​sweet taste came out of his throat.

The air was full of dust.

Debris from the explosion is still slowly falling.

Half of the wall opposite was torn off.

The woman leaned against the filing cabinet, her shoulders trembling uncontrollably, her cries sharp and piercing.

Her right cheek was cut open with a long gash, and the skin and flesh were turned outwards.

"Listen to me, everything will be fine," Robert tried to sound as calm as possible.

He pointed with difficulty to the communication cable on the table leg not far away.

"Bring the cable over here."

The woman was still crying, her hands tightly covering the wound on her face.

Warm liquid kept seeping from between her fingers, which terrified her.

Robert, however, could not wait any longer.

He could feel the blood flowing continuously from his body, and his vision was gradually blurring.

"Don't cry. Listen to me."

He took a deep breath, then roared with all his might:
"Now—go! Go now!"

The stern rebuke finally brought the woman back to her senses.

She nodded, trembling, and crawled over on her hands and feet.

Robert's thoughts became increasingly muddled.

"Listen to me. Check the bleeding first, and stop the bleeding first."

"The higher the binding, the tighter it is."

The woman clumsily followed suit.

There was blood everywhere.

Thick, dark red, and glossy.

It's impossible to tell who it came from.

“A dressing,” Robert said. “Check the waist for any.”

Upon hearing this, the woman pressed down on his side, her palm quickly becoming wet.

Robert's vision went black, and he almost fainted from the pain, but he managed to hold on.

"Keep the pressure on, don't let go," he said.

"What to do? What to do?"

The woman repeated it almost unconsciously.

Someone is screaming outside.

A muffled gunshot rang out from afar.

Robert tried to determine his location, but found that he could no longer distinguish up from down.

The whole world felt as if it were wrapped in a thick cotton cloth.

He gritted his teeth and forced himself to speak.

"Listen and take notes"

The woman was about to faint.

Her hair was wet and clung to her skin in strands.

Robert paused for a moment, then took a difficult breath.

"It wasn't a single point. There were at least three explosive device targets within military and political units."

"They're going to lose control, Anarchist."

Two gurgling sounds came from his throat, and liquid welled up inside.

He turned his head and spat out a mouthful of foam mixed with blood.

The woman stepped back in fear, and he raised his hand with difficulty to signal:
"It's alright, let me finish."

"Radio backup frequency A31"

"EOD first, don't send MSG close."

Soon, even his tongue became unresponsive.

Then, with a thud, his head hit the ground.

(End of this chapter)