American Gossip King

Chapter 313 I can take you to the boss

Two hours later.

George John Tenet stood in the monitoring room with a gloomy expression.

George Tenet, a former CIA director who later moved to the Secret Service, was one of George W. Bush's most trusted men. But today, he is destined to disappoint the president.

Saddam Hussein has escaped!

He actually ran away!

This is a disgrace to the entire Secret Service, and indeed to the entire United States!

The surveillance footage is still there. By reviewing the footage, it can be seen that Saddam himself miraculously picked up the key with a belt, then opened the door and ran away.

The question is, how did all eight agents fall?

George Tenet's assistant said, "The doctor examined them; they were all under anesthesia, on the hot dogs."

George Tenet's face turned ashen: "The question is, how did you put it up there?"

The assistant said helplessly, "We're investigating. The hot dog stand owner across the street has been working on this street for five years. He's a local American and has no problems. We didn't find any anesthetic on his hot dog stand. We're checking the street surveillance footage..."

Soon the street surveillance footage was also released.

The crowd could see the hot dog owner's every move through the surveillance cameras. After getting the hot dog, Blakely went straight back without contacting anyone.

No traces of anesthesia were found.

This infuriated Commissioner Tenet: "Was it done by Ghost? Or did we encounter the Invisible Woman from the Fantastic Four?"

All his subordinates remained silent in fear.

Not far away, Blakely stood there in utter despair.

He knew he was doomed.

As an agent responsible for national security, you cannot afford to fail even once!

Saddam's escape marked the end of the shared future of eight agents.

He could explain, but it wouldn't make sense.

As expected, Director Tenet glared angrily at Blackley, his voice low and menacing: "You've disappointed me, Blackley. I trusted you so much."

Blakely bit his lower lip. "I'm sorry, Chief."

"Don't suspend him," Tenet said. "Immediately impose a nationwide lockdown. Saddam can't have gone far. We'll bring him back! Also, keep the news under wraps!"

With that, he strode out.

As soon as I stepped out of the safe house, I saw an FBI police car parked in front of the door.

Tenet was startled, a sudden sense of unease rising in his heart.

A middle-aged man got off the bus.

He approached Tenet with a smile, took out his identification, and handed it to him, saying, "Director Tenet, hello. I'm Jon Brown, head of FBI Intelligence Division 2. I think you might need my help."

Tenet's face turned ashen: "How did you know?"

Jon Brown smiled. "About Saddam? That's not just the Secret Service's job, it's the FBI's job too, only our work is broader and less specific than yours. We're just as interested in him!"

The FBI is a domestic intelligence agency with law enforcement powers, so it does need to do some work on Saddam's side.

For example, the Secret Service was directly responsible for guarding Saddam, while the FBI had to deploy defenses and provide support along the entire street. Of course, they weren't doing this to prevent anyone from rescuing Saddam, but what if there was some trouble?

At this moment, Jon Brown said, "This can't be kept secret any longer, Director. The only thing we can do now is to bring Saddam back before things get out of hand. You need my help; this is something we excel at."

The Secret Service excels at protecting important national personnel, but when it comes to arresting people, the FBI is indeed the best option.

Tenet was helpless and could only nod: "I hope you can finish before dawn."

Jon Brown said casually, "I can't be sure about that; it depends on how smart Saddam Hussein is. New York is big, and you don't want things to get too big."

Tenet hugged Jon Brown: "If you do this well, I'll owe you a favor. I'll recommend you to the president. I can't guarantee it for the director, but the deputy director will be able to!"

Jon Brown smiled. "Thank you so much for your support. I'll do my best."

........................

Saddam Hussein found himself facing a huge problem.

Although he escaped, his English was terrible, his appearance was too conspicuous, and he was unfamiliar with New York.

This means that it will be very difficult for him to survive in New York or even escape.

What should I do?

Saddam Hussein wandered aimlessly down the long street, lost in thought.

Night had fallen, and there were few pedestrians on the road, only the city lights still shining brightly.

The world is vast, yet I have nowhere to go.

Saddam knew he couldn't escape and would eventually be caught and brought back.

As Saddam was walking, he saw surveillance cameras on the street not far away, so he turned around to take another route. Just then, a pedestrian walked over from the street not far away.

The pedestrian, who appeared to be just passing by, glanced at Saddam but exclaimed in surprise, "Huh?"

The voice sounded somewhat familiar. Saddam Hussein initially wanted to duck and hide, but upon hearing the voice, he instinctively looked up.

Then he was stunned.

Clark?

Clark, the translator for Ian Carl?

During Ian's time in Iraq, the two communicated through the translator Clark, so Saddam was quite familiar with him.

What is he doing here?

But Saddam was overjoyed the next moment.

God bless, the language problem is solved.

He suddenly drew his gun and pointed it at Clark: "Come here, don't shout!"

He grabbed Clark by the neck and dragged him aside.

Clark stared at him in shock: "Saddam Hussein? Is it really you? What are you doing here?"

"Shut up!" Saddam roared. "Get me out of here right now!"

Clark laughed when he heard this.

He shook his head repeatedly: "I know, you escaped from prison? That's unbelievable, but it's pointless. Former President Saddam, everyone recognizes your face. You can't escape; nobody in America will help you!"

Saddam Hussein could not possibly not understand this, but tyrants don't listen to reason.

He pointed his gun at Clark: "I don't care. You have to get me out of here, or I'll kill you!"

Clark remained unfazed: "I have cancer, and I have at most a year left to die. You know that."

Saddam was stunned; of course he knew.

However, he still said, "There's at least another year!"

The latest novel is first published here!

Clark sneered: "A painful year! My body can't take it anymore, I'm on painkillers every day. For me, this last year is a year of suffering. If I die by your gun, it will be good news. My boss will interview my family and give them a lot of money. That will be my last contribution to my beloved family."

Your boss?

Saddam suddenly remembered: "Ian Karl?"

Clark nodded: "Yes, oh, he's in New York, didn't you know? Because of you, he has to appear in court in three days. So he called me over to be his interpreter and also as a witness."

Ian Karl!!!

Hearing this name filled Saddam with anger and hatred.

It was him who betrayed him!

That bastard!

How could I have believed him in the first place?

I'm going to kill him! Kill him!

Saddam stared at Clark: "Where is he?"

Clark shook his head slightly: "You knew you couldn't escape, so you wanted to kill him for revenge?"

Saddam listened to him in a daze.

Seeking revenge on Ian Carl?

Yes!

There was no way I could have escaped on my own, but God blessed me with a brief period of freedom.

Perhaps, it was all so he could seek revenge on Ian Carl!

Saddam's eyes gleamed.

At that moment, he finally understood the meaning of his freedom!

revenge!

revenge!

revenge!

Uday, Qusay, my sons, I will avenge you!

Clark looked at him expressionlessly: "But I won't tell you, after all, my boss is my paying customer."

Saddam took a deep breath: "I can give you money."

Clark sneered, "You have no money."

"No! I have it!" Saddam hurriedly said, "I have a sum of money hidden in the State Bank of Russia, which can be obtained with just a power of attorney and the password. I can't go there myself, but you can—it's five hundred million US dollars!"

That's all?

A qualified tyrant should have at least ten billion US dollars in contingency funds. You are only cruel, not a qualified tyrant!

Clark thought for a moment and said, "You need to call me first to confirm, and then write up the authorization letter. I'll take you to his place. Once we're in the hotel, you need to tell me the password. If I find out you're lying, I'll call my boss immediately. You know the kind of person he is; if you have even a second to prepare, it's very difficult to kill him."

"Okay!!!" Saddam Hussein immediately agreed.

………………

Saddam took Clark with him.

Brideson's figure appeared in the shadows of the street.

He watched the two leave, then stood there in the shadows.

After a while, another person came.

It's Ilse Krauss.

Bledson looked at him: "All done?"

Ilzer hummed in agreement: "We got the surveillance footage. Tell me, is this how the boss does business?"

Bledson chuckled: "Don't you like it?"

"No, I like it! It means he won't renege on my debt," Ilse Croshaw laughed.

Ilzer was pleased to have someone who dared to make Saddam Hussein a news story, a boss who dared to show his subordinates his illegal activities.

This means that Ian Carl trusts himself.

"The boss never defaults on his own people's debts. And with the boss's appetite, it's impossible for him not to be interested in such a lucrative business as a pharmaceutical company." Brideson casually lit a cigarette and walked towards the car next to him.

(End of this chapter)