dkrc Chapter 155 If I said it was a coincidence, would you believe me?
Chapter 155 If I said it was a coincidence, would you believe me?
Chapter 155 If I said it was a coincidence, would you believe me?
"If not, target confirmed. Gate C, the white man in the brown baseball cap and military green jacket. He has a gunshot wound to his left arm, and there's a high probability he's carrying a weapon in the bag at his feet."
A faint hissing sound came through the headset, followed by Zhou Ruo's heavy breathing.
"Master, I see that bastard. Give the word, brothers, surround him and kill him right now! He won't even have a chance to draw his gun!"
Qin Han's gaze swept across the bustling hall: mothers pushing strollers, business people reading newspapers, and young couples queuing to buy hot dogs.
"Calm down! This is Los Angeles Airport, not an abandoned dock!"
"You are now just like him, illegally carrying guns in a public place. If he senses danger and decides to act rashly, leading to a gunfight at this distance and in such a dense crowd, how many civilians will be killed?"
"Taking action rashly would not only be thankless and difficult, but would also carry the federal felony of attacking an airport and causing large-scale riots."
Qin Han slowed his pace, his gaze never leaving the portly security chief and Fred, who was taking notes: "Have the brothers spread out and sit around that man. No one is to be exposed without my order."
"Understood!" Zhou Ruofei replied through gritted teeth.
After cutting off the communication, Qin Han adjusted his expression, reverting to the nonchalant attitude of a Hollywood producer, and strode back to Fred's side.
"Qin: What did you do over there just now?" Fred closed his notebook and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "This damn weather, it's only May and it's already so hot."
"So? Do you think we should continue to observe?"
"I slipped and almost fell. Of course, let's continue." Qin Han smiled apologetically and nodded to the safety supervisor.
The supervisor turned around, a hint of smug satisfaction in his eyes: "Mr. Qin, we just checked out the baggage carousel. How was it? Did the security measures here provide enough inspiration for your new script?"
Qin Han really didn't want to complain about the practically non-existent security, so he deliberately frowned, crossed his arms in front of his chest, and looked around.
Looking up at the high dome of the waiting hall, I suddenly let out a long sigh: "Not enough. Not nearly enough."
A fanatical look suddenly appeared on his face as he said to Fred, "Fred, just standing on the ground and looking at these machines, you can't possibly understand the despair you feel when you're 10,000 meters in the air, completely isolated from the outside world."
"What I'm going to write is a disaster epic that will shake film history! How can I know the passengers' true psychological reactions if I can't personally experience the moment when a hijacker suddenly pulls out a weapon in the cabin?"
This sudden outburst of emotion left Fred somewhat bewildered.
The airport security supervisor was the first to react. Seeing Qin Han's "crazy" appearance, he couldn't help but burst into laughter, clutching his round belly.
"Hahaha! Good heavens, I've heard that there's a group of actors in Hollywood who, in order to play a homeless person well, will actually go to the slums and sleep in cardboard boxes for months."
He patted Fred on the shoulder hard, laughing so hard tears were almost streaming down his face: "But I really didn't expect, Mr. Weintraub, that your Warner screenwriters would be this crazy! To actually go up in the sky and experience the atmosphere of a hijacking for just a few lines of text?"
Fred gave an awkward twitch of his lips.
He knew Qin Han too well. Although this young man sometimes did things in unexpected ways, he was definitely not the kind of crazy person who would run around the world looking for inspiration.
"Qin, stop joking. We've already reviewed the process; you can go back to your office and work on developing the script yourself—"
"I'm not joking." Qin Han interrupted him without any politeness, glancing over the supervisor's shoulder at the flight information board above the boarding gate in Section C.
"Sir, which flight are those people waiting over there heading to?"
The supervisor followed Qin Han's gaze and glanced at his watch: "That's a Delta Airlines flight. Quite a coincidence, sir, that plane is crossing the United States, flying to Washington, D.C. on the East Coast."
A cold glint flashed in Qin Han's eyes—that makes perfect sense.
"That's it." He snapped his fingers, turned and walked toward the ticket counter: "Fred, want to come with me?"
"Let's buy our tickets and board now."
"What? Now?!"
Fred's eyes widened as he chased after Qin Han, babbling incessantly, "Qin! Are you crazy? I had an afternoon tea appointment with a female celebrity in Beverly Hills this afternoon!"
"I didn't even bring a change of clothes, and you're going to drag me all the way to that damn Washington?"
Qin Han completely ignored the noise in his ear, walked to the counter, and slammed his passport on the table.
At the same time, he reached into his pocket with his right hand and tapped the communicator three times quickly.
That was the pre-arranged code.
The Hans Security Team members scattered throughout the hall immediately received the order, and everyone quietly got up and silently moved towards the other windows of the ticket counter.
"A first-class ticket to Washington, the sooner the better," Qin Han said to the ticket seller behind the counter.
Fred was still making a last-ditch effort, grabbing Qin Han's wrist: "Qin, listen to me, this is ridiculous! We don't need to waste our entire weekend on a script!"
Qin Han patted Fred's chubby hand: "Fred, think about 'Enter the Dragon,' think about 'Rocky,' when have I ever let you do a losing business?"
"Trust me, this research trip will definitely bring back a super blockbuster worth hundreds of millions for you and Warner Bros."
""
Faced with this incredibly tempting pie, the desire for profit ultimately triumphed over the complaints about the weekend being wasted.
Fred sighed helplessly, took out his black Centurion credit card from his pocket, and slapped it on the counter.
"Okay, okay! Take one for me too! Hopefully this damn flight will really give you enough inspiration!"
""
After buying their tickets, Qin Han and Fred headed towards the priority security checkpoint for first class.
While waiting in line, Qin Han glanced at the economy class entrance not far away.
The white man wearing a baseball cap was carrying a heavy canvas bag and slowly moving forward in the crowd.
Around him, Zhou Ruofei and several security guards had silently infiltrated the group, gradually tightening their grip as their prey moved.
One hour later.
The roar of the Boeing aircraft gradually subsided as the plane broke through the thick clouds and entered the cruising phase.
The cabin was softly lit, and even the economy class on a 1970s airliner was much more spacious than in later years.
A faint smell of cigarettes filled the air—at this time, passengers were still allowed to smoke in designated areas at the back of the plane.
Inside the first-class cabin, Fred reclined the spacious airline seat, holding a glass of champagne that the flight attendant had just poured for him.
"Qin, to be honest, aside from boredom, I really can't understand the 'desperate oppressive feeling' you're talking about."
He gently swirled his wine glass, glanced at Qin Han sitting beside him, and couldn't help but complain, "Look, everyone's sleeping or reading the newspaper. Are you going to pretend to be a hijacker and take the crew hostage?"
Qin Han raised a glass of ice water and clinked it against his: "I'm not so crazy as to risk jail time for inspiration. Even if I shouted 'hijacking' right now, everyone would probably think I'm joking."
The two chatted casually for a while, on the other side of the first-class partition, in the back row of economy class.
The flight attendant pushing the beverage cart had just walked by, leaving behind a faint scent of perfume.
The man wearing a baseball cap sat in the aisle seat, his eyes gradually becoming tense.
The gunshot wound in his left arm throbbed with excruciating pain due to the change in air pressure, but he paid no heed to it, his mind racing as he rehearsed his next move.
The mission failed. The moment the sniper bullet missed its mark, he knew he was about to be abandoned by those politicians.
As a suicide squad member, he had no way to escape.
Now, the time for revenge has come!
He took a deep breath and slowly slid his right hand inside the large military green flight jacket. The cold gun made his nerves tense instantly.
Just as the flight attendant was pushing her trolley back to her work area, and passed by him—
He sprang up from his seat, grabbed the flight attendant by the neck with his left hand, and held her hostage in front of him.
The dark muzzle of the gun was pressed directly against the flight attendant's temple!
"ah-!!!"
The flight attendant let out a piercing scream, dropping the plastic tray in her hand to the ground. Several unfinished cups of tomato juice and coffee splattered on the carpet, resembling a pool of glaring blood.
"Shut the fuck up! Don't move!"
The man's face was contorted in a ferocious expression, with bulging veins on his neck.
He dragged the flight attendant step by step back towards the front of the cabin, his frantic roars echoing in the narrow cabin.
"Open the cockpit door! Now! Or I'll blow her head off right now!"
Scenes straight out of a Hollywood blockbuster have actually appeared on this plane!
Screams, chaos, passengers scattering in all directions, desperate cries—the thought of these possible scenarios instantly excited the man's mind.
However, something strange happened.
There were no screams, no chaos, before he could utter a second word—
"Click".
"Click!"
"Click! Click! Click—"
A series of synchronized cocking sounds came simultaneously from his front, back, left, and right!
The man's heart skipped a beat.
The white-collar worker who was just reading the newspaper had somehow stood up, holding a Glock pistol, the muzzle of which was steadily pointed at his forehead;
The backpacker, wearing headphones and dozing off, had eyes as sharp as swords. He was kneeling on the seat, a pistol locked on his back.
On the other side of the corridor, several seemingly ordinary young men had blocked all his possible routes of movement, and the dark barrels of their guns were aimed at every part of his body.
A full ten guns!
"Don't move! Even blink, and we'll blow your head off!"
What is this?
The man's brain went blank for a moment.
As a highly trained assassin, he had anticipated many scenarios, but he never dreamed that he would encounter an entire full-strength armed squad!
Is this a commercial airliner or a prison van transporting serious criminals?!
In the instant the man was in a daze, Zhou Ruofei, who was standing behind him, moved.
Using the Jeet Kune Do skills he had learned during this time, he grabbed the man's wrist holding the gun and instantly exerted force with his grappling technique.
"Crack!" The man screamed as his wrist dislocated instantly, and the pistol fell limply to the floor.
Zhou Ruofei's right hand transformed into a powerful chop, slamming heavily into the man's neck.
He didn't even let out a second scream before his eyes rolled back and he collapsed to the ground, lifeless.
The flight attendant, whose legs went weak, slid down the seat onto the carpet, covered her mouth with her hands, and stared in terror at the kidnapper on the ground.
What should have been a world-shaking hijacking turned into a farcical joke in just ten seconds.
Only now did the ordinary passengers in the cabin come to their senses, their faces pale with extreme fear.
An elderly man with gray hair tremblingly raised his hand, looking at the group of burly men who were expertly searching him, his voice filled with barely concealed fear: "You—who are you people?"
Zhou Ruofei tucked the captured M1911 pistol into his waistband, glanced at the still-shaken passengers around him, and said as Qin Han had instructed, "Don't panic, everyone. We are agents of the Secret Service of the United States of America."
"We received intelligence in advance that the extremist group intended to harm this flight, so we disguised ourselves and lay in wait here."
He looked around and said, "The danger is over. Please remain seated until we land safely."
""
The Presidential Secret Service?!
Upon hearing this name, the atmosphere in the cabin instantly relaxed, and panic turned into admiration!
"God bless America!"
"Thank you! Thank you for saving us!"
It's unclear who started it, but thunderous applause erupted in economy class.
The passengers, who had narrowly escaped death, stood up excitedly from their seats to express their highest respect to these "unsung heroes."
A wave of applause pierced through the thin partition and reached the first-class cabin.
Fred Weintraub tilted the champagne glass he was holding, spilling the wine onto his suit trousers, but he was completely unaware.
Others might not know, but he does know people from Han's Security!
He recognized at a glance that the leader, who stood in the center of the cabin and claimed to be a "Presidential Secret Service agent" without changing his expression, was clearly Zhou Ruofei, Qin Han's security personnel and his apprentice!
Those ten "agents" who drew their guns were all employees of Han's Security!
Fred turned his head stiffly, dumbfounded, his eyes fixed on Qin Han beside him as if he had seen a ghost, a chill running down his spine.
So you were supposed to be looking for inspiration for a disaster movie script?!
Where's the promised sense of pressure?!
You call this finding inspiration?!
Looking at Fred's confused expression, Qin Han's expression remained unchanged.
He calmly picked up the ice water from the table, took a small sip, and slowly turned his head to meet Fred's questioning gaze.
He slowly raised his right hand, making a shushing gesture.
"Shh, Fred, don't look at me like that."
"If I told you that this was purely coincidental, would you believe me?"