"Sir, our flight is in two hours," Krista Schroeder, the secretary, said, bending over.
Jason Bourne was watching from nearby.
This woman was quite scheming.
When the boss looked up, whoa, he saw the career line...
A woman very adept at using her assets.
But hopefully, she knows her place.
Sure enough, when Victor looked up, he was almost drowned in that cleavage, but he only took a glance before directing his gaze away.
What, haven't seen enough?
After a while, it's just a couple of lumps of flesh.
But apparently, Gaddafi had a squadron of beautiful female bodyguards, all good-looking, each one could be a supermodel.
Who knows if they're really there to catch bullets.
Victor glanced at his watch, frowned slightly, "Let's change flights; it's a bit rushed."
He really hated rushing about.
Frantic and indecorous.
Virginia, U.S., Langley.
At the CIA's main gate.
A statue of the former Director William Webster was erected.
To commemorate this "warrior" who sacrificed for his job.
It drove the CIA agents nuts.
Old thieves, outrageous!
What's this equivalent to?
It's like having Pablo Escobar, the big drug trafficker from Colombia, putting up his own statue next to the Statue of Liberty.
Isn't this heart-killing?
How did William Webster die? It was your FBI guys who messed up and shot!
Frustrating, disgusting, and infuriating!
Because of this, even the White House inquired several times, but the FBI said it was just a commemoration.
Old Bush was fuming, but there was nothing he could do.
The FBI has a lot of power, a critical baseline of U.S. politics—the principle of separation of powers—meaning the president cannot use his authority to interfere with the Justice Department's investigations.
In other words, theoretically, if the FBI wanted to arrest the president, they could.
To prevent the statue from being vandalized, the FBI guys were "rotating patrols." If you, a CIA employee, dare to touch it, you're disrupting official duties.
In the United States, you have no law enforcement authority!
CIA Senior Assistant Steven stormed in, his eyes practically blazing.
"Didn't I teach you manners, Steven?" Director Richard James Curl was reading materials, and seeing the other's fierce demeanor, couldn't help but frown.
"Go out and knock again!"
Steven half-opened his mouth but eventually had to sullenly leave.
Richard James Curl didn't immediately let him in; instead, he leisurely took a sip of coffee before speaking.
"You see now? Just here, if it were anywhere else, your impolite behavior just now could have cost you your job."
Senior Assistant Steven gave a sheepish smile.
"Out with it, what's the matter?"
"The FBI's statue outside, just leaving it there, isn't it just to disgust us?"
"So, you want to go to war with them?"
Steven's bluster deflated quickly.
Big pot, do you realize you've hit the nail on the head?
I'm just showing "work-related" anger, and you want me to clash with the FBI? If I get beaten to death, wouldn't that be... losing everything?
Richard James Curl glanced at him, "We need to know our strengths, we can't beat them at home, but abroad..."
He threw down his pen, "Wouldn't it be easy if we wanted them dead?"
Just by listening to him, you knew he was down to earth...
"The White House doesn't want us brawling now, ready for a fight."
Steven nodded in understanding.
"The cargo plane crew's family members also need to be dealt with cleanly."
"Someone has already been sent, disguised as Iraqi gunmen, to directly silence them, but..."
Richard James Curl raised an eyebrow.
"However, the wife and child of one of the crew went to live in Tijuana, temporarily settled there. Victor over there is a bit unfriendly."
"Damn... That son of a bitch Mexican should be made into a chicken wrap!"
It wasn't clear why the CIA boss suddenly got angry. He flipped open the ledger on the table, jabbing his finger hard against it.
"Our business in Mexico has been down by a total of 27 million US dollars in dividends for half a year!"
"For 27 million US dollars, I could buy Victor's head!"
The CIA dealt in traditional business.
Do you know about the smuggling drugs in the bodies of deceased U.S. military? Outwardly they say it's Frank Lucas, that African American. In the 70s, facing severe racial discrimination, how could a black man become a top philanthropist?
He was working for the CIA.
The dead U.S. military from the Vietnam War, in their caskets, would carry drugs back home as a convenient ride, and in this, 75% of the profits went straight to the CIA!
Later arrested? The FBI's doing.
Frank Lucas disclosed 150 cops and CIA agents he cooperated with, and it was big news at the time.
But the FBI wasn't useless, in America, the CIA dreaming of stealthily assassinating Frank was just a pipe dream.
And those police cars smuggling drugs on the border? CIA's work.
Even the presidential plane smuggling drugs, that was them too.
This business has been running for decades now, it's a CIA tradition, otherwise, how would the little budget from Congress suffice?
They have nearly hundreds of thousands of "employees" worldwide; you need to make sure the brothers get paid, get fed, or else, how will they acknowledge you as their leader?
Every CIA Director has done it!
Even Old Bush in the White House!
Everyone turned a blind eye, it's understood, to maintain America's foreign influence, the CIA is indispensable.
It's just drugs, right?
Just sell them already.