Chapter 146 Preparing to Deepen the Connection

4:30 a.m.

"Captain, the pilot has boarded." First Mate Sun Bin put down the walkie-talkie and reported to the captain.

"Notify the engine room to prepare the engines. Tell the tugboat to come ashore." Captain Zhao Jian picked up the microphone and gave the departure order.

Outside the bridge, the massive main diesel engine emitted a deep roar, causing the entire deck to tremble slightly.

Two powerful harbor tugboats braced against the side of the cargo ship, and the sailors on deck began to skillfully untie the thick ropes fixed to the mooring bollards on the shore.

Captain Zhao Jian looked at the busy figures wearing reflective vests on the deck. They were mostly Filipino and Indian crew members, while the lower deck cabins were filled with ordinary crew members from the East.

This is the best cover for the ship.

Although the actual investor and operator of this giant ship is a large state-owned enterprise in the East, it flies the Panamanian flag at its stern.

In the international shipping industry, this is called a flag of convenience.

To avoid taxes, reduce employment costs, and circumvent complex shipping regulations in some countries, a large number of merchant ships worldwide are registered in Panama or Liberia.

When faced with a Panamanian-flagged cargo ship carrying crews from multiple countries, U.S. Customs will naturally not be overly vigilant as long as the customs declaration is in order.

Moreover, on the high seas, the captain has absolute supreme command authority.

Those foreign crew members were paid to do their jobs, and even if the captain ordered the hold to be sealed off for several days, not a single foreign sailor would dare to ask a single question.

"The tugboat is released; the pilot is preparing to disembark."

An hour later, the cargo ship's massive hull had completely sailed out of the narrow waterway of Puget Sound.

As the pilot boat approached and took away the pilot, the cargo ship's engine was pushed forward four steps.

The waves on the sea grew larger, and the dark seawater pounded against the bow of the ship.

"Sun Bin, keep an eye on the chart." Captain Zhao Jian stared at the ECDIS (Electronic Chart Display and Information System) in front of him.

Under international maritime law, the territorial sea is actually very narrow, extending only 12 nautical miles outward from the territorial sea baseline, which is about 22 kilometers.

For an ocean-going freighter with a speed between 15 and 20 knots, as long as it leaves the harbor and sails at full speed in a straight line for an hour or two, it can completely cross this invisible national border.

The GPS coordinates on the screen moved smoothly.

When the green cursor representing the ship's position completely crossed the dotted line marking the boundary of U.S. territorial waters and entered the contiguous zone and high seas, First Officer Sun Bin's tense shoulders finally relaxed completely.

Once you reach this point, the U.S. Coast Guard and Customs completely lose their jurisdiction to board and enforce the law.

"We've gone out. We're in international waters."

First Mate Sun Bin turned his head and looked at Captain Zhao Jian:

"Walk."

Captain Zhao Jian put down his teacup and picked up a set of spare keys from the control panel.

"Hand the driver over to the second mate. You come with me to the lowest level, cold storage room number two."

"We need to find those two old gentlemen as soon as possible."

"They've been inside for almost three hours. Although the wooden crate was lined with polyurethane insulation, the outside is still a cold storage room with temperatures below -10 degrees Celsius."

First Officer Sun Bin picked up a crowbar and strode towards the stairs to the cockpit.

"Indeed, they're so old, if we don't get them out soon, they'll freeze to death."

The two descended the narrow metal gangway, passed through the intricate cabin corridors, and arrived at the heavy insulated door of the No. 2 cold storage room.

Pushing open the door, a chilly atmosphere of minus ten degrees Celsius mixed with white mist rushed out, and the cold storage was filled with hundreds and thousands of identical cardboard boxes and wooden rafts.

The two spent some time carefully checking the labels in the maze-like pile of goods by the beam of their flashlights, and finally found the two extra-large wooden crates labeled "Premium Frozen Pork Ribs" in the innermost part against the wall.

"These are the two."

First mate Sun Bin stepped forward, inserted one end of the crowbar into the gap in the top of the wooden crate, and pressed down hard.

With a few ear-piercing cracks of wood splitting and the creaking of nails being pulled out, the heavy roof was lifted off.

Inside the insulated wooden crate, old Bill and Arthur were huddled together, wrapped in heavy military winter clothing.

Both men had a thin layer of frost on their eyebrows and beards, their lips were purple from the cold, and their bodies were still shivering involuntarily. However, when they saw the flashlight beam and two Eastern faces, their eyes were still clear, and their overall condition was relatively normal.

"Come out, you two, you're safe now."

Captain Zhao Jian reached out and pulled the two old men, who were somewhat stiff from the cold, out of the wooden box.

To avoid the Indian and Filipino sailors who were resting on the deck and in the lower cabins, Zhao Jian and Sun Bin led them through an internal maintenance passage that only senior crew members had keys to, and after many twists and turns, they arrived at a separate cabin on the middle level of the superstructure.

Pushing open the door, I found the cabin was already fully heated.

Although the room was small, it was fully equipped with two single beds, a private bathroom, and a table and chairs. There were also two thermos flasks filled with hot water on the table.

"Take off your winter coat and drink some hot water to warm yourself up."

Zhao Jian closed the cabin door and locked it. He watched the two old men take off their heavy coats and let out a long sigh of relief.

"For the next two weeks or so, you will stay in this cabin and absolutely must not go out and show your face in front of the other crew members."

Zhao Jian calmly explained the subsequent arrangements.

"We will cross the Pacific Ocean, and the voyage will take about fifteen to eighteen days."

"During this time, the first mate will personally come over regularly to deliver meals and water to you. If you need anything, you can only tell him at this time."

Old Bill held the hot water cup, feeling the warmth from his palms, and his previously frozen brain began to function again.

He glanced at Arthur, then looked at Zhao Jian. As a senior engineer who had spent many years working in the military-industrial complex, he instinctively adopted a work-related mindset:

"Captain, do we need to prepare some negotiation materials now?"

"Or, would you like us to immediately write down some of the anonymized technical parameters and send them back to the East via your internal network, so that they can prepare for receiving and evaluating them in advance?"

"unnecessary."

Zhao Jian shook his head and rejected the suggestion without hesitation.

"The high seas do not guarantee absolute safety, Mr. McIntyre."

Zhao Jian pointed towards the top of the cabin and explained in a professional tone:

"This is in the middle of the ocean, where there are no land-based base station signals. Any communication between this ship and the outside world can only rely on the maritime satellite communication system."

"At this distance, any high-bandwidth data transmission or abnormal data stream with complex encryption protocols will be as conspicuous as a searchlight in the dark."

"The U.S. military's signals intelligence satellites (SIGINT) and the NSA's listening network are constantly scanning radio waves over the Pacific Ocean."

"If we send a large amount of engineering data now, the ship's coordinates will be locked within ten minutes, and Coast Guard helicopters or nearby destroyers will forcibly board the ship under the pretext of 'counter-terrorism' or 'inspection'."

After listening, old Bill nodded in deep agreement.

Having spent his entire life in the military industry, he naturally understands the importance of listening to professionals in professional settings.

"So all you need to do now is rest well, recover your health, and patiently wait for the ship to dock."

After giving a brief explanation, Zhao Jian and Sun Bin left the cabin without lingering.

Back on the bridge, Zhao Jian glanced at the maritime communication terminal on the control panel.

Although you can't send large encrypted files, the most basic message of letting others know you're safe is still necessary.

"You're a beautiful policewoman, why are you always thinking about going back to the East?" ranked high in readers' poll for best urban novel!

Instead of using the special encrypted channel, he patiently sat in front of the communication station and waited.

Approximately twenty minutes later, it was the hourly time for the cargo ship to send its routine dead reckoning report and weather data to nearby merchant ships and meteorological satellites, in accordance with international maritime practice.

Zhao Jian skillfully intervened in the sending process.

Amidst a long string of dry telemetry data codes containing wind speed, ocean currents, and latitude and longitude coordinates, he utilized the redundant gaps in the data packets to type in a short piece of plain text information, only a few bytes long:

The package has been received and is in good condition.

Press the Enter key.

This barely perceptible message, interspersed within a massive stream of routine meteorological data, was transformed into a radio wave and precisely transmitted to an Eastern communications satellite that happened to be passing over this sea area.

Seeing the green "Sent Successfully" message displayed on the screen, Captain Zhao Jian picked up his half-warm teacup and took a small sip.

Everything is safe.

……

On the other side of the ocean, in that windowless intelligence conference room buried deep underground, the atmosphere was extremely oppressive.

The ventilation system emitted a low rumble, but it still couldn't remove the heavy smell of smoke from the room.

Veteran agent Zhang Jianguo sat to the side of the computer screen, a cigarette between his fingers. The large glass ashtray in front of him was already crammed full of cigarette butts, some of which were still emitting wisps of smoke.

He smoked one cigarette after another, his eyes fixed on the world time zone map on the wall.

Li Hao, a technical analyst, wore heavy monitoring headphones, his eyes bloodshot, and stared intently at the four high-frequency display screens in front of him.

The screen was filled with a dense array of waveforms.

He is monitoring in real time the data traffic of the National Security Agency (NSA) Northwest Region, the radio silence level of the U.S. Coast Guard's 13th Regional Headquarters, and the communication frequency of the Seattle local police.

At this critical juncture, if an unusual surge in traffic suddenly appears on the US communication channels, or if the Coast Guard patrol boats begin large-scale mobilization, it means that the disappearance has been exposed, and the port will be sealed off in just a few minutes.

Section Chief Zhao Qiming was sitting at the head of the long table.

But he didn't fall asleep.

His mind was frantically rehearsing all the worst-case scenarios. If the cargo ship was intercepted by a US destroyer or a heavy customs patrol boat before leaving port, what level of language should the Ministry of Foreign Affairs use to lodge a protest?

If the US insists on boarding and searching the ship regardless of everything, will the lead plate and polyurethane partition in the bottom of the cold storage be able to hide those two living people in front of smuggling dogs and high-precision thermal imaging cameras?

Time passed by, and apart from the soft sound of typing on the keyboard, the only other sound in the conference room was Lao Zhang's heavy breathing.

Suddenly, on the second screen in front of Li Hao, a routine environmental telemetry data packet intercepted from a meteorological satellite flashed.

Li Hao's fingers slammed down a few keystrokes on the keyboard, and a short, multi-layered decrypted text message popped up: "Package has been stored and is in good condition."

He ripped off his headphones, turned around, and his voice was filled with undisguised excitement:

"Director, engineer. Line 1 has safely entered the track."

Upon hearing this, Zhang Jianguo's tense shoulders suddenly slumped, and he exhaled a long, heavy breath that had been trapped in his chest for hours. He then forcefully stubbed out the cigarette butt in his hand, which had long since burned down to the filter and was about to scald his fingers, at the bottom of the ashtray full of cigarette butts.

Zhao Qiming, who was sitting in the main seat, also opened his eyes.

His tense jawline visibly relaxed as he reached for a cup of tea on the table, which had long since gone cold. He tilted his head back and took a large gulp, his dry throat bobbing slightly.

"I've passed the first hurdle," Zhao Qiming said in a low voice.

But this does not mean the mission is over; the Long March has only taken its first step.

"Xiao Li, switch the monitoring target."

Old Zhang quickly got back to work and issued new instructions.

"clear."

Li Hao put his headphones back on and said, "Immediately switch to 24-hour monitoring."

His focus quickly shifted from official U.S. communications to encrypted emails from Raytheon executives and bounty pools on the Seattle dark web.

They need to use this indirect data to determine whether the Americans are aware that the people have already gone to sea.

Or are Raytheon's agents and mercenaries still wandering aimlessly through Seattle's slums and garbage dumps like headless flies?

Zhao Qiming put down his teacup, stood up, and smoothed out the wrinkles on his uniform.

"I need to go up there."

Zhao Qiming looked at the cargo ship's route map on the screen, his tone serious:

"Given the current situation, I need to request higher-level resource preparations from above."

Old Bill and Arthur, two elderly men, one of whom had just been rescued from severe pneumonia.

They would be spending more than half a month in the cramped and confined environment of the cargo ship's hold.

Once the ship docks and they arrive in China, no one can predict how much their physical and mental condition will deteriorate.

He had to coordinate in advance with the top medical team from the military hospital and the best psychological intervention experts in the country to set up a complete set of emergency and recuperation plans directly at the destination port.

These two people are priceless now, and we absolutely cannot afford to make any mistakes at the last step.

After arranging these things, the two remaining people in the conference room both turned their attention to the file about Leon Vance on the table.

Previously, those think tank experts were still arguing fiercely about whether Lyon was a "comrade who yearned for the East" or "FBI bait."

Now, the debate is completely over.

Two senior engineers who possessed core secrets of Raytheon and Boeing had been personally handed over to his own cargo ship by that American policeman.

Regardless of his motives, Leon has proven his sincerity in his own way.

"Raise Leon Vance's rank in the United Front to the highest level."

Old Zhang reached out and tapped on the cover of the file, his eyes becoming extremely sharp.

There is an ironclad rule in China's intelligence system: never let our own people who actually do the work do it for nothing, and never let our allies feel disheartened.

But the question is, how do we provide Lyon with resources and protection?

They already knew that Lyon's current identity was a hot potato.

Therefore, you cannot make direct payments through international banks, as that would trigger an alarm in the SWIFT system for large transactions. Furthermore, you cannot send agents to contact him directly, as that would endanger everyone.

"Master, how do we send the funds for the operation?" Li Hao asked from the side.

"We have to take a longer route."

Old Zhang took a piece of white paper and quickly drew several nodes on it with a pen.

"We need to design a sufficiently complex one-way money laundering network."

"Using our offshore shell companies registered in the Cayman Islands and the Bahamas, we launder funds into clean, untraceable cryptocurrencies or bearer bonds."

"Then, through Alex, the activity funds were transferred out in batches and in small amounts."

Old Zhang drew a heavy circle on the paper:

"Besides money, we also need to provide him with crucial intelligence for his self-defense."

"Since he operates in both the underworld and legitimate society in Seattle, we will use our domestic big data and our intelligence network in North America to help him screen the backgrounds of gang leaders or FBI officials who may pose a threat to him."

"Then feed him this intelligence through the dead mail system."

"Since he's a good knife, we have to help him sharpen it so he can survive longer in this quagmire."