The Military Police Adjutant Strikes Back Before Interrogation, Gwen Checks the Communications Black

The echo from the loudspeaker outside the Cold Storage reverberated through the gaps in the doorway.

The synchronized sound of boots splashing through water stopped ten meters outside the Cold Storage door, followed by the muffled, heavy thud of riot shields striking each other.

Lynn did not step out the door.

He clasped the brass pocket watch, engraved with a thirty-seven-tooth escape wheel, into his palm, and pressed his other hand against the shoulder of the guard lying on the ice.

"Outside the gate is the Seventh Defense Zone Military Police Special Service Battalion."

Lynn's voice was flat.

"Are you waiting for them to storm in and use the chaos to silence you along with the evidence, or are you convinced they can save your life?"

The Black Crow Honor Guard on the ground spat out the blood from the corner of his mouth. Even after his jawbone was reset, his speech was still slurred, but his eyes regained the fierce look characteristic of a district officer.

"Director Lynn, don't try to fool me with that assassin thing."

Konoe sneered, his back pressed against the steel channel of the refrigerated shelf, as he raised his arms, which were bound by Silk.

"I'm wearing the quarantine uniform from the Seventh Defense Zone. I'm checking routine cold chain disposal documents upon entering."

"However, the Director's Office and Liaison Office illegally broke into the heavy-duty Cold Storage in the Third Defense Zone, and on the spot used violence to brutally harm the officers on duty in the defense zone."

"The body cameras of the military police outside are all on."

"The moment the door opens, you will be the ones to pin the charges of 'armed Impact on the defense zone' and 'framing the garrison officer.'"

Konoe spoke with certainty.

Within the complex power structure of the Management Committee, without on-site recordings and official document traceability, any on-site arrest can be falsely accused of being cross-departmental infighting.

Moreover, the area outside the door was already completely surrounded by Monk's men.

Gwen Stacy knelt down beside him and reached out to unzip the side of his tactical backpack.

The metal fasteners made a crisp clinking sound.

Gwen Stacy pulled a palm-sized black cast iron box from her bag.

The box's edges are wrapped in shock-absorbing rubber, and the outer casing is covered in antifreeze oil stains. The orange-yellow indicator light in the upper right corner is flashing at a faint frequency.

That's the offline black box hidden inside the spare bogie of the No. 094 troop carrier chassis.

In the half-minute window of opportunity when she used the pneumatic tube to force the sniper back outside the repair shop, Gwen Stacy casually cut the twisted pair of cables on the troop carrier and pried it off entirely.

"The ' Gray Gull-3 ' shortwave black box procured by the defense zone."

Gwen Stacy placed the black square box flat on top of the aluminum box.

"Dual-channel independent power supply, with 30-minute power outage delay storage."

"To prevent the central control center from discovering any evidence of unauthorized vehicle relocation, Monk's Command disconnected the entire vehicle's bus network."

"But they forgot that the more mechanically offline the device, the more likely it is to connect the cockpit microphone and walkie-talkie frequency bands in parallel in the same magnetoresistive circuit."

The cold smile on Konoe's face froze slightly.

His gaze fell on the Black Box bearing the military police warehouse stamp.

Gwen Stacy pulled a double-ended multi-function adjustment cable from her tactical belt.

The needle-like plug was inserted into the test hole on the side of the black box, and the other end was connected to the high-density portable terminal of the Liaison Office.

The green data reading progress bar jumped forward rapidly on the miniature LCD screen.

85%.

92%.

100%.

A faint white noise hum came from inside the terminal.

Gwen Stacy's finger slid across the touchscreen, precisely rewinding the timeline to thirty-two minutes earlier.

The first sound coming from the loudspeaker was the muffled roar of a diesel engine idling at low speed.

This was followed by the crisp sound of a metal lighter's grinding wheel rubbing together.

A deep, taut male voice rang out clearly in the utterly silent cold storage room:

"The goods have been delivered to the third row of shelves in the Seventh Biochemical Storage."

"The eight sets of ordinary card cores that Old Barry changed to are in plain sight, while the four sets of master copies are placed in the middle."

That's the adjutant's voice.

The confidential aide to Commander Monk of the Third Defense Zone, the major who, just two hours earlier, had been blocking Lynn from opening the box in the Seventh Corridor with the regulations document.

There was a two-second pause in the recording, followed by the voice of the guard lying on the ice:

"I'll take the parent stock, but what about the remaining eight sets?"

"Leave them all downstairs."

The adjutant's voice was low, carrying a cold, calculating tone.

"Self-destruct stickers are set with a three-minute delay."

"The hot-melt wire burned through the decontamination pipes on the sixth basement level, and the acid melted through the entire floor of the Cold Storage."

"Whether it's Gwen Stacy from the Liaison Office or that guy from the Director's Office who comes in, as long as they're even slightly involved, no one, not even a god, could find out their background."

"After you tear off the original seal on the desiccant box, immediately exit through the side door. The Military Police Special Service Battalion will seal off the gate precisely three minutes later, announcing to the public that a biological leak has occurred and the warehouse has been sealed off for clearance."

As the recording reached this point, Konoe's breathing suddenly became heavy.

His chest heaved violently, and cold sweat trickled down his smeared skin, dripping onto the icy cement floor.

This was a secret plot orchestrated by Monk's adjutant.

There is no room for negotiation regarding the direct audio evidence.

"Frame a military officer?"

Lynn looked at the guard's pale face, his voice devoid of emotion.

"This blank transfer order, along with the original audio recordings of you and Lieutenant Monk from the black box, if presented to the Joint Conference's Inspection Group, would be enough to suspend the entire Military Police Command for three months under investigation."

The guard's teeth began to chatter.

He was well aware of the Management Committee's military law.

While illegally dumping classified assets is one thing, deliberately destroying the cold chain pipeline network by pre-burying thermoelectric fuses underground in the core defense zone constitutes a top-level crime of sabotage against the enemy.

Monk couldn't save him.

Not only could he not be saved, but the only purpose of the fully armed Military Police Special Service Battalion outside the door at this moment was to rush in and crush him along with the black box.

"I... I was just ordered to provide backup..."

Konoe's psychological Defense Line completely crumbled, and his voice became as dry as if it had been sanded.

"The original source isn't in me, it really isn't!"

"The parent material was already taken away half an hour ago when the troop transport vehicle was parked in the cargo blind spot!"

Lynn crouched down, placing his palm on the edge of the aluminum box.

Who took it?

Konoe's lips trembled, his gaze shifting frantically between the crack in the door and the black box.

"I don't know... It was a woman, wearing a thick protective suit like those worn by Department of Technology office worker, and a fully enclosed breathing mask. She wasn't very tall."

"The adjutant personally handed her the aluminum box containing the mother sample."

"The adjutant was very polite to her, even giving her the highest-level salute from the inner guard in the defense zone."

Gwen Stacy's expression changed.

The internal staff of the Department of Technology were so skilled that even Monk's confidential adjutant bowed to them.

In the entire Department of Technology building, apart from the two people in the minister's office, there wasn't a third person.

Gwen Stacy reached out to pause the recording so she could verify the adjutant's movements.

The audio from the black box speaker did not end.

After the adjutant Monk, finished explaining the self-destruct plan, the faint ticking of a mechanical clock could be heard in the background.

Immediately afterwards, a third person's voice cut in from the background of the communication.

Not Monk.

Nor was it any of the officers present.

It was a hoarse female voice that had been deeply processed by a professional-grade hardware pitch modulator.

The tone was flat and cold, with a metallic scraping noise.

"The master card core was sent to the abandoned equipment room of the Central Broadcast Tower."

"Before the countdown ends, completely lock the Seventh Gate."

"Don't let Lynn leave the underground alive."

Just three short sentences.

The recording was immediately cut off by a sharp shortwave hang-up.

The Cold Storage was deathly silent.

Gwen Stacy abruptly turned to look at Lynn, her fingertips gripping the edge of the terminal tightly.

Although the female voice, processed by the pitch changer, was severely distorted, it still possessed a distinctive, slightly drawn-out tone at the end of each word.

That's a tone of voice that only people who have been in high positions for a long time and are used to issuing absolute commands retain.

Lynn did not speak.

His fingertips lightly traced the thirty-seven teeth on the back of the pocket watch.

The guard was unaware of the mysterious woman's identity.

But the Watchmaker, Lieutenant Monk, and the woman hidden behind the communications had already woven an impenetrable net on the seventh underground level.

The shouting outside the door suddenly stopped.

Instead, there was the ear-piercing crushing sound of heavy-duty hydraulic demolition shears biting into the outer edge of the lead-steel door.

The lead-steel door groaned heavily, and the observation window in the center of the door panel was cracked from the impact.

The Special Operations Battalion of the Defense Zone did not wait for a response.

They are preparing for a full-scale attack.

Gwen Stacy immediately drew her pistol, stepped to the side to block Lynn's view, and locked the muzzle of the gun in the crack of the door.

Despair flashed in the eyes of the guards on the ground.

He recognized the model of the breaching tool—it was a blasting hydraulic device specifically used by the Special Operations Battalion of the Defense Zone to handle high-risk abandoned compartments.

The other party had no intention of leaving him any chance to defend himself.

On the screen of the portable terminal, the black box circuit that had just finished reading suddenly started flashing Scarlet gibberish.

The orange indicator light, which had been off, suddenly turned a glaring deep red.

Immediately afterwards, a very faint smell of overload and burning came from the internal integrated circuit board.

The backup frequency band, which was originally locked deep inside the black box, was forcibly activated by an external signal from an unknown source.

The alternating long and short blind telegrams sounded like a string of rapid hailstones, crackling and popping through the external speaker.