68: Chapter 68 Friendly Force Identification Code Locked Up

The folding knife snapped open.

The blade was four inches long, ground to an extreme thinness, and flashed with a cold light.

Li Li pinched the handle with two fingers, angled his wrist, and pressed the blade against the nylon zip tie behind his wrist bone.

With one cut.

The zip tie snapped, flew off, and smacked against the car's headliner.

His wrists burned with pain; the marks left by the zip ties were half a finger wide, and the skin had been scraped raw. Li Li didn't have time to worry about it and turned to look at Jiang Rumu.

"Stretch out your hands."

Jiang Rumu didn't waste words; she turned around and held out her hands, which were tied behind her back, toward him.

Li Li held her wrists steady with his left hand and made a precise cut with his right.

The zip tie broke.

Jiang Rumu pulled her hands back and rubbed them a couple of times.

"Does it hurt?"

"It's alright." She looked down at the red marks on her wrists and pursed her lips. "It's much lighter than being forced by my agent to sign an indentured contract."

Li Li didn't respond. He leaned over and reached deeper into the crevice of the seat.

His fingertips touched a cold grip.

A glock 17.

The silencer was still screwed onto the muzzle. The magazine was full—the weight told him there were at least twelve rounds.

Delia had stashed his gun here too.

A knife to cut the bindings, a gun to save his life—everything was hidden in the same spot, reachable with a single reach.

Either she was genuinely helping, or she had calculated all the escape routes into a single game of chess.

It was highly likely the latter.

But there was no choice now.

The second floor was still burning. Thick smoke billowed from the gap in the collapsed floor, twisting into a crooked column in the sea breeze.

Soldiers were running all over the base—some toward the fire, some toward the armory, others standing in place, shouting orders at the top of their lungs.

Chaos. Absolute chaos.

This was the window of opportunity Delia had given him.

"Let's go."

Li Li pulled open the car door and jumped out, dragging Jiang Rumu with his left hand. He tucked the glock 17 into the back of his waistband and put the folding knife in his pocket.

"Head east. Run."

Jiang Rumu didn't ask why. She lifted the hem of her disgustingly dirty red dress and dashed out after him.

Gravel road. Hangars. Steel-structured sheds lined up one after another, housing Black Hawks, helicopter parts, fuel drums, and occasionally a forklift.

The two of them ran along the outer walls of the hangars.

Li Li led the way, picking only the dead zones—gaps not covered by cameras, blind spots of sandbag bunkers, and the narrowest alleyways between buildings.

After running past the third row of hangars, Li Li paused.

Toward the eastern coastline.

A UH-60 Black Hawk was parked on the helipad at the end of the runway, its propellers already turning. The blades sliced through the air slowly, transitioning from a slow rotation to a rapid spin.

The pilot was already inside.

There were no numbers or markings on the side of the fuselage, just a clean, desert-colored finish.

Delia's arrangement.

Blowing up the building was a feint—everyone's attention was drawn to the fire. The helicopter was the covert extraction—taking them away from the eastern coastline amidst the chaos.

Two minutes. The two minutes she mentioned was the time from the explosion to the helicopter completing its pre-flight preparations.

"See that helicopter?" Li Li lowered his voice.

Jiang Rumu stood on her tiptoes to take a look.

"I see it."

"Run over there, get on, and we're out of here."

Four hundred meters left.

The two of them darted out from the shadow of the hangar and stepped onto the access road at the edge of the runway.

Three hundred meters. Two hundred meters. One hundred and fifty—

"Hiss—!"

Jiang Rumu twisted her ankle.

She swayed to the right, and Li Li grabbed her arm, hauling her back up by force.

But the moment she landed, her right foot hit the ground, and her entire leg trembled.

High heels with broken heels, a gravel road, and an all-out sprint.

With these three things combined, it would be a miracle if her ankle didn't give out.

Jiang Rumu gritted her teeth and tried to take a step. As soon as her right foot touched the ground, a sharp pain shot up from her ankle, and she collapsed again.

"It's no good." Li Li blocked her path.

Jiang Rumu looked up at the Black Hawk 150 meters away, its propellers accelerating.

Then she looked at the increasing number of U.S. soldiers swarming from behind.

She gave Li Li a push forward.

"You go. Don't worry about me."

Her tone wasn't heavy. But as she said those words, she let go of his arm.

She let go voluntarily.

Li Li looked down at her.

"Say that again?"

"I said—"

"Shut up."

Li Li bent down and hoisted Jiang Rumu onto his shoulders.

Carrying her like a princess? Romantic, sure, but too slow. The Firefighter carry—with 110 pounds on his shoulders, his hands were free, and he could still run.

Jiang Rumu: "..."

Her red dress flipped up, and her legs dangled in front of Li Li's chest. She was upside down.

"Li Li, you—!"

"Don't move. If you twist your neck, you won't be getting off this island today."

Li Li sprinted forward with her on his shoulders. Three steps. Four steps. Five steps—

A shout erupted from the other end of the runway. In English.

"Over there! East side of the runway! The helicopter!"

They had been spotted.

Li Li didn't stop. He pushed harder with his legs, increasing his speed even more. But no matter how fast he ran while carrying someone, he couldn't outrun a radio.

More shouts converged from different directions. The sound of engines, tires crushing gravel—at least two vehicles were closing in.

One hundred meters. Not enough. There wasn't enough time.

Li Li slammed on the brakes, turned left, and dove into the nearest hangar with Jiang Rumu on his shoulders.

A steel-structured shed. Inside sat an unassembled Black Hawk, with parts scattered everywhere. Dozens of fuel drums and wooden ammunition crates were piled in the corner.

Li Li set Jiang Rumu down from his shoulders and leaned her against the ammunition crates.

"Sit there and don't move."

Jiang Rumu slid down to the floor along the ammunition crates. Her right ankle was swollen, and the broken high heel lay to one side. She didn't make a sound, her face pale.

Li Li crouched at the hangar entrance, peeking out with half his head.

It was full of people outside. At least thirty U.S. soldiers were running toward the fire from all directions. Humvees roared past on the runway. The alarm had been sounded.

The helicopter—

The Black Hawk 150 meters away had its propellers spinning at full speed, its landing gear half a meter off the ground.

The pilot was waiting.

But a Humvee was turning the corner of the runway, mounted with an M240 machine gun, its muzzle—pointed directly at the Black Hawk.

They had been spotted.

Shouts. Warnings. English and Hebrew mixed together.

The Black Hawk hovered for less than two seconds. It didn't wait for the person it was supposed to pick up.

The propellers surged to maximum power, the fuselage shot upward, and it banked sharply toward the eastern coastline.

It left. It left first.

Li Li crouched at the hangar door, watching the Black Hawk trail a gray shadow through the morning light as it flew over the sea.

Thirty seconds. Less than thirty seconds.

A streak of white smoke rose from a bunker on the south side of the base.

Stinger. A man-portable air-defense system.

The white smoke trailed a fiery exhaust as it chased after it. Fast. Very fast.

The Black Hawk performed an evasive turn. Flares were ejected—two of them—exploding into orange-red balls of light in the sky.

It was useless.

The white smoke struck the Black Hawk's tail boom.

A fireball exploded in the sky, spraying debris and black smoke in all directions. The helicopter snapped in two, tumbling as it crashed into the sea.

Boom.

A splash shot up into the sky.

Inside the hangar, Jiang Rumu propped herself up on the ammunition crates, seeing the column of black smoke rising over the sea through the gap in the door.

"That was..."

"Our extraction."

Five words.

Jiang Rumu opened her mouth, then closed it.

The escape route was gone.

Alarms blared around the perimeter of the base. U.S. soldiers on the runway were cheering. Some were applauding.

Shooting down an unidentified helicopter, protecting the base's security. To them, it was a successful defensive operation worth celebrating.

Celebrate my ass.

Li Li crouched in the hangar, his mind already running through a second plan.

His gaze swept through the hangar—the half-dismantled Black Hawk, parts, fuel drums—

Then he saw something in the deepest corner.

Something covered by a gray canvas.

The silhouette, the wings, the vertical stabilizer, the air intakes.

Li Li walked over and ripped off the canvas.

F/A-18F. Super Hornet. Two-seater model.

The fuselage was intact, the canopy was open, and several standby indicator lights were still glowing on the front cockpit instrument panel.

Under the wings hung two AIM-9X Sidewinder dogfight missiles and an external fuel tank.

Most importantly—the markings on the side of the fuselage.

A Star of David.

The Israel Air Force emblem.

Li Li froze for a second.

Inside a U.S. base, there sat an F/A-18F with Israel markings.

A joint operation; the U.S. and Mossad shared this base. Since a Israel plane was parked here, the U.S. air defense system would identify it as friendly.

Friendly identification code.

Friendly.

System, nice to see you again.

That reward from before made me very nervous.

I thought a civilian airliner was going to crash, but I didn't expect a Super Hornet to take off!

Damn it!

Love you!

Ding—

[Emergency Mission Triggered: Pirate Ship Upgrade!]

[Description: Since you can't board the pirate ship, just steal it. Note: This system assumes no responsibility regarding international law.]

[Mission Reward: Carrier-Based Aircraft Takeoff and Landing Skill · Combat Certification]

Li Li looked back at Jiang Rumu and handed her one of the two helmets lying by his feet.

"Are you afraid of drop towers?"

Jiang Rumu paused, following his gaze.

She saw the fighter jet.

Her brain crashed for exactly three seconds.

"...You're going to fly this?"

"Is there any other choice?"

Jiang Rumu looked around—the drafty hangar, the thirty-plus U.S. soldiers outside with guns, and the wreckage of the extraction helicopter floating in the sea.

"No."

"Then you aren't afraid of it."

Li Li walked over to the F/A-18F, braced his hands on the edge of the cockpit, and flipped into the front seat.

The instrument panel lit up, the engine was in standby mode, fuel was at 88%, hydraulics were normal, and the avionics self-test passed.

The low-frequency hum of the F414 turbofan engine vibrated through the fuselage.

He poked his head out of the cockpit.

"Get in the back seat, quickly."

Jiang Rumu dragged her swollen ankle, limping over to the plane, and looked up at the height of the back seat.

Two point three meters.

Red dress, broken high heels, twisted ankle.

She didn't say a word; she stepped on the non-slip pedal on the edge of the air intake, grabbed the edge of the cockpit with both hands, and hauled herself up.

Her red dress tore from her thigh to her knee.

She didn't look at the tear, fell into the back seat, fumbled for two seconds, and smartly buckled the five-point safety harness.

"Hold on."

Li Li pushed the throttle.

The twin F414 turbofan engines roared. Exhaust flames shot out from the nozzles, and the scorching heat wave sent the canvas and empty cardboard boxes in the hangar flying everywhere.

The F/A-18F taxied out of the hangar and onto the runway.

The landing gear screeched sharply as it rolled over the asphalt runway.

The base control tower's radio exploded with noise.

"Unauthorized aircraft taxiing on the runway! All units, pay attention! East side of the runway—"

Li Li didn't turn on the radio.

He pushed the throttle to the max, and the afterburners ignited.

The acceleration pressed both of them hard into their seatbacks; Jiang Rumu's head slammed against the headrest, and the G-force made it hard for her to breathe.

The end of the runway was approaching frantically.

Pull the stick.

The nose lifted, and the landing gear left the ground.

The F/A-18F shot into the sky in a near-vertical climb.

Inside the tower, a gray-haired U.S. general held his brunch—a plate of scrambled eggs with bacon, plus a cup of black coffee.

He watched the fighter jet outside the window, trailing exhaust flames as it disappeared into the clouds.

His brain crashed.

"Shoot it down."

The operator's finger hovered over the air defense system control console.

On the screen, next to the light spot, were three letters.

IFF: FRIENDLY.

Identification Friend or Foe—Friendly.

"Sir... the system identifies it as friendly. Unable to lock on."

The general's coffee cup slammed onto the desk.

"What do you mean unable to lock on?!"

"Israel Air Force code; it's a friendly identification code authorized for joint operations. Our system... refuses to attack friendly targets."

The general looked down at his scrambled eggs and bacon.

Then he flipped the entire tray.

The scrambled eggs flew two meters away, and the bacon plastered itself against the tower's glass window. Black coffee spilled all over the desk, soaking three combat reports.

"Get me the Pentagon!!"

Thirty thousand feet in the air.

The F/A-18F streaked across the Oman coastline at Mach 1.2, diving toward the Indian Ocean.

Back seat.

Jiang Rumu gripped the seat armrests, her fingernails nearly embedding into the protective rubber.

Outside the windshield was pure blue. Sea and sky merged into one. Clouds spread out like cotton wool beneath the wings.

She looked down; the amethyst necklace Delia had left behind, resting on her chest, drifted backward under the G-force, the silver chain pulled taut.

"Li Li."

"Yeah."

"Exactly how many driver's licenses... do you have?"

Li Li flicked the control stick, and the fuselage banked slightly to avoid a cumulonimbus cloud.

"I haven't counted, but flying this thing—"

He looked down and scanned the fuel gauge.

"I definitely don't have a license for this."

The back seat was quiet for two seconds.

"I regret getting on."

Li Li didn't have time to respond.

Inside the cockpit, an alarm sound he had never heard before suddenly blared.

Short, sharp, three consecutive beeps.

Radar warning.

An aircraft behind them was closing in.