18: Locked? How could that be?

Inside the luxurious apartment, the rich aroma of expensive red wine still lingered in the air.

David was in an excellent mood. He looked at Juan, who stood respectfully by his side, and snapped his fingers.

"Time to distribute the money!"

"Every brother who participated in this operation gets a share."

"A total of 50 million US dollars has been set aside as a bonus. You personally hand it out."

David said it casually, but Juan's eyelids couldn't help but twitch.

A 50 million US dollar bonus!

This amount of money was enough to make anyone go crazy and risk their lives.

"Tell them that once they get the money, they should break it down into smaller amounts and deposit it into different banks."

"Don't be foolish and stack millions in cash at home; that's only something idiots do in movies."

David instructed.

"My people shouldn't be idiots."

"Understood, Boss." Juan nodded in agreement.

"Also, don't waste the equipment we 'borrowed' from the Chicago Police Department, as well as the remaining assault rifles and bulletproof vests."

A shrewd, business-like smile played on David's lips.

"Package them up and sell them to the local gangs. They'll surely be happy to pay for this 'police equipment'."

"Consider it our last contribution to the prosperity of Chicago's underground market before we leave."

"I estimate we can get another five million in pocket money."

Juan didn't ask who to sell it to or how to sell it.

He only needed to execute orders.

"Boss, when are we heading to San Francisco?"

"No rush."

David waved his hand, sat back on the sofa, turned on the giant screen TV, and switched to an international news channel.

The screen was broadcasting a news report about South America.

"According to the latest news from this station, the Bolivian government has announced that it will deepen cooperation with Eagle Country."

"They will jointly execute a military operation codenamed 'Operation Rescue,' aimed at completely eradicating the country's largest armed drug trafficking group, the Santa Ana Cartel..."

On the TV screen, there was a photo of a high-ranking Bolivian official shaking hands with a representative from the Eagle Country military.

The two in the photo smiled brightly, full of confidence.

When David saw this news, his smile grew even wider.

"Look, Juan, the show is about to begin."

He pointed at the TV, his tone filled with the excitement of someone watching a spectacle unfold.

"My big client, Gomez, is about to be in big trouble."

"But then again..."

David stroked his chin.

"Trouble also means business opportunities."

South America, Bolivia.

The headquarters of the Santa Ana Cartel, a manor hidden deep within the tropical rainforest.

Late at night, the conference room was brightly lit, but the atmosphere was terribly oppressive.

Leader Gomez sat at the head of the table, his face so gloomy it looked like it could drip water.

He had just hung up an encrypted call; the news from his informant filled him with rage.

"Is everyone here?"

Gomez scanned the trusted lieutenants seated around the table, speaking in a hoarse voice.

His brother, Arce, who was also the group's second-in-command, nodded.

"Everyone's here, Big Brother."

Gomez took a deep breath and dropped a bombshell.

"I received news."

"Those bastards in the government have teamed up with Eagle Country and are coming after us."

"The operation is codenamed 'Operation Rescue.'"

"They plan to deploy 50,000 military and police personnel, coordinated with Eagle Country's air strikes, to completely wipe us off this land!"

As soon as his voice fell, the entire conference room instantly erupted.

"What? Fifty thousand?!"

"And Eagle Country's planes?!"

A bearded leader stood up immediately, his face filled with terror.

"Boss! How can we fight this? We're no match at all!"

"That's right, that's 50,000 regular troops! Plus Eagle Country's air support! We should evacuate immediately! Go to Colombia, or Brazil!"

For a moment, panic spread, and many showed signs of cowardice.

"Everyone shut up!"

Arce slammed his hand on the table and roared sharply.

"Run? Where can we run to? This is our home! Our empire!"

"You cowards! Do you want to hand over the empire we painstakingly built to others?"

Gomez said nothing, merely coldly watching the subordinates who were clamoring to flee.

His gaze slowly silenced them, making them fidget uneasily.

Once the conference room was quiet again, Gomez slowly spoke, his voice not loud, but carrying an undeniable ruthlessness.

"Those who want to run can get out now."

"I, Gomez, don't keep cowards."

"But if anyone dares to leak even a whisper of this, no matter where you run to, I will chop you into pieces and feed you to the dogs!"

The conference room was silent.

No one dared to utter the word "run" again.

Gomez nodded with satisfaction and looked at Arce.

"If they want to play, we'll play with them properly!"

"They have planes, and so do we!"

"Arce, immediately move our attack helicopters out and hide them in the backup base deep in the jungle."

"They are our secret weapon."

"Also..."

A cold glint flashed in Gomez's eyes.

"The treasure we bought from that Chinese, that anti-aircraft vehicle called 'sergeant york,' also move it out immediately!"

"Drive it to the valley in the east and hide it well. Have Gabriel personally lead the operation. That's the most likely ambush route for Eagle Country's planes."

"They think we only have drugs and AKs?"

Gomez stood up, hands braced on the table, leaning forward like a beast about to devour its prey.

"I want them to know what happens when you anger the Santa Ana Cartel!"

"They want to save Bolivia?"

"Then let's use the lives of Eagle Country pilots as a sacrifice first!"

The next day, 3:00 AM.

The Eagle Country Air Force base on the Bolivian border.

Accompanied by the roar of massive engines, seven f-15 'eagle' fighter jets took off sequentially.

Their sharp wings cut through the night sky, heading towards the Santa Ana Cartel's stronghold.

"This is 'viper one,' all units report status."

Captain Carlos, the pilot, sat in the cockpit of the F-15A, casually communicating with his teammates via radio.

"Viper Two, received, everything normal."

"Viper Three, received, weather's good, perfect for hunting."

Relaxed banter from his teammates came through the radio. In their view, this mission was nothing more than an armed parade.

Just a bunch of drug dealers, what kind of decent anti-aircraft firepower could they have?

Nothing more than some heavy machine guns and portable missiles.

For an F-15 flying tens of thousands of meters high, those things were no different from burning sticks.

"Alright, guys, cut the jokes."

Carlos chuckled, "Let's finish this quickly. I'm looking forward to getting back for some eggs and bacon."

He lowered his altitude, preparing to use the airborne fire control radar to lock onto the manor below, providing guidance for subsequent precision strikes.

"Preparing to activate radar. I'm going to send a package to our friends down there."

However, the moment he pressed the button...

A sharp, piercing alarm blared wildly in his cockpit without warning!

"Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!"

On the radar warning receiver, the red light indicating a fire control radar lock flashed frantically!

Carlos's smile instantly froze on his face.

"Locked on? How is that possible?!"

He instinctively yanked the control stick, simultaneously frantically releasing infrared flares.

Clusters of dazzling fireballs exploded behind the F-15's tail.

"Flares released! I'm evasive! Can anyone tell me what the hell is down there?!"

His roar on the public channel was filled with shock and confusion.

Meanwhile, in a jungle tens of kilometers away.

On the radar screen of the M247 'Sergeant York' Anti-Aircraft Vehicle, a red dot was firmly locked.

"He released flares, but it's too late."

The person in charge, Gabriel, looked at the screen, a cruel smile on his face.

"The distance is too close; not even God can save him."

"Fire!"

As he gave the order, a missile, trailing a long plume of exhaust, shot skyward from beneath the camouflage net.

It carved a deadly arc across the night sky, precisely heading for the F-15 that was performing futile evasive maneuvers.

In the cockpit, Carlos watched, wide-eyed, as the missile grew larger and larger in his vision... "Oh, no..."

Boom!

A deafening explosion.

In the night sky, a huge fireball suddenly erupted.

The F-15 'Eagle' fighter jet, costing tens of millions of US dollars, along with its confident pilot,

was instantly torn to shreds, transforming into a burning wreck that plummeted into the dark jungle below.

After a deathly silence on the public channel, came the terrified screams of the other pilots.

"viper one has been shot down!"

"My God! What was that?! They have advanced anti-aircraft missiles!"

"Retreat! Retreat now! This is a trap!"