Chapter 451

The upper three floors are mainly inhabited by people, canteens and warehouses. That is to say, the equipment of the factory is underground. After turning a few corners on the first floor, we enter the production area through an iron gate. As soon as we enter, we are startled by the sight. On several assembly lines, many things are being packed into small cans for the next process, Many workers are shuttling between the assembly lines, and people with guns are watching.

"What's the matter?" I poked my head out at the corner of the stairs and asked when I saw the scene.

"It should be the people from the local tribes in the desert who were caught to be workers." Lao Hei looked at the ragged workers. He could see that these people were wearing robes before, and now they are broken enough to catch fish. In the desert, some small tribes with oasis as the core have no country or government, and still maintain a relatively old living state. Unexpectedly, they are watched by these people and caught here as free labor.

"How about going in?" old black asked me.

"Don't worry," I said, started the video function of my mobile phone, took a short video of these workers being forced to work, took a few photos and sent them to brother donkey to see if they were exposed back.

While I was shooting, suddenly Lao Hei, who was blowing in the back, made a "hissing" sound between his teeth. I looked back and he pointed to his ear, indicating that I heard someone coming up the stairs behind me.

Immediately put away the camera and we hid in the space under the stairs. A few minutes later, with the sound of leather shoes knocking on the ground, a large number of people came.

"1, 2, 3, 4..." I counted the number at first, but then I gave up. There are at least 30 people in this vote. It doesn't make any difference whether I count it or not.

These people were talking as they walked. One of them sounded familiar and said something in heavily accented English.

"When will these things be ready?" asked the familiar voice.

A man with an equally strong accent replied in English, "a month at most, your excellency."

"Without so much time, the negotiation will break down. We need these things at any time. We'll help you catch some more people and give them to me in half a month."

Hearing this, I immediately reflected who this guy was. No wonder I heard his voice familiar. It turned out to be Saif, that bastard. Why did this guy come here? What are your intentions? What is the production line here?

A series of questions appeared in my mind like fish spitting bubbles. I can't go out to find out until these people pass by.

The footsteps of these people walked all the way to the stairs. When the footsteps were too far away to hear, we flashed out from behind the stairs and quietly walked down several floors of the workshop of the assembly line.

There are production lines in the middle of the workshop. Plastic drums filled with chemicals are piled on both sides. Each is more than half a person high. Various machines in the workshop are very noisy. They have to shout when talking to each other. Our footsteps can't even spread for three meters, so they are swallowed by the noise. The three people bend down and start to touch down on the first floor under the cover of the barrels.

The whole chemical plant is like an iceberg. The underground part is much larger than the three floors on the ground. The area and height have more than doubled. It has been dug down for more than 60 meters. The huge underground workshop expanded at the fixed soil layer under the sand dune is full of lights, which are brighter than during the day. It feels like 24-hour continuous production.

The expanded underground part is divided into upper, middle and lower layers. Each layer is about 20 meters high. The lower it goes, the closer it seems to be to the finished product. There are various chemical liquids on it. After distillation and purification, the second layer is pressurized and poured into fist sized pressure glass bottles. On the third layer, these glass bottles containing liquefied gas are put into some conical iron shells.

After seeing the things they played with, I suddenly understood that the real purpose of processing here was to process chemical weapons in the name of waste disposal, and then provide them to Saif, who needs chemical weapons, for application on the battlefield.

"Shit, a lot of people will die," Lao Hei whispered. He has been a mercenary for a long time. He knows the power of these things. A spoonful of VX poison gas diffuses into the air and can kill no people or animals in an area of hundreds of meters. Even if they are not skilled, they have no powerful things like VX, but the training methods of sarin and mustard gas are very common, If these things are loaded into mortar shells, it only takes dozens of rounds to destroy a group of people, and the situation in Congo, which has finally stabilized, will be chaotic again.

The underground floors of the chemical plant are not completely closed and can receive satellite signals. I immediately took pictures of the situation here and sent it to brother donkey. He will send it to the United Nations staff named song Wendi. He will find channels to reflect these situations. Naturally, someone will deal with these things.

When I sent it here, Lao Hei was also sending pictures and text materials there with his own satellite terminal. I wondered, "who did you send it to?"

"That female reporter, these are important clues. If she can make a lot of money, she can't just go to bed with others. It's no good at all. Otherwise, it's hard to start when we meet in the future." Lao Hei said with a mean face. I really don't know whether he is shameless or affectionate. It's really speechless to think of his gun friends when there are good things.

We sent information, and the drunkard slipped into the innermost part of the third floor. After a while, he bent over and touched the empty bucket and said to me, "boss, there's something wrong over there. Shall we go and have a look?"

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"There's a long tunnel dug in the soil under the sand."

"Tunnel? What's strange? Put cars and tanks," I replied.

The drunkard shook his head, thought about it and said, "come and see you."

After moving behind different bunkers for a while, I saw that I came to the edge of the workshop on the third floor, where a large number of building materials were stacked, including steel bars, triangular steel, bags of cement, etc. there were two concrete mixers next to these things, but no one was working there at the moment.

Looking along the front of the mixer truck, there is a long tunnel. From inside, there is the sound of the excavator working. It seems that it is still under construction. It must be some important purpose, otherwise it won't work continuously for 24 hours.

At the first glance, I thought the tunnel was strange. It was a little different from what I usually saw. After a closer look, I understand that most tunnels are straight. Even if there is an arc, it won't be too large. I don't know what the intention is. I specially repaired an arc.

The three of us looked at each other and didn't understand each other. If we built that kind of train tunnel, it would just be limited by the terrain. What's the use of trying so hard to pull out such a thing in the desert?

"Boss, would you like to go in and have a look?" the drunkard whispered to me.

"Lao Hei, what do you think?"

"Cut, I'm not Yuanfang. Why do you ask me?" Lao Hei looked at it with a satellite phone and a smile on his face. It's estimated that the female reporter sent back a text message to thank him. Damn this guy, he actually did these things in front of me. He really found a chance to make a small report, otherwise he would be too sorry for Jinlihua.

After thinking about it, I still made a decision, but it was risky to do so, because it was obvious that the tunnel was very empty, no bricks, no tiles, no oil barrels, and there was no place to hide.

"Wait" the drunkard took a taxi to the door of the mixer and found some dirty clothes full of sweat from the cab. These clothes are the kind of coarse canvas tops worn by construction workers, which are really much better than the cleaners' clothes on us. After all, cleaners will not work here. If they are seen, they will be suspicious, and construction workers will not.

Only one dress and helmet were found in the two cars. I told Lao Hei to stay at the tunnel entrance. I took the drunkard to change into workers' clothes, buckle up my helmet and walk inside.

There is no signal here. If another drunk jumps out and speaks local dialect to us, we can only knock him out or kill him, but that will also lead to our exposure.

We walked a long way before we saw the ongoing excavation site. Several excavators with steel claws were grabbing the soil. Behind them, workers were loaded onto the truck. It seemed that they were ready to fill the truck and transport it out.

This point is still on the construction site. Basically, they are all forced to work. These people are busy. No one cares about us at all. I pointed to a truck parked at the edge of the tunnel, motioned to hide next to the car, took two photos and recorded a video for analysis.

But when the drunkard and I walked towards the soil truck with our heads down, a sentry with a gun on his back suddenly came out from the back of the truck. It seemed that he went to pee in the back. While walking, he was tying his trousers and belt, and hit us head-on.

After seeing us, his first reaction was stunned. He slowly stopped his hands, looked at me and the drunkard with suspicious eyes, and reached out to touch the AK behind him.

I glanced back slightly. The other two sentinels in camouflage clothes were sitting on the ground dozing with guns. It was estimated that this one was on duty. I took a step forward to block the drunkard with my body and asked him in English, "Hey, have you eaten?"

The guy was stunned by the unexpected problem, and his action stopped a little. I flashed to the side to reveal the drunkard who had drawn a knife. The latter rushed up with an arrow step, covering his mouth with one hand and using the other hand as a knife in his chest. Like a punctured water bag, the blood "squeaked" came out. The drunkard quickly walked around behind him to avoid being splashed by the blood, Holding his fallen body again, I came forward and raised the sentry's feet to lift the body that had begun to twitch into the gap next to the truck.

The whole process was fast and quiet. As soon as we threw the body away and took some photos, we went back. His companion woke up and found that the man was not there. It was easy to find the body when we looked around.

As Murphy's law says, or "if something can go bad, no matter how small it is, it will always happen." in other words, "things always go in the worst direction that people can imagine".

The drunkard and I killed a sentry who found us. When we turned around and hurried to the outside of the tunnel, a group of people came up. I looked down and felt bitter. It was Saif who had just been taken to visit here. There were also a number of his bodyguards. These bodyguards were white and black. They were the mercenaries we had dealt with before.

Seeing these people, I thought in my heart while risking bitter water that this TMD is legendary. It's not that friends don't gathe