The plane began its descent from ten thousand meters, and after piercing through the thin cloud layer, the outline of Monterrey gradually sharpened outside the porthole.
The sun scorched the northern plateau, and the winding Santa Catarina River, like a silver ribbon, bisected the city, while the grayish-brown folds of the distant Sierra Madre mountains subtly shimmered in the heat haze.
The blast furnaces of the steel mill and the workshops of General Motors reflected a dazzling metallic sheen in the suburbs, with BYD's Chinese logo intermingling with Spanish billboards in the industrial park, like medals of this industrial city.
As the pilot adjusted the flaps, a dull mechanical grinding sound emanated from the fuselage, and the vibration of the landing gear bay doors opening shot up from his feet to his spine.
"Monterrey Tower, DL481al approach RWY 11."
The captain's instruction sounded in his headset.
The co-pilot stared intently at the instrument panel; the ILS guidance signal for main runway 11/29 flickered on the screen, and the 3000-meter asphalt runway slightly warped in the wind shear warning system.
Amidst the buzzing of the autopilot disengaging, the captain steadied the control stick with both hands, aligning the nose with the runway centerline. The moment the tires were about to touch down, a turbulent heat wave caused the wings to sway violently, and the seatbelt instantly tightened across his chest.
"Please straighten your seatbacks and stow your tray tables!" The flight attendant's announcement was drowned out by the roar of the engine's thrust reversers, and the businessman by the window clutched his coffee cup.
The cries of a baby in the back row mingled with Spanish prayers, and the "No Smoking" sign hanging in the aisle swayed like a pendulum.
The instant the tires struck the runway, the aircraft shuddered violently, the thud of unsecured luggage intermingled with passengers' gasps, and the air filled with the acrid smell of burning brake pads.
The fuselage settled with a sense of relief, and the hot blast from the thrust reversers flattened the withered grass beside the runway.
The blue SkyTeam logo on the distant terminal building grew closer, and the glass curtain wall of Terminal B reflected the scorching sun like a giant honeycomb.
As the tire friction noise faded, ground staff waving glow sticks guided the plane to turn onto taxiway E7, where the rusted remains of a blast furnace stood silently in the airport's northeast corner.
The moment Johnny stepped out of the plane, a wave of heat swept over him, and he even felt a little unaccustomed to it.
His original destination was not Mexico; it was only after leaving the Continental Hotel that he received a phone call.
The man who called him was named Matt, who told him that Anna had given him this number and hoped to get his help.
There are not many assassins with positive records in the CIA archives, and Johnny is one of them.
Johnny originally did not intend to agree, but the offer was too generous; he would receive 5 million as compensation if he could assist him in completing this mission.
Although he already had over 20 million, who would complain about having an additional 5 million?
Thus, Johnny accepted the commission and arrived at Monterrey International Airport in Mexico.
As he walked out of the international airport lobby, he saw two people standing beside a car outside.
The moment they saw Johnny, one of them raised his hand, greeted him, and then walked towards him.
As he approached, he extended his right hand to Johnny, "Matt Graver, nice to meet you."
"Night Owl, tell me about this commission."
Johnny reached out and shook his hand, then said indifferently.
Matt didn't pay much attention to Johnny's attitude; as an assassin with a track record, such an attitude was quite normal.
If he could easily complete a complex mission like Anna's, let alone his current mission.
"Get in the car first, we'll talk as we go." Matt gestured, then the three of them got into the car. The other person acted as the driver, while Matt sat in the passenger seat, turning around to tell Johnny about his commission.
"This mission isn't complicated. A week ago, several individuals who had illegally crossed from Mexico into Texas were apprehended by patrol officers. One of them detonated a bomb he was carrying, causing casualties among our team members."
"Five days ago, five individuals from Yemen illegally crossed into Texas, USA, and carried out a suicide bombing at a local supermarket. The explosion resulted in more than a dozen immediate deaths at the supermarket and caused significant social upheaval."
The vehicle continued to drive, and Matt kept talking to Johnny, who listened silently without speaking.
"We captured a member of the pirates, and after interrogation, we learned that those Yemenis had received support from this group of pirates, and behind this group of pirates was Fausto Alarcon, Mexico's biggest drug lord, supporting them."
Hearing this, Johnny raised an eyebrow, "Tell me about Fausto."
"Fausto originally belonged to the Colombian drug lord faction, but later, in an attempt to break the market balance and monopolize it, he often took pleasure in killing hostages."
Matt continued to speak. He knew Johnny needed very detailed information, but this information could not be printed out, neither in hard copy nor as text messages, so he could only relay it verbally.
"So, you hired me to take out Fausto, right?" Johnny confirmed.
"Yes, and no. We do need to eliminate Fausto, but we also want to uproot his drug trafficking organization and wipe it out in one fell swoop."
Matt did not hide anything, directly telling Johnny his objective, "What we want is for Mexico to temporarily restore balance, not for someone to disrupt that balance."
"So the simplest way is to uproot this criminal organization," At this point, Matt's expression was slightly grim, but more than that, it held a hidden depth that Johnny couldn't quite fathom.
"You didn't just hire me, did you?"
Johnny chuckled.
"Of course not. I also assembled a mercenary group for armed support to ensure the smooth progress of the operation."
Hearing Matt's words, Johnny nodded, then said to Matt, "You should know that I am an assassin, so I need some sophisticated firearms."
"Also, I have accepted your mission, but you cannot restrict me. I need the freedom to operate. You just need to tell me the objective."
Facing Johnny's words, Matt did not hesitate; instead, he readily agreed, "I know. Anna has already told me. I will not interfere too much with your actions. Everything will be centered on you, as long as the objective is achieved."
Then, Matt's tone shifted, "But you must remember, no matter when or where, you cannot expose the fact that you are working for me."
Johnny nodded, "I understand the rules, don't worry!"
Matt was very satisfied with such a sensible and self-aware assassin, and he couldn't help but give Anna a strong thumbs up.
However, he also knew that this assassin was sometimes a little out of control, but that didn't matter; as long as he eliminated his target, what else mattered?
Moreover, it was rumored that this guy had extensive connections and had more or less relationships with many assassin organizations or official organizations.
The vehicle continued to move forward, but the three people inside had fallen silent, no longer speaking.
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