The video wasn't long, only a short five minutes.
A group of hiking enthusiasts trekked through the jungle, wielding machetes to clear their way, when they startled a hidden reptile.
From the video, Ronan noticed that this reptile was nearly the same color as the plants, with an extremely violent temperament. Once disturbed, it immediately launched an attack on the people. Its massive size, sharp claws, and arrow-like tongue were all deadly weapons. The hikers were wiped out in the blink of an eye.
The skewed camera angle indicated that one of the hikers was using a wearable camera to film.
In the final moments of the video, the lizard-like reptile climbed a sturdy tree trunk. Its originally emerald-green body rapidly changed color, blending seamlessly with the bark! Ronan replayed the video, pausing at the moment of color change.
"A chameleon?" he wondered. "An unusually gigantic type? A colossal chameleon?"
Ronan wasn't entirely sure how large the world's largest chameleon could grow, but from his impression, the common ones were not longer than two meters.
A colossal chameleon was a must for advancing as a predator!
As Ronan read on, there were accompanying details provided by a CIA intelligence agent.
Someone subsequently arrived at the scene, found a personal camera, and decided to hide it, hoping to sell it for a good price.
The five victims were all adventure-loving students from New York University. The head of the CIA's Columbia division received the relevant information, immediately contacted someone to purchase the video, and suspected that the chameleon might be some kind of enchanted creature. The video was then sent to the liaison officer responsible for Latin American affairs.
What wasn't anticipated was that the liaison officer had been drawn into a street battle on Customs Street by Matt Grave last night.
Judging from the sending time, it was last night, so it seemed that Matt Grave hadn't had the chance to report yet.
Where was Blaina Island? Ronan had no impression of this island.
The Caribbean region was abundant with islands, and many countries were composed of them.
Further down in the information, there was a detailed introduction.
Blaina Island was located in the southern Caribbean Sea, northwest of the Gulf of Venezuela's exit, near the border between Colombia and Venezuela on the Guajira Peninsula. The island wasn't small in size, with a population of tens of thousands. It was surrounded by white sandy beaches, coral reefs, and a beautiful ocean. The island was covered in dense jungles and had numerous small rivers.
At the center of the island was an active volcano, with mineral-rich hot springs scattered around the mountain. In recent years, occasional natural gemstones were discovered, constantly attracting adventurers and tourists.
However, the development of the island's tourism resources was limited, and many areas remained semi-primitive or even entirely primitive, largely due to political reasons.
The border dispute between Colombia and Venezuela over Blaina Island had been ongoing for a long time. Both countries claimed sovereignty over the island, but with internal issues in both nations and unresolved opposition forces, their control over the border regions was weak. Amid their bickering and mutual hindrance, they were essentially powerless to govern Blaina Island.
There had been a slight improvement in the past two years. A local military officer on Blaina Island, Galza, received external financial support and consolidated the island's armed forces. He declared himself the governor of Blaina Island and became the de facto ruler.
The information suggested that Galza seemed more progressive, focusing on developing the local coffee industry and tourism sector. He had cooperated with Aruba, a Dutch territory, and established a presence on Blaina Island.
He had also partnered with the French to exploit the island's resources.
A French company named Obia had initiated major construction on the island, building resorts and mineral water factories.
After going through these details, Ronan confirmed his next destination: Blaina Island.
The colossal chameleon was related to his own strength and advancement.
Being situated in the Caribbean Sea's southern stretch, close to the hostile Venezuela and far from the United States, would help him evade the CIA's watchful eyes.
Ronan carefully examined the other folders, but didn't find anything useful for the current stage. So, he decided to remove the laptop's hard drive and take it with him.
Around noon, Demona returned with two plane tickets for a direct flight to Cancun, a Caribbean tourism city.
"Have you decided where to go?" she asked.
Ronan replied, "We're heading to Blaina Island."
Demona was familiar with the place. "It's near the border between Colombia and Venezuela. They say it's a beautiful spot." She packed her bags. "Let's get going. The flight is in the afternoon."
Ronan began to pack his belongings.
Demona asked, "Do you still have money?"
Ronan patted his pocket, "A little."
The wallet containing money had been lost somewhere during the intense battle. All the money they had taken from the smugglers was gone, leaving only a few bills they kept close to them.
Demona pulled out a stack of US dollars, but Ronan declined, "No need."
There was still five hundred thousand dollars in the Swiss bank account that Jessica had arranged, in an anonymous name.
The two of them stopped discussing it and proceeded to disguise themselves. They got into a car and headed straight for the airport. Through the channel Demona had established, they smoothly boarded a plane and soon arrived at Cancun, a tourist city across the sea from Cuba.
This city had a high population mobility due to its diverse international visitors, which had given rise to an underground industry for processing documents.
The corruption within Mexican politics was well-known. As long as one had the money, obtaining forged documents as an ordinary person wasn't particularly difficult.
Ronan and Demona spent several days in Cancun, withdrawing money through the Swiss bank and acquiring two Mexican passports at a cost of a hundred thousand dollars each.
At the same time, Ronan was also inquiring about the route to Blaina Island.
Blaina Island had no airport and wasn't reachable by plane. The most convenient route involved taking a flight to Queen Beatrix International Airport on the Dutch Caribbean island of Aruba, then sailing from Oranjestad to the port of Blaina Island.
Other routes involved passing through more ports, which weren't part of Ronan's chosen plan.
Demona, on the other hand, followed Ronan's advice and took a connecting flight from Mexico City to the other side of the Pacific to start a completely new life.
Three days later, Ronan obtained a Mexican passport under the name of Martin.
The time had also come for Demona to leave.
At the airport, Ronan saw Demona off onto the plane first.
After passing through security smoothly, Demona noticed that there was still some time left. She admonished Ronan, "The old dog is dead, and he would certainly hope that you stay alive and well."
Ronan remained succinct, "I will stay alive and well."
Demona tried to lower her voice, "Survive! If someone wants to kill you, you kill them first! Don't care if they're CIA or FBI! In this world, only the ruthless can survive!"
Ronan nodded, "I know."
Demona was still uneasy, "Remember my contact information. I'll keep this phone number, and if one day you really can't make it, go to the Pacific side and find me."
"I know." Ronan repeated.
Demona waved her hand, "Forget it, can't have a proper conversation with you. I'm leaving."
The time was about right. She dragged her luggage towards the gate, "Goodbye."
Ronan walked over, "Goodbye, Dees."
Demona—Dees—didn't look back. She kept moving forward and boarded the plane.
Sitting in the window seat, Demona looked towards the terminal building and quietly uttered the words she had long abandoned, "May God bless you."
Carrying his travel bag, Ronan headed towards another boarding gate. After waiting for a while, he boarded the plane bound for Aruba.
It was a small aircraft with only a few seats. Perhaps Aruba wasn't a popular destination, as Ronan was the only passenger on the plane for now.
Soon, another person boarded the plane, a young woman.
With just two passengers on the plane, it was inevitable that they would exchange glances.
She was wearing a light gray lightweight women's suit, with a light-colored blouse tucked into dark straight pants. This highlighted her well-proportioned tall figure. Her brown hair was neatly tied behind her head, and her three-dimensional and refined features carried a cold demeanor, seemingly of Nordic origin.
She carried a single-shoulder bag and walked towards Ronan's side. She glanced at her boarding pass and took a seat on the opposite side of the same row.
Ronan didn't look further. More people boarded from behind, and the plane took off on time. The azure Caribbean Sea stretched out below.
...
United States, Virginia, Langley.
In that famous 200-acre building, a balding Churchill walked along a corridor carrying a file folder.
His gaze was sharp, his expression serious, and his build sturdy, as if he were a born tough guy.
Approaching the door of an office, someone opened it, "The Director is waiting for you."
Churchill entered the room, where three people were seated in the middle.
"You're back?" the one wearing glasses said, "Have a seat."
Churchill sat down, and another person said, "Churchill, the individual you recommended, Matt Grave, died in Tijuana. The Dog Eat Dog plan has completely failed. We lost seventeen official staff members and a larger number of contracted personnel. We hope you can provide an explanation for this."
He handed over the file folder and said, "These are the information and intelligence I personally collected in Tijuana. The key to the entire incident lies with a man named Ronan. All the casualties were directly caused by him. He is also the main reason for the failure of the Dog Eat Dog plan."
The person in the middle examined the material carefully, and after finishing, said, "He's not standing on the side of America; he's standing against America. Churchill, we cannot let a murderer go free."
Churchill responded, "We are currently tracking Ronan's whereabouts. Given his unpredictability, I believe it's best for contracted personnel to handle him."
The three people across from him exchanged glances and nodded in succession.
Churchill stood up and said, "Once we trace his location, I'll assemble a team of elite mercenaries. I hope we can allocate some funds for this."
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