Chapter 231: Chapter 229: Exaggerating the Cow_2

Commercial promotion and marketing are happening all the time.

On the South Lawn of the White House, thousands of people were seated orderly, surrounded by numerous practitioners from the fundamental industries and military families invited by the White House to the celebration, just like every year.

Martin sat in the second row, sharing a table with Ali and his daughter, and a few sports stars whose names he couldn't recall—likely stars from the golf or football industry.

The highlight of the celebration was naturally Bu's speech, which revolved around Iraq, calling on all Americans to be resolute in the war in Iraq.

Then the commendation followed. Sёarᴄh the novёlF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Someone came to remind Martin, and he followed others to the side of the stage.

Soon, it was his turn to go on stage.

"Martin Davis, a 24-year-old man, who directly saved 16 people at Burbank Middle School and indirectly dozens more,"

Bu's gaze turned to the side of the stage, landing on Martin as he spoke into the microphone, "In the face of horrific slaughter, Martin demonstrated extraordinary courage and audacity, reminding us of the moral and responsibility we bear in the face of all forms of evil!"

He led the applause, "Martin Davis truly deserves today's honor!"

Warm applause erupted from the thousands on the South Lawn.

Martin approached the podium, saluted the crowd below, and stood solemnly upright.

Bu picked up the white enamel pentagram medal from the tray held by a ceremonial officer and hung it around Martin's neck from behind.

Because the award was related to the tragedy, Martin said very little when he stood in front of the microphone, just a brief speech with a heavy tone, "May the departed rest in peace, may evil stay far from mankind, may God bless America."

The site erupted in applause once again.

Bu came over to shake hands with Martin, saying, "Seeing you reminds me of my youth, fearless and charging forward."

Engaging in mutual promotion, Martin wasn't going to be outdone, "Mr. President, I heard you served in the military, you must have been an outstanding soldier in your youth."

Bu laughed, "I made it to the rank of Lieutenant."

The two stood side by side, as the media photographers below took photos of them together.

In Atlanta, at Carter's new home, Lily watched the live broadcast on television, wondering, "Why do I think Martin looks even more handsome now?"

Harris, like many young people in America, had no respect for the White House incumbent, "Because there's a pig next to him for contrast."

Holle muttered, "He really knows how to play the part."

Elena cast a glance, and her younger sister and brother both shut their mouths.

Martin stepped down from the stage and returned to his seat in the second row.

......

The Hilton Hotel, twelfth floor.

Under Wolf's direction, White and Albert pushed the service cart, turning into the hallway from the freight elevator's side.

The hotel was particularly quiet during the day, with only their footsteps echoing.

The two stopped in front of room 1206, looked left and right, saw no one around, and White took out a key card, swiping it to enter the room.

All their movements were watched by someone behind the peephole across the corridor.

White closed the door behind him and took out a miniature camera hidden on the service cart, replacing decorations in the room.

Albert leaned against the door, peering through the peephole to keep watch outside.

After finishing with the living room, White moved to the master bedroom and said, "Don't worry, the celebration won't be over so quickly; the boss is in the hotel lobby, they'll notify us once they're back."

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Albert urged him, "Hurry up."

White chuckled, "If we get explosive news this time, a bonus is inevitable, where do you plan to enjoy it?"

Getting excited at that, Albert said, "Las Vegas!"

White had a peculiar idea, "I'm thinking of going to Tijuana; I heard The Red Light District there is something else."

He was accustomed to doing these tasks and finished the installation quickly.

Albert called out to him, "Let's go, let's go!"

The two cleared up the few traces they'd left, exited the room, and headed toward the freight elevator.

After they entered the elevator, someone lurking in the corner covertly checked the floor the elevator stopped on, then made a call, "11th floor."

Albert and White quietly returned to the room they were staying in and called Alec.

It wasn't long before Alec came up from downstairs and asked, "All set?"

White nodded, "Done."

Alec opened his notebook and tapped a few times on the table, bringing up the image of the upstairs suite, then nodded with satisfaction, "Not bad, let's wait and see. If there's no news then we'll create some."

Albert said, "Today is the pinnacle of Martin Davis's life. To fall from the pinnacle to the bottom, I wonder how it feels."

The three men laughed simultaneously.

Alec pointed to the trailer and their swapped clothes, "Have Wolf take care of it later."



Before eleven o'clock, the White House celebration ended and people began to leave.

Martin rendezvoused with Bruce, waiting for Jonathan to drive over.

Bruce said in a low voice, "I just received a message from the hotel: someone impersonating a 12th floor waiter went into our room."

He spoke rapidly, "We can confirm there are three of them, Murphy has opened another room on the same floor and is keeping an eye on them."

Martin nodded, considering his next move.

Jonathan drove up and invited the two onto the car.

Martin didn't get in the car, instead he walked to the driver's side and said, "John, I've encountered a situation that might be very complicated."

Jonathan said, "I'm just a White House staffer, I can't do much."

"It might relate to the President and could risk the nation's reputation," Martin began to spin a tale, "The three gunmen from the Burbank Middle School incident were Russians, one of whose grandfather is a leader of a major gang in Russia., The LAPD, after the shooting, cleared out the Russian forces in Los Angeles and got important information—that grandfather is planning revenge on me because his grandson, the shooter I killed with a soda can, died of severe injuries."

Though Jonathan remained expressionless, he was listening.

Martin continued, "Worried about the retaliation, I hired two bodyguards to protect me covertly. Just over half an hour ago, they found two tall Caucasian men pretending to be hotel waiters entering my suite."

Jonathan was moved, "Are you sure?"

"Certain!" Martin spoke with gravity, "I'm now worried if these could be Russians seeking revenge, would they plant explosives? Or use firearms? Those polar bears are lunatics! It's not okay, if it turns out that way, the consequences are unimaginable."

"I have to report this to my superiors, please wait here," Jonathan picked up the walkie-talkie.

A few minutes later, he took Martin and Bruce into an office.

A tall middle-aged man approached and shook hands with Martin, "I'm Bryan, the senior supervisor of the White House Secret Service."

Martin shook hands with him, "Hello."

At that moment, a female staff member came over and whispered to Bryan, "Supervisor, I've contacted the LAPD. Mr. Davis's situation with Russia is verified."

Bryan realized the gravity of the situation; Martin Davis had just received the Presidential Medal of Freedom. If killed by Russians, what would become of America's face?

An explosion or shooting incident occurring in Washington on Independence Day…

Bryan found Martin again, "Can your bodyguards pinpoint their location?"

Martin replied, "On the 11th floor."

Bryan reported back to his superiors, the matter was taken very seriously by the White House. Bu himself personally called the FBI.

An elite team was dispatched quickly and arrived near the Hilton Hotel.

Somebody had contacted the hotel's senior management.



Approaching noon, Alec ordered some food from the hotel; as a highly professional journalist, keeping stakeouts for extended periods was part of the job.

Before long, there was a knock at the door, "Sir, your lunch is here."

White went over, peeped through the peephole, saw the waiter with a food cart and opened the door.

The waiter turned and ran.

A stun grenade flew over White's head and exploded inside the room.

As the world spun, White fell to the floor and faintly felt many people stepping over his body and rushing into the room.

In agony, wanting to spit blood, White hadn't even opened his mouth before a hard boot hit his face, bending his high nose to one side instantly.

Screams from Alec and Albert arose.

The former was hit in the head with the butt of a shotgun, blood covering his face.

The latter was pinned to the floor, a massive knee kneeling on his neck.

"Don't move!" the roar was only then heard, "FBI!"