At the hotel, the soldiers had finished their inspection and left. The roadblocks had also been lifted. At this moment, Janet was sitting at the dressing table applying makeup to Steve Owen. She first applied a layer of foundation to his face, then carefully studied it before proceeding.
She deepened the contours under his eyes and added shadows to both sides of his cheeks. This made Owen's eye sockets appear different than before, and his face seemed slightly thinner.
After using a dozen or so tools, Owen's appearance began to change little by little. At a glance, it seemed like nothing had changed, but when viewed as a whole, he looked noticeably different.
"All right, the tools are limited. This is the best I can do…"
Janet let out a long sigh, expressing her dissatisfaction with the result. Most of the tools in her bag were for women and of no use to Owen. She had to rely on simple foundation and contouring to make basic alterations.
They were planning to rescue Nikki. First, they needed weapons; second, they needed a vehicle; and finally, they needed a complete plan.
They had just finished discussing the plan, and now they were dividing the tasks—Owen would acquire the weapons, and Janet would find a way to get a vehicle. But before anything else, they had to alter their appearances, which led to the scene just now.
After changing Owen's appearance, Janet began disguising herself. Clearly, this was something she did regularly; her movements were quick and efficient. With makeup, wigs, false eyelashes, and other props, she transformed into someone completely different.
After the two split up, Owen made his way on foot to the safehouse. The most convenient way to get weapons was undoubtedly through the CIA safehouse, which stocked various standard-issue weapons that were unregistered and very secure.
Manila, the capital of the Philippines, is a modern metropolis. Like every big city, its development is uneven. There were prosperous skyscrapers and also impoverished slums. The CIA safehouse sat on the border between these two extremes.
The hotel where Owen had stayed was in the tourist district—a developed area. With more patrols in such areas, Owen carefully navigated the streets, doing his best to avoid the police.
He planned to find a secluded street and steal a car, but every time an opportunity presented itself, patrol officers were nearby, forcing him to leave quickly and look for another chance.
After passing through several intersections with things remaining relatively calm, Owen kept moving. Janet's disguise had done a decent job altering his appearance, but due to material limitations, his hair color remained unchanged. This made it easy to spot him as a foreigner from a distance.
Owen passed another intersection and stood by the road waiting for the light. Just as the red light was counting down its final seconds, a bus passed in front of him. When the bus moved on, the light turned green. As Owen prepared to step forward, he suddenly saw two police officers on the other side.
At such a close distance, it was too late to retreat. He had no choice but to act natural and walk past them briskly. As he passed, he could feel the suspicious gazes of the officers.
The authorities were conducting strict checks on lone foreign individuals, and his appearance immediately drew their attention. Owen pretended to check his watch, put on a look of urgency, and sped up. A few seconds later, he heard one of the officers shouting behind him. He ignored it and quickly turned onto another street.
As soon as he turned the corner, Owen broke into a sprint. The two officers, realizing something was wrong, hurried after him but only saw a distant figure disappearing down the street. They immediately used their radios to alert other units.
Owen dashed down the side street, but as he turned another corner, two police cars with sirens blaring came speeding toward him. When they saw Owen, the cars screeched to a halt. Owen knew he had been completely exposed and had no choice but to keep running.
Officers began closing in from the sides. As Owen fled, he scanned the surroundings. Suddenly, he spotted the American flag—it was the U.S. Embassy in the Philippines. Though the ambassador had been killed in a terrorist bombing, normal operations continued. Outside the embassy, a long line of Filipinos waited to apply for visas.
Approaching the entrance, Owen slowed from a run to a brisk walk, trying to appear as normal as possible. At the gate, he flashed his passport at the guard. "I'm an American."
The guard didn't even verify it—one look at his face was enough. He waved Owen in, and Owen quickly stepped into the crowd and disappeared. The pursuing officers were stopped by the guard's stern voice: "Stop right there. You have no jurisdiction here…"
Ignoring the chaos behind him, Owen entered the embassy and looked around. It was a large hall where many people were queuing for various services. Around the perimeter, armed U.S. soldiers maintained order, and several plainclothes security personnel kept watch.
Blending in with the crowd, Owen pretended to queue. After familiarizing himself with the layout, he headed toward a side corridor. If he could just get inside, he'd find an exit.
But after only a few steps, a soldier stopped him. "Sorry, sir. That's an office area. No visitors allowed."
Just as Owen was about to step back, a loud voice shouted from the entrance: "You in the yellow shirt—stop! Hands in the air!"
Owen turned to see a plainclothes security officer striding toward him, handcuffs in hand. He had clearly been briefed by the local police.
The soldier in front of Owen stepped back two paces, pulling out his gun and keeping a safe distance. Another soldier and the plainclothes officer approached as well.
With three guns pointed at him by four men, Owen obediently raised his hands. If he guessed right, he was about to be subdued and handed over to local authorities. Since he wasn't resisting, the soldiers cautiously moved in. One of them holstered his weapon and took out handcuffs to restrain Owen.
Suddenly, Owen twisted out of his grip, used him as cover, and in a few swift moves, knocked down all the nearby soldiers and security personnel. His strikes were precise and controlled—he only stunned or disabled them, avoiding any serious injuries.
He then grabbed a pistol and pointed it at the sole remaining plainclothes guard. The man froze, not daring to move. Realizing Owen wasn't shooting, he got the message and calmly dropped his weapon before lying down on the floor.
The lobby had erupted into chaos. People were running and screaming. Soldiers from other directions aimed their guns toward the commotion, but with so many civilians moving about, they dared not open fire.
Seizing the moment, Owen took two steps back and quickly vanished into the corridor.
Inside, he pushed open a door and moved fast. Spotting an emergency evacuation map on the wall, he ripped it down and studied it while walking, looking for the nearest exit.
The embassy was now in a state of high alert—something like this had never happened before. Alarms blared. The embassy's resident armed forces began pulling weapons from the armory. Squads of U.S. soldiers, armed with M16s, divided into teams and began a coordinated sweep through the compound.
Owen moved up a staircase. He wasn't foolish enough to believe that simply revealing his identity would get him out of trouble. It had been made very clear before: the U.S. government would not acknowledge their existence. Everything depended on himself.
At the stairwell's corner, a plainclothes security guard hurriedly rounded the bend. He must have just received orders—his hand was still on the earpiece of his comm device—and came face to face with Owen.
Sorry, buddy. Bad luck for you!
Owen slammed a punch into the man's stomach. The guard instantly crumpled and rolled down the stairs. Owen took two quick steps to leave, but then he remembered the comms device and went back to tear it off the man before continuing his escape.
(End of Chapter)
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