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date="2021-10-04"

title="third chapter"

weight="139370"

series = ["UAAG Air Crash Investigation Team"]

mode = "manual"

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After only one day in Boston, Fucheng returned to New York by plane the next morning.

Two days ago, as an active pilot of Donghua Airlines, he drove an airplane to New York. Now, have to drive back again.

At 9 a.m. on July 7th, China time, a huge Boeing 777 rushed into the sky, broke through the viscous and hot air, and landed at China Shencheng Airport. In the cabin, the flight attendants coordinate the passengers and let them leave in an orderly manner.

After all the passengers left, Fucheng bowed his head to fill out the flight schedule.

The fellow captain unfastened his seat belt and looked at him: "This time you will go to the headquarters to deliver the report?"

The writing motion paused slightly, and Fucheng raised his head: "Okay."

The headquarters building of Donghua Airlines was set up next to the Shanghai Airport. Taking the shuttle bus, Fucheng quickly arrived at the headquarters building.

Submitting the flight report to the specially responsible ground staff, Fucheng was about to turn around and leave, and a hesitant female voice sounded from behind: "That... Fu, Fucheng."

The black-haired young man stopped, turned around, and smiled gently at her: "Is there anything else?"

The ground crew thought for a while, and still spoke: "I heard about something, but I don’t know if it’s true. Recently, there seems to be an air crash investigation organization called UAAG. I will also be specially recruited into this organization."

The smile on the corner of his mouth hesitated for a moment, Fucheng: "Air crash investigation organization?"

Xiaodiqin: "Yes. That, I'm not sure whether it's true or false, I just heard the director mention it by accident..."

"thank you, I know now."

"No, you are welcome!" He smiled delightedly.

Stepping out of the headquarters building, the dry and hot air that was so thick that it was almost watery instantly pressed into the lungs, and the hot sun shone on the ground, making people breathless. Go straight to the underground parking garage, find your car, insert the key into the lock key, and hear a clear sound of "click", and the car engine starts.

Holding the steering wheel with his right hand, just as he was about to drive out of the parking lot, Fucheng suddenly remembered what the little diqin said.

"...UAAG?"

Slender and white fingers tapped lightly on the black sheepskin steering wheel, making a faint sound with a certain syllable pattern. The dim light of the parking lot reflected from the front window of the car, and fell on the slightly raised joint of the wrist, reflecting a hazy and clear shadow.

The next moment, the black-haired young man gave a helpless laugh and drove away.

Three days later, UAAG's transfer notice was sent to the headquarters of Donghua Airlines.

UAAG, the full name of United Aviation Accident Group.

It is a multinational cooperative aircraft accident investigation organization.

Although he had been prepared, Fucheng was still surprised when he really got this transfer book.

The investigators of aircraft accidents are generally experienced aircraft maintenance personnel and ground support personnel, and they are not without pilots. It is not uncommon for pilots to change jobs as air crash investigators, but those are pilots who are too old or have insufficient physical conditions.

He is still in his prime. For such a young pilot to work as an air crash investigator, he may not have much experience in handling accidents. Secondly, this may also be a hidden talent.

But Donghua Airlines agreed to his transfer notice.

In the afternoon of the same day, Fucheng and other pilots completed the handover of flight tasks and returned home.

As soon as he got out of the parking lot before getting on the elevator, his cell phone rang.

Looking at the phone number starting with "0033" on the screen of the mobile phone, Fucheng was stunned and pressed the answer button.

"Bonjour?"

There was a moment of silence on the other side of the phone, and soon a soft and gentle female voice replied: "Bonjour, vous parlez fran?ais?"

Fucheng smiled and responded: "Can you speak English?"

When the other party spoke again, he had changed to very fluent Chinese: "Mr. Fucheng, hello, I am Stephanie, an administrative staff of UAAG, you can call me Lina, which is my nickname." She speaks quickly. But it doesn't make people feel rushed. She spoke softly and pleasantly: "It's 17:31 pm on July 10th, China time. I think you should still be on Donghua Airlines?"

Fucheng: "I have gone home."

There was a moment of silence on the phone, and the female voice apologized: "I'm sorry to interrupt your break. According to the time on the transfer book, you should report to the UAAG headquarters tomorrow. But the incident suddenly happened and we were temporarily entrusted. Now I have arrived in Finland. I have also booked a ticket for you. If it is convenient for you, I will send a car to the UAAG headquarters to pick you up at the airport and then come to Finland."

"sure no problem."

"The license plate number to pick you up is..."

Fucheng recorded the license plate number.

The female voice on the phone said in a gentle and polite voice: "Then, we are waiting for you in Finland."

US?

Fucheng thoughtfully, he smiled and said, "See you in Finland."

UAAG's headquarter is located in the center of Shencheng city, which is an inch of land.

There were row upon row of skyscrapers in the surrounding area, and luxury cars filed out. The white-collar elites in formal attire all walk in a hurry, and are not willing to waste even a second of walking. They have mobile phones in their hands, either making calls to discuss business, or writing messages and sending emails.

The aroma of banknotes filled the air.

Surrounded by urban elites in a hurry, Fucheng calmly waited downstairs with his hands in his pockets.

Until there was a harsh noise around him.

"Oh? That's how RIP treats his companions? He begged me to come, and he just hangs on me like that?"

The voice was immature and green, with a clear and clear voice that belonged only to a teenager.

Fucheng turned around and looked around. As expected, he was indeed a teenager who looked like a teenager. He has a green earphone hanging around his neck and a silver skull stud on his right ear. He is not tall and he is in his early 160s. He is wearing a large graffiti-style loose T-shirt. He is holding a black suitcase in his right hand and the phone in his left. His face is full of resentment and impatience.

"...Why isn't he called RIP? Hey, he's called RIP. Tell RIP, I'm back to Boston, goodbye!"

"I will tell him in person? Is he in the country? He wants to appear in front of me now, and I will tell him the same in front of him!"

The young man hung up the phone angrily and raised his head when he noticed that someone was looking at him.

Because the two stood very close and Fucheng was 183 tall, the punk boy needed to raise his head to look at him.

It's not a small increase.

Punk boy: "..."

"Humph."

Fucheng: "..."

What's wrong.

At this time, a black Rolls Royce slowly drove in front of the two of them. The driver got out of the car and pulled the door.

As the car approached, Fucheng could see its license plate number. Now the driver opened the door and he was about to enter. Unexpectedly, bumped into a thin figure.

Both of them were taken aback.

"UAAG?"

"UAAG?"

"..."

"..."

Sure enough, all of you at UAAG are amazing!

The two got into the car each.

Fucheng and the punk boy were sitting on both sides of the back seat. As soon as they got into the car, the punk boy seemed to have just noticed that it was a luxury car.

"Hey, RIP is really rich, luxury cars. I didn't pay attention just now, RR?" The punk boy fumbled around excitedly. He pressed a button and picked out a sterling silver cigar box on the left; pressed another button, the glass between the two and the front seat slowly turned into frosted glass, blocking the view, and seeing the punk boy's eyes shine . Thousands of words came together in one sentence: "Fuck, it's nice to have money!"

Fucheng nodded in sympathy.

However, this Rolls-Royce pick-up is just the beginning.

The two had just arrived at the Shanghai Airport, and before they got off the bus, a beautiful stewardess opened the door for them.

"Dear Mr. Fu, Mr. Su, please here."

The other two flight attendants took their luggage from the trunk.

The punk boy was dumbfounded.

Fucheng had known that the airport had such a service, but it was the first time he saw him.

The stewardess has a gentle smile, a nice voice, and she looks very nice. After taking them into the lounge, they kept serving until they were sent to board the plane. The punk boy seemed to be stepping on the clouds, and his whole person was ecstatic.

Of course, the plane is also first class.

When arrived in Helsinki, the capital of Finland, got off the plane and changed to a Bentley to pick it up.

The punk boy said blankly: "What the hell did UAAG do here." After a pause, he turned to look at Fucheng on the side, curiosity overwhelmed his face, he couldn't hold back, and asked in a low voice: "Eh, from UAAG, What are you doing here?"

Fucheng was also the first day, but he supported his chin with one hand, leaning on the soft leather seat, pondering for a moment, and already had an answer in his heart.

"say something."

Fushiki looked down at him, Qingjun’s face did not show much expression, and his voice was calm and quiet: “Six months ago, Japan Airlines flight JL917 was driving from Tokyo to Helsinki. It crashed over a farmland one kilometer from Vantaa Airport. 136 passengers and 9 crew members were killed and 89 survived."

The punk boy's expression froze.

Bentley stopped slowly, Fucheng glanced at the boy, opened the door and got out of the car.

This seems to be a factory area, off the beaten track, the orange factory shed accommodates all the people and machines, hiding them in it. The car stopped outside a small two-story building. At this time, the sky was dark, and a breeze blew on the vast ground, and the elegant fragrance of lily of the valley followed the wind into the nasal cavity.

The setting sun has not yet completely submerged into the horizon, and near the edge of the earth is a magnificent orange-red color.

From a distance, through the dim light, Fucheng saw a long black figure in front of the second-story building.

There was no other way to go at this time. The punk boy got out of the car behind him and went to get his luggage depressed. Fucheng strode forward, wanting to ask for directions.

As you get closer, the fragrance of the lily of the valley in the wind is stronger, and there is a thick tobacco flavor.

This person is wearing a thin and simple white T-shirt, and he is not afraid of the low temperature of only a dozen degrees after the night in Helsinki, and the two thin arms are so exposed to the air. He sat on the upper section of the double-layer iron railing with his upper body. Because it was too high and the railing was too short, his two long legs were at a loss. So one leg stepped on the lower section of the railing, and the other leg slanted on the ground.

He propped his left hand on the railing and leaned back to look up at the night sky. There was a cigarette in his right hand, vomiting clouds and fog.

Fucheng's footsteps were not deliberately hidden, this person should have heard it, but he still looked up at the sky, without turning his head to take a look.

The slightly longer black hair tied a small ball behind his head with a crude rubber band, but most of the hair still fell, covering most of his face, only revealing a tall, cool and thin bridge of the nose.

Fucheng settled down: "Hello?"

"Bonjour?"

"...Hei?"

"In addition to French, you can speak Finnish?"

In the cold summer night, the man's casual voice passed through the floral fragrance of lily of the valley and the bitter taste of tobacco, and fell on Fucheng's heart. With a cigarette in one hand, he turned his head, tilted his head slightly, and looked at the black-haired young man in front of him with a smile. The thin lips evoked an arc that should be called kindness.

However, under the gradually drooping night, the black-haired young man tightened his eyes sharply and his fingers trembled.

There is no opening.

On the edge of the earth, the last ray of glow loomed into the abyss.

He was severely thrown into the deepest part of the polar glacier, and the blood in his body condensed the moment he saw the man.

At this moment, the sound of dragging luggage came from behind, and then the punk boy exclaimed: "RIP?"

Zhuo Huan let out a soft snort from his nose: "Huh? The defeated man?"

The punk boy became angry from embarrassment: "Who the hell is your defeat!"

"It just won you at 21 o'clock 37 times." He bit the cigarette with his teeth, and slid his slender leg on the iron railing, and he straightened up. Zhuo Huan put his hands in his trouser pockets and raised his chin towards Fucheng, "Zuo Huan."

This is introducing himself to him.

Before Fucheng could answer, Zhuo Huan laughed, biting his cigarette and turned and went into the small building: "I know your name is Fucheng." After speaking, he lazily raised his hand and waved to the back without looking back. .

He walked extremely dashingly and confidently, as if he knew that the two people behind him would follow him and follow him in. There was no second choice.

The punk boy dragged his suitcase and followed aggressively.

Just as the man's figure was about to disappear into the shadow of the small building, the black-haired young man who had froze outside the door also moved. He lifted his foot and walked in.