201: Devil's Island

"Bauer Konstruktion Gmbh..."

"Trans-Atlantico Logistik S.A..."

"Argenta Stahl AG..."

Lin Feng's fingers tapped on the encrypted laptop's keyboard, his speed so fast that only an afterimage remained.

Every obscure German company name on the list provided by Duke Howard was precisely typed in by him. Through a special encrypted line provided by the Cavendish Family, he pierced directly into the core database of Argentina's national commercial archives.

Wang Dalong leaned his head close, his mouth wide open, staring foolishly at the stream of information refreshing as fast as a waterfall on the screen.

"My god, Brother Feng, with this hand speed, it's a waste that you didn't go into professional e-sports! This isn't just searching for data; this is practically a Human Search Engine Pro Max Enhanced Edition!"

Lin Feng had no time to entertain his flattery; his entire mind was immersed in the sea of seemingly dry data.

Soon, a pattern so clear it couldn't be ignored emerged from the massive amount of data.

"Look here." Lin Feng's finger tapped the screen. "These companies were all founded between 1946 and 1947. The legal representatives are all ghost identities that can't be traced at all, and the registered addresses are all rented mailboxes or old houses that were torn down long ago."

Operating the computer, he brought up another set of data, placing the two spreadsheets side-by-side on the screen.

"Look here again. Their deregistration and bankruptcy liquidation times are highly concentrated between 1950 and 1951."

When Wang Dalong saw these two time points, his mind went 'boom'—it all clicked instantly!

He slapped his thigh, his voice rising an octave: "It matches! It matches perfectly! Isn't this exactly when the Duke said their Nazi group had its second split, and that guy Von Ehrenberg took the radicals and ran off with the money!"

"Correct," Lin Feng nodded. "These people were meticulous. Before completely disappearing from Argentina, they erased every commercial trace of their existence. These companies were the 'white gloves' they used for their activities here back then."

All the clues were perfectly linked together once again.

But Lin Feng's train of thought didn't stop. He immediately turned to the next and most critical question: What exactly did these 'white glove' companies do with that money before they vanished?

The focus of his operations soon locked onto the enterprise on the list named 'Bauer Konstruktion Gmbh'.

A construction company, even if deregistered, leaves records of the engineering projects it undertook and the building permits it applied for. These records are like brands seared into the city's skeleton; they cannot be easily wiped clean!

On the screen, an endless list of projects was forcibly retrieved.

"Most were building warehouses in the port district or residential buildings in the suburbs of Buenos Aires... It all looks very normal, likely their routine business used as a cover."

Lin Feng's fingers slid rapidly across the touchpad as rows of project information flashed before his eyes.

Suddenly, his fingers stopped.

On the screen, an inconspicuous entry sandwiched between countless normal projects drew his full attention.

It was a government outsourcing contract, but the project description was eerily vague.

[Project Name: Isla de Huesos Geological Survey and Foundation Reinforcement Project]

[Project Period: 1949.03 - 1949.12]

Wang Dalong read out the tongue-twisting spanish place name: "'Isla de Huesos'... Bone Island? My goodness, just hearing that name makes a chill run down my spine."

"Bone Island..."

Lin Feng chewed on the name. With a flick of his finger, he immediately entered the place name into a military-grade satellite map.

The map zoomed in rapidly, crossing continents and oceans. Finally, in the waters of southern Patagonia, far from the Argentine mainland and near Antarctica, a solitary black dot perpetually shrouded in thick fog appeared in the center of the screen.

The adjacent database automatically popped up information about the small island.

An island formed by volcanic eruptions, less than ten square kilometers in size, composed entirely of black Basalt. The island was full of jagged rocks and devoid of any vegetation. Because its shape from the air closely resembled a giant gnawed bone, it was given that name.

More importantly, it was located on the edge of the roaring Drake Passage, surrounded year-round by the fierce winds of the Westerlies and giant waves capable of swallowing everything. The sea conditions were among the worst in the world, known as the 'Sailor's Grave'.

In all official records, it was an absolutely deserted, uninhabited island.

Why would a construction company go to such a godforsaken place to do 'foundation reinforcement'?

No matter how one thought about it, something was wrong!

Without a moment's hesitation, Lin Feng directly activated a functional module in his military tablet that had never been used—'Multispectral Thermal Imaging Analysis'.

This was top-tier black technology provided by the Cavendish Family, integrating all non-public Earth observation data from military and scientific satellites of various countries over the decades.

As the command was entered, the satellite image on the screen began to change.

Over the cool-toned visible light image, a warm-colored layer representing thermal radiation was slowly overlaid.

Under the thermal imaging scan, the entire 'Bone Island' appeared as a field of icy blue, representing extreme cold.

However!

Right in the center of that deathly silent deep blue area, beneath the surface, an extremely faint but terrifyingly regular rectangular heat source signal with a pale yellow halo appeared clearly!

That was an artificial heat source buried deep in the core of the island, something that absolutely could not have formed naturally!

Wang Dalong's eyes instantly bulged. He pointed at the tiny spot of light on the screen, his voice trembling.

"What... what the hell is that?!"

With a 'snap,' Lin Feng closed the laptop and stood up. His face, usually as calm as still water, was now filled with cold determination.

He took out the black encrypted satellite phone and dialed a number that had been silent for a long time.

The call was answered almost instantly, and from the other end came Stone's voice, as steady as a rock.

"Boss."

Lin Feng's command was concise, clear, and devoid of any superfluous emotion.

"Target: The Island of Devils."

"Prepare to set sail."