Seeing the gloomy expression on Trick Kennedy's face, Luo An knitted his brows and raised a hand to rub his temples.
The meaning behind the other party's words wasn't hard to understand: he was worried that there might be a mole inside the FBI Washington Headquarters, or some other situation that was amiss.
Such things were not uncommon, whether in the CIA or the FBI, and Luo An had heard of many similar cases.
Snap—
Just then, a sound of electricity crackled in the room, and Luo An opened his eyes to find Trick Kennedy bending over to turn on the bulky computer monitor on the desk beside them.
A flurry of black and white static flickered past, and then the face of an old man appeared on the display—it was Vireness's uncle and superior officer, Mr. Clement.
"Good evening, Luo An."
"Good evening, sir."
Mr. Clement on the monitor was straightforward and said:
"Kennedy should have already briefed you on the matter, so I won't repeat it.
