At 9:30 in the morning, at the FBI Washington Headquarters, in a conference room deep on the first floor.
To the left of the conference table stood three individuals dressed in black suits, with light blue badges hanging around their necks.
The man leading looked to be around forty, tall with a long face, and most striking was his hair; the golden hair on top of his head was sparse, just a step away from a Mediterranean hairstyle.
Luo An quickly glanced at the two slightly younger individuals behind him, then walked to the right side of the table next to Vireness and smiled:
"Good morning, chief."
Vireness glanced at her watch:
"You're late."
"I just moved to the building next door; the journey is too far and there was some traffic."
Luo An unflinchingly made up an excuse, suggesting that the 800-meter distance was too far to drive. He could tell Vireness was not mad; the comment was just to provide an explanation for the three people across the table.
