"Is it really necessary to remind him of Zhang Mingjun's true target?" Anna's slender fingers kneaded the back of Jack's neck.
Her fingertips still bore a few calluses from gunfire, and the friction against the relatively tender skin of his neck gave him a subtle, burning, sour sensation.
It's not just those like Jack, who have self-taught in forensic medicine, who possess a profound understanding of the human body's anatomy. In fact, almost everyone skilled in martial arts possesses a thorough understanding of the distribution of vital organs and major muscle groups.
Anna knew how to quickly bring down a man weighing more than twice her own weight, and she also understood the massage techniques and pressures to most effectively relieve muscle fatigue.
After parting ways with the others at the barbecue restaurant, they returned to the hotel to rest. The girl offered to help Jack, who had been driving all day, relax.
"Don't you think the people above Lin Zheling are a little too obsessed with Zhang Mingjun?" Jack asked, not answering.
The feudal nation to the north had always been so closed off that it took the CIA so long to track down a diplomat, yet Lin Zheling was able to travel across the 38th parallel so many times under the guise of capturing a fugitive. This was truly remarkable.
"So you think there's something else going on?" As a former FSB agent, Anna easily understood the hidden meaning behind Jack's question.
She had been a major participant in these under-the-table struggles between nations, or more accurately, a knife in their hands.
"To silence them, or something else?" She frowned, leaning down to press against Jack's back.
The girl knew she couldn't monopolize this man for long, so she cherished the present moment.
"It's probably about money," Jack said, his tone uncertain. "Based on an investigation into those secret accounts, we can confirm that at least $1 billion is currently missing."
Although Anna didn't consider herself a woman obsessed with money, her breathing quickened at the mention of that figure.
Sometimes numbers are so large that they can be hard to grasp, and in such cases, a horizontal comparison is necessary.
While some well-known tycoons, like Kaiyuan's Ma Sheng, boast fortunes measured in the hundreds of billions of dollars, Forbes reports that there are only a little over 2,600 individuals worldwide with a net worth of $1 billion or more.
Such a fortune would be enough to drive anyone crazy.
"I suspect the real mission that important official assigned to Lin Zheling was to retrieve the $1 billion. It's exactly the bait Zhang Mingjun is using to fish,"
Jack said, rolling over in bed and straightening his posture. His expression carried a hint of smugness, a kind of "I see through it all. "
Anna pressed against his chest, quietly feeling the powerful beat of his heart. "So, do you think the big fish will take the bait?"
"We'll find out next Monday. That's $1 billion. Who could resist such a temptation?"
Jack curled his lips in disdain. He had never been interested in things he couldn't hold, but the girl before him had gained just the right amount of weight, perfectly sized and comfortable to hold.
Lin Zheling didn't know much about what had happened to Zhang Mingjun's wife and daughter. He only knew that the important official had been Zhang Mingjun's direct superior and was in charge of the secret research institute that produced argan poison.
The actual head of the institute was Kim Chol-su. He had been implicated in the same "political turmoil" as Jang Myeong-jun, his family's whereabouts unknown, and he had fled North Korea with Jang Myeong-jun.
This Kim Chol-su was likely the chemical expert mentioned in the intelligence, and Jack suspected the so-called "political turmoil" was actually a poorly executed attempt to
silence him. "Go to sleep. We have to pick someone up at the airport later." Jack gently stroked the girl's smooth back, pulled her into his arms, and pulled the covers over them both.
"One last question," Anna whispered softly into Jack's ear. "Are you interested in that money? Perhaps I can help you."
"Do I look like I need it?" Jack sighed, grabbing her restless hand and warningly.
"Comrade Anna Sergeeva, I'm warning you not to let the American mindset of recklessly pursuing money take over your head. Unless the money is right in front of you and unnoticed by anyone, don't touch it."
Anna chuckled. "You sound like you're not American."
Three
hours later, Jack carefully untangled the girl's long legs from around him and stood up to wash.
Rossi had texted him, saying the FBI chemical weapons expert would arrive in an hour.
As he drove his dented and chipped Suburban onto the tarmac at Osan Air Base, he nearly turned tail when he saw a middle-aged man in a cheap black suit and noticeably balding hair disembarking a transport plane.
He'd seen Uncle Cage's face often, not only in movies from his past life but also at Yvonne's cafe (Chapter 371: An Interesting Deal).
Lucky Charlie and beautiful Yvonne were happily married, and the cafe was always a thriving business. The New York police officer could often be seen helping out in the evenings after his shift.
As a personal participant and architect of this adult fairytale, Jack would often invite single Aubrey over for a chat, sharing his "life lessons"—marriage wasn't just about love; it also required dedication to maintain long-term success.
But Charlie wasn't even 30 yet, a youthful Nicolas Cage. The man who appeared before Jack was closer to his impression of "Uncle Cage," with a slightly bald head and a noticeably receding hairline.
"Hi, Agent Tavolar, right?" The middle-aged man, who had been looking around bewilderedly, saw Jack opening the door and getting out of the car. His slightly nervous expression visibly relaxed.
"Hello, Dr. Stanley Goolsby, just call me Jack." Jack extended his hand to shake his, then bent down to help him lift the luggage at his feet.
"I prefer to be called Special Agent Stanley Goolsby, but you can call me Stanley." The "middle-aged Cage" looked like a "squinty-eyed" man who had been squatting in the lab for years, but he actually had quite a bit of strength in his hands.
Seeing him looking at the busy soldiers around him like a curious baby, Jack couldn't help but laugh, "Is this your first time traveling on a military aircraft, Special Agent Goosby?"
"Ah, yes, that's right, call me Stanley, otherwise I will have to keep calling you Supervisory Agent Tavoler. To be honest, you look a lot younger than I thought."
"Middle-aged Cage" Stanley Goosby looked quite talkative and would take the initiative to find topics as soon as he came up.
It was a bit confusing to be locked up in the small dark room in the previous chapter. If you find it a little confusing, please bear with me. I revised it four times and really tried my best.
(End of chapter)