However, when Jessie lowered her hand, revealing her face, which had been covered, Jack was surprised to see no trace of sadness on her face. Instead, she even looked a little relieved and secretly pleased.
"If that's the case, then he has no reason to stop me from becoming an FBI agent." "
Girl, isn't your focus a bit off? "
Although Jack had known this girl's exceptional emotional stability since their encounter with the ogre, to be honest, besides Hannah, Jessie was the most caring of the ordinary girls he knew.
"So, what about your mother?" Jack asked cautiously.
After lunch, the two returned to his hotel suite. Conversing privately was less restrictive, so Jack asked whatever came to mind.
"She must have been tricked, or it must have been a misunderstanding," Jessie's face seemed to read, "No one knows a mother better than her daughter." "My mother is just a clueless housewife. She's always loved my father, there's no doubt about that."
Jack had never experienced marriage in his two lifetimes, but the girl's answer puzzled him. He didn't understand why she was so sure.
"Let me put it this way. My mom is a stickler for convention. You could call her simple, or you could call her silly, but she's definitely a very traditional American woman.
Well, I'm not talking about the hippie-era traditions of the '60s and '70s, but something from earlier, more Southern. You know what I mean?"
Jack nodded, understanding. A bit more Puritan, huh? It sounded like this chick's master's in psychology was worth it.
Jessie gently rubbed the man's chest with her fingertips, carefully tracing the lines of muscle as she continued.
"Dad is the only man she has in her life. They fell in love in high school, and their marriage, which has lasted over 20 years, is more about family than love.
So there's no need to worry about it. I'm sure they'll figure it out on their own."
The girl paused and sighed softly. "Even if my mom did cheat, that was her choice. If she truly sees this family as a shackle, then she has the right to break free and regain her freedom."
Jack blinked, unsure of what to say. It seemed as if all the girls he knew were relatively normal, and it made him swallow back all the words of comfort he'd thought of, feeling a little uncomfortable.
"So, you don't mind your dad trying to find the adulterer by tapping your mom's phone?"
Hearing this, Jessie, whose head had been drooping, almost reaching someone's belly button, suddenly looked up, her beautiful eyes sparkling again.
"Are you talking about the kind of wiretapping spies use?"
—
Two days later, still at noon, Jack, driving a camouflaged Ford van, listened with a nagging headache to Gibson's incessant chatter in the back seat.
"I don't think you should use that kind of thing. Women, coaxing them might change their minds. I've been reading a newspaper column on psychology research lately."
"Shut up, Gibson. Turn right ahead, Jack. She's driving a red Honda and should be in front of us soon." Harry stared intently at the GPS tracking signal on his tablet.
After learning from a wiretap that his wife Helen would be meeting her "lover" named Simon again at 1:00 PM today, Harry had simply coordinated with Gibson last night, secretly installing a bug and GPS tracking device on Helen's backpack.
Requesting the latest equipment required filing a report, but Harry hadn't let his anger get the better of him, and he didn't want to risk his career. Gibson used his connections to secure a set of supposedly obsolete older models.
Although this equipment can be used, the eavesdropping range must be kept within a hundred meters, so there is a scene of three people secretly following each other.
After an obviously illegal sharp turn, the red Honda drove straight into Chinatown and stopped in front of a Chinese restaurant.
Gibson turned on the radio and squeezed half of his body from the center console to the front seat, "Test signal, um, the reception is clear."
The speaker was filled with the sound of high heels hitting the old wooden floor and the noise in the Chinese restaurant, followed by the sound of chairs rubbing against the ground. Soon, a man's deliberately lowered voice was heard.
"Are you not being followed?"
"I followed the anti-tracking tactics you taught me. No one should be following me," Helen's voice sounded nervous.
A flurry of cryptic conversation ensued, all about the emergency, the only person I can trust, and the mission.
Gibson, perplexed, frowned and asked, "Is this guy a spy?"
Harry instinctively glanced at Jack. "Whose?"
"Maybe he's after you," Jack shrugged, playing dumb.
The three of them stopped driving again, only to hear the man continue. "Did you see the news from the past two days?"
Helen asked cautiously. "You mean?"
There was a pause, followed by the rustling of newspapers being opened and folded, before the man's voice resumed.
"Two Middle Eastern men died in a mall restroom, a shootout at the Mayfair Hotel. Sometimes news reports deliberately throw in a smokescreen to conceal a true covert operation."
The three people in the car exchanged a look of amazement. Was this a case of the real deal?
"That bastard actually pretended to be an agent. It's unbelievable!" Gibson laughed out loud, and even Harry, the victim, couldn't help but smile.
After a few words of pretentious conversation, the brief lunch meeting abruptly ended.
Watching Helen and a short white man leave the restaurant one after another and get into their respective cars, Jack started his Ford minivan and followed the man's 1997 red Chevrolet Corvette (C5).
Following the beautiful red coupe to a parking lot with a used car sale sign, Jack parked across the street. Gibson couldn't wait to open the backseat window.
As he watched the man park the sports car in the lot, hang a sign in the window that read "For Sale, Cash, $17,599," and then sway into the office nearby, Gibson's expression could no longer be suppressed.
"This guy's a used car salesman? That's hilarious!"
Harry, observing the "enemy" through his telescope, glared at his partner with a fierce look. The man finally realized something was wrong and apologized, but he couldn't help but lash out.
"I'm sorry, I know you're upset, but you have to admit, this is hilarious. Just imagine, if it happened to me, you'd definitely laugh at me."
Harry turned his head away, but Jack could clearly hear the poor telescope creaking under the pressure, and finally a loud bang as the lens was crushed by the deformed barrel.
Feeling that if he didn't speak up, a middle-aged fat man's life would be in danger, Jack could only cough lightly. "Harry, I think you might want to talk to him,"
Gibson scoffed. "Good idea. Do you want me to call the backup team to collect his body?"
"No, someone does need to talk to him, but it's not me, it's you." Harry pointed at Jack.
"I said I'm just here to help. I don't want to get too involved in this." Jack looked innocent.
"Jessie didn't come home again last night." Harry ended the discussion with just one sentence.
(End of this chapter)