Aister eventually opened the door.
Perhaps it was because the young man outside was too handso.
After opening the door, the young delivery boy handed over the mail while Aister was signing, she asked, "What is this..."
Before she could finish her sentence, she suddenly felt a large hand stretch from behind, covering her mouth and nose tightly.
Terrified, Aister wanted to struggle but was powerless.
Monts later, her vision blackened, and she fainted.
Disaster Star and White Bear entered from outside and casually closed the door.
"Boss, how should we handle this woman?"
Song Heping said, "Tie her up and throw her on the bed."
"Got it."
Without another word, Disaster Star picked up the fainted Aister like a cloth doll and carried her into the room.
Song Heping took out his phone and dialed Hunter's number, "Hunter, we've taken care of it on our end; how are things on your side?"
"No situation," Hunter replied. "I've been waiting upstairs in the café across the street for half the day, haven't seen him co out."
"Then keep watching."
The two hung up the phone, and Disaster Star also ca out of the room.
"Done,"
He reported to Song Heping.
"We'll rest here and keep waiting. When Harold leaves later, you guys go downstairs across the street, wait for him to enter and then follow."
"Okay."
Harold was frantic in the consulate office that afternoon.
These days had been difficult for him.
The bureau already knew about Joyce's capture.
As the Seal Team leader responsible for Joyce's security, Harold faced a lengthy and tedious inquiry process and had to submit a dozen reports explaining this operation.
Besides, one team mber was killed and another injured.
Harold almost anticipated that his career was over.
Since that was the case, he decided not to think too much about it. Given the situation, he might as well accept the outco with resignation.
He had already considered retirent plans.
Whether to return to Texas or stay in Siem Reap.
Siem Reap was a suitable place for Westerners to retire – low cost of living, low expenses, and fair healthcare.
Going back to Texas might require him to ponder his livelihood; his pension wouldn't suffice there.
But that was not a problem, as many of his forr colleagues went to work for security companies after retirent, and he should be able to secure a decent job through them.
After finishing the last report, Harold printed it out and proofread it from start to finish.
What his superiors most wanted to know now was exactly who he had encountered.
Initially, Harold believed they were secret Special Forces from China.
But later, according to the mories of a few local bodyguards who survived at Batchai's place, while they were upstairs, they heard people conversing downstairs using English and even another language which they did not understand.
English?
That was strange.
After careful verification, he confird that the squad that raided Batchai's residence indeed used English, while the other language ntioned by the bodyguards was Russian.
Russian?
This was sensitive.
Since the fall of the forr Soviet Union, the Russians had kept a low profile.
The once rampant intelligence network and overseas operations had cooled off.
Throughout the 1990s, they were like a weakened polar bear, too busy licking their wounds to have the energy to ddle overseas.
Harold had experienced that era; in the 1990s, the KGB disbanded with the dissolution of the forr Soviet Union, and many agents deployed overseas earlier had either lost contact with headquarters or were ordered to disband on the spot, no longer belonging to the official personnel.
As a result, many agents had to fend for themselves, turning into intelligence dealers, arms dealers, rcenaries, or even joining or creating criminal gangs.
Currently, there were many forr KGB agents in Eastern Europe.
"If these people are speaking Russian,"
"Could it be related to the forr KGB?"
In recent years, the new Russian leader, a hardliner, had a different approach compared to his predecessors.
Their KGB had also been renad, now called the Federal Security Bureau, abbreviated as FSB.
Could it be that they were trying to resurrect the ghost of the KGB?
Harold intentionally included this speculation in his report.
After all, pinning the bla on the FSB and forr KGB agents wouldn't make him seem too incompetent.
According to procedure, once the report was submitted, the CIA would assess it, then send a commissioner here to investigate, and finally, they would compile an incident report. Based on this report, they would pursue the perpetrators globally.
His career was already decided.
But thankfully, it was rely a failed operation, and the responsibilities he had to bear were minimal; he wouldn't be dishonorably discharged.
After reading the report and making preliminary modifications, Harold locked the report in his drawer, then leaned back in his office chair, staring at the ceiling for a long ti, filled with plans for retirent.
Harold had been married, but due to his career, he had divorced his ex-wife eight years ago.
It was a brief marriage.
And now, he was quite fond of his current lover, Aister.
Thinking of Aister, a smile appeared on Harold's lips, his mind full of Aister's voluptuous mid-August body, especially tactile.
Suddenly, his gaze fell on the digital clock on the wall.
It was already 6:10 PM.
"OH! SHIT!"
He rembered his date with Aister today.
It was the sa every week.
He had never told Aister about his real identity; she only knew he worked at the consulate, a consulate staffer.
It seed he had to co clean with her tonight.
Harold felt he had to leave imdiately, as Bangkok's traffic was always so congested. It took forty minutes to get to Aister's place from here, and he was going to be late.
He hurriedly shut down his computer, then picked up his jacket and put it on—not that it was cold in Bangkok, but it helped conceal the pistol at his waist.
Ten minutes later, the Hunter sitting upstairs in the café across the street saw the consulate's main gate slowly open.
He quickly picked up a compact binoculars and looked toward the gate.
He recognized Harold imdiately.
Harold leisurely left the gate, warmly greeted the guard, and finally reached the roadside in front of the closing gate.
"Boss, the snake has left its hole."
"Got it."
After standing for less than a minute, Harold hailed a taxi and soon disappeared at the end of the long street.
After Harold left, the Hunter went downstairs, paid his bill, then left and got into his SUV. He stayed in the car for five minutes before driving off.
anwhile, at Aister's place, Song Heping put down his phone and said to Disaster Star and White Bear, "Harold has left. You two go downstairs and wait in the car. Rember to be careful, let him not notice you. Follow him up when you see him go upstairs."
"Are you okay staying here alone?" White Bear asked.
"No problem. Just follow him, and he shouldn't have a chance."
Song Heping waved his hand, and White Bear and Disaster Star turned and went downstairs.
Song Heping turned on the living room light, then sat on the sofa, glanced at his watch, then closed his eyes and began a long wait.
Finally, when the phone vibrated again, it was already 6:50 PM.
Song Heping opened his eyes, looked at the digital clock on the wall, and answered the incoming call.
"The snake has arrived, he's coming upstairs."
"Got it."
Song Heping turned and looked at the door, drew the Glock 17 equipped with a silencer from his holster, gently slid back the slide to check the chamber and the bullets inside.
Once everything was ready, he aid the gun at the door.
Less than a minute later, there was a knock on the door.
Thump, thump, thump—
Harold had arrived…
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