You're a US police officer, what are you thinking about going back to the East for?

After half an hour.

Alex rubbed his stiff fingers and opened the login page again.

Access your email.

Click on the drafts box.

A document lay quietly in the drafts folder.

He clicked on it and took a look.

The screen still displayed the same message he had typed out half an hour earlier.

The long test log, along with the descriptions of Leon and old Bill, remained there untouched.

There has been no further response from the other party.

……

On the other side of the ocean, in an inland city, there is a government office building with no conspicuous signs on its third basement level.

This is a windowless conference room. The air purifier emits a faint, low-frequency hum, and several freshly printed documents, still smelling of warm ink, are scattered on the long conference table.

Two photos were prominently displayed on the projection screen directly in front of me.

On the left is the battle-damaged Seattle hero photo that has gone viral across the American internet. The man in the photo has a blood-stained face and a defiant look in his eyes.

On the right is Leon Vance's standard onboard photo from the Seattle Police Department's internal system.

"The information has been verified. It wasn't hard to find; this person is a big celebrity in the United States right now, and his public information is all over the internet."

A young intelligence analyst dressed in plain clothes and wearing glasses stood beside the curtain, pointing at Leon's photo with a laser pointer and giving a rapid-fire briefing:

"Leon Vance, a second-class patrol officer at the Seattle West Precinct, has just been promoted to leader of the ACU (Anti-Crime Task Force)."

"He has been involved in several major violent incidents in recent days, including blocking a Blood Gang branch and shooting a human trafficker dead in the street. He is now the political figurehead of the Seattle mayor and has a well-connected police chief backing him up."

"As for that old Bill, we cross-referenced the codenames and test logs sent from his drafts with Raytheon's historical outsourcing project database. There is indeed such a person, and his technical direction matches."

At the head of the conference table sat a middle-aged man with graying temples and an imposing presence—the head of this intelligence agency.

He rested his chin on his hand, his brows furrowed tightly.

"What do you all think?" The supervisor exhaled a breath of stale air, his gaze sweeping over the several senior agents at the table.

"The motive is invalid. The logic doesn't hold water at all."

A senior field agent sitting on the left spoke first, flipping through the documents in his hand:

"Chief, it's normal for a wanted criminal who has nowhere else to turn, or a technician facing bankruptcy who is completely disillusioned with the US government and wants to defect."

"But this Leon Vance? He has a bright future ahead of him. With his achievements these past few days and the mayor's endorsement, as long as he doesn't make any big mistakes, he'll be able to do whatever he wants in the Seattle police force. He can have money and privileges whenever he wants."

"A rising white police officer, considered a typical white police officer by the US authorities, suddenly wants to establish a long-term underground transportation network with us?"

"What's he after? He's insulting our intelligence."

"I agree with Lao Zhang's opinion."

Another intelligence officer chimed in, his expression serious:

"Something unusual is bound to happen. This seems more like a meticulously planned scheme. It's highly likely to be an FBI counterintelligence unit or a CIA sting operation."

"They probably noticed the online activity of that international student named Alex, so they took advantage of this raid on the gang to stage this whole thing."

"That old Bill might not be a homeless man with nowhere to go at all, but a spy with a special mission. Once we take over, we will not only provide the US with irrefutable evidence to accuse us of stealing military technology, but we may even be able to let this old Bill infiltrate our research institutions in a legitimate way."

A brief silence fell over the meeting room.

This is indeed the inference that best fits the current situation.

In the field of intelligence, there is no such thing as a free lunch. If there is, it is definitely a bait wrapped in poison.

"What's the current situation with that exchange student, Alex?"

The supervisor sighed and asked in a deep voice.

"An ordinary overseas student who works part-time at an organ donation company and also works as a rant blogger on X site."

The analyst pulled up Alex's file: "He has not received any professional intelligence training, and his counter-surveillance awareness is almost zero. The fact that he was able to use steganography to contact us this time is probably an exceptional achievement."

He was scammed.

The veteran agent sighed: "A student collecting corpses has run into a ruthless, professionally trained U.S. Secret Service agent. The agent can easily manipulate him with a few words and psychological suggestions, leaving him completely disoriented."

The supervisor nodded, tapped his fingers twice on the table, and made his decision.

"Those raw data from Raytheon are certainly..."