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

Alex drove the refrigerated truck and quickly disappeared into the night.

Time flew by, and it was past midnight.

Leon stood alone in the cold wind at the street corner, took out the walkie-talkie clipped to his waist, and gave instructions to Harrison and his team members.

"Harrison, take a few men to 12th Street and keep an eye on the rest of the gang."

"Bulldozer, go take a look around that block on the east side where cars often get stolen. Get everything moving, don't dawdle in your vehicles."

After sending all the energetic guys to other neighborhoods, Lyon avoided the surveillance cameras on the main road, hailed a taxi with its vacant light on, and headed straight for his luxury apartment in the city center.

He would never drive ACU's Ford Explorer to drop someone off.

All Seattle Police Department vehicles are equipped with GPS tracking systems, so even though he is now a team leader, if the dispatch center is willing to check his driving route, they can immediately find out that he drove to the abandoned industrial park in the northern suburbs in the early morning.

He certainly wouldn't do something so foolish as to leave behind evidence.

Twenty minutes later, Lyon unlocked the apartment door with his fingerprint.

Pushing open the door, I saw a floor lamp lit up in the living room.

Old Bill was still scribbling on a pile of draft paper, while Arthur, though his fever had subsided, was still somewhat weak and was resting on the sofa with his eyes closed, covered by a blanket.

"Stop writing. Pack your things and take them with you."

This time, Leon didn't bother to change his shoes. He walked straight to the center of the living room, pulled two black masks from under the coffee table, and tossed them to the two men.

"Put them on. Let's go now."

"Now?!"

Old Bill paused for a moment, holding the pen in his hand, looking very surprised:

"So suddenly? Didn't you say they were still evaluating it? I thought it would take ten days to half a month."

Arthur, who was next to him, also opened his eyes. Although he didn't speak, his eyes also showed surprise.

For these two old men, being suddenly woken up in the middle of the night to run away was quite a thrill.

"That's normal."

Lyon picked up his car keys and explained in a calm tone:

That's how intelligence work is.

"Before final execution, no lower-level环节 (link/stage) needs to know the specific task time and location. Instructions are only issued when the task needs to be done."

"If we are notified a few days in advance of the departure date, and any one of us drinks a couple more drinks or accidentally sends a text message on an unencrypted phone, the information could be leaked."

"No warning, no surprises. Let's go."

Upon hearing this explanation, Old Bill and Arthur nodded in understanding, their admiration for Leon's high-ranking agent growing even stronger.

"Understood."

Old Bill didn't ask any more questions. He quickly folded the few pages of paper on the table and hid them in his inner pocket.

Arthur's legs were still a little unsteady when he stood up. Old Bill walked over and firmly supported his former neighbor's arm.

The two put on their masks and followed Lyon out of the apartment.

They took the private elevator of this luxury apartment building, which went directly down to the underground parking garage on the second basement level without stopping at any other floors.

The Dodge Challenger in Lyon was parked quietly in the corner.

He opened the back door, let old Bill help Arthur inside, then got into the driver's seat and started the engine.

With a deep roar, the engine pulled out of the underground parking garage and into the Seattle streets at midnight.

The carriage was quiet. Old Bill and Arthur were both on edge, and neither dared to speak.

Lyon gripped the steering wheel with one hand, his eyes constantly scanning the rearview mirror and the streets on both sides.

The atmosphere tonight seems inexplicably oppressive.

Lyon stopped his car at a traffic light intersection.

A homeless man in a tattered trench coat was pushing a shopping cart past on the roadside. Suddenly, he stopped, turned around, and stared intently at the dark window of the Dodge Challenger for a full ten seconds.

Leon's hand instantly reached for the Glock at his waist, his muscles tensing.

Is this guy an informant hired by Raytheon to search for people on the street? What's he holding? A walkie-talkie?

Just as Lyon was about to run the red light, the homeless man suddenly bent down, picked up a discarded half-smoked cigarette butt from the puddle next to the wheel, carefully put it in his pocket, and then slowly pushed the bike away.

Lyon cursed under his breath and loosened his grip on the gun.

The green light came on, and the car continued forward.

After driving about five kilometers, Lyon frowned again.

In their rearview mirror, a black Ford sedan had been following them for a full three blocks.

Every time Lyon changed lanes, the other car would also change lanes, always keeping the distance between them about fifty meters.

"Are they being watched by the FBI?"

Lyon's eyes turned completely cold.

He glanced at the road sign next to him, then suddenly turned the steering wheel to the right, and the car cut directly into a narrow one-way alley.