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

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Leon didn't say anything, but simply handed over the phone with its screen still lit up, pointing to the memo and chat interfaces on it.

"See for yourself."

Alex gave Leon a strange look and reached out to take the phone.

At first, he didn't understand, only glancing at the text in the memo. But as he swiped his finger down the screen, the confusion on his face gradually disappeared.

The ward was quiet, with only the tapping sound of Alex's fingertips swiping across the screen.

Alex stopped moving completely after scrolling to the last sad emoji sent to his "brother".

He stared intently at the cartoon white rabbit for a full half minute, then freed his left hand and rubbed his eyes vigorously with the base of his palm, as if trying to forcefully dispel the soreness in his eyes.

"The screen brightness is too high, it hurts my eyes..."

Alex muttered something under his breath, rubbed his eyes, and then looked down again to reread the last few records.

After watching, Alex locked the phone and handed it back to Leon.

"You just said that you were asked to come and see her."

Alex swallowed hard, his voice hoarse: "Later in the morgue, you said there was no need to contact the family anymore."

"Her brother... the man who hired you, he's dead, isn't he?"

Leon took the phone, silently put it in his jacket pocket, and nodded.

"He's dead."

He turned his gaze to the first snow falling outside the window, his tone flat:

"In this godforsaken place, this kind of expensive illness is a bottomless pit. To raise money for her hospitalization and medicine, he's been doing deadly illegal things."

"The mission failed the night before last, and she didn't make it. Before she died, she gave me some money and asked me to take care of her sister's affairs."

"well……"

After listening, Alex let out a heavy sigh.

"I really can't stand this kind of thing."

Alex wiped his face, his voice filled with helplessness and frustration:

"I'm just not cut out to be a corpse collector. I'm just too kind-hearted; I'm simply not suited for this kind of work where I witness human tragedies every day."

"If this were where we were, his brother wouldn't have had to kill someone to treat a patient. In the end, after he killed someone, his sister still had to die alone in her hospital bed..."

"Sigh, America is truly a hopeless country; it's rotten to the core."

Leon leaned against the bedside table, looking at the empty hospital bed.

"Sigh...who can argue with that?"

Lyon also sighed.

After venting your emotions, you still have to solve the practical problems.

Lyon put away his sadness and his expression became serious again.

"This girl's body cannot be handed over to a sanatorium for unidentified purposes, nor can it be buried in any random cemetery."

"Her brother left behind $120,000 in Monroe. Money is not an issue; I need to give her a decent funeral."

He turned his head and looked at Alex, who was still worrying.

"However, this matter must be kept absolutely anonymous."

"My current identity as a police officer is too sensitive, and so is your identity as an international student who posted videos online."

"If we leave our signatures and payment records at a legitimate funeral home, and someone with ulterior motives finds out that we have contact with the sister of a professional hitman, we'll both be in big trouble."

"Having been in this industry for a while, do you know any reliable funeral homes?"

"It must be a place that can handle things respectably, but absolutely does not ask for the source or leave any trace."

Upon hearing this request, Alex sniffed, forcibly suppressing his melancholy mood, and quickly switched his mind to business mode.

He quickly went through all the funeral options in Seattle and the surrounding area in his mind.

"Anonymity, and still maintaining a respectable image..."

Alex stroked his chin, pondered for a moment, and then his eyes lit up slightly:

"There really is one."

"On the edge of the southern district, near the old logging camp, there is a traditional burial funeral home."

To allay Lyon's concerns, Alex gave a detailed introduction to the background of the store:

"The boss is an Irish man in his seventies."

"That place looks quite old; it's not one of those chain commercial funeral companies."

"In the early years when Seattle gangs were at their most rampant, many gang leaders who couldn't show their faces or people with criminal records died, and their families would bring boxes of cash to him in the middle of the night to handle the matter."

"The old man was a rigid Catholic. Although he took on this kind of shady cash job, he had an obsessive respect for the dead."

"As long as the money is right, he will never use a cheap, thin coffin to cut corners, and his skills in embalming and grooming are among the best in all of Seattle."

"Most importantly, he will never ask a single question about the deceased's identity, nor will he require you to show any damn social security number or family verification."

Alex leaned closer and added:

"As for the cemetery, Mr. O'Connor has a long-term subscription to a number of burial plots in a nearby private Catholic cemetery."

"He purchased the right to use the cemetery plot in the name of a charitable foundation he set up himself."

"After burial, the deceased's name can be engraved on the tombstone, but if you check the payers and landowners in the public system, you can only find the foundation, and you will never find your or my name."

"Clean, respectable, and absolutely safe."

After hearing this, Lyon's brow finally relaxed a little.

This kind of old-fashioned underground funeral director is exactly what he needs now.

"This is the place."

Lyon made a decisive decision: "Since you have the connections, then help me contact that old Irishman and have him prepare the best coffin and burial plot."

"I'll convert the money into cash so I can use it for negotiations. I'll give you another sum of money after things are settled."

"I guess you won't need to give me the money... Anyway, no problem, I'll take care of it."

Alex hesitated for a moment, but then nodded.

"We took the back elevator and, while the sanatorium corridor was empty, we transferred the body bags directly to the truck. We'll take them to O'Connor that night."

The two reached an agreement and did not delay any longer.

Leon turned around to tidy up the belongings on the bedside table: a gray teddy bear, several old novels, and the cell phone, which he put into a plastic bag.

……

Around noon, in a private room on the second floor of a long-established Cantonese restaurant in Seattle's Chinatown.

The soundproofing in the private room was so-so; you could hear the noisy Cantonese conversations and the clanging of dishes from the diners in the lobby downstairs, and the aroma of roast goose and slow-cooked soup filled the air.

These places, brimming with the warmth of everyday life, are actually more suitable for discreet conversations than quiet, upscale restaurants.

The body, which was in a body bag, had been moved into the trunk by Leon and Alex thirty minutes earlier and properly placed.

At that moment, Alex was sitting at the round table in the private room, covering one ear and holding a cell phone in the other hand, talking in a low voice to old man O'Connor on the other end of the line.

"Yes, Mr. O'Connor...it was a young girl. Very thin, died of illness, without any gunshot wounds or unnatural injuries requiring a police report..."

"Understood, I know the rules. I'll drive the car to your backyard unloading area at 11 p.m. sharp tonight."

Alex listened to the somewhat aged and stereotypical Irish accent on the other end of the phone and nodded repeatedly.

"The family requests that things be done in a respectable manner."

"Yes, a full embalming and grooming process is needed. The cheeks are a bit sunken, so they'll need padding. Oak will do for the coffin..."

"The burial is the day after tomorrow night, right? In that private parish cemetery? Okay, I'll bring the cash with me. No need for a choir. No problem."

"Okay, see you tonight."

After hanging up the phone, Alex tossed it onto the table, picked up his teacup, and took a big gulp of Pu'er tea to catch his breath.

"Phew, all done."

Alex looked at Leon sitting opposite him, picked up his chopsticks and tapped his bowl and plate, briefly explaining the procedure:

"The old man agreed to take the job. We'll take him over tonight, and he'll personally do the embalming and vascular injections first thing tomorrow morning, followed by facial fillers and makeup in the afternoon."

"He'll hire two trustworthy workers tomorrow night to dig the pit, and the burial will take place late the night after tomorrow. The whole thing will cost about $15,000."

"A one-stop service, leaving no official paper records, clean and efficient."

Lyon nodded, picked up the teapot, and poured himself a cup of hot tea.

"About money..."

"You don't need to worry about the money."

Alex interrupted Leon abruptly. He put down his chopsticks, his expression turning unusually serious. He leaned forward slightly and lowered his voice:

"Didn't you say in the hospital room that you were going to use Monero to pay for the funeral expenses?"

"You don't need it now. Keep that money for yourself. Those old men across the ocean will cover your funeral expenses."

Lyon's hand, holding the teacup, froze in mid-air, and he slightly raised his eyelids.

Seeing Leon's reaction, Alex continued to recount the news from the East:

"The domestic side has given the latest response."

"The first issue is the funding for the operation."

"They know you're a highly sought-after individual now, and your bank account and tax records absolutely cannot contain any large sums of money coming in from unknown sources."

"So, they will convert this money into clean cash, and then transfer it to you in batches through me."

"All expenses for your future investigations, hiring informants, or handling dirty work like today will be reimbursed domestically."

Lyon placed his teacup on the table and listened quietly without making a sound.

"Secondly, there is intelligence support."

Alex drew a circle on the water-stained table with his finger:

"They know you're fighting alone here, and whether the enemy you're facing is a gang, the dark web, or some other force, it's very difficult to gather information."

"Therefore, China will use its resources in North America and national-level big data to proactively help you investigate potential threats and pave the way for you."

"For example, if you want to investigate a secret gang leader or a high-ranking FBI official, you can submit your request."

"However, let me make this clear from the start."

Alex pointed to himself.

"I am the only middleman."

"To ensure absolute security, all information exchange between us must be transmitted offline and via specific signals."

"This means that the request and distribution of intelligence requires a physical cycle. I can't send you the intelligence via WeChat this afternoon if you need it this morning; you have to be patient."

"I understand."

Lyon gave a curt reply.

Physical transmission that leaves no electronic trace is the highest level of intelligence exchange, but also the slowest. A round trip every few days is normal, and as long as it is secure enough, we can afford to wait.

"Finally, and this is the thing you care about most."

Alex took a deep breath and stared into Leon's eyes:

"Regarding your desire to travel to the East."

Alex first reassured everyone:

"Old Bill and that materials guy Arthur have been successfully transported away. The cargo ship has entered international waters, everything is safe, and not even a peep from customs."

When Lyon heard the news, his expression remained unchanged; he simply nodded slightly.

Seattle has been calm these past two days, without even a customs anti-smuggling bureau alarm going off. He had long suspected that the people had boarded the ship safely, and his intuition was right. Now it has been confirmed that the Eastern field operations are indeed professional.

"but."

Alex then changed the subject:

Regarding your own receipt of the document.

"The decision made domestically is that once those two precious darlings you sent over, old Bill and Arthur, have safely arrived in the East, they will immediately arrange for someone to conduct in-depth technical verification and detailed communication with these two old men."

"After confirming that the pledge of allegiance you sent was genuine, and after completing the final profile of your behavior through the old men's testimonies."

"Only then will they arrange for a dedicated contact person to meet with you in person under absolutely safe conditions for a face-to-face contact and assessment."

Alex calculated the days, then spread his hands:

"That cargo ship has only been at sea for three days."

"For ocean-going freighters to cross the Pacific Ocean, the fastest voyage takes 15 to 18 days. In addition to the time spent crossing the Pacific, the time for quarantine and technical inspection after docking must also be added."

"Even if everything goes smoothly, it will still take at least half a month, or even longer."

Alex originally thought that Leon would be dissatisfied or impatient upon hearing the excuse of "still having to wait for the assessment".

result.

"Just over half a month?"

Leon showed no impatience whatsoever; instead, he raised an eyebrow in surprise and nodded readily: "OK. No problem."

In fact, this progress is much faster than Lyon had anticipated.

As he originally expected, for a high-risk target like himself, with the halo of an American hero policeman and hands full of blood, to get in touch with the intelligence core of a major power, the other party would have to keep him under observation for at least six months to a year.

Unexpectedly, after simply sending two engineers over, the other party immediately planned to arrange for someone to meet with them face-to-face in just over half a month.

This decisiveness and efficiency demonstrate that the person in charge in the East is a ruthless and decisive individual.

As for whether old Bill and Arthur will cause trouble or say something inappropriate when they arrive in the East, leading to their failure to pass the review?

Lyon, however, was not worried at all.

They were two old scholars who had been exploited by American capital and couldn't even afford medical treatment.

They're obsessed with technology. If the East provides them with a fully equipped cleanroom, three meals a day, and top-notch medical care, these two old men will absolutely frantically praise themselves to the inspectors as if they were their second parents. How could there possibly be any problems?

"Okay, since you think this timeframe is acceptable, then things will be easier."

Seeing Leon's calm reaction, Alex grabbed the teapot on the table and refilled the teacups in front of them.