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

Chapter 89: Covert Hostile Espionage Activities (3k)

In the following hours, no more dramatic incidents such as gang robberies or racist disturbances occurred.

With Alex as a free helper, and with the assistance of Old Joe's energetic redneck buddies, the entire truckload of pizzas, hot soup, canned food, and blankets was quickly distributed cleanly.

The neighbors who usually never smiled in this dilapidated building were now carrying hot food and returning to their rooms with grateful faces. Some of the old ladies even insisted on holding Leon's hand and making the sign of the cross for him.

After the crowd dispersed, the corridor returned to silence.

Lyon walked out onto the porch. Anderson, that old charlatan, had run off in such a hurry that he had left the key to his Ford Transit van still in the ignition.

Lyon, annoyed that it was blocking the way to the apartment building, walked over, opened the car door, got in, expertly turned the steering wheel, reversed the car into a sheltered corner, and then took the keys out and put them in his pocket.

Since the car was impounded, the car keys should naturally be kept by the police.

When Leon finished and returned to the lobby, Alex had already pulled the hood of his raincoat up over his head, yawning and ready to slip away.

"Alright, Officer Vance, the job's done. I've completed one level of the pagoda now, I need to get going."

Alex rubbed his stiff cheeks, his eyelids almost drooping: "It's almost 1 a.m., and I have a damn advanced mathematics class at 8 a.m. tomorrow."

"That white-bearded old man who gives lectures is incredibly strict with roll call. If I'm late and he catches me, all my credits for this semester will be for nothing."

Lyon didn't respond to his comment.

He leaned against a pillar in the foyer, stretched out an arm, and blocked Alex's way.

Leon's usual languid and teasing demeanor vanished, replaced by a serious tone: "Don't rush off yet."

"Losing an hour or two of sleep from 8 am won't kill you; you'll just end up sleeping during class anyway. I have something important to discuss with you."

Alex paused for a moment, his yawn caught in his throat.

Looking at Lyon's serious expression, he quickly started making plans in his mind.

Having lived in the US for so long, and even working in the shady business of collecting corpses, he knows all too well how to deal with people in uniform.

Generally speaking, the way to survive is to go along with the orders of the authorities as much as possible, without harming one's own interests.

American police officers generally give those with Asian features some leeway.

After all, in the eyes of many American police officers, Asian students often mean they are rich, and more or less a bit reckless and stupid.

For example, some international students, when encountering gang shootouts on the street, don't immediately cover their heads and crouch down for cover. Instead, they excitedly pull out their phones to film videos and post them on social media, which can infuriate the police officers who respond to the scene.

But as foolish as he may be, if he really angers these armed old men, he'll definitely be in big trouble.

They can easily find some excuse like obstructing official business or resisting arrest to pin you down on the hood and beat you up, and you can only suffer in silence.

Moreover, the man in front of us is no ordinary patrol officer.

After seeing the overwhelming news today, and drawing on his previous experience dealing with piles of corpses, Alex knew very well that Lyon was now a rising local tyrant in Seattle.

They are powerful, ruthless, and have deep connections.

Judging from his unusually serious demeanor, he probably has something really important to do.

Thinking of this, Alex pulled back the foot he had already stepped out with.

"Alright."

He sighed, completely giving up any hope of going back to catch up on his sleep, and leaned back against the wall like a deflated balloon.

"What important matter is it?"

"You got carried away with your acts of kindness just now, and now you want to donate a few more corpses for teaching purposes?"

"It's not about the corpse."

Leon shook his head, directly interrupting Alex's association with the gray market.

He glanced at the empty corridor, took a half-step forward, and lowered his voice to make sure only the two of them could hear: "I'm asking you, do you have any reliable connections in China—or rather, in the East?"

Alex was taken aback, not understanding why Leon's mind had suddenly jumped to this point.

"Why would you want to talk to people over there?"

"Give it away."

Lyon glanced back at the stairwell: "I just found a homeless man who was laid off."

"He said he used to be a senior engineer in a Raytheon outsourced lab working on military inertial navigation and gyroscope algorithms."

"In the United States, such people might be evicted from their homes and forced to wait to die on the streets because they can't afford medical bills and rent, and they might have to resort to scavenging for garbage."

"But if we send him to the East, he'd be a highly sought-after treasure, wouldn't he?"

Lyon stared into Alex's eyes and offered his ultimate idea: "Besides, if you really look among the homeless, there are definitely more than just him among bankrupt technicians."

O

"If possible, I hope to establish a stable route."

"They specifically package up these desperate talents and send them to the other side of the sea."

The corridor was eerily quiet.

Alex's eyes, which had been half-closed and lifeless from staying up all night, were now wide open.

He stared blankly at Leon, taking a full five seconds to react.

"what?"

Alex let out a suppressed gasp, then his arms swung wildly in front of his chest like windmills, and he took a big step back, his back slamming against the wall with a thud.

"Wait, wait, wait—"

"Dude, wait a minute!"

Alex, in his desperation, even let out a Northeastern accent, pointed at Leon's nose, and growled in a low voice, "Did the rain pour down on your head tonight and flood your brain?"

"Can't you figure out your place?"

"You're a legitimate American police officer, okay?"

"The night before last, you just took down a drug cartel, and this morning you shook hands with the mayor at City Hall. Now your face is all over the newspapers in Seattle."

"You're telling me now that you want to move military technical personnel from the US to China?"

"That's treason, buddy!"

"Do you want to drag me along to Guantanamo Bay to experience waterboarding?"

Alex was genuinely terrified.

He thought that his occasional online complaints about the United States were already considered to be walking on the edge of a gray area, but this white cop with thick eyebrows and big eyes was talking about cross-border talent smuggling.

Looking at Alex's miserable, alarmed expression, Leon couldn't help but roll his eyes and retorted without hesitation, "What are you making such a fuss about?"

He crossed his arms and retorted matter-of-factly, "Didn't I already tell you I wanted to go back the other night by that tent in the industrial area?"

"Since I'm going back, I can't just go to customs empty-handed and beg for food, can I? I have to prepare something decent to prove my loyalty."

'

Alex was speechless for a moment after hearing that.

He racked his brains for a moment, and it seemed that—this guy had indeed said that.

The night before last, I overheard this guy complaining that America was terrible and that he wanted to go back to America. At the time, I even thought he had good foresight.

However, this is completely illogical. He originally thought that Leon was just a spiritual Easterner, and no matter how dissatisfied he was with America, he was at most a person suffering from severe mental turmoil.

In Alex's perception of Americans, even a redneck living at the bottom of society has a mysterious self-confidence and a sense of superiority over the system.

Not to mention that Lyon is now thriving in this country, enjoying both fame and fortune.

How could someone like that truly yearn for the East and be willing to risk their life to go there?

This completely shattered his stereotypes about Americans!

"Are you... are you serious?"

Alex looked into Leon's eyes, which held no hint of a joke, and his Adam's apple bobbed with difficulty.

Reason told him that he should turn around and run immediately, getting as far away from this madman as possible, and never get involved in this mess, or he wouldn't even know how he died.

But----

Alex's eyes darted around twice, and a sudden, intense feeling welled up inside him.

If what Leon said is true, and that homeless man really is an engineer at Raytheon who works on military gyroscopes—

The value of that would be terrifying.

If I could really act as a go-between and send these top talents that the US doesn't want back to China in a steady stream—

Holy crap, that's a huge achievement!

What am I supposed to do, rummaging through corpses all this time? What's the point of studying 8 AM calculus? What good is this lousy Seattle University degree anyway?!

Go straight back to China, and everything will be taken care of for the rest of your life. You might even be able to become a special consultant, dangdang.

However, danger does indeed exist.

This is playing with fire right under the noses of the FBI, CIA, and Department of Homeland Security.

If anything goes wrong in any of the links, forget about going back home to enjoy life; this international student will definitely be "forced to commit suicide" silently in a foreign land.

Alex leaned against the wall, his expression shifting between anger and uncertainty.

Seeing that Alex was struggling with his inner demons and looked like he might crash at any moment due to CPU overload, Leon didn't press him any further.

Anyone would think twice about something like this, given how high the risk is.

"Alright, stop scaring yourself."

Leon patted Alex on the shoulder, his tone more relaxed: "I didn't ask you to agree right now. This is a big deal; you need to think it over carefully."

"Before that, I'll take you to meet him. Listen to what he has to say, assess his worth for yourself, and then make a decision."

Alex wiped the cold sweat from his face and barely managed to calm himself down.

Right.

What if Leon has been fooled by some delusional, crazy homeless man?

If I actually met the person and found out he was a mentally ill person who talks nonsense, wouldn't all my previous internal strife make me look like an idiot?

"Okay—okay."

Alex nodded and took a deep breath: "Go check it out."

The two turned around and prepared to go up the stairs.

Just as I stepped onto the first step.

Leon suddenly stopped, as if he had remembered something important, and turned to look at Alex intently.

"By the way, let me correct a serious grammatical error you made."

"Huh? What mistake?"

Alex was completely bewildered by his sudden seriousness.

Lyon pointed to his nose and said seriously, "What I did wasn't treason, it was at most a covert act of espionage."

"Don't label me a traitor so easily; this is a matter of my personal integrity."

"----ah?"