Chapter 2006 - 1450: Landing in the United States (2)

"Steak, medium-rare."

"Okay."

The flight attendant left, and the cabin became quiet again.

Song Heping looked at the clouds outside the window and suddenly thought of Angel.

One of the people he trusted most in the United States.

Not as simple as a lover.

Although they were indeed lovers.

More importantly, she had a powerful family background and was a strong business partner.

Every time Song Heping went to the United States, he would stay with her for a day or two.

Those were rare times for him to relax.

This time?

He thought about it and decided to decide when he arrived.

The plane flew steadily above the clouds.

After having lunch, Song Heping slept for three hours, and when he woke up, the plane was already approaching the European Continent.

Through the window, he could see the ocean below and the faint silhouette of the coastline in the distance.

He opened the shade, letting sunlight fill the cabin, and then took out a document from his briefcase.

This was the renewal draft of Illiguo's oil and gas pipeline security contract that Jiang Feng sent last night, part of a fifteen billion dollars arms deal payment.

If all goes well, this contract will bring the company an annual income of two hundred and thirty million US dollars for the next five years.

This is why many people want him dead.

Fifteen minutes later, the plane landed at Frankfurt Airport.

The transit time was just an hour and a half, enough for refueling and simple maintenance.

Song Heping didn't get off the plane, only stretching his muscles in the cabin, and then sent Grey Wolf an encrypted message: "Expected to arrive at nine tonight."

Grey Wolf quickly replied: "Roger. Someone will quietly follow you in a black Chevrolet, license plate DC-4721."

Forty minutes later, the plane took off again, heading this time to Washington Dulles International Airport.

As Song Heping's plane crossed the Atlantic Ocean, at the Illigio Green Zone, CIA site.

On the computer screen in front of Lemont displayed the flight information: Gulfstream G650, registration number N887GX, expected arrival time 21:17, parking spot D27.

He had been staring at this information for ten minutes.

The office door was pushed open, and a slender middle-aged man walked in, holding a folder.

This man was Brian, Lemont's deputy, specializing in intelligence analysis for Middle Eastern affairs.

"Found it?" Lemont asked.

Brian shook his head: "No. Crescent International's information is still the same, clean as a blank page. However..."

He hesitated for a moment, then continued: "I found something through another channel."

"What channel?"

"NSA." Brian lowered his voice: "They have call records of the company's legal person James Han. In the past three months, this number has only communicated with three numbers, one of which… is an old line from the White House."

Lemont abruptly lifted his head: "The White House?"

"To be exact, President Obama's private office." Brian opened the folder: "The calls were very brief, each not exceeding two minutes, but the frequency was stable, about once a week."

Lemont was silent.

He recalled his call with Robbin two days ago, remembering Robbin's impatience when he said "this doesn't feel right."

Now, facts proved his intuition was correct.

That company, which was too clean to be normal, indeed had connections with the White House, more accurately, with the soon-to-be former President Obama.

"Does Robbin know this news?" he asked.

Brian replied, "I haven't told him yet."

"Don't tell him for now." Lemont stood up, walked to the door, then turned back: "Only you and I know about this matter. Also, keep a close watch on that plane. I want to know Song Heping's every move after landing, who he talks to, where he goes, who he meets."

Brian nodded: "Understood."

Lemont opened the door and walked out.

The corridor was empty, only a few emergency lights emitting a dim glow.

He walked towards the elevator, his mind racing.

People affiliated with the former president.

Song Heping.

And that mysterious James Han.

The depth of this matter was far greater than he imagined.

If Robbin really made a move in the United States…

Lemont dared not think further.

But on the other hand, he vaguely hoped Robbin would make a move.

Because only then could he see clearly who was truly standing behind that East University contractor.

At 9:17 pm Eastern Time, Washington Dulles International Airport.

Gulfstream G650 landed smoothly, taxiing to D27 parking spot.

Through the window, Song Heping could see the lights on the tarmac and the outline of the terminal building in the distance.

The flight attendant came over, smiling as she reminded him: "Sir, we have arrived in Washington. The outside temperature is 12 degrees, with light rain. Your luggage will be delivered to the stairway in three minutes."

"Thank you."

Song Heping stood up, wearing that thin trench coat.

This was the coat he took out of his suitcase during the Frankfurt stopover, having checked Washington's weather, 12 degrees, light rain, much colder than Baghdad.

Chewing gum, he walked towards the cabin door.

The cabin door opened, a burst of moist cold air rushing in.

Song Heping took a deep breath and walked down the stairs.

On the tarmac were several ground vehicles, and in the distance, a black Chevrolet Suburban, license plate DC-4721.

A man in a dark suit stood beside the car, Asian face, in his thirties, slender, wearing gold-rimmed glasses.

It was James Han.

As Song Heping walked down the stairs, the man approached.

"Mr. Song, welcome to the United States." He extended his hand and said in fluent Chinese: "I'm James Han, the legal person of Crescent International, responsible for receiving you this time."

Song Heping shook his hand, sizing him up briefly.

Korean descent, thirty-five to thirty-six years old, callused hands, but not the kind from gun training, more like from long-term computer use.

Steady eyes, a standard smile, a standard professional fake smile.

"Mr. Han's Chinese is excellent."

"Studied Chinese for two years at Seoul University, then stayed in BJ for a while." Han withdrew his hand, gesturing "please": "The car is over there, please follow me."

The ground personnel had already delivered the luggage, Han took it and loaded it into the trunk, then opened the rear car door.

Song Heping got in the car, warm inside with a faint leather smell.

Han sat in the driver's seat, started the vehicle, slowly driving off the tarmac.

"Is this Mr. Song's first time in Washington?" Han glanced at him through the rear-view mirror.

"Been here a few times, but it's usually been rushed."

"This time you can take your time. Congress Hill, White House, Lincoln Memorial, all worth seeing." Han paused, his tone becoming more formal: "However, the specific schedule for your meeting with the President still awaits specific notice."

Song Heping nodded, saying nothing.

The car left the airport area, entering the toll highway.

The suburbs of Washington in the night featured sparse lights, occasionally glimpsing a few vehicles on night runs. Light rain pelted the windows, swept away by wipers, quickly blurring again.

Song Heping's phone vibrated.

He glanced at the caller display.

An encrypted number, with no source displayed.

But he knew who was on the other end of the line.

He answered.

"Song."

A familiar voice came through the receiver.

"Welcome to DC."

It was Simon.

The CIA director, his secret ally, and the largest card in his hand.

"Director." Song Heping glanced at Han, speaking calmly: "Calling so late, is there urgency?"

On the other end, a silence of a second, then Simon's voice returned: "I know you just landed, so I'll make it brief. Crescent International's background, you should have investigated, the result being nothing found, right?"

Song Heping did not respond.

"Because that's under my direct management." Simon said: "To be precise, it's a shadow company used to perform some… special tasks."

Song Heping's gaze slightly sharpened.

He glanced again at Han in the driver's seat, the other focusing entirely on driving, seemingly unaware of his conversation.

"So?"

"So, the entire upcoming schedule will be arranged by Han, you can trust him. He'll take you to the hotel, and then wait for the news." Simon said: "President Obama's side, I'll help coordinate. But one thing, in the US, don't act alone. Someone wants to move on you, you should know."

Song Heping remained silent for two seconds: "I know."

"That's it. Keep your phone accessible."

Simon hung up.

Song Heping put away his phone, staring out at the road lights speeding by.

Interesting.

Crescent International was a CIA shadow company; thus, James Han was a CIA agent.

But this person was also working for former President Obama.

What does this imply?

It suggests a possible unknown connection between Simon and Obama.

Or Simon might be assisting Obama in something, requiring a clean identity, a shell unrelated to the CIA.

Alternatively, Obama himself has maintained some secret relationship with the CIA.

Former president, officially retired, but his influence remains; keeping ties with intelligence systems is also quite normal.

But anyway, the matter behind this meeting is likely bigger than he imagined.