Chapter 2007 - 1451: Eyes in the Shadows

Forty minutes later, the car drove into Washington City and stopped at the entrance of a hotel.

It was a discreet boutique hotel in Georgetown, with no conspicuous sign, just a dark wooden door and two doormen in casual clothes who were obviously security.

Han said this was a hotel Crescent International had been working with for a long time, and that its security could be trusted.

Song Heping got out of the car and followed Han into the hotel.

The lobby was small but exquisitely decorated. Several modern art paintings hung on the walls, and a black grand piano sat in the corner. The front desk clerk clearly knew Han; as soon as he saw him, he nodded and handed over a key card.

"The penthouse suite. Best view, and the safest," Han passed the key card to Song Heping. "I'll take you up."

The two men took the elevator to the seventh floor, walked down a corridor lined with dark carpet, and stopped at the room at the end.

Han swiped the card to open the door, went in first for a quick check, then stepped back out and said to Song Heping, "Everything's fine. Mr. Song, get some rest and wait for my call. Whenever Mr. Guanhai decides to see you, I'll notify you a day in advance."

"On Guanhai's side, how long do we have to wait?" Song Heping asked.

Han glanced at his watch, then said carefully, "I'd say several days at least. As you know, the election has just wrapped up, and right now Mr. Guanhai is busy with the transition. These days his schedule is packed, all meetings with different factions and players."

He paused, then smiled. "But he made a point of telling me to let you enjoy yourself in the US first, wait for his notice. You rarely come to the US—take the time to look around. There's plenty worth seeing in Washington."

Song Heping nodded. His face showed little expression, but his mind was already racing.

Just a few days.

Not long, not short.

Enough time to do a lot. Enough time for a lot to happen.

"Thank you," he said.

Han nodded and turned to leave.

The leather soles of his shoes made almost no sound on the carpet.

Song Heping closed the door, set his suitcase on the luggage rack, then began to check the room.

It was his habit.

No matter who arranged the accommodation, he always did his own inspection.

Behind the curtains, nothing unusual.

The bathroom, nothing unusual. The wardrobe, nothing unusual.

He picked up the phone on the bedside table and listened. Normal dial tone.

He took a small signal detector from his pocket and walked a circuit around the room.

The green light stayed on. No bugs, no hidden cameras.

Good.

Song Heping sat down on the sofa and took out his phone.

In his contacts, the number saved under "AG" lay quietly there.

He stared at that name for a while, then dialed.

It rang four times before the line picked up.

"Song?"

The woman's voice carried a hint of surprise and a trace of sleepy languor, yet beneath the languor there was a natural composure, the kind only someone raised in circles of power would have.

"Do you know what time it is?"

Song Heping glanced at the clock on the wall.

Eleven twenty p.m. Washington time.

"It should be eleven twenty in New York too, right?" he said, the corner of his mouth involuntarily lifting into a smile. "What, the CEO of Horizon News Group goes to bed this early? Isn't New York nightlife just getting started?"

A soft laugh came through the phone.

"Song, are you mocking me?"

Angel's voice had cleared, edged now with that distinctive sharpness of hers.

"I just finished three meetings, dealt with seven difficult advertisers, and spent half an hour on the phone with my esteemed aunt—you know what it's like talking to Speaker Nancy? Every sentence has to spin around your head three times before you say it."

Song Heping chewed his gum; the mint burst cool on his tongue.

"Sounds exhausting."

"Exhausting, not really," Angel said. "It's just mentally draining. Anyway, why are you calling at this hour? Weren't you still in Illiguo?"

"I'm in Washington," Song Heping said. "Just arrived."

There was two seconds of silence on the other end.

"Washington?" Angel's voice carried a note of delight. "What are you doing in the United States?"

"There are things I need to handle."

Song Heping stood up, walked to the window, pulled back a slit in the curtains, and looked out at the quiet streets of Georgetown.

"And… I wanted to see you."

Another two seconds of silence.

Then Angel laughed, very softly, with a tenderness only Song Heping would catch.

"Song, when did you learn to say things like that?"

"I've always known how. I just never said them."

"All right then," Angel said. "I'll fly over tomorrow. I don't have anything major these few days anyway. Once I'm done with those few advertisers tomorrow, I can cut them loose."

Song Heping frowned slightly. "You don't have to make a special—"

"Make a special what?" Angel cut him off. "Song, how long has it been since we met? Five months? Six? It's always me going to find you. This time you're the one who asked; how could I not come?"

Song Heping was silent for a moment.

"Tomorrow afternoon?" he asked.

"Tomorrow afternoon," Angel said. "I'll call you when I land. By the way, where are you staying?"

Song Heping told her the hotel name and address.

After listening, Angel let out a soft "Huh." "That one in Georgetown? I know it. I went there once with my aunt. The privacy is excellent. How did you end up in a place like that?"

"A friend arranged it."

"A friend?" Angel laughed. "Song, since when did you have friends of that caliber in the United States? That hotel doesn't take public bookings, only certain members."

Song Heping didn't answer.

Angel didn't press.