Chapter 2027 - 1459: The Job No One Dares to Take

Baghdad Green Zone

Robyn slammed the third glass of whiskey onto the desk.

The ice cubes clinked in the glass, making a crisp sound.

Dark brown liquid splashed out, landing on the stack of documents on the desk, leaving a dark stain.

He didn't care.

Outside the window, Baghdad was entering dusk.

Two days.

A full forty-eight hours.

Since his last attempt to contact the "accountant."

Robyn stared at the phone screen, the familiar icon of the encrypted communication app was silent, showing no activity.

All his sent messages displayed "unread," all the calls diverted to voicemail.

This wasn't the "accountant's" style.

The person was like a machine.

Arriving at the office promptly at 7:55 every morning, calling to report progress at 10 every Thursday morning without fail.

Almost unwavering.

Robyn had never asked for the "accountant's" real name, nor how many people he worked for.

Those weren't the questions to ask.

In this line of work, the less you know, the longer you live.

He only knew that the "accountant" was one of the best intermediaries, never messing up a deal, never short on money, never letting people talk.

The dirty work he had done for himself never had any problems.

So when the "accountant" agreed to take on that job, Robyn thought the matter was secure.

Three million US Dollars, to buy a life.

Song Heping.

Robyn thought at the time, this business was simple.

No matter how great Song Heping was, he was just one person.

A person would always have lapses, always have moments alone, even a tiger takes a nap eventually.

As long as someone could find that moment, pull the trigger, everything would be over.

But now, the "accountant" was missing.

Forty-eight hours...

Not right...

Robyn foresaw trouble.

So, he took another sip of whiskey. The burn spread from his stomach.

He looked at the clock on the wall—5:47 PM Baghdad time, 3:47 PM Zurich time, 9:47 AM East Coast of the United States time.

It should still be daytime in Zurich.

Robyn picked up his phone, dialed the number again.

Busy signal.

He hung up and dialed once more.

Busy signal.

He threw the phone onto the desk, got up and walked to the window.

Outside the window, the Green Zone was quiet, not like Iraq. Palm trees lined the streets neatly, white villas reflected soft light in the sunset.

A bullet-proof SUV drove by, the windows pitch black, concealing whoever was inside.

Robyn stared at the car for a few seconds, suddenly feeling strange—the people in the car were watching him.

He knew this was absurd.

Through bullet-proof glass, across hundreds of meters, no one could see his face clearly.

But he just had this feeling. A feeling of being watched, like prey under a hunter's gaze.

He turned away from the window, walked back to his desk, and sat down.

The phone rang.

Robyn grabbed it, pressing the answer button without looking at the caller ID: "Accountant?"

The other end was silent for a second.

Then there was a deep voice, with a slight Southern American accent: "Robyn, it's me."

Not the accountant.

It was Lemont.

Robyn's heart sank.

"What's up?" Robyn asked.

"Are you in the office?"

"Yes."

"Come down, I'm right downstairs."

The call ended.

Robyn stared at the phone for a few seconds, got up and walked to the window, looking down.

A black Chevy SUV was parked at the entrance of the Tulip Hotel, windows closed, engine running.

A man in a dark suit stood by, looking up.

It was Lemont.

Robyn turned and headed to the door, pulling it open and heading down the hallway to the elevator.

He was alone in the elevator.

The stainless steel walls reflected his face.

Dark circles, scruffy beard, tie crooked.

He adjusted his tie and smoothed his hair.

The elevator door opened, he walked out.

The hotel lobby had a few contractors in camouflage, chatting quietly.

They glanced at Robyn, then looked away.

Robyn crossed the lobby, pushed open the glass door, and walked into the hot Baghdad evening wind.

Lemont stood by the car, holding a manila envelope.

"Get in the car to talk," Lemont said.

Robyn looked at the envelope in his hand and then at the car: "What's the matter, can't say here?"

Lemont didn't answer, opened the car door, and got in first.

Robyn hesitated for two seconds, then followed in.

With the door closed, the cabin was quiet enough to hear the hum of the air conditioning system.

A young man was in the driver's seat, also dressed in a suit, but clearly a bodyguard.

Neck thicker than his head, eyes fixed on the window.

Lemont handed the envelope to Robyn.

"Take a look at this."

Robyn accepted the envelope, opened it, and extracted a document.

It was an intelligence briefing.

Robyn recognized the emblem on the cover—CIA European Bureau, Zurich Station.

The date was today.

The confidentiality level was "confidential."

He opened the first page.

"Target: Unidentified male, approximately fifty-five years old. Discovery location: Room 316, Business Center, XX Niederdorf Street, Old Town of Zurich. Discovery time: 10:05 AM local time. Cause of death: Close-range shooting, single shot, hit between the eyes. Estimated time of death: Between 7:55 AM and 8:10 AM. Scene situation: No signs of forced entry, no signs of struggle, surveillance system tampered, alarm system disabled, power meter destroyed. No viable fingerprints or DNA samples extracted from the scene."