3

Hello, this is the FBI," came the operator's voice from the other end of the line.

I took a deep breath: "I'm reporting a case of treason. The person involved is former CIA Black Ops Director Marcus Cross."

"Please wait a moment, I'll transfer you."

The call was transferred three times before a man's voice finally answered: "This is Detective Black from the Investigations Department. May I ask your last name?"

"Ethan Cross."

There was a three-second silence on the other end of the phone.

"Mr. Cross... I've heard of you. The commander of Operation Silvermoon three years ago." Blake's tone became cautious. "You said you wanted to report Marcus Cross? What evidence do you have?"

"Bank transfer records, call recordings, operation logs," I said. "Marcus betrayed the entire team, resulting in the deaths of five agents."

"This is a very serious accusation," Blake said. "Could you come to FBI headquarters? We need to verify the evidence in person."

"I'm injured right now and it's inconvenient for me to move."

"Where are you? I'll send someone to pick you up."

I hesitated for a moment and looked at Ivy.

She shook her head and wrote a line on the paper: "Don't tell him his location."

"Mr. Cross?" Blake urged, "Are you still there?"

"I'll go myself," I said. "Give me 48 hours."

"Okay," Blake said. "Then I'll wait for you. But please be sure to keep the evidence safe; it concerns national security."

"I see."

The call ended.

Ivy breathed a sigh of relief: "I think there's something wrong with him."

"Why?"

"Intuition," Ivy said. "He asked far too many questions, and he kept trying to find out our location. A normal agent wouldn't be that eager."

"Perhaps he was just doing his duty."

"Perhaps," Ivy said noncommittally, "but we'd better be careful."

I nodded and turned off my phone: "We're going to FBI headquarters."

The FBI headquarters building is a gray concrete building with a simple appearance, but it exudes a sense of oppression.

"Where is the Investigation Department?" I asked a passing detective.

"Room 302, at the very back."

"Thanks."

We walked to the door of room 302 and knocked.

"Please come in."

I pushed open the door—

Inside the room, a middle-aged man sat behind a desk, wearing a dark blue suit and gold-rimmed glasses, looking very refined.

"Mr. Cross, Ms. Moore, please have a seat." The man stood up and extended his hand. "I am Detective Black from the Investigations Department."

I shook hands with him and said, "Hello."

Blake's hands were cold, and his handshake was not firm.

We sat down, and Blake sat back down in his chair.

"Mr. Cross, you said yesterday you had evidence of Marcus Cross's treason?" Blake said. "Could I see it?"

Ivy took a folder out of her bag and handed it to Blake.

Blake opened the folder and looked through its contents—

Bank transfer records.

Call recording list.

Action log summary.

A photo of Marcus and the deputy director.

Blake looked very closely, his brows furrowing deeper and deeper.

"This evidence..." Blake paused, "is indeed very convincing."

"Will you file a case?" I asked.

Blake closed the folder, took off his glasses, and rubbed his eyes.

"Mr. Cross, to be honest, this case is very sensitive."

"What's the meaning?"

"Although Marcus Cross has left the CIA, he has deep connections in politics, the military, and the intelligence community," Blake said. "If we want to investigate him, we need sufficient evidence and we must follow proper procedures."

"Isn't the evidence I've given you enough?"

"That's enough," Blake nodded, "but it's not a complete chain of evidence. For example, these bank records only prove that someone transferred money to Marcus, but they don't prove that the money was a bribe. The call recordings are just lists, not actual content. The action log is detailed, but it lacks eyewitness testimony or physical evidence."

So you mean...

"I need your cooperation in our further investigation," Blake said. "I will arrange for someone to protect you and Ms. Moore, and we will also launch a covert investigation into Marcus."

How long will it take?

"It will take at least a month."

"A month?" Ivy exclaimed. "That's too long! Marcus will destroy the evidence!"

"I understand," Blake said, "but that's how the investigation works, and there's nothing I can do about it."

I stared into Blake's eyes.

His expression was sincere and without any flaws.

But I always felt that something was wrong.

"Agent Black, may I ask you a question?" I said.

"Please speak."

Why did you react so quickly when I called you yesterday?

Blake paused, then asked, "What do you mean?"

"Normally, upon receiving such a report, the detective should first conduct a background check to confirm the informant's identity before deciding whether to open a case," I said. "But yesterday you immediately said you wanted to see me and even offered to send someone to pick me up. That's not normal."

Blake was silent for three seconds.

Then he smiled: "Mr. Cross, you truly are a veteran of black operations; your observations are very keen."

I gritted my teeth: "Who exactly are you?"

"I am Black, an investigator," Black sneered. "But I am also one of Mr. Marcus's men."

"really……"

"But you're half right," Blake said. "I am indeed investigating Marcus, not to arrest him, but to help him clean up those who know the truth."

"You…" Ivy said, trembling, "you're the mole…"

"A mole?" Blake laughed. "Ms. Moore, you're too naive. You think I'm the only Marcus agent in the FBI? No, we have many. From agents to supervisors, from analysts to technicians. Mr. Marcus spent ten years building this network."

He picked up the folder on the table: "So, this evidence you gave me will soon disappear. No one will know it ever existed."

"You dare destroy the evidence?" I threatened.

"Why wouldn't I dare?" Blake shrugged. "Mr. Cross, you're a wanted criminal. You've trespassed into FBI headquarters and threatened agents. I have the right to shoot you on the spot."

His finger was on the trigger.

"As for Ms. Moore..." Blake looked at Ivy, "Mr. Marcus said he wants her alive. He wants to get information out of you about what other tricks Danny has up his sleeve."

Ivy took a step back and hid behind me.

I stood in front of her, my right hand slowly reaching for the pistol at my waist.

The window glass suddenly shattered.

A smoke bomb rolled into the room, and white smoke instantly filled the space.

"Get down!" I yelled.

Da da da da——

The sound of an automatic rifle came from outside the window; bullets pierced the wall, sending wood chips flying.

I pounced on Ivy, and we rolled behind the desk.

Jack rolled to the door, drew his pistol from his waist, and blindly fired out the window.

Through the smoke, I heard the sound of ropes rubbing together—

Someone lowered in through the window using a rope.

One, two, three...

At least six mercenaries.

"Get out of here!" I shouted to Ivy and Jack.

We rushed out of the room and ran towards the stairs.

The sound of mercenaries' footsteps came from behind, along with Blake's cries for help:

"Wait! Don't leave me behind—"

Bang!

Gunshots.

Blake's voice stopped abruptly.

"They even kill their own people..." Ivy said in horror.

"Because he knows too much," I said. "Run!"

We rushed down the stairs, with the mercenaries in hot pursuit.

In the lobby on the first floor, the other agents heard the gunshot and drew their weapons.

"Intruder!" an agent shouted.

But before he could finish speaking, a mercenary who appeared out of nowhere shot him in the head.

Chaos erupted in the hall.

Agents clashed with mercenaries, bullets flew, and civilians screamed as they fled.

"Go through the side door!" Jack led the way, and we rushed through the chaotic hall toward the side door.

But outside the side door, two black SUVs were parked there, and four mercenaries were holding guns.

"Back off!" I yelled.

We turned around and ran in another direction.

The mercenaries caught up.

"Damn it, we're surrounded..." Jack gritted his teeth.

I glanced around—

Enemies were everywhere, and our retreat was blocked.

Just like the abandoned mine three years ago.

But this time, I will not let the tragedy repeat itself.

I shoved the folder containing the evidence into Ivy's hand. "I 'm just stalling for time. Ivy, promise me you'll release the evidence."

"Ethan..." Ivy's eyes were red-rimmed, "You'll die..."

"Perhaps," I said, looking at her, "but at least Danny's death won't have been in vain."

I pushed her away: "Let's go!"

Jack gritted his teeth and dragged Ivy toward the underground parking lot.

I turned around to face the mercenaries who were chasing me.

Six people, fully armed.

I only have one pistol and seven bullets.

"Come on," I whispered, "let me see what you're capable of."

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