1 P.M., a suburb of Washington, a villa.
"The smoke from the cigar is poisoned."
On the living room sofa, Thomas let out a thick puff of smoke, grinned, and spoke the threatening words to the two people in front of him.
Upon hearing this, Mr. Clement's expression remained unchanged, and he picked up the wine glass again for a sip, saying indifferently:
"Thomas, how many years has it been, and you never thought to change your tactics?"
"It doesn't matter how old the trick is as long as it works."
Thomas chuckled, took another deep draw from the cigar, and exhaled a layer of visible smoke.
He then turned his gaze toward Luo An, noticing that Luo An appeared even more composed than Mr. Clement, with no change in expression. Thomas, slightly surprised, said with a smile:
"I've heard of your name, Luo An Greenwood, the most outstanding Group Leader of the FBI Washington Headquarters, correct?"
Without waiting for Luo An to reply, Thomas continued:
