The Tenth Visit
The coastal city of Coast City had entered autumn. The autumn wind carried a unique, damp chill, especially when it rained. The cold rain, driven by the frigid wind, felt like ice-cold surgical knives cutting into the skin, bringing a deep, bone-piercing cold.
The continuous, chilly drizzle stained the heavy, grayish-green iron gate a dark black.
Floyd Russell and his assistant stood under the porch, staring impassively at the curtain of rain outside. A young man, having forgotten his umbrella, ran frantically down the road with his briefcase over his head. When he reached the intersection, he slipped and fell backward onto the ground.
The rain soaked his new suit, leaving large stains. Watching the young man, Floyd was inexplicably reminded of himself.
This was his tenth trip to the Shaw Manor.
In five days, he had called nine times and been refused nine times, not even being offered a hot cup of coffee to warm his hands.
Floyd didn't know if those damned yellow-skinned monkeys had any education in etiquette; his tolerance had reached its limit.
"The Hongmen, the Shaw family, the Young Masters Gang, Young Master Shaw..."
Floyd gritted his teeth, plotting mentally what measures he would use to curb, or even kill, the Young Masters Gang if a conflict erupted. A.R.G.U.S. was not a third-rate organization; it represented the military, the government, and was one of the highest authorities in the United States. No one could strut around in its presence.
"Luke Shaw, this is your last chance!"
Floyd took a deep breath and slowly closed his eyes.
The Meeting
Fifteen minutes later, Auntie Li, holding two umbrellas, opened the gate and smiled at the two men.
"Mr. Russell, correct?"
The assistant nodded. "That's us."
Auntie Li handed them the umbrellas. "Follow me, the Young Master will see you."
The three passed through the garden, which was filled with various flowers and plants, and followed a path beside the artificial lake to a Chinese classical garden-style villa. They walked through a corridor and arrived at the reception room.
A slightly youthful-looking young man sat in the main seat of the reception room. He was about seventeen or eighteen years old, with handsome features, but possessed a maturity that belied his age. His light green eyes stared straight ahead, creating a strange sense of pressure.
Floyd stepped forward.
"Luke Shaw?"
Luke pointed to the chair opposite. "Sit."
Floyd dispensed with formalities and sat in the guest seat with his assistant. Auntie Li poured two cups of hot coffee, set them down, and quickly left the room, closing the door behind her.
Floyd glanced at the cups. "Civet coffee. No wonder it takes ten visits just to get a sip. The Shaw family's coffee is indeed extraordinary."
Luke smiled faintly. "Cat Poop Coffee is for first-time guests. Regulars drink tea."
With that, he raised his red tea cup, offered a slight, distant toast, and took a sip.
Floyd scoffed and signaled to his assistant, who placed a document in front of Luke.
"Mr. Shaw, do you have any explanation for the contents of this document?"
Luke opened the file, casually read a few lines, and shook his head, smiling. When he finished, he tossed the file into the trash can. This action instantly enraged Floyd.
"Luke Shaw, this is my final warning: I represent not only the military but the United States government. If you don't want to rot in prison for the rest of your life, you had better show some respect."
"What if I choose not to?"
Luke put down his teacup and asked with genuine curiosity. "If I disrespect you, what can you do?"
"Go on, tell me your plan."
"Assassination? Kidnapping? Poisoning? Framing? Or fabricating some charges to send me to jail? All good options. Which one are you choosing, or is it the full set of services?"
"You..."
Floyd's eyes widened in fury, his temper flaring immediately. But recalling the Vice President's instructions, he swallowed his disgust and sat in his chair, brooding in silence.
Luke shook his head with a condescending smile. "A few days ago, someone else came to see me with the document you have. Her name was Amanda Waller, and she claimed to be the head of A.R.G.U.S. You must know her."
Floyd spoke deliberately, word for word.
"The former head. A.R.G.U.S. is under my command now."
"Oh!"
Luke looked enlightened. "So, you are also Dick Cheney's man."
Floyd froze, not expecting his opponent to know that the Vice President was the mastermind behind A.R.G.U.S. That was a White House secret. How did he know?
The discrepancy in information changed his expression.
Luke continued, "Since His Excellency the Vice President sent you, tell me: what conditions did he offer? How prepared is he to meet my demands? When will I get an answer?"
Floyd: "..."
Conditions? Demands?
Seeing his utterly bewildered expression, Luke frowned.
"Don't tell me you don't know my demands."
Floyd: "?"
"Amanda didn't tell you?"
Floyd: "..."
Luke immediately looked amused, studying him with a strange expression, as if looking at a pig being played by a monkey. He slapped the table.
"Auntie Li!"
"Young Master, you called?"
Luke pointed to the two "confused brothers" on his left and said helplessly,
"Escort them out."
Auntie Li walked to the table and made a gesture for them to leave.
Floyd's face was taut, turning from white to red, red to green, and green to purple—cycling through a dozen changes in a few seconds. After a long moment, he took a deep breath and hissed,
"I will be back."
With that, he and his assistant left without looking back.
A short while later, Carol came into the reception room. Curious, she asked,
"What did you talk about?"
"Nothing at all."
Luke shook his head in exasperation. "He's an idiot... an idiot who knows nothing."
The Betrayal
Floyd was not stupid; his IQ was over 130, placing him in the above-average bracket—smarter than most people in the world. However, due to his background, his emotional intelligence was somewhat lacking.
After being "invited" out of the manor by Luke, Floyd was filled with rage. However, the source of his anger this time was not the Young Masters Gang, but Amanda Waller and Vice President Dick Cheney.
They were the ones in the know, aware of the negotiation progress, the demands, and the conditions. Yet, one chose to conceal, and the other chose to ignore. It was because of their actions that Floyd had suffered such immense humiliation.
"Amanda!"
Floyd ground the name through his teeth. The moment he returned to the base, he sent people to find her, only to find: her phone was off, her house was empty, and she had vanished without a trace.
Along with her, database records, key A.R.G.U.S. personnel, and three operational combat squads had also disappeared.
"Bastard!"
Floyd kicked the wall. Only then did he realize how weak his control over A.R.G.U.S. was. He was being tracked, monitored, and followed by his own people.
"Damn it! They are all bastards!"
"I am the director appointed by the White House! How dare they treat me like this!" Floyd roared in fury, looking like a enraged, horse-faced monkey.
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