But a few minutes later, at an intersection, the black Chevrolet didn't go straight; it turned onto a side road heading north.
He looked out the window, his brow furrowing slightly.
Not going to the White House.
Smith saw his expression in the rearview mirror.
"Sir," he said, "we're not going downtown. Tonight's meeting isn't there."
Song Heping nodded without speaking.
It seems this meeting is informal and secret, so it couldn't take place in the White House Oval Office.
The car continued driving north.
Gradually, it left the brightly lit government area, entering a quiet residential district.
The street narrowed, the houses on either side turning into standalone villas, each with lawns and gardens, light shining warmly and quietly from the windows.
Song Heping noticed that starting at a certain point, the number of cars on the road began to thin.
Not gradually, but suddenly, you couldn't see any other vehicles front or back.
