"Interesting."
Inside the Star Tower, Locke sat by the bar, waiting for his distinguished guest to arrive. He put down the phone in his hand, chuckled, and shook his head.
"Boring!"
That phone call just now was from Egorov.
Holding his wine glass, Locke walked over to the sofa and turned on the wall-mounted television, tuning it to a Washington, D.C. broadcast. The moment the screen lit up, the exterior of the Oval Office building came into view.
The spokesperson for 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue appeared on screen, righteously launching a fierce verbal assault against Moscow, accusing the Lubyanka of brazenly conducting espionage operations in New York City last night.
Without a doubt.
This was pure lip service.
However, the media loved this kind of rhetoric. Especially since this matter involved the Lubyanka, one of the big three titans in the espionage world, the interest of various media outlets was incredibly high.
When they heard the spokesperson for 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue state that one of their agents had tragically died on the scene, they instantly erupted in fury.
And then...
When they heard that the Lubyanka had left behind at least twelve corpses, the atmosphere instantly boiled over.
If the score had been one to zero, the media would have undoubtedly blasted 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue to death.
But twelve to one?
That was fantastic.
The eyes of the journalists instantly lit up, and they could hardly wait to start throwing questions. Some were even calling their station's correspondents in Moscow while simultaneously asking questions.
"What time do you think it is, why the hell are you still sleeping?"
"Get over to the Lubyanka right now, there is huge news."
Ring, ring, ring!
"Hello."
"Mr. Broughton, there is a gentleman down here who says his name is Mr. Nobody. He claims he has an appointment with you?"
"Send him up."
"Understood."
A moment later.
Locke stood at the door, looking at Mr. Nobody as he stepped out of the elevator. With quite a bit of curiosity, Locke said,
"If I hadn't let you up just now, would you have found a way to get up here anyway?"
Mr. Nobody took off his sunglasses, the exact same smile still playing on his face.
"No."
"Oh?"
"That would only mean that the fate for our third meeting had not arrived yet."
"Please, come in."
"Thank you."
Mr. Nobody offered his thanks and walked into Locke's apartment. His gaze then landed on the two glasses of Bourbon already poured on the sofa's coffee table, and he chuckled.
"If Captain Stacy saw this, I wonder what he would do?"
Locke closed the door behind him and said with a smile, "In my own home and in Gwen's apartment, George won't cause trouble for me in these two places."
Mr. Nobody nodded. He looked at the news playing on the large wall-mounted television and sat down.
"Last night in New York City, it seemed quite lively. Regrettably, a lot of people remain completely unaware."
Locke also walked over to the sofa and sat down. Raising his wine glass, he looked at the footage on the television screen showing reporters already rushing toward the Lubyanka to broadcast the firsthand news. He took a sip of the liquor in his glass.
"Evidently, Mr. Nobody, you do not belong to the category of those a lot of people, do you?"
Mr. Nobody also raised the wine glass in his hand and tilted his head slightly. "What about you, Locke? Do you want to be one of those a lot of people?"
He certainly knows how to speak artfully.
Locke thought to himself, then looked at Mr. Nobody with some curiosity.
Mr. Nobody took a sip of the wine, praised it as a fine drink, and immediately said, "Last time, you said you wanted to know my name. I said that once we officially met for the third time, you would know it. But, are you certain you want to know my name?"
These words...
The underlying meaning was already glaringly obvious.
A CIA agent's name, their true name, if it did not belong to family members, then it was reserved either for comrades in the same trench or the enemies who understood them best.
Locke played his part perfectly, parting his lips before laughing out loud.
"I feel like this is a rather difficult question to answer."
"Understandable."
Mr. Nobody was very easygoing. After throwing out this question, he laughed to ease the momentary tension that had flared up, and then looked at Locke.
"Locke, do you know anything about your background?"
Locke leaned back against the sofa, looking at Mr. Nobody sitting on the left side. His tone was casual.
"I have no interest."
Mr. Nobody raised an eyebrow.
Locke glanced around his apartment and said to Mr. Nobody, "Look at me. Do I need to know?"
He currently had a car, a house, and savings.
Barring any unforeseen accidents, his future wife would have both the figure and the face, coupled with an extraordinary IQ. Furthermore, his wife's family consisted of a high-ranking Senior Captain of the NYPD, the enforcement giant of New York City.
"And besides..."
Locke looked at Mr. Nobody. "Compared to looking back at the bitterness of being alone in the past, I look forward more to the unknown, mysterious brilliance of the future. However, you seem to care much more about my past than I do, don't you?"
If you want to play cryptic games, I will gladly play along with you.
Displaying too much maturity and stability, looking a bit too monstrously talented?
In New York City, a sixteen-year-old Locke sued the FBI and the Department of Homeland Security. Was that not monstrous enough?
On the Poseidon, Locke transformed into a savior. Was that not monstrous enough?
On the open ocean, Locke chopped a massive shark with his bare hands. Was that not monstrous enough?
On Lake Caley, Locke sniped down several vampires. Was that not monstrous enough?
If Locke pretended to be a naive and clueless teenager at this exact moment, that would actually be a real issue. The way he was acting right now was merely his normal performance.
Then again.
Coming from an orphan background, he had appeared very mature and stable since childhood. All of this was backed by a traceable history.
Mr. Nobody pulled out a stack of documents from his breast pocket and placed them in front of Locke.
"This is information regarding your mother. You can choose to look at it, or you can choose not to."
Looking at it would mean they could proceed.
Not looking at it would mean he had come all this way for nothing.
Locke's gaze landed on the folder, which also lacked a cover, sitting on the coffee table in front of him.
The next second.
Locke looked up, glanced at Mr. Nobody, and then, under Mr. Nobody's watchful gaze, picked up the folder.
With a series of rapid rustles, the folder containing roughly a dozen pages was snapped shut again.
Locke tossed the documents back onto the coffee table and looked at Mr. Nobody. "I am done looking."
Mr. Nobody could not help but shake his head. In truth, he had already anticipated that due to being abandoned since childhood, Locke would hold some resentment.
That was also why, during their previous two interactions, he had intentionally or unintentionally dropped hints to make Locke realize that he wanted to recruit him.
But...
The resistance was still quite strong.
Mr. Nobody sighed internally. He glanced at Locke and did not even bother to pick up the documents, standing up directly to walk toward the door.
Right at that moment.
"Lorraine Broughton, female. Born on May 5, 1965, a native of Gauteng Province, South Africa. Recruited by the CIA at the age of sixteen."
"Her first mission was on February 12, 1983. On February 21, 1983, a riot broke out during the elections in the land of the white elephant, resulting in the deaths of six hundred Allah believers. Among them, a suspect with close ties to a certain organization perished in that riot."
"Her second mission took place in November of the same year. Also in that same month, on November 27, Avianca Flight 11 crashed at Madrid-Barajas Airport. Intelligence indicated that a rogue CIA agent, whose name was likewise absent from official records, happened to be on that aircraft."
"1984..."
"1985..."
"In 1987, it was yet another mission. Holy crap, she ran off to London, allowed London's MI6 to discover her, and let them recruit her, turning her into an MI6 agent..."
Locke leaned back against the sofa without even turning his head, his tone completely flat, sounding like a mechanical repeating machine.
Over by the doorway, Mr. Nobody, who had intended to leave, halted his footsteps. He turned back around, took off his sunglasses once again, sat back down on the sofa, and looked at Locke.
"Where did you learn this information from?"
Locke stopped his playback and looked at Mr. Nobody. "You told me. You just let me look at the documents, didn't you?"
Mr. Nobody frowned. "You only flipped through them for a second..."
Locke smiled and tapped his own head, then pointed to his own eyes.
"A self-created method. Quantum speed reading combined with my memory palace technique—unrivaled in this world."
To be precise.
It was photographic memory.
But...
Quantum speed reading just sounded way cooler and carried a lot more prestige, didn't it?
Holy crap.
Last night, Locke had actually gone through the files provided by the Lubyanka as well. Although the details there also claimed that Lorraine Broughton had been a Russian since childhood, it felt far too fake.
After all, Lorraine Broughton did not look like a Russian girl at all.
Yet the raw files from the CIA today actually gave Locke quite a surprise.
Frankly speaking, he thought that by planning to eat from the CIA's plate while simultaneously executing KGB missions, he was already someone with a highly open-minded way of thinking.
Turns out his scope was still too small.
It turns out this Lorraine Broughton was not a double agent, but a triple agent.
Raised by the CIA, she then infiltrated MI6, after which she pretended to be turned by the KGB. In the end, the CIA became the one who had the last laugh.
What a play!
Tsk tsk tsk.
No wonder she was hailed as a legendary spy.
Fortunately.
Locke thought to himself, he could still add Mossad to his own list.
There is no way you, Lorraine Broughton, undercover-operated in Mossad too, right?
Although he did not care about Lorraine Broughton at all, that lack of care was strictly toward her identity as his biological mother. He was actually quite impressed by the achievements Lorraine Broughton had managed to pull off.
Isn't it just being a triple agent?
A triple agent makes you a legend?
Just wait.
I can be a five-faced or six-faced agent.
As long as there are missions available.
Locke thought to himself.
Meanwhile, Mr. Nobody was already slightly in shock. Sitting on the sofa, he felt like he had originally expected to find a neat pile of treasure, only to suddenly discover that this was not just a mere pile, but an absolute mountain of treasure.
Locke sipped the wine in his glass, then looked at Mr. Nobody, who was still caught in his shock. He let out a soft chuckle and countered with a question, "Mr. Nobody, are you certain you came here to recruit me this time?"
Mr. Nobody: "..."
***
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