You're a US police officer, what are you thinking about going back to the East for?

Chapter 223 The Investigation of Thor Corporation (4k)

A luxury apartment building on the outskirts of downtown Seattle.

10:15 AM.

With a soft "ding," the elevator doors slid open to both sides.

Alex, wearing a slightly oversized black hoodie, glanced furtively at the thick wool carpet in the hallway, making sure he didn't encounter any of his wealthy neighbors with their purebred poodles before letting out a long sigh of relief.

As a body collector for Ren'ai Biotechnology, he usually frequents slums reeking of urine or cold, damp morgues.

The fact that these high-end apartments have one unit per floor made him subconsciously feel that he would have to pay compensation for even the slightest bump into a wall.

He walked to the double doors at the end of the corridor and rang the doorbell.

The door was opened quickly.

Lyon, wearing a loose gray hoodie and holding a cup of freshly ground black coffee, turned to the side to gesture for Alex to come in.

As soon as Alex stepped into the entryway, he was stunned by the huge floor-to-ceiling window, the open kitchen island, and the ridiculously expensive leather sofa in the center of the living room.

"Holy crap—"

Alex took off his shoes and stepped onto the gleaming solid wood floor, then lowered his voice and started ranting in Chinese.

"You corrupt cop, the sugar-coated bullets of capitalism have completely corrupted you, leaving not a trace. This house must cost at least five thousand dollars a month, right?"

Lyon carried his coffee to the island counter and took a sip without any expression.

"To clarify, this isn't corruption; I'm facing the test of the sugar-coated bullets of capitalism."

Lyon pointed to the surrounding furnishings and said matter-of-factly, "The house that Raymond, the butler from the West Precinct, specially approved for me is here. Since it's free, I might as well take it."

"You capitalist rat."

Alex was speechless at this shameless statement and could only give a thumbs up to show his respect for the speed of this corruption.

"Alright, enough with the small talk, I called you here because I need to talk to you."

Lyon put down his coffee cup, his expression turning serious.

"After we pulled that old man out of the coyote's mouth yesterday, we were busy performing surgery and trying to persuade him to go to the East. We both forgot about something critical."

Alex paused for a moment, then slapped his forehead, realizing what was happening.

They brought Christopher, bag and all, to this safe house yesterday, but didn't have time to check on the notebook in the old man's bag.

Lyon turned and headed towards the guest room, and Alex quickly followed.

Pushing open the guest room door, I found the room temperature had been adjusted to a very comfortable level.

Christopher was sitting back on the large double bed.

The laceration on his leg obviously couldn't heal so quickly; thick gauze still wrapped around his calf.

After resting for most of the day, he had cleaned himself of the mud and blood and changed into a clean set of pure cotton pajamas provided by Lyon.

At this moment, Christopher had completely shed the manic energy he had displayed yesterday in the church baptismal chamber, fueled by hunger and humiliation. He also no longer displayed the elitist arrogance he had shown when facing Alex's ramblings. He had clearly entered a state of focused scholarly concentration.

He was wearing a pair of reading glasses that Lyon had somehow gotten for him, and on his lap lay the hard-copy notebook that had been taken out of his bag yesterday, with its edges badly worn and its cover yellowed.

Hearing the door open, Christopher looked up and pushed up his glasses that had slipped down his nose.

Leon walked over, pointed to the notebook, and asked without further ado, "What's inside? Can it prove what you said yesterday?"

Christopher closed the notebook, gently stroking the rough cover with his palm.

"As I said yesterday, Pfizer's legal department and my boss took away all the electronic archive data and semi-finished media from the lab."

Christopher said calmly, "But they will eventually need time to reverse engineer my architectural logic."

"As for this," he patted the notebook in his hand, "I have always kept the most primitive habit of taking notes with pen and paper."

Christopher handed the notebook to Leon, who took it and opened it. Inside were densely packed molecular formulas, proportions, and numerous crossed-out trial and error sketches, as if they were written in a book of cryptic language. Alex felt dizzy after just one glance.

"I don't understand."

Alex obediently looked away.

"But don't scientists of your caliber publish papers in top-tier journals like The Lancet and Cell every day?"

"What's the difference between this and those academic papers?"

"Young people, you may have some misunderstandings about academic publications in this field."

Christopher looked at Alex beside him and began to give a professional explanation.

"Eighty percent of the papers published in these top journals are just nonsense used for academic public relations."

"We publish the data in the journal simply to announce to the world that we've taken this opportunity," and incidentally, to tell Wall Street investors a compelling story to boost the stock price.

"Those publicly available charts and basic gene sequences are like the shell of a sports car."

"You can see how cool it is, but you have absolutely no idea how its engine pushes combustion efficiency to the limit."

Christopher pointed to the notebook in Lyon's hand, "The truly core LNP carrier ratio, the trigger threshold of the proton sponge effect, and those failed paths that took four years and hundreds of millions of dollars to eliminate are absolutely not going to be made public."

"Those are trade secrets that all the top pharmaceutical companies keep locked in the highest-security safes."

"Although this notebook is messy and incomplete, and there are bound to be omissions, it does contain those things."

"Damn it, why didn't you say so earlier?"

Alex stood to the side, feeling the hairs on the back of his head stand on end.

He sent out a report late last night, but it was all his own account and there wasn't much corroborating information.

If I had known about this earlier, I would have sent the notebook over last night.

Alex gasped, his dark circles from staying up all night widening instantly. He turned to look at Leon, his voice urgent.

"This thing is terrible! I have to go deliver it again right away!"

"Did a zombie eat your brain?"

Leon frowned and reached out to stop Alex's chubby hand from grabbing the laptop.

He looked at his fellow villager with the kind of gaze one would give someone who is mentally challenged.

"Are you carrying around such a huge, yellowed hardcover copy on the street? Are you afraid Pfizer's agents won't see you?"

Alex shrank back as he was scolded.

"Take your phone and take pictures of each page."

Lyon pointed to the cell phone in Alex's pocket.

"After you get back, disconnect your computer from the internet, transfer the data to an encrypted USB drive, and then put it in your dead email address. Leave the original here; this thing must never see the light of day."

"Yes, yes, you're so cunning."

Alex suddenly realized what was happening, quickly pulled out his phone, moved closer to the bed, and started snapping photos of Christopher's laptop like crazy.

Just then, Lyon's personal cell phone in his pocket suddenly vibrated.

He took out his phone and glanced at the screen; it was an unknown number without a contact name.

Lyon's eyes showed a hint of alertness, but he maintained a relaxed demeanor and casually pressed the answer button.

Just half a minute earlier, in the West Side slums, more than ten kilometers away from this luxury apartment building.

Downstairs in the dilapidated apartment building managed by Uncle Harry.

A black, full-size Chevrolet Suburban was parked on the side of the road.

Inside the car, Victor, senior director of global security at Raytheon, was sitting in the passenger seat, holding a satellite-encrypted mobile phone.

He wore a sophisticated bespoke suit, and his deep-set eyes revealed the coldness and shrewdness characteristic of a former FBI counterintelligence agent.

Carter, the second-in-command, sat in the driver's seat, having just finished reviewing a stack of visit records.

"Sir, the trail goes completely cold here."

Carter tapped the steering wheel with his thick fingers, his tone somewhat helpless.

"The last time that old man named William McIntyre, also known as Old Bill, was on Halloween."

""

"He came to this apartment building once, and then it was like he vanished into thin air. There are no security cameras around that captured him leaving, and no one has seen him since."

Victor didn't speak, he just stared quietly at the apartment building's entrance.

"However, we came across an interesting coincidence."

Carter turned to another page of the report, "The day Old Bill came, there happened to be a Halloween charity event downstairs in this building."

"Pizza and hot soup were served. And the person who organized this event was a former resident of the building, Leon Vance."

Victor raised an eyebrow slightly upon hearing the name.

"That Seattle counterterrorism hero who's been making headlines on TV lately? The ACU team leader?"

"It's him."

Carter shrugged. "We also checked his background; it's clean."

"A short-tempered, biased, and violent local police officer. He had no overseas accounts and no record of contact with any rival companies."

"He couldn't possibly be a corporate spy."

Victor nodded. A mad dog cop who spends his days shooting at gangsters on the streets and turning strip clubs into slaughterhouses doesn't seem like a high-level agent who could plan a perfect infiltration and take away a cutting-edge navigation engineer.

"But he was doing charity work downstairs that day, so he must have seen all sorts of people."

Victor stared at the connected phone, his eyes sharpening. "Perhaps he's seen old Bill. The police are always better at observation than those homeless people."

The call was connected.

Inside the apartment room, upon hearing the voice coming from the receiver, Leon immediately raised a finger, gesturing for Alex, who was taking pictures, and Christopher, who was on the bed, to be quiet.

Alex froze instantly, even his breathing became soft.

Christopher, leaning against the headboard, didn't understand what was going on, but he obediently kept quiet.

"Officer Vance, excuse me."

Victor's voice came through the receiver, and he was relatively polite to Leon, the anti-terrorism hero.

"I am Victor Strand, Head of Global Security at Raytheon."

Leon leaned against the wall, his steel-gray eyes slightly narrowed.

"Raytheon Corporation? I don't recall ever buying your missiles. Do you need something?"

"We are looking for a missing navigation engineer. His name is William McIntyre, also known as Old Bill."

"He was a white man in his sixties, somewhat unkempt, and liked to spout technical jargon."

Victor described the conversation slowly and deliberately over the phone.

"We found out that he was seen downstairs at your old apartment building on Halloween."

"It just so happens that you held a charity giveaway there that day. Officer Vance, do you remember this person?"

Lyon's brain started working at lightning speed in that instant.

Raytheon agents have discovered that they did charity work on Halloween.

If I were to deny it now, saying I'd never seen it, given the way these former FBI agents operate, they definitely wouldn't let it go.

They will continue to conduct further in-depth visits around the apartment, repeatedly asking homeless people and community residents who received pizzas.

Once they dig deeper, the conspicuously fat Asian man who was busy at the charity event that day will definitely be exposed.

Once Raytheon sets its sights on Alex, his status as an international student simply won't withstand scrutiny.

Lyon glanced at Alex, who was nervously swallowing hard beside him, and quickly made a decision.

He had to forcefully draw Raytheon's attention to himself, using the aura of an anti-terrorism hero to protect Alex.

"Old Bill?"

Lyon spoke into the phone with a perfectly measured hint of doubt and contemplation.

"That sounds familiar. There were so many homeless people coming to collect relief that day, they were all dirty and looked pretty much the same."

Victor's eyes lit up on the other end of the phone, and he sat up straight.

"but----"

Lyon deliberately drew out his words, "I do seem to remember an old man who was spouting technical jargon. He even got into an argument with someone in front of my stall."

"Are you sure?" Victor's voice held a hint of urgency.

"It's hard to explain over the phone. Right now, all I can think about is the sound of gunfire from a gang shootout."

Leon rubbed his temples, his tone casual. "Tomorrow morning at ten o'clock, Blue Mountain Café downtown. Buy me a coffee, and we'll talk about that old man in person."

"Thank you very much for your cooperation, Officer Vance. See you tomorrow."

The phone hangs up.

Leon tossed his phone back into his pocket and looked at Alex.

"What's wrong? Who called?" Alex asked in a low voice, his chubby face filled with tension.

"People from Raytheon. They found out that I was doing charity work downstairs the day old Bill disappeared."

Lyon walked to the window, opened the blinds a crack, and looked downstairs.

"If I had said I hadn't seen him, they would have continued to investigate everyone who was there that day. Your Asian fat appearance is like a bright light bulb in the redneck community."

Upon hearing this, Alex felt a chill run down his spine. He swallowed hard, a wave of fear washing over him.

"I've arranged to meet them for coffee tomorrow morning."

Leon turned around. "I'll go and provide them with some 'very useful' false leads."

He pointed to the notebook in front of Alex, "Hurry up and send the message back. And during this time, you better behave yourself. Except for going to the mosque to distribute mutton soup, don't wander around the streets."

Alex nodded frantically.