It was a rainy morning in New York, USA, and Charles was in front of the hotel, unsettled and pacing back to read. A cool breeze hit, and he couldn't help but flip up his collar, and at the same time took out a bag of sunflower seeds from his pocket and slowly snorted it. The code name used for this operation is also the word "sunflower".

He stretched, yawned, and stretched his sleepless body a little. Last night, he worked all night. When he pulled the last piece of report paper out of the typewriter drum, he hurried on his way. At this time, the report was safely placed in the black leather bag under his armpit.

Who exactly Warrent is, Charles is not very clear about this. He only knew that the other party was a high-level leader who easily did not appear in public. And he himself, like the other party, has a safe career as a cover, working behind the scenes and never showing his head. The difference is that while Warrent has always sat in a luxurious office giving orders, he can only analyze materials, provide information, and wait for his superiors to look forward to it.

At this moment, he saw a man walking towards him at the intersection. Dressed in faded cotton overalls, he wore a blue sailor's hat with a low brim, and walked like a sailor.

"Everything in the world is bound to rot." Waiting for the man to approach, Charles said.

"When fate comes, even the king will not be spared," replied him. This is a poem by the English poet Dryden.

What annoyed Charles was that the person who came, this Warrent, was actually younger than himself, thin and tall. An unhurried look.

The two silently passed the castle and walked towards the path that led to the embankment. "Say it," Warrente broke the silence first.

"We're going to have to steal this thing out of the White House first." said. Charles handed Warrent a folded newspaper clipping, and before the other could speak, he said, "We can use a master to accomplish this task, and he will do everything neatly and leave no trace." ”

"Yes, yes, I know," said Warrent, impatiently, "but what is the purpose of this? ”

"The purpose is that we can cause trouble as much as we want. Especially in areas where America's prestige is already declining. If we do it carefully, we can reap multiple layers of benefits. However, we can't let them find the stolen thing anyway. ”

"I'm starting to understand what you mean." Warrent ate and smiled: "We will end up in the end, and the benefits will be ours." ”

"Exactly, sir. The guilt lies with those who should bear it. ”

Warrent touched his chin with his hand and fell into deep thought. "Yay!" He finally said. "But is it possible that the thing you're referring to was stolen?"

"Of course the difficulties are great. But there's one guy who can do it, and that's Richard. Solomon. Do you know him? ”

"Of course I do. Let's talk about why. ”

Charles cleared his throat, "Yes, sir." I think he has all the essential qualities: alertness, intelligence and intelligence. What's more, he doesn't know what fear is, and he seems to have a natural immunity to fear. To be honest, no one but him had the guts to accept this task. He is fluent in the dialects of various places. For example, English. He can speak like an Englishman, or an American. Or the Scots or even the Australians. He is also very good at disguise, and often makes people feel elusive. Of course, it is not difficult to prepare all kinds of fake documents for him. ”

They turned a corner, and a river appeared in front of them, and Warrent stood still. "Where is Solomon at the moment?" He asked.

"Los Angeles."

Warrent's mind kept thinking, well, that's it. Charles said that he was alert and intelligent, and that it was not enough to use it on Solomon. Solomon was not only alert and intelligent, he was simply a man of excellence, but at the same time he was a difficult man to control—a man of complete independence. Thinking of this, Warrent couldn't help but feel uneasy. He turned to Charles and asked, "How do you make him obedient?" What if he asks all sorts of questions? ”

"Oh, don't worry. He's not a suspicious person. Admittedly, he sometimes asks questions, and that's because he likes to understand the nature of the job and doesn't like to follow blindly. He's not interested in politics, so there's no need to worry about it. Besides, this person is true to his word and never breaks his word. Charles looked across the river.

"Of course," he added, "he might as well have a rifle." You can't resist it. ”

Warrent was silent. He understood that Charles had a point. Solomon was not as easily at the mercy of the rest of his men. But who else but him could handle such a difficult task?

"I've brought all his dossier with me," Charles said, opening his purse, "and I've drawn up a detailed plan." ”

"What?" Gergham's expression changed from surprise to anger: "You wrote everything down? ”

"Don't worry, I worked all night, and as soon as I was done, I came in and left no trace. There are two copies, one for you and one for me, and they are all here. ”

Warrent's expression relaxed, and he smiled and said, "Well done, Charles." Show me it. ”

They continued along the path to the end of the river, and sat down on a bench at the end.

Warrent looked at the report, and it was undeniable that the plan was very thorough; However, the "old horse" seems to know too much.

Warrent confronted Charles: "Only two?" ”

"It's not the first time I've done something like this."

"Of course, this is not the first time." Gergham took a fountain pen from his pocket, took off the sleeve very naturally, and aimed the tip of the pen at the other's head. An eagle soars in the sky and suddenly swoops down, and the gliding posture is spectacular, which is the last scene Charles has ever seen in this world.

He let out a cry, but was immediately drowned out by the sound of rolling waves......

．．．．．．

At about six o'clock in the evening, Richard. Solomon walked into the barroom. Pick a table near the corner and sit down. Looking out from here, the whole room is clear at a glance.

"Glenfidic." Solomon commanded the attendant who came to him.

The waiter nodded, glancing at the new customer: he looked twenty-four or five years old. Tall, thin, very strong, with long brown hair, a fashionable hairstyle, rough facial lines, honest and confident eyes, and a rather personable American.

In fact. Richard. Solomon is not an American now, or more precisely, he is not a native of any country. Except that the passport in his pocket indicates what nationality he is. He has no real nationality. Besides, this passport will be renewed again tomorrow. With each new name, he became a new person. He's now called Richard for the time being. Solomon, that's because he had many other names before. And there will be more new names in the future.

Solomon slowly moved his gaze to the table. There. A spacious, stylish blonde is joking with a man. It seems that the latter's whole body and mind have been captivated by the young girl's hot eyes.

Solomon listened for a moment, for he was a master of the matter, and although the girl's accent was American, and her language was purely textbook German, none of this escaped his ears. He concluded that she was a German, pretending to be an American who spoke German, and deliberately did not speak native German. Solomon laughed. If someone else changes, I'm afraid this flaw will be difficult to see.

The blonde wears two ruby earrings on her earlobes. At this moment, she carelessly took one off, fiddled with it in her hand a few times, and put it back on.

That's right, it's her. Solomon remembered the man with whom he had joined him. At that time, the other party Yu Li was holding a pair of red dice. "I'm sorry, sir, do you have time?" The man asked.

The connector signal is word-for-word. After the code words, the other party took out the red dice again. Solomon understood that this stereotyped expression was far from an ordinary errand runner. The opponent showed the red dice twice, sending him a double warning signal directly from the top, which had not happened in many years. When it comes to such occasions, as usual, do not ask questions, just wait for orders.

Solomon listened carefully to the other man's command, word for word. By the time they parted, he had already gotten several things: a new name, an American passport, a one-way plane ticket to Washington, D.C., and an order to go to the bar of the Glitter Hotel to meet a German lady. She dressed up as a young American celebrity.

Solomon realizes that the blonde is watching him as well. But as soon as the two made eye contact, the other party immediately avoided it. After a few rounds like this, the blonde finally took action. While the man was paying the bill, I only heard her say, "I'm sorry, I beg your pardon, I met an acquaintance." ”

Before the man could speak, she got up and walked towards Solomon. Solomon stared at her two slender legs, watched her walk through the room, and gracefully walked to his table. Solomon also stood up.

"I'm sorry," she said in standard American English. "You're—" and immediately changed his words, "Oh, no, I'm afraid I'm mistaken." "The tone is handled just right, and the embarrassment can be heard, but it is not pretentious." I thought I had seen you at some point before. ”

"Unfortunately, we haven't seen each other before," he replied, "but do you have to go now?" ”

The other party smiled and put his hands on the edge of the table: "There are friends waiting for me." I beg your pardon for bothering you. ”

"It's okay."

Solomon watched her walk out of the bar. Like other men, he was attracted to her charms. But what amazed him even more was the way she quietly placed a small folded piece of paper on the table just now, the action was so skillful, ingenious, and natural. Twenty minutes later, Solomon also left his seat.

By the window of a store, Solomon lit a cigarette and took out a note: "8 Kiribato Road." Tomorrow at nine o'clock in the morning. Ask them for a portrait of St. Paul. He tore up the note and threw it into the gutter.

8 Kiristo Road is a souvenir shop. Solomon pushed the door in. A stocky man stands behind a counter filled with cheap antique replicas.

Solomon approached the counter: "Good morning, do you have a portrait of St. Paul in your store?" ”

"Go upstairs and ask," the fat man pointed to the narrow staircase. Solomon followed his gesture and saw that the upstairs door had opened a crack. He walked upstairs. Slowly push the door open. The blinds in the room were tightly closed, and there stood a tall, thin man at the table, whose face was hard to see in the darkness.

"Good morning. Solomon," the other said.

Solomon thought the voice was familiar. At this time, the other party opened the blinds slightly by a crack. Solomon recognized him, but he was not at all pleased in his heart.

"Maclean, it's you," Solomon said coldly.

Howard. Macleane was a junior officer at the CIA. As far as Solomon knew, there were at least two sources of income for this man. Years. He has been deftly maneuvering between the U.S. Military Intelligence Agency and the British Military Intelligence Service 6, even after the British royal family fled. At the same time, it will benefit from two aspects. It was this kind of person that Solomon trusted the most.

"When old friends meet, it's too chilling to talk in this tone." McLean said, lighting the small oil lamp on the table.

"Lucky for you, I didn't kill you," Solomon replied coldly, "What do you want?" ”

"I don't want anything from you. I'm going to give you something. He said. He gestured to a leather bag on the table. "This time, we're both on the same path," he added with a smile.

"Which way?"

"Your word. Simon should be your man, right? He told me to inform you, it's time. ”

Solomon didn't know Simon, at least not by the name, but he knew the code was right. Next, Maclean's deck of cards is pulled out and two red kings are flipped out of it.

Solomon nodded disdainfully: "Ah. I see, that's good. I listen to you. ”

"This mission is very special," McLean said in a low voice, "It must be kept absolutely secret, and even your own people can't let them know who you are in the future." That is, another thirty minutes, Richard. Solomon himself had been dead for twelve hours. ”

Solomon remained silent, waiting for an explanation.

"The record reads: Solomon left the rocking machine yesterday morning to fly to Washington, but was in a car accident on his way to the hotel. Two hours later, Solomon died in a local hospital. ”

"Well, wonderful," Solomon said lightly. He thought to himself, he didn't know which "lucky one" was the "lucky one" who became his substitute ghost.

"In this way, Richard. Solomon is dead, and those who had tried to follow you have to give up. At noon today, you'll leave Los Angeles. Maclean's purse was opened, and he took out a large envelope and handed it to Solomon. The envelope contained a passport that read "Wholesale merchant Russ. Hansen". In addition, there are several letters, a driver's license, and a photograph of a beautiful young woman and two boys.

"Your family," McLean said with a smile.

There is also a one-way ticket from Los Angeles to Washington, D.C., with a departure time of the same afternoon.

"I got everything I needed," McLean continued, "and when you get back to the hotel, you'll find a couple of new clothes, luggage, personal items like razors, and even a best-selling novel that's taking Los Angeles by storm." ”

"It's so thoughtful."

"As soon as you leave, I'll start cleaning up the aftermath. Everything you bring in here will be destroyed. Just and Richard. Nothing that Solomon was involved in was allowed to be brought with him. ”

"What happens when you get to Washington?"

"Straight up to the Caulene Lodge. In the future, I will not be more detailed than you know. ”

On the day Solomon arrived at the Washington Corlene Hotel, a small, dark-skinned Indian girl brought him a new stack of towels, smiled shyly and left. Solomon immediately locked the door. He knew that the bathrooms were already stocked with new towels, and that hotels like Colegne would not add extra services to their guests.

There must be an article in the towel.

Sure enough, he found what he needed - a thick envelope with a French passport written on it. Bouchard is a freelance journalist.

That night, Solomon used vellum paper to convert Hans. Larsen packed up his personal belongings and hired a car to get to the station. He carefully checked the padlock and key numbers, and finally found the locker. Inside was an old canvas case with the label that said Andrey. Bouchard's name. He took out the box, put it in a brown paper bag, and left the station.

On the Thai Bridge, he stood still, as if admiring the scenery around him. The bell rang on the tower, and he let the key in his hand slip into the dark river.

After coming out of a pharmacy in the suburbs of Washington, he went straight back to his hotel. He locked the door, went into the bathroom, threw the Swedish passport and Hansen's ID card into the sink, then took out the lighter and burned them. When the flames were extinguished, he turned on the water hose and watched as the ashes all flowed down the drain......

．．．．．．

A beige Chick sedan pulled up beside him, and he pulled the door open and got into the back seat of the car. As soon as the car started, he took out the newspaper and read it, first skimmed the headlines on the front page, and then flipped to the inside pages. Before he could see half of it, he froze. It's a small piece of news that doesn't stand out, if it weren't for Howard. The words McLean jumped into his eyes, which were easily overlooked by him:

AP News – Howard. McLean, 35, assistant first secretary at the U.S. Embassy, accidentally rolled over from a speedboat and fell into the water yesterday afternoon in Charonike Bay, off the coast of Attica. According to McLean's friend, the owner of the speedboat, the American official was not water-savvy. The bodies of the drowning victims were found only after they had washed up on the beach.

Unexpectedly, Maclean's dead. A few days ago, he was so energetic that he took out two red Ks and showed them to Solomon! "It's not bad to have a long sleep," Solomon muttered to himself, tossing the newspaper aside.

"What are you talking about?" The driver asked.

"Nothing."

That's when Solomon noticed the driver's hands gripping the steering wheel, and there were two striking red buttons on the cuffs of his shirt. He also noticed that the other party was also watching him from the rearview mirror! (To be continued......)