Inside the car, there were four people. Selena couldn’t understand anything from beginning to end and asked strangely, "Victor, we came here, and we’re leaving without doing anything?"
"Of course not, we can still have a midnight snack." Before Zhou Qingfeng finished speaking, there was a knocking sound outside the ’Chevrolet’.
A figure clad in a restaurant uniform was peering in from outside the window, holding three large pizza boxes—it was a delivery guy.
Zhou Qingfeng opened the car door and immediately heard the delivery guy complaining: "Hey, next time you order food, can you park in a more obvious place?
Like the motel parking lot? I had to circle around twice to find this junk car. It wasted a lot of time, and I still have other deliveries to make."
Zhou Qingfeng took the pizza boxes and the accompanying drinks, casually tipping the delivery guy a hundred-dollar bill.
The delivery guy was stunned for two seconds when he received the money, then his voice lowered, and a smile appeared on his face, "Thank you, you’re so generous. Have a great meal."
Seeing the large pizza boxes, Selena whispered, "Victor, you ordered too much food. There are only four of us, and we can’t eat three twelve-inch pizzas."
"We only eat one box; the other two are for someone else." Zhou Qingfeng smiled and, carrying two pizza boxes and the drinks, got out of the car to play the role of a delivery guy himself.
He crossed the busy road, walked halfway around the motel, and finally stopped outside a station wagon parked under a tree. He stepped up and knocked on the car window.
Inside the ’Chevrolet’, Lux and Yeager were staring at the surveillance footage relayed by the drone, completely unable to comprehend what Zhou Qingfeng was doing.
When the door of the station wagon opened, the long-time-no-see FBI inspector and newly promoted deputy director of the Miami Branch, Carl Vincent, came out, his face gloomy.
"Victor, what the hell are you doing?" The deputy director had stayed in the hospital for more than a month, undergoing several surgeries.
His face had two permanent scars, and his severed tongue was barely repaired. At this moment, he could only speak through an electronic voice box in his throat, making his voice strange and monotonous.
Zhou Qingfeng glanced inside the station wagon, seeing several FBI agents sitting among a heap of surveillance equipment, staring at him in astonishment from outside the car.
"Don’t be nervous, I just saw you guys still working late at night, so I specially ordered takeout for you. Eat up, it’s still hot."
Zhou Qingfeng cheerfully lifted the two pizza boxes.
Carl’s face tightened as he took the pizza and drinks, throwing them to his colleagues inside the car and casually closing the car door. The two stood alone, and Carl angrily asked, "Did you set this up tonight?"
"I recently recruited two new subordinates and wasn’t sure of their abilities or reliability, so I brought them out for some practical experience."
Zhou Qingfeng pointed in the direction of his ’Chevrolet’ car, "Our car is less than a hundred meters away from you. We found you after flying the drone overhead a few times.
My new subordinates said it was easy to find an FBI car.
The distance can’t be too far, within a hundred meters, for convenient action; the car has to be big to hold people and equipment; it shouldn’t be too conspicuous, so it should be an old model; and it should be equipped with hidden antennas..."
"Enough!" Carl said expressionlessly, "Housing CIA and Special Service Bureau members, I really can’t underestimate you."
"You actually know?" Zhou Qingfeng asked in surprise.
"You bastard, who are you insulting? I’m the FBI. If I didn’t know who was around my surveillance target, it would be gross negligence."
"Wow, you admit you’re monitoring me? The reason I came is to ask, who ordered you to do this? What’s the goal?"
Carl was furious and shouted, "Kid, you have billions of dollars to spend. Don’t get involved in the murky waters of ’Apocalypse Creatures’, okay?"
Zhou Qingfeng, however, was relentless and pursued, "A company that was supposed to go bankrupt and be restructured suddenly became hot? There must be a reason, right?"
Carl let out a muffled grunt, lifted the hem of his shirt, and said angrily, "Victor, I don’t owe you anything. Don’t dig your own grave. Now get lost, and you’ll have fewer troubles."
Zhou Qingfeng shook his head, "Carl, you were so seriously injured that you could have retired with honors.
But you didn’t do that. You stayed in the hospital for just over a month and even with a throat voice box, you still wanted to be the deputy director.
I have friends in the FBI.
They all say you come from a good family, your father was a soldier, your mother was a nurse, you have a happy family, and a successful career. Your only flaw is an excessive desire for power.
If there are no accidents, being deputy director will be the peak of your career.
Why not let me owe you a favor and give you a tip? Having a billionaire as a friend won’t put you at a disadvantage."
Zhou Qingfeng pointed in the direction of the motel, "The idiot on the third floor was lured out by me, and I reported him to the FBI.
You want to solve cases and catch criminals to gain merit? I can create cases for you, create achievements, create merits. We can complement each other.
’Apocalypse Creatures’ is indeed a mess, which is why I want to know what’s in the mess?"
Carl stared at Zhou Qingfeng for a while, sighed deeply, looked around, and whispered, "’Apocalypse Creatures’ has secret projects outsourced by the military.
These are projects that can’t conveniently go through congressional review, are highly dangerous, unethical, and require a large number of low-cost experiments.
You took care of Schulte, took care of Matthew, uncovered the illegal human trafficking in White Beach Town, and eliminated the Chris Clan.
These are all good things.
But you also created a big problem, a secret that absolutely can’t be revealed. That’s not something you can touch.
Get lost, Victor, don’t try to be smart anymore."
Zhou Qingfeng suddenly realized, and many lingering memories surged in his mind, like a fragmented puzzle coming together, connecting, and reappearing...
"One last question, what’s the project called?"