Luke, after all, was here for the first time. As he walked, he turned towards the back door of the building.
He exited through the back door to the backyard parking lot he had seen earlier through the iron fence, where there were many vehicles, including those with FBI logos as well as regular cars.
Luke walked around the parking lot, stopped beside a black Citroen sedan, stared at the license plate for a while, and touched it with his finger, finding some magnetized iron filings.
Luke wiped his hand across the rear of the car and turned to leave.
He found his own car, greeted old Shaq, and drove away.
Inside the office on the seventh floor of the FBI New York office, Negan Thomas stood by the window, holding a phone in his right hand, and made a call, "Hello."
"How did the date go?" Anthony's voice sounded on the phone.
"Fuck! What's that weird tone?" Negan Thomas snorted, "There were some minor issues."
"Didn't you have a pleasant talk?"
