Before figuring out why Obama wants to meet him, he still needs to keep a low profile.
If he now goes to the CIA director for protection, the whole situation will only get more complicated.
Song Heping doesn't like complications; he likes things under control.
Better to lure them in than sit there passively on defense.
Let Lemont and Robbin make a move—once they dare to act, he can grab hold of something on them and settle the accounts later, at his own pace.
When the time comes, the one who dies won't be him, it'll be them.
The car drove into the hotel's underground parking lot.
The driver Abdulla parked, confirmed the surroundings were safe through his earpiece, and only then did he let Song Heping get out.
In the elevator, Song Heping straightened his collar against the mirror-like metal wall panel.
The face in the reflection was dark-skinned and gaunt, with deep-set eyes that betrayed very little emotion.
