Three days later, at ten o'clock at night, in an executive suite of a certain hotel in Washington D.C.
The curtains were tightly closed, with only the eerie blue light from the computer screen reflecting on Song Heping's face.
On the screen, the image of the company's Intelligence Chief, Henry, had a slight delay, but the sound was fairly clear.
"Boss, that encrypted email, I found it."
Henry pushed the glasses on his nose with his finger, the lenses reflecting the constantly flickering data and information on the screen.
Song Heping's body, which had been leaning against the chair back, leaned slightly forward.
"Speak."
"The server that hosts that email is located in Europe and uses three nodes, in Russia, the Netherlands, and Luxembourg respectively."
Henry's fingers tapped on the keyboard, projecting a series of data onto the shared screen, with numbers and codes scrolling rapidly in front of Song Heping's eyes.
