Chapter 17
Chapter 17
When the assistant hurried to the private airstrip, James was already waiting under the spiral staircase.
The night wind blew the corners of his black coat, making a rustling
sound.
The assistant held a delicate velvet box in his hands and carefully handed
it over.
“Mr. Keane, this is the emerald brooch you ordered to be brought back from Paris. When should I give it to Ms. Catley?”
James’s gaze swept over the box, his eyes showing no emotion.
That brooch was the one he had promised to Jessie, symbolizing eternal
love.
At this moment, it seems incredibly ironic.
He parted his thin lips and spoke in an indifferent tone:
“Tell them to send it over to her right now.”
After a pause, he added:
“Just consider it as the last gift for her.”
From now on, we owe each other nothing.
London, UK Interpol National Central Bureau.
The exterior of the building was made of red bricks and stone from the
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Victorian era, exuding a solemn old British atmosphere.
Internally, however, it is completely different, with cold metal lines and huge floor–to–ceiling glass windows, showcasing the sleekness of modernity to the fullest.
The air was filled with invisible tension and efficiency.
Isabella took a deep breath, and the long–standing heaviness in her chest seemed to be diluted by the chilling air.
She stood up straight, meticulously buttoning the last button of her perfectly ironed deep blue police inspector uniform.
The self in the mirror, with the same facial features, only that the once submissive attitude has been completely replaced by determination.
“Captain, are you ready? The director is waiting for us.”
Beside me, a blonde–haired, blue–eyed colleague from the United Kingdom smiled broadly.
Kolby Hamilton was her old partner when she left three years ago, and they always had a good relationship.
Isabella nodded, “Let’s go.”
Office of the director.
Kolby knocked on the door, and a deep voice from inside said, “Come in.”
Isabella followed Kolby inside, her gaze falling on the large leather chair behind the desk..
When the seat slowly turned around, revealing a face she had not expected, Isabella’s pupils suddenly shrank.
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Bradley!
Washington saved her man while surfing.
How could it be him?
She vividly remembers that three years ago when she left the team, the director was clearly an elderly man with white hair from the United Kingdom.
The personnel changes at Interpol, especially at the top level like the director, have always been highly confidential.
The Bradley in front of me was completely different from the one I saw at the beach that day.
Despite the doubts swirling in her mind, Isabella quickly reined in her emotions, stood up straight, looked straight ahead, and displayed her professionalism.
“Report to the director, Isabella has returned and checked in.”
Bradley’s gaze swept over her face, not lingering for a moment, as if they were just strangers meeting for the first time.
He picked up a file from the table and said in a cold, hard voice, “Isabella, welcome back to the team.”
“According to the latest intelligence, a group of international roaming terrorists have infiltrated London, posing an extremely high threat level.”
“Your mission is to lead Alpha Team to capture or eliminate all of them within seventy–two–hours.”
After he finished speaking, he lowered his head and started flipping through other documents, his face expressionless, as if the task he had
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just assigned was simply to go buy a cup of coffee on the corner.
Kolby took a step forward, hesitating as he said, “Sir, Isabella injured her ankle back home, I’m afraid…”
Bradley didn’t even lift his head, his voice suddenly turning eight degrees colder: “How many people die in the line of duty at the National Central Bureau each year? The number of people trying to get in here every day could stretch from the Thames River to Buckingham Palace.”
“If a little foot injury makes you complain endlessly, then you might as well give up your seat early, there are plenty of people who want to sit.”
This words pierced like an ice pick.
Isabella’s heart skipped a beat, and that sense of not giving up was instantly ignited within her.
She straightened her body suddenly, giving a standard salute: “Reporting to the chief! I can overcome all difficulties! Always remember the police oath!”
The voice was clear and firm, resonating with authority.
Bradley’s seat slowly turned towards the window, leaving her with only a cold, hard back.
“Since you know, then prove it to me with
your
actions.”
Isabella saluted again, “Yes, Sir!”
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