Chapter 512 First Set

When they heard the words, "Old Zhao, how many plans are there?", everyone's spirits lifted, and they all looked over.

Then, the leader pressed his earpiece and called for the coordinator from the Think Tank Office to come over and give an explanation.

Soon, the door was pushed open.

A middle-aged man in a white shirt walked in quickly, holding some materials in his hand.

He walked over and took a deep breath. Being watched by so many big shots, he couldn't help but feel a bit nervous.

After all, everyone sitting in this room was a high-profile figure rarely seen in daily life.

With all those gazes pressing down on him, an average person would probably have had weak knees.

However, as the coordinator for the Think Tank Office, his mental fortitude was quite strong. He composed himself slightly and quickly began to explain the plan his think tank had devised.

The plan was simple.

"We have come up with a few approaches," the man said, speaking quickly while holding the materials.

No one interrupted.

Everyone in the conference room was listening.

"Based on the latest route data we've gathered, the car carrying Professor Liu and the Long family is approaching Chinatown."

As he spoke, the Think Tank Office coordinator projected the map onto the conference room's large screen.

The screen lit up, displaying a detailed map down to the street intersections.

Several routes were marked on it, along with a few intersections that were clearly circled.

"The problem now is straightforward."

"The CIA is pursuing them ever more closely."

"And our comrades on the perimeter have reached their limit."

"We won't be able to hold them off for much longer if we keep dragging this out."

At this point, the coordinator paused.

Clearly, he understood the gravity of what "not much longer" meant.

However, he immediately continued.

"Therefore."

"Our idea is not to keep sending in our own people."

"But to borrow strength."

"To leverage a force that already exists locally."

When he said this, the eyes of the veteran comrades in the conference room flickered slightly.

The Think Tank Office coordinator didn't beat around the bush.

"The reason Chinatowns exist in various countries is because they were fought for, punch by punch and kick by kick, against the foreigners."

"Over there, in Chinatown, there is the Red Gate."

Once these words were spoken, everyone in the room understood.

To put it bluntly, this meant connecting with the local Chinese forces there, rather than continuing to throw their already exposed undercover agents into the fire.

The coordinator continued: "Although the Red Gate has influence in the area, they cannot go head-to-head with Country A, but they can create chaos."

"Furthermore."

"They are familiar with the territory, the streets, and how to disrupt those places to completely open up the roads."

"This will create a window of opportunity for Professor Liu and the others."

"The Red Gate has a heritage as a gang spanning nearly a hundred years. Of course, it's no longer a gang now, but rather a community of interests, and they have always had a good relationship with our country."

A good relationship was the prerequisite for this plan to be feasible.

At this moment, the coordinator added, "This way, we won't have to let our undercover comrades risk their lives again."

This statement struck a chord with everyone in the room.

The previous undercover agents on the perimeter had already been pushed too hard.

Sending more people in would truly be throwing lives away.

Therefore, once this plan was proposed, many people in the room were already leaning towards it.

Soon, someone looked at Old Zhao.

Old Zhao sat in the main seat, his gaze lingering on the map.

Immediately after, he made a decisive decision.

"Contact the Red Gate."

Hearing the coordinator's words and Old Zhao's immediate decision, the people in the conference room agreed to contact the Red Gate.

Soon, a call was made.

This was the first plan.

Switching to the Red Gate.

In a teahouse in Chinatown, Washington State, Country A, an old man wearing a Tang suit was sitting in a private room upstairs.

A cup of tea in front of him was half-finished.

Beside him lay a mobile phone specifically used for receiving special calls.

At this moment, the phone rang.

The old man glanced at the caller ID, his eyes darkening slightly.

He then answered the call.

The person on the other end of the line spoke very quickly.

Without any nonsense, they explained the situation in a few words.

After listening, the old man in the Tang suit's face sank.

"Alright, I understand."

After receiving the call, the old man immediately hung up.

He put the phone on the table.

He didn't move, but his expression grew increasingly grim.

Immediately after, he picked up the phone again and made a call, ordering one of his capable subordinates to arrange the matter.

"A-Hao."

"Sixth Master, I'm here."

A young man's voice came from the other end.

"Stop wandering around outside."

"Take some men and get to work."

"That place needs to be thrown into chaos."

The person on the other end was clearly stunned upon hearing this.

However, he didn't ask any questions and quickly replied, "Understood, Sixth Master."

After hanging up, the old man in the Tang suit flew into a rage.

With a slap, he slammed his hand onto the table.

"These foreigners are simply too wicked."

He gritted his teeth, his face livid.

"To think they would detain a professor from our country without any legitimate reason."

Although this old man in the Tang suit had come to Country A since his father's generation, he had grown up in his home Country As a child.

It was precisely because he had come to this treacherous Country A that he felt even more attached to his homeland.

The longer he stayed here, the more he understood just how dirty this place was.

They usually talk a good game, but when it really comes time to act, they are more shameless than anyone.

Thinking of this, the old man's expression grew even uglier.

On the other side, a young man dressed in a very hip-hop style walked out of a hotel with a foreign woman in his arms.

The young man was dressed in flashy attire, wearing a chain around his neck and a pair of limited-edition sneakers on his feet.

He looked exactly like one of those wealthy, second-generation Asian immigrants born and raised in Country A.

Subconsciously, he thumped his lower back.

This foreign woman was someone he had picked up at a bar last night, and his back was still aching.

"Damn it, it's really hard on the back," the hip-hop youth muttered.

Just then, his phone rang.

He took it out and looked at it.

The slacker expression on his face instantly faded a bit.

After answering the call, the person on the other end spoke only a few sentences.

He replied, "Understood."

After hanging up, he immediately discarded the foreign woman like a worn-out shoe, not even glancing back.

He got straight into a sports car on the side of the road and drove off in one direction.

The foreign woman, seeing this, was just about to curse "shit" when, with a hum, the sports car reversed back.