That Han Haoran knew that He Boge and Wei Taiqiang could provide him with many resources, so the relationship between Han Haoran and He Boge and others became closer and closer.

In Han Haoran's eyes, Tu Tuqiao was no longer reliable.

So Han Haoran was anxious to help him find a few new bosses. He Berg and Wei Taiqiang and others appeared at the right time. If He Berg and others did not express their kindness to Han Haoran.

Han Haoran would also contact He Boge and Wei Taiqiang for his future.

Now, Han Haoran feels that their relationship is natural.

The Han Haoran said to Wei Taiqiang: "Can we cooperate? Brothers?"

Wei Taiqiang said: "Of course, have we been working together all the time?"

Han Haoran said: "You know, I mean that our cooperation is closer, that is, I work for you."

"If he can't stand this, Mr. Tu Tuqiao. He will die. The interval is getting shorter and shorter. I'm worried that I'm not only worried, but also scared. It's too abnormal. We have been married for five years. Roger has always been good at drinking, but he is not a perverted alcoholic. Something must be wrong. I hope I can find him. I slept for less than an hour last night."

“

"It's very scary. It's smart, ruthless and cruel. He thought he was a witty word, but in fact he was despicable."

"You didn't mention violence."

She raised her tea-brown eyebrows. "Only once, Mr. Tutuqiao. That thing has been over-explained. I can't tell Howard Spencer that Roger himself told him."

I stood up and walked around the house. The weather seemed to be very hot. In fact, it was quite hot. I turned a curtain of a window to block the sun, and then talked to her directly.

"I checked him in Who's Day yesterday afternoon. He is forty-two years old and married you for the first time. He has no children. His ancestors are from New England. He attended Andoval and Princeton. He has joined the army and has excellent records. He has written twelve thick history of sex and fencing, and each of them has top-selling books. He must have made a lot of money. If he gets tired of his wife, he will say it directly and ask for a divorce. If he does something with other women, you may know that he doesn't have to use alcohol to prove that he is in a bad mood. You have been married for five years and he was thirty-seven. I think he should have known most of the women at that time. I said most of the time, because no one knows them completely."

I stopped to see her, she smiled at me. I didn't hurt her feelings, so I continued.

"Howard Spencer raised—by what I don't know—Roger Wade's problem was that you had been married a long time ago. Now the sequelae are present, and the blow is unbearable. Spencer thought of extortion. Would you know?"

She shook her head slowly and said, "If you mean someone who Roger paid a large sum of money, would I know - no, I wouldn't know. I don't interfere with his accounts. Even if he gave a large sum of money, I might not know."

"That's OK. I don't know Mr. Wade, and I can't understand how he will react to other people's arguing. If he has a bad temper, he may break the man's neck. If this secret jeopardizes his social or professional status, to give an extreme example, or even recruit law enforcement officers, he may lose money and eliminate disasters - at least temporarily. But it doesn't help us. You want to find him, you worry, and not just worry. Then how should I find him? I don't want your money, Mrs. Wade. Don't do it now."

She reached into her bag again and took out two pieces of yellow paper. It looked like folded letter paper, with a page of wrinkled. She spread the paper flat and handed it to me.

"There is one I found on his desk," she said. "It can be said to be early in the night. I know he had drunk and he didn't go upstairs. I went down to see if he was safe at about two o'clock - if there was a big problem, if there was any fainting on the floor or on the recliner or something. He was gone. The other one was in the trash can, and it was better to say it was stuck at the edge and didn't fall in." Peters strided to the other end of the room and pushed away one of the photos. A gray microphone receiver was embedded in the wall behind. He pulled it out, unplugged a wire connector, put it back, and moved the photo back to the front of the receiver.

"I'm idle now," he said, "it's just that bastard went out to solve the drunk driving case for an actor. All the microphone switches were in his office. He put the entire black store on the line. Two days ago, I suggested that he install an infrared microfilm camera behind the translucent glass in the reception room, and he didn't agree. Maybe it was because someone else installed it."

He sat down on a hard gray chair. I stared at him. He was a clumsy long legs, with thin face and high sideburn lines. His skin looked haggard, and he seemed to be outdoors and was exposed to the sun and rain. His eyes were deep, and his upper lip was almost as long as his nose. When he smiled, his lower face disappeared, leaving only two large grooves leading directly from his nostrils to the end of his broad mouth.

"How could you accept it?" I asked him.

"Sit down, man. Breathe calmly and lower the volume. Don't forget that compared to cheap detectives like you, Kahn's staff, like Tuscanini and a monkey playing the organ, is far worse." He stopped and grinned, "I accept it because I don't care. The income here is good. If Kahn thought I was still serving his sentence in the highest security prison in England where he was in charge of the war, and his attitude was too bad, I immediately received the check and left. What are your difficulties? I heard you suffered a lot not long ago."

"There's nothing to complain about. I want to see your profiles about unruly people. I know you have. What Eddie Dost told me after he left."

He nodded and said, "Eddie is a little too sensitive and is not suitable for staying at the Kahn agency. The files you mentioned are the highest confidentiality. Under no circumstances can be disclosed to outsiders. I'll find them immediately."

He walked out, and I stared at the grey trash candle, the gray floor and the gray four corners of the desktop ink-absorbing board. Peters returned with the gray file folder in his hand, put it down and opened it.

"God, are there anything you are not gray here?"

.When he was awake he was just a superficial and charming old fashioned man. I don't hate it, because most people don't even have superficial charm, including Kahn, who is as boring as the lining of a steel furnace. The old customer was drunk and had a strange habit of writing checks from banks that had no business dealing with him. He always compensated the matter, and with my assistance, he has not been in jail so far. He gave me this cigar. Do you want to smoke it together, like two Indian chiefs who planned to massacre?"

"I can't smoke cigars."

Peters looked at the giant cigar sadly. "I'm the same," he said, "I want to give it to Kahn. But it's not a real single cigar, even the number Kahn." He frowned. "You know? I've talked too much about Kahn. I must be nervous." He put the cigar back into the drawer and looked at the file opened. "What exactly are we going to look for?"

"I'm looking for an alcoholic with expensive hobbies and rich. So far he has no habit of retelling. At least I haven't heard of it. He is a bit violent and his wife is worried about him. He thinks he might be hiding in a certain sober place, but she is not sure. The only clue is that a note mentions Doctor V. There are only abbreviations. The person I'm looking for has been missing for three days."

Peters stared at me thoughtfully. "It's not too long." He said, "What's there to worry about?" Si thought about it and shook his head and said, "I don't agree. As long as he is not too greedy, he can continue like this forever. His only big danger is his dissatisfied customer - sorry, I mean the patient - but he may know how to deal with it. He has been practicing medicine in the same office for fifteen years."

"Where did you get these information?" I asked him.

"Brother, we are an institution, unlike you who are a lone wolf. Some information is provided by the customer themselves, and some come from within. Kahn is not afraid of spending money. He is very social when he wants to."

"He must have liked this passage very much."

"Listen," he said, "there are probably hundreds of places you're looking for."

I said I know.

"By the way, I heard some news about your friend Lennox, you might be interested. A colleague of us met a guy in New York five or six years ago, and his characteristics were exactly the same as his. But he said that the man was not named Lennox, his surname was Maston. Of course he might have made a mistake. The man was drunk all day long, so it was difficult to confirm."

I said, "I doubt it was the same person. Why did he change his surname? There are war records to check."

"I don't know. Our colleague is currently in Seattle. If you feel it's necessary, you can talk to him when he comes back. His last name is Ashtelfelt."

"Thank you for your help, George. These ten minutes are so long."

"Maybe I need your help one day."

I said, "The Kahn agency doesn't need anyone to help do anything." I turned in and slowly climbed up the slope along a gravel road around the shoulder, over a ridge, and into the shallow valley from the other side. The valley bottom was hot, and the temperature was about ten or fifteen degrees higher than the road. Now I saw that the end of the gravel road was a circle surrounding a meadow with white powder painted stones on the edge. On my left was an empty swimming pool, which seemed the empty most

The empty swimming pool is nothing more empty. The three sides of the pool were originally turf, with mahogany lounge chairs on it, and the chair cushions were faded. They were originally blue, green, yellow, orange, rust red, and all colors were available. Some of the edges were lined, buttons were stretched open, and the pads were bulging out. On the other side of the pool was the high-speed wire mesh of the tennis court. The diving board of the empty swimming pool was curled up and looked tired. The outer pads were ragged, and the metal accessories were rusted.

I drove to the ring and parked in front of a wooden shingle roof, a mahogany house with a wide front porch. There were two screen doors at the entrance. The big black fly stopped on the gauze net and dozed off. There were winding paths between the evergreen and ever-grey California oak, and the oak forest had country cottages that were hashed on the hillside, some of which were almost completely covered by trees. The visible few buildings were all desolate off-season. The doors were closed and the windows were covered with curtains such as mesh cotton. The thick dust on the windows was almost felt.

I turned off the fire, put my hands on the steering wheel and sat quietly and listened. There was no movement. This place was as silent as the remains of the ancient pharaoh, only the door in the double-screen door was open, and something was shaking in the dark room. At this time, I heard a slight and accurate whistle, and a man appeared inside the screen door, opened the screen door, and slowly walked down the steps. He was so wonderful.

He wore a flat black shepherd's hat with a belt tied under his chin; he wore a white silk shirt, spotless, with an open collar, puff sleeves, and tightly tied wrists; he was tied with a black whisker scarf, one short and the other long at the waist. He also wore a wide black belt, black pants, and his hips were tightly wrapped, as black as coal, with gold thread sewn on the sides, leading directly to the slit, with gold buttons on both sides of the slit. He wore patent leather dance shoes.

He stopped at the bottom of the steps, looked at me, and was still whistling. His movements were as flexible as a whip. I had never seen such empty smoke-colored eyes in my life, with long eyelashes as bright as silk; his body was slender, but not weak; his nose was very straight, not too thin, his mouth was pouted very well, his chin had dimples, and his small ears were gracefully against his head; his skin was pale, as if he had never been sunny.

He placed his left hand on his hips, and his right hand drew a graceful arc in the air, pretending to be hypocritical.

"Hello," he said, "The weather is great, right?"

“I think it’s very hot here.”

"I like hot weather." He said it calmly and had no room for discussion. He disdained what I like. He sat down on the steps, took out a long file, and began to file his nails. "You came from the bank?" He asked without even raising his head.

"I'll look for Dr. Wei Linjie."

He stopped filing his nails, looked into the warm distance, and said, "Who is he?"

"He is the owner here. He's really just, huh? Pretend he doesn't know."

He continued to manicure with a file. "You heard it wrong, baby. The owners here are banks. They confiscated the collateral, or temporarily stored it for transfer. I forgot the details."

He looked up at me, looking indifferent to the details. I got out of the car, leaned against the hot door, then moved away, and stood in a more ventilated place.

“Which bank is it?”

"If you don't know, then you didn't come there. If you didn't come there, there's nothing to do. Let's go, baby. Get out quickly."

"I have to find Dr. Weilinger."

"This place is not open, baby. The sign has already said that this is a private road. An errand runner forgot to lock the door."

"Are you a manager?"

"Absolutely. Stop asking, baby. My temper is not reliable."

"What do you do when you get angry - dance with a weasel?"

Recommend the new book of the urban god Lao Shi:
Chapter completed!