Starting from South America, speeding through the world

Chapter 61 Addiction
Katarina sat on the balcony of her apartment, a half-burnt cigarette between her fingers.

The afternoon sun was shining brightly, bathing the bustling streets of Bucharest in a golden glow.

She half-closed her eyes, not rushing to work, but slowly taking a breath.

The dryness and heat in my lungs dissipated, accompanied by a familiar, slight dizziness.

This is a deal she should carefully craft her words about.

If the deal goes through, it will allow her to disappear comfortably for at least six months.

Find a place where nobody knows you, lie down, watch the sea, drink, and bask in the sun.

The computer screen next to her was lit, the jumper connection was stable. She stared at the blinking cursor on the screen, thought for a moment, and then typed the first line:

"There's some news that you should be very interested in."

A few seconds later, the other party replied with a simple "?".

Katarina tossed her cigarette butt into her wine glass and tapped her fingers on the keyboard.

"Dubai, a private banquet."

"Continue."

"It involves a large flow of funds and has royal connections."

The other party was clearly intrigued and quickly pressed for more information:
"Which one?"

"Al Saud".

This time, the other party reacted a bit slower; the cursor blinked on the screen for a good ten seconds before sending a message:
"Who started this?"

>“Fahd bin Rakan.

"Main purpose?"

"You know, religious activities."

The other party was silent for a moment, then pressed on with the question:
"Approximate amount?"

"More than 1 million, possibly more."

She wasn't lying; she had been secretly gathering bits and pieces of information for the past few months.

The intelligence we received from Koeman a few hours earlier filled in the last piece of the puzzle.

"How do I trade?"

"Two million US dollars, the usual, XMR, 50 percent prepayment, you have my wallet address."

One minute later, the other party sent a confirmation message:
"One million has been received."

Katarina clicked the mouse and entered the key file.

A few seconds later, the latest amount was displayed.

She smiled slightly, switched back to the previous interface, and without further suspense, wrote directly:

"Three days later, Palm Jumeirah, Al Safwa private estate."

"How did you know?"

"I have my own channels."

Seeing this, the other party did not press further, clearly acknowledging her intelligence capabilities.

Katarina was about to close her notebook when she suddenly remembered something and typed another line:

"Want to add something extra? 100,000, and I'll give you a small gift."

Without hesitation, the other party promptly transferred 100,000 yuan.

"There will also be an Asian man there, with a buzz cut, in his early thirties, who calls himself John, and his identity is rather sensitive."

"Be more specific."

"Kurt Donovan, that's all I can say."

Zhou Yi extended her room rate for a few more days at the hotel front desk, grabbed a few clothes from her room, and then drove to the airport again.

There are direct flights from Bucharest to Dubai.

The departure time was just right.

The whole trip took less than five hours.

So, around 7 p.m., Zhou Yi was already standing in the waiting area outside the airport with his luggage.

Without lingering, he hailed a taxi and gave them an address.

The driver, a Pakistani man, confirmed in heavily accented English, "Sir, is this Chief Jumeirah?"

“Yes.” Zhou Yi said, glancing down at his phone.

One unread text message:
"I have arrived."

After replying to the message, Zhou Yi turned off the screen and closed his eyes to rest.

The neon lights outside the window are reflected on the glass, making the whole city look like a golden fortress that never sleeps.

Ten minutes later, the car came to a stop.

Zhou Yi paid the fare, got out of the car, and walked into the building.

He walked through the bustling lobby without stopping, heading straight for the elevator.

After waiting a while, the elevator doors opened and continued upwards, eventually reaching the top floor.

The lounge was dimly lit, with soft jazz music playing in the air.

Zhou Yi scanned the area and quickly found his target near the window.

Ethan Grant.

Old acquaintance.

The two had previously worked together in the Middle East, later retired from the military, briefly joined a private military company, and are now successful as brokers.

Zhou Yi walked directly to him and sat down, pushing the wine list on the table aside.

Ethan looked up, his gaze first lingering on Ethan's new buzz cut, then he let out a soft whistle.

"Damn, you're still alive."

"Long time no see, and you show up with a new hairstyle? You had long hair when we were drinking in Baghdad last time."

Zhou Yi picked up the wine glass on the table, took a sip, and casually lit a cigarette: "Consider it a celebration, but it suits me quite well, don't you think?"

Ethan chuckled and shook his head, pouring himself a glass of wine: "So, what kind of job is it this time? You don't seem like you're here to visit the world's tallest tower."

Zhou Yi shrugged noncommittally: "Just doing a small task."

"A small task? When the hell did you take on a small task?"

Zhou Yi exhaled a smoke ring, leaned back lazily in his chair, and said nothing.

Ethan stared at him for a few seconds, then stopped asking questions, took a black gun case from his briefcase next to his seat, and pushed it onto the table.

“Glock 19 Gen 5, modified to your liking, with a Ti-Rant 9M suppressor installed, paired with custom subsonic bullets, keeping the noise below 120 decibels.” He tapped the box with his knuckles. “Of course, most importantly, it’s been stripped of its serial number, so it can’t be found in the database.”

"How did this thing get in?" Zhou Yi asked casually as he put the item into his bag.

“You know, Dubai may not be as good as Baghdad, but we always have a way.”

Zhou Yi nodded, flicked his cigarette twice into the ashtray, and spoke again: "You've been talking about me all this time. How have you been lately?"

Ethan shrugged, making a helpless expression: "It's good enough that we're still alive."

"Last year I was almost blown to bits in Yemen, but now I'm more cautious, focusing on doing business and never fighting again."

"Are you serious? I've never heard you say such discouraging things before."

"Brother, I'm getting old, I have to make plans for the future."

"Playing guerrilla warfare with those lunatics every day, barely surviving and still not making much money, what's the point?"

The two drank in silence for a while, and the atmosphere was quite pleasant.

Once his glass was empty, Ethan spoke again, asking, "How long are you planning to stay here this time?"

"We'll see." Zhou Yi put down his cup. "We'll leave once the mission is complete."

"Since we're here, how about we make some extra cash? A few buyers are looking for people, and the prices are good."

"Forget it, I'm not interested in doing this right now."

"Come on, John, every time you come to the Middle East you don't cause some trouble."

Zhou Yi waved his hand: "It really won't work this time, the schedule is too tight."

Ethan sighed: "Whatever you want, but let me know if you change your mind. Things are pretty tight here lately, and there are plenty of people willing to pay high prices."

"To be honest, I might not do this anymore." Zhou Yi stubbed out his cigarette and lit another one.

"What do you mean? You're fucking retiring?"

"Pretty much. Once I've made enough money, I can find a place to relax."

Ethan stared at him for a few seconds, as if trying to determine whether he was serious or just saying it casually.

Finally, he scoffed, "Damn, you're one of the few people I know who isn't addicted."

(End of this chapter)