Chapter 344 - 117

Enter.

As soon as that button was pressed, the projected screen on the wall looked like it was part of a very complicated dance. The scans of the pages of the notebook were shown and red letters came out as codes and once the computer recognized one of them, it popped a window open with details.

Qing Lok was suddenly afraid that the computer would suddenly shut down due to overload with all the windows that were opening. He meant to check it but his eyes would not leave the screen.

There were a lot of black and white photos—probably because the photo was too gruesome. Normal pictures of people with a huge X stamped on top of their faces. Mug shots of people who looked like bad news. There were photos of maps and doc.u.ments with blocked out portions—the letterheads bore logos of popular government agencies.

The whole room was filled with silence as the computer showed everything that it found. For two minutes, they were all just looking at the screen, watching out for one face.

It didn't show.

There was nothing about their mother.

"I told you she's a spy," whispered Wuming but because he was the only one who made noise, everyone in the room heard him.

The words rung inside their heads. Wuming was right. That would just be the only reason for this—or at least how she knew about this.

Qing Lok spun in his chair and looked at his older brother. "What are we going to do?"

Qing Chen blinked twice and then ordered, "Print everything. Make one copy of this and wipe out all the details that we got. I don't want traces on this."

Before he could even finish, three printers were already printing the first few pages and Wuming jumped from the table he had been sitting on and grabbed a bunch of it.

"Ryan Evans Jr. Codename: Slime. Ex-cop turned agent. Deceased in his papers. Eradicated." Wuming flipped to the next page. There were a list of assignments and projects. He grabbed the other papers related to this Ryan and handed it to one of the people to be compiled.

He turned his attention to the new picture. This one had a woman on it. It was her mugshot. The name was spelled with a bunch of letters he did not know how to pronounce. Probably from the continent above them.

It said almost the same thing with Ryan.

"I don't see the point," Wuming said, handing this bunch of papers to Qing Chen. He took another picture and saw that also belonged to an already dead person. "Why does she have a list of people who are no longer breathing?"

Qing Chen was massaging his temples with one hand. "Just when I thought this notebook would be the end of everything but apparently it's just the start." He looked around the room. "Everyone who doesn't feel like sleeping can stay. We're going to find out how these people are connected with each other."

No one answered him. No one left the room either.

"Seems like we're all working tonight."

**

There were 117 names inside the notebook. Qing Lok was still examining the notebook even though the answers were already given to them. He was fascinated with how his mother worked on all of these. It must've taken quite some time to construct the poems.

Now he knew the reason why there was a rose on the statue and in the middle of the notebook. The rose was meant as "Valentine", like Edgar Allan Poe's poem. It was the answer guide. The names were put in the same manner as the poem.

First letter of the first sentence. Second letter of the second sentence and so forth. Some were written starting with the last ones.

"It's wild," he whispered to himself, touching the rose. It was like he gained a new admiration for his mother. Just knowing that she was probably the last one that held this notebook… it was special.

"Hey, Lok," called Wuming. "Can we borrow your big brain? We need you here."

Qing Lok smiled and poured himself another cup of coffee. "I'm coming."

**

As Feng Xuan was looking over all the papers and pictures, she felt like she just wanted to close her eyes for five minutes. Her own mind was already going haywire. 117 people was a lot. Somehow, these 117 are connected with each other.

Some were normal citizens. Some were arms dealers. Some were spies. Some were agents. Some were just criminals. A handful were doctors—

It was hard to connect. There were too many data. If they were connected somehow, the computer did not reveal that. Now that they were all looking over and making a short summary of each profile, it seemed like the computer was right.

None of these people were ever in the same place together. Some had been in the same countries but in different cities—too far out for someone to consider that they ever crossed paths.

"Okay," said Qing Lok as they were taking a break. The kitchen produced snacks and they were all munching on it. "But isn't it cool that mom is a spy?"

"Is… was…" Wuming shrugged. "We still don't know what role she played in the middle of this."

"Clearly," Qing Chen said, "this notebook is something of importance. Hell, she made a painting with a map. Coded the rest of the notebook. Someone wanted this list."

"Most of the people in the list are already dead," Wuming said, biting off a chicken leg. "We'll have to check out the rest."

"Do you think she's alive though?" Qing Lok asked with a smile on his face. Qing Chen did not know how to read that smile. "In hiding or something."

"That or someone has her chained in some remote area with 24/7 security," Wuming said. "Or, you know, we could just go with the truth that she left us. She is dead."