"That's not enough to convince me," Ethan said. "How did you find this place?"
"I've been with you all day, Ethan," the person outside said.
"Let me help you remember. At the consulate, when the deputy consul asked you how you liked the play and you replied that it was boring, I remember you glanced around... So, think about the blond man standing at your nine o'clock, taking a glass of wine from a waiter's tray."
"And when your discussion with Eugene was fruitless and you were mistakenly identified as the mole, the blond man who walked past the aquarium coffee shop outside."
The person outside added, "If you still don't believe me..."
"That's enough," Ethan said. As the person outside spoke, the two scenes appeared in his mind.
At the time, his mind was overwhelmed with information, and although he had seen the person, he hadn't connected the two instances.
Only now, after it was pointed out, did he realize they were the same person!
"Even so, how do you prove you're not a CIA agent?" Ethan asked.
"If I were a CIA agent, talking to you for this long would have been more than enough time to set up a dragnet outside and launch a direct assault, Ethan," the person outside seemed annoyed by Ethan's questioning.
"Although you're handsome enough to be compared to me, your brain seems to be a little slow?"
Ethan's face darkened.
At this moment, he realized how stupid his question had been.
If the person outside really was a CIA agent, why would they take this approach with a person who was almost certainly the mole?
Why knock on the door and talk to him for so long before entering?
Even if they wanted to be fully prepared, all this time would have been more than enough!
The fact that the person hadn't acted yet and was patiently talking to him outside the door already suggested they were unlikely to be a CIA agent.
After all, he had just blown up a safe house...
"I guess you don't dare open the door yourself, so I'll just open it and come in, is that okay?" the person outside asked.
Ethan's face became serious. "Okay."
With that, Ethan held his pistol, crouched down, and aimed at the door.
Although he was pretty sure the person wasn't a CIA agent, Ethan still couldn't be certain of their identity. He still needed to be cautious.
But keeping the person outside and in a stalemate wasn't a good idea, so a meeting was necessary.
"Then, I'm opening the door," the person outside said. "Be careful with your gun. Don't let it go off."
With that, the doorknob turned. Click, and the door slowly opened.
Ethan was on high alert, watching the door and the other directions to prevent a diversion.
But no surprises happened. The door opened completely, and the person walked into the room, his face illuminated by the light.
Ethan's pistol was pointed directly at the person. "Come in and close the door."
"Of course." The blond man smiled, closed the door, and took off his jacket. This action made Ethan tense up. "Don't move!"
"Don't be so nervous," the blond man paused, shaking his head with a smile. "I'm not the enemy."
"How can I believe you?" Ethan frowned. Although the blond man didn't seem to have any intention of acting, he was far too relaxed.
This made Ethan feel strange, so he didn't dare relax his guard. As he said, the blond man hadn't shown any evidence to earn his trust.
"By using my credentials, of course," the blond man said, pulling out a few documents and files from his satchel, placing them on a nearby table, and pushing them toward Ethan. "Take a look."
"Credentials can be faked," Ethan said. "I've done it more times than I can count."
"But intelligence is different," the blond man chuckled. "Why don't you take a look first?"
Ethan, still wary, watched the blond man, then used a fruit knife to carefully poke at the documents.
He didn't dare touch them with his hands, worried about a trap. He would glance at the documents and then back at the blond man, staying on guard.
The blond man, meanwhile, didn't move at all, a smile still on his face, quietly watching Ethan.
"Wait," Ethan said, after flipping open one document and glancing at it, he didn't look again. He held the gun with both hands, pointing it at the blond man. "You're lying! This isn't your ID!"
The blond man: "..."
"What?" The blond man looked confused. "It's not mine? Are you kidding me?"
"I should be the one asking if you're kidding me," Ethan said, getting angry. "Do you think I'm blind? The person on the ID is a black-haired, yellow-skinned Asian!"
The blond man: "..."
"Hmm... I think I forgot something," the blond man said, looking a little embarrassed. "My apologies. Let me take off my makeup."
With that, the blond man raised his hand, grabbed his face, and pulled hard!
The fake skin was ripped off, revealing his true face underneath.
Ethan didn't freeze at this sight; he had used similar masks himself. They were high-quality prosthetics, so realistic they were almost impossible to distinguish from a real face.
As long as they weren't damaged, they could pass for real skin!
But this only made Ethan more cautious.
"You have this kind of gear and you still say you're not with the CIA? Where's Eugene? Let him come out!" Ethan said in a low voice.
"Why do you say I'm with the CIA?" Morin sighed, pointing to the ID. "Can't you see it says 'IRS' on it?"
Ethan: "..."
He quickly glanced at the ID again, but the time was too short. Ethan picked it up with one hand, holding it parallel to his gun barrel, and looked at it more closely.
He found that it really was an IRS ID!
As an elite CIA agent, Ethan had many different identities he could use. Some were, naturally, from other American government departments.
For example, it was a well-known joke that everything could be a job for the FBI, and all American agents had an FBI ID.
When necessary, they could be an FBI agent, whether to take the blame, take the blame, or take the blame!
The FBI: "*&%&￥##￥%!!!"
So, Ethan and his colleagues could also tell if an ID was real or fake. Now, Ethan found that this one seemed to be... real?
*****
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