Chapter 6 6

Joe made a phone call to the counter downstairs and asked Bidowe about the woman who entrusted the letter. "A short woman," Dowe said. His brother was a giant, and even a six-foot Amazon was puny in comparison to him. "You mean about five-foot-six, or shorter?" "Maybe five-foot-one or five-foot-two, but she's solid, and she's the kind of girl who just gets out of school and nestles in the hills." "Black women?" Joe asked. "Yes, she used to be a nun." "how old?" "About forty, on point. Hair as black as a raven's wing.

Is something bothering you, Joe? " "No, I'm fine." "Is this lady a trouble?" "No, she's fine, she's no trouble. Thanks, Dowe." Goosebumps formed on the back of his neck, and Joe rubbed his jeans with wet palms.He picked up the printed passenger manifest nervously.He read down the names of the dead, line by line, until he saw the name of Dr. Dorothy. PhD! She might be an M.D. or a Ph.D. in literature, biology, sociology, or a dentist.For Joe, such a respectful title strengthened Joe's trust in her.Like the kind of troublemaker who believes the mayor is a robot, usually a patient rather than a doctor.

According to the passenger list, Dorothy was forty-three and lived in Malathas, Virginia, where Joe had driven by.Michelle's parents live in a town not far away. Joe returned to the computer and looked through the photos of all the passengers who died, hoping to find Rose among them, but found nothing. Judging by Dowe's description, the woman who wrote this note and the woman Brick called Rose in the cemetery are obviously the same person.If she really was Dr. Dorothy, then she really had been on Flight 353.And survived. With reluctance, Joe looked carefully at the two largest photographs.The first is a mountainous sky with scorched woods, and the fragmented plane wreckage distorted like a surreal modern sculpture.National Transportation Safety Board investigators in biohazard suits wandered around like praying monks or ghosts from purgatory.The second photo was taken in the air. It can be seen that the plane was smashed into pieces, and the wreckage was spread widely. The degree of grotesqueness cannot be described in words.

No one should survive this disaster. But Douros—if she was really Rose on the plane that night—obviously escaped the catastrophe, and not only survived, but also passed away unscathed. But it's impossible.Accelerating all the way from four miles into a dive, and then hitting the hard ground, the 747 airliner was like smashing an egg against a stone wall. After the explosion, it rolled over in the raging flames. If he really didn't believe it, he wouldn't be so angry and anxious, and he would be filled with awe and curiosity.He was suddenly madly longing for a miracle to happen.

Joe dialed Dr. Chaduroth's number in Malathas, and the answer he expected was "This number is not registered," or "This number is dead," since she was officially believed to be dead. However, he got a phone number. There's no way she'd just narrowly escaped the crash site and returned home without causing a stir.Besides, some dangerous people were looking for her, and if she returned to Malathas, they would have found her long ago.Maybe her family still lived in the old house, and the phone was registered in her name anyway. Joe picked up the phone and dialed, and the other party answered the phone after it rang twice.

"Hey?" "Du Mansion?" Joe asked. "Yes." It was a man's voice, crisp and without a local accent. "Please ask Dr. Du to speak." "Who is looking for?" Joe instinctively said, "Brick." "Excuse me, that one?" "Brick." The man on the other end of the phone was silent for a while, and then said, "Brick?" His voice changed, becoming alert and cautious. Joe felt too clever, so he hung up the phone. At this time, a reporter walked behind Joe, and greeted him without seeing who it was, "Dark, Randy."

According to the number on the note Rose gave, Joe dialed Los Angeles. "Hello?" A woman answered the phone. "Please ask Dorothy to speak." "There's no one here." She had a thick, non-Southern accent. "You must have got the number wrong." "It's the phone number she gave me herself." "Honey, I guess you must have met this girl at the prom, and ended up being swayed by her." "I don't believe she would do that." "Oh, I'm not saying you're ugly, Honey," she said in a voice reminiscent of tequila and jasmine. "I'm just saying you're unfeminine."

"My name is Joe Carpenter." "Good name." "What's your name?" "What does my name sound like?" she asked half teasingly. "sound?" "Octavia, or Molly?" "It should be Demi." "Demi Moore? The movie star?" She seemed a little in disbelief. "Your voice has a hazy quality, very sexy." "Honey, my voice is a pure girl's voice, extremely crisp." "Crisp and hazy." She laughed happily, "Mr. Joe Carpenter, well, I like the name Demi." "Listen, Demi. I gotta talk to Rose."

"Forget about this Rose, okay? Joe, she gave you a fake phone number, and you are still so infatuated. Remember, there is no grass anywhere in the world." Joe was sure the woman knew Rose, and she was expecting him to call. Considering that the cunning and ruthless enemy is tracking the same Dr. Du, Demi's caution is understandable. "What do you look like, Honey?" she asked. "Six feet tall, brown hair, gray eyes." "Handsome?" "I can still see it." "How old are you, Joe?" "Older than you, thirty-seven years old."

"You have a sweet voice, have you ever gone on a blind date?" Demi was finally about to arrange a meeting. "Blind dating?" he said. "Never tried." "Then do you want to date me, who is dim, sexy and petite?" She suggested with a smile. "Of course, when?" "Are you free tomorrow night?" "I hope soon." "Don't rush, take your time and get things sorted out so that you can succeed, no one gets hurt and no one gets heartbroken." Joe's interpretation of these words is that Demi told him that the meeting must be very cautious. In order to ensure Rose's safety, the meeting place must be very secret.And she might not be able to notify Rose within twenty-four hours.

"Besides, honey. If you're passable-looking, I wonder why you're so distraught." "Okay? Where is tomorrow night?" "I'll give you the address of a coffee shop in Westwood, and we'll meet at the door at six o'clock, and then we'll go in and have a cup of coffee and see if we like each other. If I think you're okay, and you think I'm like My voice is hazy and sexy, it will be the most gorgeous night in memory. Do you have paper and pen?" "Yes." Jo wrote down the name and address of the coffee shop she had given. "Honey, now do me a favor, tear up the slip of paper with this phone number in your hand, and throw it down the toilet." Just when Joe was hesitating, Demi said, "Don't be disobedient Sorry." Then hang up the phone. Those three typed sentences really cannot prove that Dr. Du is a survivor of the crash.Nor can it be proven that something about the crash is not true.He himself could make up such a story, not to mention that Dr. Du's name was also typed on the note, without his own signature. He was not willing to dispose of that note.While it doesn't prove anything to anyone, it makes the bewildering events seem all the more real. He called Demi again to see if she would answer.To Joe's surprise, what he heard was a recording from the phone company telling him that the phone was out of service and asking him to call directory information to make sure he had dialed the correct number.Joe tried again, with the same result. Pretty!He wondered how she did it.Clearly Demi is more sophisticated than her crisp voice. Just as Joe put down the receiver, the phone rang.He jumped in fright, as if his fingers had been burned, and dared not pick up the microphone.After a moment of embarrassment, he picked up the receiver when the bell rang for the third time. "The L.A. Post?" a man asked. "yes." "Is it Ke Randy's special line?" "That's right." "You are Mr. Ke." Joe didn't react at first, but now he recognized the man's voice as the man who answered the phone at Dorothy's home in Malathas, Virginia. "Are you Mr. Ke?" The other party asked again. "I'm Brick," said Joe. "Mr. Joe Bent?" A chill rose from his spine, and Joe slammed the microphone up. They know where he is. Rows of studios are no longer cozy and secret nests.It's a maze with too many dead ends.Joe quickly packed up the printed materials and the letter that Dorothy had left for him.When he got up from his seat, the phone rang again, but Joe decided to ignore it. As he walked out of the editorial room, he met Chevrodan, who had just returned from the photocopying center, holding a stack of papers in his left hand and his unlit pipe in his right.Lao Xue's head is completely bald, but he has a bushy black beard.Xue Fudan is a financial reporter and columnist. He likes to exaggerate his speech, but he enjoys it.Seeing Joe, he immediately said: "Joe, I opened a case of red wine last week, that is, the 1974 vintage 'Mondavi' that I bought 20 cases as soon as it was released as an investment. In Napa, I wasn't looking for a wine seller, I wanted to buy an old clock. I tell you, this wine is fermenting really well--" Schaefferdan stood around bald, because he remembered that Joe was no longer working here.Embarrassed, he wanted to say some comforting words to express his concern, "That incident was terrible and terrible, those poor people, your wife and children." Hearing the phone on Currandy's desk rang again in the editorial room, Joe interrupted Chevrodan to send him away.But he actually asked: "Listen, Lao Xue, do you know a company called Techno?" "Do I know them?" Xue Fudan raised his eyebrows and said, "Old Joe, you are asking an interesting question." "You know them? Are they a big group? I mean aren't they powerful?" "Oh, they make a lot of money. Mainly by acquiring other cutting-edge technology companies, or backing companies that need capital to develop their ideas, to grow themselves. It's usually, but not always, aimed at technologies related to medicine.Their top executives are arrogant, notorious guys. I always think that I am the emperor of this industry.Actually, not much better.They also answered 'we will obey him'. " "We're going to obey him?" Joe was bewildered. "Just like us, just like us." Xue Fudan nodded with a smile, picked up the pipe and put it in his mouth. The phone on Ke Randy's desk finally stopped ringing.Now the silence was more tense than the ringing of bells. They know where he is. "I've got to go." Shepherdine strode away just as he was about to tell Joe what it would be good to buy the Techno bonds. Joe went straight to the nearest bathroom, but fortunately there was no one in the bathroom, and he was not stopped by his old friends. He tore Rose's letter into pieces and flushed it down the toilet.He waited until he was sure that every piece was gone, and then flushed again to make sure no traces were left behind. Meadows-Techno LLP directed the incident, making it look like a police operation.Their reach, from Los Angeles to Malathas, and their ability to know it all, proved that this was more than just business.There is a larger force behind it, perhaps related to the military. Even so, it is unjustifiable for a company to send people to kill innocent people indiscriminately in public for its own benefit.No matter how rich Techno is, its top executives are not exempt from criminal responsibility.Not even in a place like Los Angeles, where money can pass through gods.Because they believe that they can be exempted from criminal responsibility; so they dare to use guns.The people Joe encountered must have been members of the military or federal agents.There was too little information for reference, so he couldn't even deduce what role Medes-Techno Company played in this operation. On the way from the corridor on the third floor to the elevator, Joe expected someone to call his name and ordered him to stop.Maybe it was the guy in the Hawaiian shirt, or Brick, or the cops.If the person who pursued Dorothy was a federal agent, he would definitely get the assistance of the local police.So for the moment, Joe had to be wary of anyone in uniform and had to treat them as potential enemies. When the elevator doors opened, he feared immediate arrest.But there was no one in the elevator.On the way down to the first floor, Joe waited for the power to be cut, but that didn't happen.When the elevator opened, to his surprise, there was no one there. In all his life, Joe had never been so suspicious before.He's overreacting a bit with what's happened this afternoon, and with the information he's been given at the post office.When Joe walked into the reception hall, Bi Daowei was talking on the phone, and he was listening intently, his dark face wrinkled.He kept saying in a low voice, "Yes, er—er, yes." Joe waved him good-bye, and walked out the door. Then Dowe called him from behind, "Joe, wait a minute." Joe stopped and turned around. Although Dowe was still listening to the other party, his eyes were on Joe. To show that she was in a hurry, Jo pointed to her watch with her finger. "Wait a minute," Dowe said into the phone, then turned to Joe, "someone is calling for you." Joe shook his head resolutely. "He wants to talk to you," Dowe said. Joe turned and went back to the door. "Wait a minute, Joe, the man said he was an FBI agent." Joe stood in the doorway, looking back at Dowe hesitantly.The FBI should have nothing to do with people who wear Hawaiian shirts, people who shoot without asking, and certainly not people like Brick.Will they?Was he too scared to start thinking wildly again?He should get answers from the FBI and receive protection. Of course, the man on the phone could be lying, and he might not be a federal agent. He just hoped to hold Joe off until Brick and his henchmen—and maybe other monsters—could arrive in time. Joe shook his head at Dowe, turned and left.He pushed open the door and stepped out into the August heat. Dowe called after him, "Joe!" Fighting the urge to run, Joe made his way to his car.At the exit at the other end of the parking lot, the young man with the shaved head and the gold ring on his nose was watching him. This child looks so overwhelmed and useless that people are not on guard against him.But at this moment, it seemed odd that he was interested in Joe. Although the volume is turned down, the heavy rhythm of the rap song is still transmitted with the heat wave.It was hot inside the car, but not unbearably hot.Being crushed by bullets in the cemetery is just right for ventilation.The boy must have noticed the broken window when Joe drove in.Maybe he had an idea.It doesn't matter what his idea is, it's just a broken window.Joe figured the engine must not start, but he was wrong.When the car slowly backed out of the parking space, Bi Daowei pushed open the door of the reception hall, stepped out and stood on the platform of the concrete steps.The big man didn't seem to be warning, but rather confused. Dowe will definitely not stop him, after all, they are friends, or have been friends, and the person on the phone is just a voice.Joe shifted the gear lever into drive.Dowe came down the steps yelling something.It doesn't sound like a warning, but rather confusion and concern.Joe ignored him and drove the car directly to the exit. Because of driving too fast, the tires sank into the sun-softened road surface, making a sharp friction sound.But Qiao Mu slowed down a little, and when he turned south to Lanxine Avenue, a siren sounded.The siren is part of the city music, day and night, and has nothing to do with him.Even so, the road to the Ventura Expressway was shrouded in sirens all the way.He kept checking the rear view mirrors of the vehicles behind him as he was heading west on Moorpike Road. He was not a criminal. He should have reported the people in the cemetery to the police.Tell them what he's got from Dorothy, and about Flight 353. From another point of view, although Rose was also struggling on the verge of life and death, she did not seek protection from the police.Maybe because there is no such thing as protection at all. "My life is in your hands." Joe is a veteran crime reporter who has seen victims targeted for anything other than what they did or had.But only because of what they know.A man who knows too much is more dangerous than a man with a gun. If he had been targeted because he knew of Dorothy, who claimed to be the only survivor, then the secret she held must be somehow explosive and powerful. As he drove west toward the studios, he thought of the scarlet lettering on the black sweatshirt of the young man in the Post parking lot, "Fear No Heaven, No Earth Fear."That was a philosophy of life that Joe couldn't accept, because he was afraid of everything, and terribly afraid. The possibility that the crash was no accident haunted Joe deeply.The death of a wife and daughter is not a fate, but a human factor.Although the failure of the hydraulic system due to human loss is one of the most likely reasons, and that is also the reason why Joe can live, because Unintentionally is as dull and cold as the universe itself. But if they died at the hands of terrorists, or other man-made crimes, then they sacrificed their lives under the greed and jealousy of human beings, which he could not bear. He is afraid that the truth about to be revealed is as above, and he is even more afraid that his inner beast will turn himself into a self-righteous vengeful envoy.