On the outskirts of Langley City, inside a single-family house.
The night was deep, and only a desk lamp was lit in the study. The dim light outlined Simon's slightly tired profile.
The whiskey glass in front of him held only a shallow layer of amber liquid.
The encrypted satellite phone on the desk lit up, displaying a complex and constantly changing key authentication sequence.
After hours of psychological struggle and risk assessment, he finally made up his mind.
His fingers entered a long string of numbers from deep in his memory on the encrypted dial.
This number existed only in his most secret memories and was the only channel for single-line contact with that "Ghost."
The phone rang for a long time. Just when Simon thought no one would answer, and even doubted if the line had long been abandoned, it was picked up on the other end, but no one spoke immediately, there was only the sound of steady breathing.
"It's me."
