In the interrogation room, Ivanov was strapped to a chair immobile, just like Jiang Weijiang had once been.
Lin Huan made sure he was calm before nodding towards the door.
Tap—Tap—Tap—
Within the crisp sound of leather shoes, Anton slowly entered.
Instinctively, Ivanov looked up, his eyes visibly trembling upon recognizing who was approaching.
Anton walked unhurriedly to his opposite side, placed his trench coat on the chair back, and then set down his coffee cup across the bulletproof glass.
"Do you remember me?" As he took his seat, he slightly stretched out his arms, "Comrade Ivanov."
"No...you...are not a comrade..." Ivanov said in a stupefied voice, "Despicable...Intelligence Bureau...not...a comrade of the Advance Group..."
