CIA Headquarters in Langley, Virginia.
A middle-aged man with dark black hair and blue eyes meticulously examined papers.
A nameplate on his desk identified him as Ben Johnson, director of the CIA.
“Ben, what are you looking at so intently?”
Ben's eyes shifted from the papers to the source of that voice.
A handsome brown-haired young man stood in front of him.
“Hawk!”
Ben had an appointment with Hawk, but the CIA building wasn’t a place anyone could easily enter.
The fact he had come this far meant he passed through many security checkpoints.
They didn’t call ahead to warn him because Hawk had talked to the staff he was acquainted with.
The hunter had secured many fans even here with his unique social skills.
Ben welcomed Hawk.
“When did you arrive?”
“I just got here. What are you reading?”
Hawk'...
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