The beauty Adi didn't pay any attention to Jimmy; Jimmy's face indeed wasn't very pleasing—in America, not all girls have a penchant for the exotic, especially those at the Intercontinental Hotel who have seen too many different kinds of people. To them, a young Asian-looking kid who still seems like a college student and Justin's lackey was of no interest to Adi.

Being unnoticed was just fine with Jimmy. Seeing someone smoking on the other side of the bar, he also took a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket, pulled over an ashtray from the bar top, and lit one up for himself.

Justin had said that the Intercontinental Hotel in New York was the largest gathering point on the East Coast, so the guests in the bar were probably their assassins and collaborators. Frankly, Jimmy still hadn't gone through all of the FBI's wanted files. In theory, quite a few people here should be on that list.

But these did not concern Jimmy—he wasn't the type to forsake everything for his profession, otherwise he wouldn't have previously helped Justin with those things. As long as he didn't go against his own principles, getting involved in something neither too dark nor too white, it wasn't a big deal.

Jimmy paid attention to some of the people; they didn't seem like the good sort, the kind that might be tracked by the police if seen walking on the street. Appearing in this place, they were certainly not clean, and he always believed in the old saying, "The face is the index of the heart."

As for those who appeared unremarkable, he'd remember them if he could, and if not, then so be it. Even if these people were scum, they were refined scum—after all, the world ultimately judges by appearance.

Jimmy wasn't particularly handsome himself; his current face couldn't compare to those movie stars he had seen before. However, due to the training in the past two years, he looked very fit, and his facial features were more chiseled, not that of a round and greasy fat guy.

Justin's negotiation seemed about done; he returned to the bar where Adi had already prepared a drink and placed it on his spot.

Justin: "Thank you, Adi." Justin picked up the glass and took a sip, then said to Jimmy, "Come with me, I'll introduce you to Winston."

Justin bent down to pick up his bag and stood up; Jimmy drained his glass in one gulp and followed Justin.

A red sofa booth, a middle-aged man with small, square-framed glasses was seated on the couch, a journal in front of him, a pen in hand. Next to the notebook was a Martini, the same olive martini as Jimmy's from before. Geez, does Adi have some misconception about him? Does he really deserve the same treatment as this kind of behind-the-scenes boss?

Justin sat opposite Winston, and Jimmy still sat beside Justin. Winston looked at them as they settled down, took off his glasses and put them on the table alongside his pen.

Justin: "Winston, this is Jimmy I was talking about. He's now settled in New York."

Winston nodded at Jimmy, and Justin continued, "As you know, I've been too busy in Little Rock to come back, so I'm introducing a reliable newbie to you. We've had a very pleasant collaboration in Little Rock, and I'm recommending him to join our big family."

Winston: "Justin, I trust anyone you trust. I believe in you. No problem, take him to get registered."

Justin: "Thanks, then I'll be heading back."

Winston lifted his drink, "Goodbye, Justin." After taking a slight sip and putting it down, he put his glasses back on and continued to look at the notebook in front of him.

Jimmy followed Justin out of the bar, taking an elevator to what seemed like a document room. Speaking of which, the elevators here were really interesting—despite the upscale look of the Intercontinental Hotel, they used old-fashioned elevators with sliding grids rather than the fully enclosed cabins commonly seen nowadays.

Justin took out a file from his backpack and handed it to a girl in the document room; she took the file and went inside. About ten minutes later, she returned and handed a silver card to Jimmy. There were no obvious words or serial numbers on either side of the card, only the same emblem shield on the front that seemed to be the standard logo of the Intercontinental Hotel.

Up to now, Jimmy still didn't understand how these cards distinguished one from another. He hadn't seen any personal markers on the previous black card, and this silver one lacked features like a magnetic stripe as well. The only thing he hadn't checked was whether the inside of the card contained anything like a contactless IC card's induction coil.

Justin watched as Jimmy received the card and then picked up his bag and left the records room with Jimmy, without saying a word the entire time.

Back in the hotel lobby, Justin and Jimmy spotted an empty sofa and sat down there.

Justin, "Jimmy, put away your card for now. Having a card just represents your identity. No one will contact you for the time being. There's a rather long observation period."

Jimmy, frowning, "How long might that be?"

Justin, "I don't know. Frankly speaking, you're the first person I've recommended. More than three years ago I went to Little Rock alone, and I seldom come to New York after that."

Jimmy, "Alright, anyway, that doesn't get in the way of me contacting the service providers here, right? I've got quite a few things to update."

Justin, "Actually, if it's for everyday use, you'd better find someone outside. The service providers here, well, you'll soon be broke."

Jimmy, "Okay, I got it. I'm registered as an information broker, right?"

Justin, "Yeah, they won't need you for missions. There are plenty of people in New York to get the job done."

Jimmy, "Where are you staying tonight?"

Justin, "Right here, upstairs. You can go back now."

Jimmy couldn't be bothered to fuss about it and got up and left the Intercontinental Hotel. He hailed a cab outside and went home.

He still couldn't avoid it after all, but it seemed that the Intercontinental Hotel held a high standard. And just from the number of people he saw tonight, if all these people were assassins, how many cases would pop up in a year? However, he hadn't heard of any major criminal cases, which showed that the Intercontinental had enough networking to suppress news or clean up in time to avoid police or FBI notice.

But Justin had said that for everyday items, it was best to find outsiders, not service providers. So, who should he turn to for advice? He considered his acquaintances; none seemed familiar with mid-to-high-end products. The only slightly better choice was Peter, but from their recent interactions, Peter clearly wasn't the selecting type. That left only one truth: Elizabeth. Perhaps it was time to pay a visit to Peter's house.

After resting over the weekend, Jimmy returned to the Federal Square office, and he received a message that made him laugh and cry: a certain FBI support team needed him and Jones to recreate their 2v9 combat scenario. No need to ask, it was definitely because the information from their last case leaked, and then Peter, out of curiosity, canceled case processing. Peter and his group of four drove to the ferry terminal, ready to head to an FBI training ground on Staten Island.

Staten Island is the southernmost of New York's five boroughs and isn't connected to the others, sometimes jokingly referred to as the "forgotten borough" due to the inconvenience of traveling to other areas, often inadvertently omitted when discussing New York.

With a strong suburban atmosphere, the island is suitable for family-oriented residents to live in. There are great zoos, botanical gardens, and backyards with swimming pools.

Because of environmental issues in New York, the FBI only has a few outdoor training fields in the city, and one of them is on Staten Island.

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