Tom really liked Jimmy, although they didn't meet often or talk much, but some things Jimmy did really made the old man think highly of James's insight, especially the incident where James was shot, which earned Jimmy Tom's genuine approval.

Tom had lived through the brutal Cold War era and had mentored many trainees, but few had truly captured his attention.

After leaving the hospital, Tom flew straight back to Washington, D.C. and drove to Virginia.

Outside a small cabin in the woods, Tom stopped the car and got out; he straightened his clothing and walked up to knock on the door.

A young man opened the door from inside, "May I ask who you are?"

Tom took off his hat and held it to his chest, "I'm here to see Mrs. Waltz; I'm Tom."

"Just a moment," the young man said and closed the door after him. After a while, he came back and opened the door, "Please come in."

"Thank you," Tom replied very politely, put on his hat again, and walked into the cabin.

An elderly lady with white hair sat in a wheelchair beside the sofa, apparently reading a newspaper, wearing a pair of petite reading glasses.

"Tommy! Come here, let me have a good look at you." The old lady waved Tom over.

"Mrs. Waltz, it's been a long time. How are you?" Tom took off his hat, came to the old lady, and knelt on one knee in front of her.

"It's really you, Tommy. I knew you wouldn't die so easily." The old lady held Tom's face in her hands, looking at him from side to side, a tear welling up in the corner of her eye.

"I'm sorry, teacher, I haven't visited you in years," Tom said, his left hand placing the hat on his chest, his right hand touching the old lady's.

"Sit and talk. Sam, this is your uncle Kodaiski. Tommy, Sam is my grandson, Patrick's son," Mrs. Waltz said, letting Tom sit down and introducing the young man.

"Uncle Kodaiski. Grandmother, I'll go make coffee," the young man Sam left the living room, giving the space to the two elders.

"Tommy, what happened before?" As Sam left the living room, Mrs. Waltz's expression immediately changed; her smile was gone, and she now looked much more serious.

Tom sat up straight and replied, "Teacher, someone set up a trap. We were on a mission to escort cargo to Mexico and encountered trouble on the way back. Our entire team was wiped out; only I survived by faking death."

Mrs. Waltz asked, "Did you find them?"

Tom nodded, "They've been taken care of. It's over."

Mrs. Waltz's face brightened with a smile again, "That's good, as long as you're alive."

"Teacher, are you still in contact with the bureau?" Tom asked.

"Is there something else?" Mrs. Waltz inquired.

"It's about a junior of mine; some matters need investigating. You should know his family, Veronique Durand."

Mrs. Waltz took off her glasses and held them in her hand, looked upward briefly in thought, then turned to Tom, "I haven't heard that name in a long time. Is she dead?"

Tom nodded, and Mrs. Waltz said, "I thought so. She was just a poor love child. Did anyone attend her funeral?"

Tom shook his head, "Just a few of us, in accordance with her last wishes. The funeral wasn't public, and after cremation, she was buried in the graveyard of the town she was born in."

Mrs. Waltz nodded, "I understand. What about her son?"

"Veronica came back from Europe and didn't stay in Langley but was placed in Hong Kong, where she became pregnant. Afterwards, she came back and never left again. Her son Jimmy was placed into a training camp, completed his training, and then took on an undercover task, remaining dormant in the country," Tom explained.

Mrs. Waltz interrupted him, "It was your arrangement, wasn't it?"

"Yes, I couldn't let her son undertake those perilous missions. Keeping him dormant in the country was the best arrangement," Tom responded.

Mrs. Waltz nodded, Tom continued, "Everything was normal. I had already included his file in the bottom layer of dormant listings using the authority you left behind. But, a few days ago, he was suddenly awakened by Caitlin Prado, acting director of the New York Anti-Terrorism Bureau."

"If it had only been an awakening, the problem wouldn't be so serious, but on the night he was awakened, he faced an assassination attempt. The gunman entered his apartment and was killed by him in self-defense."

"Then, he was followed by three cars in rotation until he made a trip to the Anti-Terrorism Bureau two days ago. On his way back to the FBI office, he was ambushed by a five-person assault squad with automatic weapons."

Tom finished and looked into Mrs. Waltz's eyes, "This kind of deployment plan made me suspect there might be an issue inside the bureau."

"Is he dead?" Mrs. Waltz asked.

Tom shook his head, "No, Jimmy is strong, stronger than one can imagine. A standard five-man assault squad, all eliminated within minutes. He was shot once, but it was in his side, a minor injury."

Mrs. Waltz exclaimed in surprise, "Wow, who trained him?"

Tom shook his head, "It's not about the training; the training he received was no different from others. It's entirely his personal talent. Teacher, I can't understand why someone would target Jimmy specifically; he hasn't appeared at the bureau at all. From his entry into the training camp to his dormant assignments, he never even passed through the gates of Langley."

Mrs. Waltz sighed and shook her head, "It's a sad story. I have some ideas but still need to investigate further."

"Can you tell me?" Tom asked.

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