ABZ's Orders
The busy tone after the satellite phone call ended seemed to linger in the cold air of the study, carrying a subtle, unsettling electronic vibration.
The rain outside the window had turned into a dense, silent downpour, forming constantly twisting and changing streaks on the glass, blurring the lights of Seattle into a gloomy, hazy patchwork of light.
Lin Feng sat in the large, high-backed chair, leaning back slightly, his body sinking into the leather support. He didn't speak immediately, nor did he make any violent movements. His gaze simply fell, resting on the open contract on the table, marked with countless deadly traps in glaring red.
Old Johnson's face, with its "generous and open" smile in the attached photo, now appeared incredibly hypocritical and repulsive under the cold light. The vicious, arrogant, racially insulting, and treacherous words spoken on the phone, every syllable like a poisoned icicle, pierced the air, leaving a silent but deadly chill.
Time seemed to stretch out and stand still in the study. Only the low rumble of the central air conditioning and the faint patter of raindrops hitting the glass could be heard.
K stood about 1.5 meters in front of the desk, hands at his sides, like a highly sophisticated instrument in standby mode. His breathing was steady and long, his body relaxed but poised to strike, all his attention focused on Lin Feng, awaiting the inevitable command that would determine the fate of several people far away.
He didn't urge or ask any questions; he simply remained absolutely silent, handing over complete control of the space to the man behind the desk.
About a minute later, or longer, Lin Feng slowly raised his eyes.
His gaze first shifted from the contract, sweeping across the hazy night view outside the window, as if confirming something one last time, or making some final, internal assessment. Then, his gaze settled steadily and calmly on K's face.
In stark contrast to Old Johnson's furious outburst and vicious roar on the phone, Lin Feng showed no emotion whatsoever that could be described as "anger."
There was no flushed face, no ferocious expression, no clenched teeth. His face was even calmer than when he was on the phone, as calm as a frozen lake before a blizzard, smooth and deep, reflecting no light and letting in no heat.
Only those eyes—those eyes that were always as calm as a deep pool—seemed to have all the warmth and brilliance of "humanity" stripped away, leaving only an absolute, inhuman darkness and coldness.
That wasn't the fierce glint of a wild beast when provoked, but something more abstract and ultimate, like the emptiness and stillness of the deep universe. In the depths of that emptiness, however, a singularity, condensed to its extreme and capable of devouring all light and heat, was silently rotating.
He looked at K, parted his lips slightly, and uttered four words.
The voice was soft, even lower than usual. Calm, clear, without any inflection or emphasis. But these four simple words made the air in the study suddenly drop several degrees, and even the dampness brought by the rain outside the window seemed to freeze instantly.
"Let ABZ do the work."
Command issued. Target locked. Program started.
There was no explanation, no emphasis, no superfluous adjectives. It didn't say "punishment," "retaliation," or even explicitly "resolution."
But K understood instantly. He had followed Lin Feng long enough to understand his boss's style. When ABZ was needed, the nature of the matter had already transcended ordinary business disputes, intimidation, or even bloody revenge. It was the final, most thorough, and most ruthless cleanup procedure, leaving no room for doubt or illusion.
"Yes, boss." K didn't hesitate at all, nor did he ask any unnecessary questions that required further confirmation. He simply replied, straightening his body almost imperceptibly by a fraction, a fleeting glint of the cold, sharp light that belonged to a top executor flashing deep in his eyes.
He immediately turned and walked to a seemingly ordinary oak paneled wall on the inner side of the study. He pressed his finger on a very hidden groove on the side of the panel, and without making a sound, a small panel slid inward silently, revealing an embedded metal control panel that shimmered with several eerie green lights.
The console is small, with only a few physical levers, a miniature touchscreen, and an encrypted interface with a biometric authentication device.
K acted quickly. He first placed his right thumb on the recognition area. A green light swept across it, and after a soft "beep," the touchscreen lit up, displaying a complex data stream interface with constantly changing ciphertext.
His fingers tapped and slid rapidly and precisely across the screen, inputting a long, dynamic key consisting of numbers, letters, and special symbols. Then, he flipped a silver metal lever labeled "Ghost Protocol," which clicked to lock in place.
The touchscreen interface suddenly changed, the background turned deep black, and an abstract emblem composed of countless tiny points of light slowly rotated in the center—a simplified pattern resembling a combination of dripping blood and crossed blades, devoid of text yet exuding a silent intimidation. This was the ABZ Team's wake-up symbol.
K dialed an encrypted voice communication channel. The channel number was a long string of random characters with no discernible pattern. He didn't speak, but instead spoke a few words in clear, steady, and accent-free English into a miniature microphone hidden at the edge of the console:
"Eagle's Nest is calling Undercurrent. Highest priority. Target: ' Farmer '. Coordinates: Synchronized. Requirement: Thorough cleanup. Time window: Next dark cycle. Confirm."
Every word he uttered seemed ordinary, but in a specific context and with specific coding, it conveyed precise killing instructions. "The Farmer" was the target code name (the Johnson Family Clan), "thorough cleanup" was the level of action (extermination, leaving no survivors, eliminating as many physical traces as possible), and "the next dark cycle" was the timeframe for the action (between the next sunset and sunrise).
There was no response from the other end of the communication line. But on the touchscreen, below the rotating abstract emblem, a tiny, flashing green line of characters appeared: [Command received. Undercurrent activated. Estimated contact time: -6:00. Status: Silent navigation.]
This means that the ABZ Team has received instructions and is activated, with contact expected within six hours. They are currently maintaining radio silence and maneuvering toward the target area.
K turned off voice communication but didn't immediately log out of the system. He brought up another interface, which displayed real-time satellite surveillance footage of Eagle Creek Ranch and the surrounding area (a high-definition version obtained through special channels). He zoomed in on the image, locked onto the main house and several key entrances and exits, and performed a final synchronization calibration of the images and data streams with the ABZ Team's mobile terminals.
Meanwhile, he quickly checked the Skagit County Sheriff's communications frequencies and duty rosters to confirm that there were no large-scale patrol plans or special operations planned for the night. The county sheriff's response time would ideally be at least twenty-five minutes, but considering the location of the ranch and the weather, it could actually be longer.
Having done all this, K exited the console. The wall panel slid silently back into place, sealing perfectly, as if it had never been opened. He turned and walked back to his desk, facing Lin Feng, and reported in the same calm and professional tone:
"Boss, the order has been issued. ABZ activated. Target: John's entire family. Level: Thorough cleanup. Deadline: Before sunrise. Currently, ABZ is moving towards the target area, in silent mode. Local law enforcement has not reported any abnormalities tonight; response is expected to be delayed."
Lin Feng listened to K's report without showing any emotion. He neither expressed any emotion towards the cold term "thorough cleanup" nor questioned the timeline of the operation. It was as if K was reporting on a routine logistical arrangement, rather than a bloody massacre that would take place in a few hours and dozens of miles away.
He nodded almost imperceptibly, indicating that he understood.
Then, he turned his gaze back to the window. The rain was still falling, and the night was as dark as ink.
Far away, behind the rain and mountains, Eagle Creek Ranch might be brightly lit, and the Old Johnson family might be gathered in their warm living room, raising their glasses to celebrate their success in swindling a "Great East bumpkin from the East," mocking his foolishness, dreaming of how to squander their ill-gotten gains, and indulging in the pleasure of their successful fraud and their absolute confidence in the law and local power.
They would never know that Death had received the exact coordinates and, shrouded in night and rain, was like the most silent Undercurrent, silently and resolutely surging towards their so-called "impregnable" homeland.
"Make it cleaner." Lin Feng added three words at the end, his voice as soft as a sigh, yet carrying immense weight.
"Understood," K replied solemnly.
The order has been given; there is no turning back. All that remains is to wait, and the inevitable, blood-soaked end.
The study returned to silence. Only the sound of rain, eternally and indifferently tapping against the glass, seemed to be playing a cold prelude to the impending final act.