"Brenda, hang on!"
My colleague, Hans Watson, carried me steadily out of the basement. By the time I breathed in the cool night air again, I was nearly unconscious.
When I came to again, I was lying on the familiar old bed in the house, a dull ache radiating through my lower back and abdomen.
"Brenda, don't move." Hans pressed down on me urgently. "The wound on your waist is deep and your hand bones were just reset. You need rest."
Gritting my teeth against the pain, I nodded and urgently asked, "How are my father and my cousin...?"
Hans shook his head, his expression complex, about to speak.
The door suddenly swung open and a figure I never expected strode in. It was none other than my superior, Director Marion Alexander, who usually remained stationed in the capital.
"Mr. Alexander? Why have you come personally?" I was utterly astonished.
Mr. Alexander, however, was visibly agitated as he hurried to my bedside and said, "Brenda, do you realize what you've accomplished? You've done something truly remarkable!"
His voice trembled slightly, "Your father... was my long-lost comrade-in-arms!"
"He was a security officer in the United Front system. After an accident back then, I never managed to find him again... I never imagined he would be your father!"
I was utterly stunned, "My dad? But he... isn't he just an old man who drives around selling groceries?"
Ever since I could remember, my father was often away. When my mother was alive, she always told me he went out to "sell goods."
Mr. Alexander's eyes welled up with tears, "That was his cover identity! His alias was Donny... All these years, I've searched so desperately for him!"
I couldn't process this news at once. That seemingly ordinary father harbored such secrets?
But as a secret archaeologist myself, I understood my father.
Mr. Alexander accepted the tissue Hans offered and said solemnly, "I've already arranged for your father to be transferred to the best hospital in the city. No matter what, I will see to it that his illness is cured!"
Through Mr. Alexander's explanation, I finally understood. The basement of the old house held top-secret archives vital to national security—treasures beyond price and my father's vegetative state wasn't caused by any traffic accident.
When those documents faced imminent danger years ago, he chose to sacrifice his own health to safeguard the secrets, voluntarily plunging into this prolonged slumber.
"Brenda, your family has safeguarded these secrets with your lives—you are true heroes!" Mr. Alexander gripped my hand tightly. "The bureau has decided to recommend you for the First Class Merit Award once you've recovered from your injuries!"
A flood of emotions washed over me as I hurriedly expressed my gratitude.
After Mr. Alexander left, Hans quietly shared the follow-up details, "Miguel escaped through the drainage channel below. Martha is already in our custody, detained in the adjacent room."
"We'll be leaving shortly."
Hans's tone was firm as he gently helped me sit up. "The wound on your waist is too deep and your hand only received emergency treatment. You need to go to the hospital for a full examination and proper medical care."
Gritting my teeth against the throbbing pain in my shoulder, I urgently grabbed his sleeve, "Miguel must have someone backing him. He couldn't have planned this meticulously alone. You must keep investigating!"
Hans sighed, handed me a cup of warm water and continued, "Our initial investigation shows his company faced a financial crisis a year ago. Rumor has it he lost nearly 10 million dollars gambling overseas."
"He might have been exploited by certain forces, or driven to desperation and took desperate measures."
So that was how it was.
I looked at Hans and nodded, "Hans, I really owe you this time. If you hadn't arrived with your team in time, I'd likely have perished in that inferno."
He paused slightly, a faint smile touching his lips.
That smile was gentle yet fleeting, quickly giving way to his usual composed restraint.
