Chapter 28
The suburban industrial park lay far from the city center, with streetlights so generously spaced they barely pierced the darkness.
The neon glow of the distant city remained blocked out, with only massive floodlights from the construction site cutting through the night.
Heavy trucks and construction machinery operated in silence as a black Bentley Mulsanne, headlights off, glided like a shadow into the site entrance. Not far behind followed a specialized truck carrying the "Messenger" series ultra-high precision molecular centrifuge.
The Bentley's door opened, and Rupert stepped out. He wore a perfectly tailored black casual suit without a tie, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, exuding a dangerous kind of nonchalance. Alone, hands in his pockets, he stood tall at the site entrance.
This wasn't merely a construction site but a technological fortress with military-grade security systems and a construction team renowned for their efficiency and discretion. And the queen of this fortress was somewhere nearby, scrutinizing her unexpected visitor.
A foreman in work clothes had been waiting, and upon seeing Rupert, he stepped forward respectfully, offering a document. "Sir, the equipment has arrived. Please sign the delivery form."
Rupert didn't take it, merely nodding slightly. Understanding, the foreman turned and gestured. Nearby, a massive container on the truck slowly opened, its hydraulic arms pushing the doors aside to reveal what lay within.
A precision instrument gleaming with cold metallic light rested on specialized shock-absorbing supports. The floodlights reflected off its sleek lines and complex structure, giving it an icy, expensive sheen.
The "Messenger" series molecular centrifuge—only three existed worldwide. It was both bait and gesture of sincerity.
As the foreman prepared to proceed with the handover, Rupert's gaze moved past him toward the shadows behind a massive support column. He strode forward, his tall figure carrying an invisible pressure that disturbed the area's stillness.
"Dr. W, a pleasure to meet you." His voice cut through the night breeze, not loud but clear enough to reach the ears of the person in the shadows.
Rupert's familiar, penetrating gaze locked onto the densest patch of darkness, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Or should I call you Dr. Wall? Diana York?"
The person in the shadows didn't move. The air seemed to freeze for several seconds. Then, a slender figure emerged from behind the column.
Diana removed her white safety helmet, casually handing it to a subordinate who had followed her.
She wore dark work clothes that allowed for easy movement, her long hair tied back simply. Her beautiful face appeared particularly cold under the harsh white floodlights, her eyes showing not the slightest ripple of emotion.
Having her identity exposed brought neither surprise nor panic to her expression. She remained as calm as if hearing a greeting meant for someone else.
"Mr. M, contract fulfilled, payment received," she said, using his registered alias from the "Hand of God" platform. Her tone was measured, both acknowledging him and silently establishing boundaries: 'Our connection exists only through those virtual identities.'
She calmly widened the distance between them, forcibly defining this charged encounter as nothing more than an online transaction being completed offline.
She rejected any possibility of deeper exploration, her demeanor distant and guarded, clearly implying: 'Transaction complete, you may leave.'
This straightforward dismissal only deepened Rupert's interest. He had anticipated various reactions—shock, vigilance, even anger—but never expected such complete coldness and detachment.
She was like a hedgehog with all its quills raised, seemingly calm yet refusing to let anyone near her territory.
Rupert wasn't bothered by her coolness. He stepped forward again, his tall figure almost completely enveloping her in his shadow. He leaned slightly, lowering his voice. It carried a unique magnetism that sounded particularly clear in the night breeze.
"Diana, aren't you curious how I found out?"
Diana finally looked him in the eye. Rupert's features appeared deep and three-dimensional in the flickering light, his eyes black as an abyss that could swallow souls.
She tugged at the corner of her mouth, the curve cold. "Not curious, Mr. Russell, but your intentions are more worthy of attention than your identity."
For someone who could use a "Messenger" centrifuge as bait, discovering her identity wasn't particularly earth-shattering.
"Oh?" Rupert raised an eyebrow, quite satisfied with her answer. "It seems we're thinking along the same lines."
He straightened, turning his gaze toward the illuminated steel fortress, his tone becoming suggestive.
"Enemies on 'Hand of God' sometimes overlap with enemies in reality," he said. "Like those who want to ensure this laboratory never becomes operational."
Diana's eyes flickered almost imperceptibly for a moment before returning to their calm state. She knew exactly who those people were. But what of it? Her path had always been one she walked alone.
"My affairs don't require your concern." Cold, without a trace of warmth.
Before her words faded, she had already turned away, not sparing him another glance. She walked toward the newly delivered "Messenger" centrifuge, issuing a series of complex instructions to her subordinates.
"Connect to the main control system and run preliminary diagnostics."
"Group A, verify power interface parameters and prepare for connection to the independent power grid."
"Group B, clear sterile isolation room three and prepare for equipment transfer."
She immersed herself in her world—methodical, calm, efficient—as if their charged confrontation had been nothing more than a meaningless night breeze.
The entire site began operating at high speed following her instructions. She was the absolute core here, and her actions issued a dismissal more powerful than any words could.
Rupert remained where he stood, watching her slender yet powerful figure, the interest in his eyes growing rather than diminishing. He liked this type of prey—thorny and difficult to tame. And prey that must be absolutely controlled within his grasp.
He strode forward again, this time standing even closer, near enough to catch the faint scent of antiseptic and dust that clung to her.
"Diana, you seem to have misunderstood something. I'm not asking for your opinion." His voice dropped lower, carrying an undeniable forcefulness.
Diana paused mid-instruction but didn't turn around.
"Be my lover." Rupert's voice sounded at her ear like a demon's whisper. "Otherwise, I can't guarantee how many people will learn that W is Wilma Wall."