CHAPTER 315: CHAPTER 8: AFTERMATH (PART 2)

In the time that followed, several ’guests’ who were originally as silent as cicadas in the cold started speaking up as if they had been unlocked, each contributing their "criminal experiences" accumulated over the years.

Sometimes, when they got into the swing of things, they didn’t hesitate to offer Zhou Qingfeng their personal connections, trying to drag more people down to ensure their own safety.

Zhou Qingfeng continued to smile, listening quietly, as if he were a patient listener.

Standing behind him, Ernst and Deborah were left wide-eyed and mouth agape, gaining a true insight into what "official protection" and "layer upon layer of insider information" meant, realizing that the darkness of this world exceeded imagination.

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After leaving that suffocating yacht, Senator Douglas felt as if he had escaped from a nightmare, relieved and burden-free.

He sat in his car parked on the riverbank, with a foggy mind, feeling his clothes clinging to his skin soaked in cold sweat, a chill spreading across his chest and back, utterly uncomfortable.

The driver and special agent glanced at the senator in the rearview mirror and carefully asked, "Senator, you don’t look well."

"I’m fine," Senator Douglas shook his head wearily, squeezing out half a sentence from his dry throat.

The experienced driver didn’t probe further, routinely heading to the destination, then started the vehicle to leave.

Not long after, the senator’s phone suddenly rang. He glanced at the number on the screen, pressed the button to raise the partition between the front and rear seats, confirmed the good soundproofing effect, and then answered the call.

The caller was a bureaucrat from the Ministry of Commerce who had been on the yacht, speaking with a palpable tone of panic, "Douglas, what should we do about what just happened?"

Senator Douglas leaned back against the soft seat, and asked, "What do you want to do?"

"Report it to the police... or contact some people we know..." The bureaucrat seemed indecisive, without a clear idea.

"We can’t just do nothing, can we? A four-star admiral is dead, and if... if someday the incident is exposed, we’ll all be implicated, becoming accomplices!"

The senator sneered, rudely retorting, "Are you going to report it to the police?"

The other end of the phone immediately became hesitant, "Douglas, you’re a federal senator, you should do something to steer the situation..."

"Oh, is that so? Risking my neck getting shot off by some random bullet from who knows where to do something?" The senator’s tone was sarcastic.

"Come on, none of us are clean characters. You’re a flasher, and I’m a sex addict. Harden has unearthed all our dirty secrets, so let’s not pretend to be morally superior saints.

You want me to take the lead? I’m telling you straight, I don’t have the confidence. God knows how many more cards Harden has up his sleeve that we don’t know about!

I must remind you, until now, Harden has not publicly appeared, and the outside media still think he died somewhere due to that plane crash incident."

The official from the Ministry of Commerce was rendered silent, with only suppressed breathing on the phone, and moments later, hung up in frustration.

As for Senator Douglas himself, after putting down the phone, fear and anxiety entwined around him like vines, impossible to shake off.

He pondered uneasily for a long time before eventually dialing the vice president’s private number, trying to gauge exactly how powerful the forces behind ’Harden’ were.

Yet when the call connected, the usually dedicated ’countryman’ spoke officially, "I am unaware of the situation you mentioned.

If Harden does have any illegal activities, you can completely report them to the Department of Justice, as I would never tolerate any criminal behavior."

With just two simple sentences, Senator Douglas broke out in cold sweat, becoming even more certain that ’Harden’ and the vice president were already bound together.

Whoever shows up first dies faster!

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The day after the yacht gathering, everything was calm and peaceful.

’Harden’ still did not make an appearance, and the media continued to report endlessly on the ’Ford’ disaster.

The United States Department of Energy sent personnel to the Norfolk Naval Base who detected excessive nuclear radiation, confirming that two nuclear reactors had been completely destroyed.

The bureaucrats from the Department of Defense were still in meetings when they suddenly found themselves unable to contact Admiral Alvin of the Ministry of the Navy. But no one had objections, because similar things often happened.

There had previously been an incident where the Secretary of Defense was hospitalized and entered the ICU, serving as a close secret until three full days had passed and no one was notified.

Similarly, after three days, the Pentagon realized there was something wrong and found from Admiral Alvin’s adjutant Dick, that Admiral Alvin had brushed everyone off and returned to his old home in Mississippi.

When the Pentagon sent people to search, they discovered his body on the farm at his hometown — he dressed in formal attire, wearing all his service medals, using a high-caliber bullet to blast away most of his head.

Next to the body was the admiral’s suicide note, expressing full responsibility for the ’Ford’ disaster, with the explanation he ordered renovations inside the aircraft carrier without adequate safety permits, hence triggering the fire.

Honestly, the suicide note and the act of suicide had many loopholes. But... having an officer with a high enough rank to take the blame is good.

The Pentagon announced that the naval intelligence bureau would investigate the admiral’s death while issuing a preliminary investigation report on the ’Ford’ fire.

In short, once anything falls into bureaucratic process, it can’t be sorted out within a few months. As for what might happen after a few months? Heaven knows what the situation will be?