Chapter 11 The Most Beautiful Sweet Wine, Addicted at First Try

Late at night, the lights in the Paris Police Department remained on.

Hank Clegg stood by the slatted window of his office, extended his slender fingers, gently pushed aside the slats, and looked out at the sleeping world through the small gap.

The play of light and shadow on his face didn't reveal the hidden emotions in his deep eyes.

Seven years.

He silently recited to himself...

Seven years... Victoria Talkington, how are you in that "world"?

The disappearance of the plane seven years ago had been definitively identified as a terrorist attack.

The wreckage and debris of the plane were recovered in a very short time, and the black box revealed the last truth about the plane just before it crashed.

However, there was no information about Victoria Talkington.

Hank Clegg quickly took the initiative and personally destroyed the organization behind the attack.

But even by decapitating the enemy with his own hands, he couldn't calm the undercurrents swirling in his heart.

Because, once someone is gone, they can never return.

Hank Clegg spent seven full years forcing himself to accept this fact.

He forced himself to face the reality - Victoria Talkington was no more.

The girl who had looked up proudly, told him "you won't regret it," has disappeared forever into the vast sky.

However, every time night fell, every time the whole world fell silent, her smile and her voice would still break into his fortified mind.

He would inevitably recall the sensation of her nestling in his chest.

He would recall how her skin felt under his fingertips, smooth as cream.

Her freshly matured body was the most wonderful sweet wine, intoxicating after just one taste, unforgettable for a lifetime.

He longed for her to once again, as she had done so unclearly, break into his world, clutch his arm, wrinkle her cute eyebrows and say to him: please save me.

If there was another chance.

He wouldn't hesitate and refuse as he did before, he would immediately embrace her tightly, melting her with his own flames.

"Mr. Clegg, the information you requested has been fully extracted. Would you like to conduct a detailed screening tomorrow, or..." The policewoman's voice interrupted Hank Clegg's thoughts.

Hank Clegg turned around, hiding the waves in his eyes.

Covering his eyes with a layer of cold color, he said, "Now."

For Hank Clegg in work mode, rest was non-existent.

The policewoman followed his strong stride, diligently saying, "As per your requirements, we have locked the target group. Each child's file has also been brought up, so..."

Before she could finish her sentence, Hank Clegg had left her far behind.

He never once looked at her.

The policewoman stopped, sighed, and then quickly followed him again.

Hank Clegg was a legend.

A legend symbolizes both beautiful fantasies and cruel truths.

His indifference to women was already a praise.

After a brief day of contact, the policewoman thought that Hank Clegg wasn't just indifferent to women, he seemed indifferent to everyone.

On the large screen in the conference hall, the files of all the suspected targets were neatly arranged.

Hank Clegg sat down and the officer in charge started to explain with his microphone on.

"Take the median value, starting from age six, then age seven." Hank Clegg commanded.

A recent picture of a child immediately appeared on the big screen.

"Jeremy Miller, male, six years old, lives in the 11th District, in first grade, excels at running and climbing, parents are climbing enthusiasts..."

"Louis Cardenas, male, six years old, lives in the 10th District, raised by a single mother, father is a habitual pickpocket..."

...

Hank Clegg looked at the screen expressionlessly. When the officer started to explain about the children who were seven years old, he seemingly casually raised his hand, "Wait, why isn't there any information on girls?"

The officer hurriedly explained, "According to normal physical development, a six-year-old girl wouldn't likely have the strength to crawl through the ventilation duct..."

"Screen all six-year-old girls." Hank Clegg said coldly, cutting off the officer.

There was a brief silence in the conference hall.

However, the operator was already doing as he was told.

Hank Clegg's words were the law, if you disobey, just a glance alone from his piercing eyes would be enough to freeze you.

With a swish, the image of an angel-like little girl appeared on the big screen...

Hank Clegg's usually indifferent pupils suddenly contracted, and he instantly sat up straight, "This is..."

"I'm sorry," The operator had already turned off the photo and quickly apologized, "I accidentally put up removed children. I'll correct it immediately..."

"Wait!" Hank Clegg had already stood up, "The girl just now, I want her information!"

Everyone looked at Hank Clegg with incredulous expressions.

Since picking him up at the airport yesterday, this genius from the Special Forces with an international reputation maintained his stoic expression, never showing anything other than coldness.

Yet now his face subtly burned with a barely visible flame. His eyes, even as he tried hard to maintain his calm, betrayed his wildly fluctuating emotions.

Hank Clegg took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.

He said again with a steady voice, "The girl just now, show her again."

The operator clicked back.

The angelic little girl appeared on the screen again.

Looking at her eyes, dark and pure as a doe's, Hank Clegg felt as if he had been hit by something heavy in his heart.

It's been seven years…

In those seven years, it was such a pair of similar eyes that haunted him on countless nights.

The officer explained, "Mateo Talkington, female, six years old, Asian, studying in District 13 elementary school, first grade."

He shook his head, "She's average in academics, but she fails physical education. Her physical strength is extremely poor. She even fainted once during a short run."

A girl like her won't be able to pull off art theft.

Hank Clegg didn't hear the officer's implied subtext. He simply murmured, "Talkington… her surname is Talkington..."

Everyone looked at the utterly bewildered Captain Clegg, then back at the photo of the girl on the screen.

Surely they can't be thinking that this incredibly adorable little girl could be connected with the recent Louvre theft?

Hank Clegg's eyes were nearly out of control, he asked the officer, "Who's her mother?"

The operator hurriedly searched through the files. After a while, he responded, "The siblings are both orphans, adopted by a couple named Benjamin."

"Siblings?" Hank Clegg was slightly taken aback.

"Yes, they're twins. The sister is called Mateo Talkington and the brother is..." As the operator put up the photo of the little boy, he stopped speaking, "Benjamin Talkington."

When he said this, he paused and turned to look at Hank Clegg, along with everyone else. They were all utterly shocked...

The boy on the screen, his delicate eyebrows and high nose... was a younger version of Hank Clegg!