Trafford's Trading Club

Chapter 969: Lost (5)

The airport had special interrogation rooms.

At this moment, Han Bingjiang had been brought to one of them. Without a doubt, as a suspect, his hands were already handcuffed.

Two SWAT officers stationed at the airport were interrogating Han Bingjiang, with the entire process being recorded by cameras to ensure no improper methods were used.

Han Bingjiang sat with his hands gripping his hair. In just over half an hour, his face had turned slightly pale.

"I’ve said it many times, it really wasn’t me. I was framed."

"Then why were you leaving with the weapon wrapped in clothes?" The interrogator was clearly unconvinced by Han Bingjiang’s explanations.

"I..." Faced with such a question, Han Bingjiang really wanted to slap himself. Why on earth had he done that?

A clever plan gone wrong?

No, it was just an instinctive act of self-preservation... He simply hadn’t expected to run into these airport SWAT officers the moment he left. The timing was so precise it felt like a pre-written script, leaving him no time to react.

"I’ll remain silent," Han Bingjiang suddenly said. "I have the right to hire a lawyer."The two interrogators exchanged a glance. One of them abruptly left the room, returning shortly after with a bag of items.

From the bag, he pulled out a charred cigarette pack and a matchbox, both sealed in transparent evidence bags.

"Are these yours?" the interrogator asked coldly.

"They’re not mine." Han Bingjiang glanced at them and immediately denied it.

But his expression betrayed him—trained interrogators could easily discern the trace of panic in his face.

"We found a cleaning lady," the interrogator continued calmly. "She confirmed she saw you in the smoking room for a long time. Clearly, you’re a smoker. Surely there are cigarette butts you left behind in the smoking room, aren’t there? All we need to do is test the saliva residue on the filters and match it to this cigarette pack. It should be easy to confirm, right?"

Han Bingjiang’s brow twitched. Gritting his teeth, he said, "I’m still keeping silent."

"And the matches? The security checkpoint clearly states that flammable items are not allowed. Why did you bring matches?" The interrogator stared at him intently.

Han Bingjiang turned his head away.

"Because you planned this incident in advance!" the interrogator suddenly shouted. "The cigarettes and matches were your makeshift timer for the Molotov cocktail, weren’t they? You cruelly murdered the victim, didn’t you? And you intended to create chaos with this explosion to escape, didn’t you? Admit it—why did you kill the victim?"

"Rubbish! This is speculation! It’s a setup! I’ll sue you!!" Han Bingjiang was pushed to the edge, his nerves fraying. "I’ve told you many times—I was framed! If I really planned this as you claim, why would I wait until after the explosion to leave? Why wouldn’t I have left earlier? Use your brains!"

"That’s your clever trick!" The interrogator sneered. "You deliberately acted in a way most people wouldn’t, to make it look like you were being framed! Sure, it doesn’t make sense—unless you orchestrated it yourself. What if no one was framing you at all?"

"Damn it!" Han Bingjiang slammed his fists on the table in fury. "You’re blind! I’ve already told you there was someone else besides me—Joan! With so many surveillance cameras in the airport, can’t you check? Where’s the footage?!"

"We’re sorry, but we’ve already reviewed the surveillance footage," the other interrogator said calmly. "We didn’t find anyone fitting your description. In fact, the cameras didn’t even capture footage of you entering the restroom—only you coming out. The Joan you mentioned does exist in the airport, but at the time of the explosion, she was in the security office. Two airport security personnel can testify to this. By your account, you and Joan heard the announcement and headed straight for Security Room 47. So, tell me, how could Joan be in two places at once?"

"Impossible! No way!!" Han Bingjiang stood up in disbelief. In a fit of impulse, he grabbed one interrogator by the collar. "Lies! This is a setup! You’re conspiring against me! I’ll sue you!!"

As Han Bingjiang lost control, two security officers rushed in and pinned him down on the table.

"Lies... it’s all lies... It can’t be real... It’s not real! Lies..."

"See for yourself," the interrogator said, spinning his chair around.

A monitor in the corner of the room displayed surveillance footage of the security office at the relevant time.

The timestamps matched perfectly.

Han Bingjiang stared blankly at the footage. The young couple with Paul, Joan, the foreign man, and the two security guards—it all matched the intel that had brought him to the airport.

"Why... how could this be... Impossible. This is impossible..."

Han Bingjiang struggled desperately. "This is impossible!! The clothes are different! The clothes are different! The Joan I saw wasn’t wearing this outfit; she had a headscarf! They’re not the same! They’re not the same person! Believe me, I’m innocent! Believe me!!"

"Hmph! Han Bingjiang, first you say Joan was with you and framed you, and now you claim the clothes are different, that they’re not the same person. You can’t even keep your story straight!" The interrogator slammed the table. "Confess! Why did you brutally murder the victim? Who was the victim?!"

"It wasn’t me... It really wasn’t me... No..."

Han Bingjiang suddenly closed his eyes and collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

"He seems to have fainted," one SWAT officer said after checking him.

The interrogator frowned, glancing at the room’s camera. Though he suspected Han Bingjiang might be faking it, they couldn’t resort to violence under the current protocols.

"Call a doctor," the interrogator said with a sigh. "We’ll continue once he regains consciousness."

...

Meanwhile, Song Ying and her group were discussing the strange occurrence of two Joans.

"Perhaps they’re twins," Mr. Ah Qi suggested nonchalantly. "Though they look identical, their auras are different. So, they’re likely not the same person."

Because Joan's situation had no impact on the safety of the Song family and fell outside of Ah Qi's responsibilities for this mission, he showed no interest in it.

"Little Ying, stay out of others' business for now," said Old Master Song. "Since a murder has occurred here, it's likely the police will intervene soon. Ah Qi, if possible, make arrangements for us as quickly as you can."

"Rest assured, Master Song," Ah Qi replied. "I will soon escort you back to the hotel. And don't worry—so long as you stay in your rooms, no one will disturb you."

"That's good," Song Tianyou nodded, massaging his shoulders. "Hmm, after such a long day, my old bones are getting tired."

"Grandpa, are you alright?" Song Ying asked as she rushed over to him, her concern for his health momentarily overtaking her curiosity about Joan. She began massaging his shoulders to help ease his discomfort.

Due to concerns about the possible presence of more explosives, all flights from now until the morning were temporarily halted. Airport authorities quickly mobilized staff to manage the stranded passengers.

Shortly afterward, partial security restrictions were lifted, and the Song family was allowed to return to their hotel.

However, after freshening up, Song Ying found herself unable to sleep. Her thoughts returned to the mystery of the two Joans, so she decided to visit Luo Qiu. She knocked on his door for a long time but received no response.

"That deadbeat, is he already asleep?" Song Ying muttered, frowning. Just as she turned to leave in frustration, she saw Song Haoran standing behind her with a mischievous grin.

Song Ying jumped in surprise.

"Little Ying, planning a late-night ambush?" Song Haoran teased.

"Mind your own business... Wait, what? Say that again if you dare, Song Haoran!"

"Shh!" Song Haoran raised a finger to his lips, gesturing for silence, and then casually pulled out a room key card from his sleeve like a magician.

He slid the card into the lock, and the door clicked open.

"How did you...!" Song Ying stared, pointing at him in disbelief.

"I got an extra one when I checked in," he said with a shrug. Smiling mischievously, he opened the door and called out, "Little Luo Qiu, want a bedtime story? Bonus: a beauty to tuck you in!"

"Stop spouting nonsense! And lower your voice! What if you wake him up? How embarrassing would that be!" Song Ying hissed, pulling on Song Haoran's ear in warning.

But as they stepped into the room, they realized it was empty.

The bed was neatly made, showing no signs of being used, and there was no one in the bathroom either. Luo Qiu had clearly left.

...

Joan, dressed in a black trench coat, carefully carried a paper cup of warm water she had filled from a dispenser, making sure not to spill any.

She was in the VIP lounge of an airline terminal, which was currently deserted as most passengers had been relocated to another area.

"Paul, have some water," Joan said softly, handing the cup to Paul and gently touching his face. "Paul, you have to be a good boy, okay? Remember, I'm your mother."

Paul nodded timidly.

"If you're hungry, eat something from here." She gestured to the snacks on the table, provided for lounge members. Paul nodded again, and Joan smiled in relief.

Standing up, she bit her lip and began fidgeting with a jade-green ring on her finger, as if trying to activate it. However, the ring failed to respond, leaving her increasingly anxious.

"Why won't it work..." Joan's frustration deepened as she wiped the ring with her sleeve. "Come on, please work!"

"Not very skilled at using that, are you?" A sudden voice broke the silence in the lounge.

Startled, Joan turned to see Luo Qiu standing calmly behind her.

"Is this the tool you use for transferring between places?" he asked, eyeing the jade-green ring.

"What do you want?" Joan asked warily, stepping back and shielding Paul behind her.

Luo Qiu shook his head. "I don't want anything, especially not from a mother who protects her child so fiercely. I simply came to return something Paul left behind."

He swung the backpack from his shoulder and placed it on the floor. "This is Paul's bag. You left in such a rush earlier that you forgot to take it."

Seeing the backpack, Paul moved forward instinctively, but Joan quickly held him back.

"I’ll take it," she said, rushing to grab the backpack from Luo Qiu before retreating cautiously.

"And I was going to take him back," Luo Qiu added casually. "But things seem to be more complicated than I thought."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Joan replied, her voice tense as she kept her eyes on him. Clutching Paul tightly, she moved toward the exit.

Luo Qiu suddenly asked, "What year is it on your side now?"

Joan froze.

Luo Qiu turned to face her fully. "More specifically, what year is it in the place you originally came from?"

"How do you know that..." Joan's voice trembled as she stared at him in fear.