Chapter 105: The Great Genius

Not long after, Coulson found himself once again on the now strangely familiar, grimy and rundown street—Ingram Street.

He slowed his car as he approached the entrance of Dr. Zhong’s clinic and came to a stop.

The environment here had undergone a complete transformation. The street was spotless, the asphalt looked freshly laid, and there was not a speck of trash to be found along the entire stretch.

Even the deep green trash bins stood three in a row, enormous and pristinely clean, each lined neatly with layers of pitch-black garbage bags.

Such tidiness was rare even in downtown New York, let alone on a small, shabby street like this one.

At first glance, it seemed completely detached from its surroundings; everywhere else remained as dirty and chaotic as if nobody had cleaned for centuries, yet the area in front of Dr. Zhong’s clinic was immaculate, as if a cleaning crew had passed by ten times in a single day.

Seeing such an anomaly, Coulson, ever the agent, instinctively cast a few extra glances.

But he could roughly guess the reason behind it, so he withdrew his gaze and looked into the distance:

Raphael hadn’t arrived yet.

That was normal. Given Raphael’s pace, he probably wouldn’t keep Coulson waiting too long.

But before that... with a bit of free time on his hands, Coulson wanted to do one thing—to test a rather absurd notion lingering in his mind.

He stood in the chill of the early morning breeze for a while, waiting.

When he noticed no movement, he sighed softly and reluctantly dialed a number, holding the phone to his ear.

Beep... beep... beep...

After a good ten rings, the call was finally answered.

“Hello? Who is this?” The voice sounded irritated, clearly woken abruptly from deep sleep and annoyed.

“It’s me, Coulson,” he replied evenly.

At the mention of those three words, a loud clatter followed as if the phone had been dropped.

Then came a hurried, suddenly alert voice: “Agent... Agent Coulson... It’s the middle of the night, is something wrong?”

What’s wrong... you actually ask me that?

Coulson furrowed his brow but quickly relaxed it, saying calmly, “I’m outside Dr. Zhong’s place.”

“Ah!!” The person on the other end gasped, and once again, the phone hit the ground with a noisy crash.

After a moment, the trembling sound of someone picking it up drifted through the line, followed by a resigned reply: “I’m on my way to find you now...”

“Mm,” Coulson acknowledged, then hung up.

The person he had just spoken with was the one and only elite agent the S.H.I.E.L.D. had assigned to monitor Dr. Zhong after pulling most of their operatives out—a lone super-elite, at least according to Nick Fury.

Fury had lamented that such talent was being wasted merely on surveillance...

Now, however, Coulson understood that the boss’s words were not entirely trustworthy. That call had revealed just how capable—or rather incapable—this so-called “elite” really was.

But thinking it over, it was somewhat understandable.

Normally, a 24-hour surveillance shift would require at least two agents to allow for simple rest cycles.

One person alone monitoring round the clock was never a reliable plan.

Coulson also grasped the implication behind Fury’s arrangement:

It meant Dr. Zhong no longer warranted intense surveillance; sending a single “super-elite genius” was just for show.

Coulson had been standing outside Zhong’s door for quite some time, waiting precisely to see how this agent would react.

Combined with the recent phone call, Coulson now fully understood Fury’s stance on Dr. Zhong.

Everything suddenly became much easier to handle.

“Agent... Agent Coulson!”

A portly agent, his belly stretching the seams of his suit, approached with an embarrassed look and greeted Coulson awkwardly.

Looking at this corpulent figure—an alleged “super-elite genius”—Coulson’s suspicions were reaffirmed.

“You monitor your target like this? I’ve been standing here for almost ten minutes and you didn’t react at all?”

But protocol had to be observed, so Coulson rarely lost his composure and sternly questioned the overweight agent.

Noticing Coulson had dropped his trademark gentle smile, the agent turned pale, his chubby cheeks bouncing nervously.

He shook his head, trying to explain himself: “We’re seriously short-staffed, Agent Coulson. I’m human too—I need rest.”

“Besides, I know the target won’t leave tonight, so I dared to take a rare nap.”

Hearing this, Coulson’s expression showed a flicker of interest; he wanted to know on what basis this “super-elite genius” made such a bold assumption.

“Explain your reasoning,” Coulson demanded.

Instantly, the agent glanced nervously around, then leaned in close, his plump face alight with gossip’s fire as he whispered:

“The target’s hosting that stunning nurse tonight. Heh heh, a beauty that gorgeous—any man wouldn’t choose to leave on a night like this.”

A nurse... Coulson thought for a moment and recalled who the agent was referring to.

White stockings, deep red hair... indeed quite beautiful. That was Coulson’s objective appraisal.

Zhong was hosting her overnight?

Tsk tsk... who would have guessed, huh? You, Zhong, with your thick brows and sharp eyes, finally extending your wolf’s claw to the gentle lambs around you?

He had wondered why Zhong suddenly hired a nurse...

Coulson’s inner gossip flame flared, though in open-minded America, such things were not unusual.

It was certainly a consensual arrangement, and Coulson trusted Zhong’s character.

Still, if the agent’s assumption was correct, Zhong likely wouldn’t be going anywhere tonight.

At this thought, Coulson exhaled deeply.

A ridiculous idea had been brewing in his mind since he was in the car earlier.

What if the Scarlet Baron was actually Dr. Zhong?

His suspicion wasn’t baseless. When Agent May went to Moscow, besides S.H.I.E.L.D., only one other person knew about it—Dr. Zhong.

Though compared to the vast number of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, the chance of a mole within S.H.I.E.L.D. was higher.

Yet Zhong remained a suspect.

Of course, such a rash conclusion was unacceptable, and Coulson himself was reluctant to believe it.

Moreover, Zhong always had impeccable alibis for every incident, like the time they heard about the Scarlet Baron in Moscow.

After returning, Coulson checked and found Zhong had stayed home obediently during those days.

There was no way he could have been in Moscow.

He couldn’t have a doppelganger, could he?

Combined with the director’s attitude and the current situation, Coulson had almost fully dismissed Zhong’s suspicion in his mind.

Only with that could he confidently share information about the Scarlet Baron with Zhong for reference.

Still... he thought to himself, I’ll have to investigate personally later.

It wasn’t distrust of Zhong, but rather skepticism toward this so-called super-elite agent...