Chapter 1150 - 1025: The Deputy Station Chief's "Romantic Encounter" (Part 2)

Terry glanced at the number and his furrowed brow unexpectedly relaxed a bit, even pulling up the corners of his mouth slightly.

He answered the phone, his voice thick with fatigue, but his tone noticeably lighter, "Hey, Aziz, my old friend."

A warm and exuberant voice came through on the other end, speaking quickly and energetically, "Terry! My dear friend! Allah bless, I finally got through! I heard you've been busy at the port these days like a spinning top? How's it going, are you done yet?"

"Just finished."

Terry rubbed his swollen temples and said with a bitter smile, "I feel like I'm about to be sun-dried."

"Hahaha!"

Aziz laughed heartily on the other end, "Well done, well done! The great United States needs a warrior like you! But a warrior also needs reward and relaxation! You must come out tonight! Our usual spot, the 'Broom Club', to celebrate you! Wash off that sweat smell! I got my hands on a few bottles of that Macallan you've been raving about, and... some real 'scenery' to make you forget your fatigue!"

Aziz's voice was filled with suggestive temptation.

Terry hesitated for a moment.

Professional caution kept him from agreeing immediately.

But his body was crying out for rest and indulgence.

The mission was completed, the tension suddenly relaxed, and immense exhaustion surged in.

Aziz Khalid was a long-term local contact and "friend" he cultivated, an oil trader with influence on both sides of the law in Kuwait, and an important channel for gaining unofficial intelligence and enjoying luxurious lifestyle.

Maintaining this "friendship" was, to some extent, part of his job.

Moreover, Aziz always found ways to provide him with the finest enjoyment.

"Alright, Aziz." Terry's voice carried a hint of anticipation, "You've convinced me. Give me two hours, I need to go shower and change clothes."

"Fantastic! Waiting for you, my brother! Tonight, let us enjoy like kings!" Aziz's voice was full of victorious joy.

8 p.m.

By the time Terry's taxi halted in front of the inconspicuous, thick teak door embedded in old stone walls at the "Broom Club", the night was deep.

The bustling neon of Kuwait City was shut off outside, here, only a simply-shaped bronze lamp above the lintel cast a dim glow.

Two guards wearing tailored, sleek Arabic traditional attire silently swung open the door.

Behind the door was a luxurious world instantly detaching people from reality.

The enormous atrium came into view, its top a glass dome embedded with countless small lights like a dazzling galaxy.

Underfoot was velvety soft Persian handmade carpet with dizzying complex patterns so thick it nearly swallowed the ankles. The air was filled with a strange mix of scents—costly oud, freshly picked rose petals, roasted coffee beans' rich aroma, and a hint of exotic perfume teasing the senses.

At the center of the atrium was an awe-inspiring fountain shaped like a golden date palm, its gold leaves shimmering under gentle lights, clear streams gushing from its "tips" and "fruits", cascading into a pool lined with gemstones below, producing a pleasing tinkling sound.

Elegantly dressed, sophisticated or mysterious guests gathered in small groups around comfortable velvet sofas or low Arabic-style seats, whispering in laughter.

Waiters flitted around like shadows, the crystal glasses on their trays refracting dreamy light.

There was no noisy music here, only a veiled female musician playing a delicate tune on an oud in the corner, the melody flowing like silk through the opulent air.

"Terry! My brother! Welcome to Heaven!"

Aziz Khalid's enthusiastic voice reverberated.

He himself was of medium height, slightly plump, donning a deceptively simple, yet expensive custom-made white fine linen robe, with a modest Patek Philippe on his wrist.

He opened his arms, welcoming Terry with a firm hug, his chubby face adorned with a "sincere" smile.

"Aziz, every time I come here feels different."

Terry gazed around, genuinely admiring, the unending fatigue seemed to be somewhat dissipated by the supreme luxury before him.

"Allah is too generous to you all, oil has brought you wealth."

"Allah is generous to friends just the same!"

Aziz laughed heartily, affectionately wrapping Terry's shoulder, guiding him through the atrium, deeper inside, "Come, the private room is ready. Tonight, it's only for us, and true happiness!"

They passed through a thick wooden door inlaid with ivory and malachite respectfully opened by two waiters into a more intimate private room.

The level of luxury here was second to none. The walls were covered in deep blue velvet embroidered with intricate star patterns in gold thread.

A low purple sandalwood table inlaid with mother-of-pearl and ivory occupied the center, already laid out with mouthwatering delicacies: a whole roast lamb, crispy and golden, exuding the fragrance of saffron and cinnamon, saffron rice piled like mountains, mixed with pine nuts and raisins, fruit so fresh it seemed still dew-laden, and crystal containers filled with colorful Arabic sweets.

More eye-catching were the array of wines.