Inside the locked detention cell, Moreno banged on the bars and roared at those outside.
"I’m Ecuadorian! I’m a registered professional referee with FIFA! You have no authority to arrest me!"
"Hey! I told you, you have no right to arrest me!"
"I demand to contact my embassy! I’m going to file a complaint against you all!"
Moreno kept roaring, but no one paid him any mind.
In the hallway outside the detention cells, Lee Yong-sun, the head of the Daejeon Metropolitan City Police Agency, was in discussion with Derek Xiao.
"Detective Xiao, this is highly irregular. Even with a notice for a joint investigation, you must provide us with a reason. Otherwise, this violates proper procedure," Lee Yong-sun argued firmly.
A little over an hour ago, the FBI had produced a notice for a joint investigation and had the local Daejeon police arrest Moreno at his hotel.
On the surface, the procedure was sound. The FBI was investigating a case, and the South Korean police were obligated to cooperate.
But upon closer inspection, there were many issues. For instance, the FBI had not specified what law Moreno had allegedly broken or what kind of investigation he was subject to.
Derek Xiao gave a slight smile, patting Lee Yong-sun on the shoulder. "Lee, don’t worry," he said with a grin. "As for the procedural details, I’ll explain everything to you later."
’Explain? Yeah, right,’ Lee Yong-sun fumed internally. ’God only knows when you’ll get around to explaining anything.’
Recalling a phone call he’d received earlier, Lee Yong-sun gritted his teeth. "Detective Xiao, without a reasonable justification, we cannot detain a foreign national without cause. That means you have 24 hours, at most. Otherwise, we will release him immediately."
Derek Xiao just kept smiling, as if he hadn’t heard a single word Lee Yong-sun had said.
Just then, two men approached from down the hall.
A South Korean police officer was escorting a man in plainclothes with thinning hair.
"Kevin!" Derek Xiao grinned and went to meet him, giving the man a hug.
The escorting officer immediately came to Lee Yong-sun’s side and whispered, "Director, he’s from the CIA."
Lee Yong-sun froze. ’It’s just a soccer match, for crying out loud!’ he screamed internally. ’Is it really that serious? They even got the CIA involved?’
The man politely flashed his credentials.
Lee Yong-sun took one look and committed the name to memory: Kevin Baker.
The man dispensed with the pleasantries, handing a file directly to Lee Yong-sun. "We need your assistance. Please coordinate with our agent to bring Zheng Mengjun in for questioning."
Lee Yong-sun took the file and glanced at it, his hand trembling.
It was a joint investigation order issued by the South Korean National Intelligence Service.
’Have they gone mad!’
This was the first thought that popped into Lee Yong-sun’s head. ’I know the CIA is powerful, and you Americans meddle in everything all over the world, but it’s just a soccer game! Was it really necessary to get the CIA and the National Intelligence Service involved?’
But the document stated in no uncertain terms that they were to cooperate with the CIA to bring in Zheng Mengjun for questioning.
"Is there a problem?" Kevin Baker asked with a pleasant smile.
Lee Yong-sun shuddered and quickly shook his head. "I’ll make the arrangements right away."
Kevin Baker nodded and gave Lee Yong-sun a contact number for one of their agents. He told Lee Yong-sun to coordinate with the agent on the operation to make sure Zheng Mengjun didn’t flee.
Lee Yong-sun laughed bitterly to himself. ’This is South Korea. Where could Zheng Mengjun possibly run?’
「In the hotel.」
After hanging up, Zheng Mengjun quickly made several more calls, his expression grim.
Across from him, Jin Xiaozhong knew things had gotten serious. With fine beads of sweat forming on his forehead, he began to analyze the situation. "Chairman, I don’t think you need to be overly concerned. First, it’s debatable whether the FBI can even legally operate in South Korea. And even if they can, what could they possibly investigate?"
"The business with FIFA? They’d have to go through the authorities in Switzerland to investigate that, and I imagine that won’t be easy. As for Moreno, I’m sure he won’t reveal anything, for his own safety. The FBI has no evidence, and they can’t hold a foreign national indefinitely."
Corruption within FIFA was hardly news.
Starting last year, the bankruptcy of the International Swimming League, the suspension of the FIFA Club World Cup, the International Players’ Union suing FIFA, and French Television’s exposé on FIFA’s extravagant spending had already triggered a wave of media accusations about corruption within the organization.
And early this year, during the campaign for the FIFA presidency, Hayatou had joined forces with Blatter’s assistant, Rufinam, to expose the organization’s rampant corruption and resulting financial deficit.
If Zheng Mengjun hadn’t switched his allegiance at the last minute, Blatter would never have become the president of FIFA.
Jin Xiaozhong’s analysis was logical and well-reasoned, but Zheng Mengjun grew furious just listening to it, resisting the urge to give him a swift kick.
’If it weren’t for you talking me into it, would any of this crap be happening?’ he thought.
But what was done was done. After carefully thinking it over, Zheng Mengjun concluded that the problem probably wasn’t that big.
The Americans had always been unreasonable, but he felt they wouldn’t go to such great lengths over a matter of sports.
Besides, it wasn’t as if all the money he’d spent had been for nothing.
"Let’s go. We’re returning to Seoul."
Zheng Mengjun stood up. Although he felt it was probably nothing, he still needed to hurry back and pull some strings to smooth things over.
Jin Xiaozhong nodded. He was terrified now, afraid that Zheng Mengjun would throw him under the bus to save himself.
After packing their bags, the two were just about to head out when there was a sudden knock at the door.
Zheng Mengjun’s heart skipped a beat.
"Chairman Zheng Mengjun, please open the door. We’re the police," a voice called from outside.
Jin Xiaozhong was thrown into a panic, not expecting the police to arrive so quickly.
He looked at Zheng Mengjun, his eyes pleading for instructions.
With the police at the door, Zheng Mengjun, contrary to expectations, calmed down. ’This is South Korea,’ he thought. ’No matter how powerful those Americans are, they still have to maintain some semblance of propriety, right?’
’I’m not just some nobody. Are those Americans really going to make me disappear without a sound over a soccer match?’
"Open the door!"
Zheng Mengjun took a deep breath and calmly sat back down.
Jin Xiaozhong gritted his teeth and opened the door.
The police entered.
"Chairman Zheng Mengjun, here is the relevant paperwork. Please come with us to the police station to assist with an investigation," the lead officer said, stepping forward and presenting a document.
Zheng Mengjun took it casually, planning to seize the initiative by berating them and demanding to know what grounds they had for this investigation. But then he noticed the document in his hand was from the National Intelligence Service.
His scalp instantly went numb, and a wave of dread washed over him.
’Have they gone mad? How in the world did the National Intelligence Service get involved?’
’All I did was fix one soccer match!’
"What is the meaning of this?" Zheng Mengjun asked, a hint of panic in his voice.
The lead officer offered no explanation, simply insisting that Zheng Mengjun cooperate.
Zheng Mengjun’s expression shifted rapidly. For a moment, he considered playing the rogue. ’I won’t cooperate. What can you do to me?’
But this was the National Intelligence Service!
After a fierce internal struggle, Zheng Mengjun obediently got to his feet.
Jin Xiaozhong, equally terrified, tried to subtly back away and slip out, but an officer immediately restrained him.
The group headed downstairs.
Zheng Mengjun’s mind was in turmoil, but he kept trying to reassure himself. ’It should be fine. If it were truly serious, they wouldn’t still be using honorifics, and I’d already be in handcuffs.’
Just as the group stepped out of the building, the night was suddenly split by camera flashes from the side.
Zheng Mengjun instinctively covered his face and turned to see several Western reporters snapping photos of him relentlessly.
He shot a look at the lead officer, his face turning pale with fury. ’You bastards,’ he thought. ’Why would you let reporters be here? A picture of me being taken away by the police... the blow to my reputation will be devastating.’
Just then, Zheng Mengjun looked up and saw an unfamiliar white man leaning against a police car outside the hotel.
He was in plainclothes but had the look of someone you didn’t want to cross.
The lead officer even went over to report to him.
"Alright, take him away," the white man said with a wave of his hand.
Zheng Mengjun seethed with a silent, burning hatred. ’Americans, just as I thought.’
By the time they arrived at the police station, the sky was already growing light. Zheng Mengjun was quickly led to an interrogation room. Just as he was plotting how to handle the situation, the door opened, and two white men walked in.
Zheng Mengjun’s heart sank. He immediately said, "Gentlemen, I am a citizen of South Korea. I will only cooperate with an investigation conducted by the South Korean police."
The subtext was clear: You Americans have no jurisdiction over me.
The two were none other than Derek Xiao and Kevin Baker.
Kevin Baker chuckled, completely ignoring Zheng Mengjun’s protest. "Zheng Mengjun, isn’t it true that last October, during the United States Soccer Federation’s inspection tour of South Korea, you bribed the United States National Team’s physician, Dr. Chen Yu?"
Zheng Mengjun glanced around, noticed the camera wasn’t on, and cursed inwardly before saying with forced composure, "Sir, I don’t know who you are, but what you are saying is untrue. First of all, it wasn’t a bribe. It was a normal social courtesy."
On the way over, Zheng Mengjun had thought it through carefully.
Chen Yu was a witness, and when he left, he had publicly revealed the contents of the gift bag in front of numerous reporters at the airport, implicitly pointing a finger at him. With so many involved parties, including Li Hyori and Jin Xiaozhong, it wouldn’t be easy to conceal the matter entirely.
But he could frame it as a normal gesture of goodwill. ’I thought Dr. Chen was a handsome, impressive man, so what’s wrong with giving him a little money as a gift?’
"Most importantly, I don’t accept your characterization of this as bribery. He is an American, and I am a South Korean. Our exchange of courtesies does not violate the laws of my country. I know you’re going to bring up the Foreign Corrupt Practices Act, but he is just the doctor for the United States Team, and the United States Soccer Federation is not an official government agency. Therefore, I believe that law is not applicable in this situation."
The United States had enacted the Foreign Corrupt Practices Act back in 1977. Initially, it was intended to regulate its own citizens, but it was later amended to expand its influence, giving the U.S. jurisdiction over any case involving Americans or with a connection to U.S. territory.
But the United States Soccer Federation, just like FIFA, is a non-governmental organization. Therefore, Zheng Mengjun believed the law didn’t apply, and the FBI had no jurisdiction.
"You really know your law, don’t you?" Kevin Baker said with a mocking chuckle.
Zheng Mengjun snorted. "I am stating the facts," he said sternly. "I am the vice president of FIFA, the president of the Korea Football Association, and a member of the National Assembly. I am a man of prestige and status. This reckless investigation of yours has severely damaged my reputation, and I must protest."
Kevin Baker just shrugged nonchalantly. "You certainly have a lot of titles. In that case, are you also aware that, in addition to being the physician for the United States National Team, Dr. Chen is also the personal medical advisor to our President?"
"What?"
Zheng Mengjun froze completely.
Kevin Baker’s smile vanished, his tone turning severe. "Zheng Mengjun, before I ask this next question, I suggest you think very carefully before answering. I’m asking you: why did you bribe our president’s medical advisor? Were you acting under instructions from some organization in an attempt to assassinate our president?"
Zheng Mengjun’s mouth slowly fell open, his mind a complete blank.
’The president’s medical advisor... and a plot to assassinate him?’
’Who? Are they talking about me?’
’Slander! This is fucking slander!’
When Zheng Mengjun finally processed the words, he nearly pissed himself in terror.
Compared to plotting to assassinate a president, fixing a soccer match was less than nothing.

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