"The operation in Siria is a testant to your capabilities. The removal of the long-standing threat of Song Heping has extracted a deeply embedded stinger for us, as well as for our allies."
He leaned slightly forward, his gaze intense: "After careful consideration, and with the necessary approvals obtained, I have decided for you to take over as the Deputy Director of the Central Intelligence Agency. Effective imdiately."
"Boom——"
Simon felt a scorching surge rush to his head, imnse joy sweeping over him like the impact of an explosion!
His heart pounded violently in his chest, almost shattering his ribs!
Deputy Director!
The No. 2 of the CIA!
The pinnacle of power within reach!
He had poured countless efforts into dancing on the knife's edge, navigating the gray areas, all for this very mont!
He could even feel his fingertips trembling slightly with excitent.
He suddenly stood up, swiftly knocking the back of the chair, his face lit with an incredulous brilliance mixed with imnse excitent and relief.
"Director! I…I…"
His voice trembled slightly, montarily at a loss for words to express his overwhelming joy and gratitude.
"I…thank you for your trust! Thank you for your recognition! I promise you, I will give my all and not disappoint! I will dedicate everything for our country!"
He stood straight, like a soldier receiving a dal, his eyes burning with unlimited dreams and a desire to conquer the future.
Vincent observed the unabashed excitent on his face, a barely noticeable curve forming at his lips, as if admiring a tool freshly polished and ready for use.
"Very well, Simon. I look forward to your upcoming performance."
He nodded slightly: "The appointnt notice will be sent to all departntal heads today. Now, go and start your new job."
"Yes! Director!"
Simon's voice was vibrant and powerful.
He suppressed the almost overflowing joy, bowed respectfully, and then turned, his steps carrying an unprecedented lightness and strength towards the door symbolizing his ascent to power.
"Wait."
Vincent's voice suddenly ca from behind him.
Simon was startled, his smile vanishing instantly.
Was there an unexpected turn?
A terrifying thought crossed his mind.
"Director, is there anything else you need?"
He turned around, carefully inquiring.
"Nothing major, just letting you know to pack up your things when you get back and move into Pence's forr office."
"Alright…"
Simon breathed a sigh of relief and walked once more towards the Director's office door.
The door closed silently behind him, sealing off the smoky atmosphere of the office and Vincent's once again inscrutable gray eyes.
The bright lights in the hallway were a bit glaring.
Simon walked briskly, unable to suppress the upward curve of his lips, feeling like each step was taken on a cloud.
Deputy Director!
The title echoed in his mind, bringing waves of dizzying pleasure.
He almost wanted to pull out his phone imdiately to share the trendous news with…
The thought had just erged when it felt as if a bucket of ice water was poured over him!
Song Heping!
The surging wave of joy receded instantly, leaving a cold, wet beach of fear.
His heart felt like it was being tightly clenched by an invisible hand, suddenly constricting, almost stopping!
The composure he faked in front of the Director shattered instantly, a thin cold sweat seeping from his forehead and back.
Five percent!
Yes, that damned five percent survival rate.
The Ghost!
Was he really dead?
He nearly ran back to his spacious office at the end of the corridor, locking the solid wood door with a "click" behind him.
Sealing off everything outside, he also isolated his suddenly explosive panic.
The vast joy vanished, leaving only the bone-chilling fear flowing through his veins.
Once assured of absolute safety, he took out the special satellite phone from his pocket, his finger hovering over the keypad, trembling violently, as if the small buttons were red-hot irons.
He closed his eyes, forcing himself to recall the number that was deeply ingrained yet hoped to be forgotten forever, pressing it one number at a ti.
The last ti he dialed this number was the day after the Siria operation had just concluded, a few days ago.
As the final digit was pressed, he held his breath, his thumb hovering over the green call button.
Sunshine stread through the blinds, slicing sharp light streaks across the cold tal casing of the satellite phone, illuminating his face pale as paper, covered in fine sweat beads.
Ti seed to freeze.
One second… two seconds…
He pressed down suddenly!
"Beep——beep——beep——"
The monotonous, prolonged, cold busy tone was like a rusted saw, back and forth on Simon's tensed nerves.
Each "beep" felt like a heavy hamr, smashing into his chest.
He gripped the phone tightly, as if he wanted to crush the cold machine.
"Don't connect... don't connect..."
He kept murmuring in his mind.
The busy tone continued rcilessly.
Just as Simon was about to be driven insane by this waiting torture, the busy tone suddenly stopped!
Simon's heart leaped to his throat!
Did it connect?!
But the next second, a cold electronic synthesized female voice penetrated through the receiver, reaching his eardrums:
"The number you have dialed is currently not in service. Please try your call again later."
English: The number you have dialed is currently not in service. Please try your call again later.
"The number you have dialed is currently not in service. Please try your call again later..."
French: Le numéro que vous avez composé n'est pas attribué…
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