Washington D.C, Langley, CIA Headquarters.
Deputy Director Simon stood outside Director Vincent's heavy oak office door, took a deep breath, adjusted his tie, and tried to make his expression appear shocked, angry, and with a hint of loyalty for "fortunately having discovered it in ti."
He held an encrypted tablet in his hand, containing the intelligence summary and audio analysis report that had exploded on the deep web.
According to the script—a few minutes ago, he had "accidentally discovered" this information and "at the first mont" reported his "major discovery" and "reasonable suspicion" to the Director.
He knocked on the door.
"Co in."
Vincent's deep voice ca through.
Simon pushed the door open and entered.
Vincent sat behind a large desk, with his back facing a massive bulletproof floor-to-ceiling window, offering a full view of the Potomac River outside.
He was playing with an exquisite tal lighter in his hand, his face showing no emotion, only those hawk-like eyes sharply scrutinizing Simon as he walked in.
"Director."
Simon's voice carried the right amount of gravity and a hint of anger, "We have a problem. A major intelligence leak pointing to our 'ally' MI6."
He placed the tablet respectfully in front of Vincent, bringing up the crucial pages and audio clips.
Vincent didn't speak, just listened quietly to the technically processed audio clip.
As Ms. M's distinctive icy tone and Song Heping's signature calm voice intertwined, discussing how to leak false intelligence to mislead the U.S. intelligence agencies and other details...
Vincent's gaze suddenly turned icy cold, as if a Siberian chill had swept through the office.
The lighter in his hand clicked, the lid flipped open, and a ghostly blue fla silently danced.
Simon held his breath, his heart pounding.
He added fuel to the fire, saying, "Director, this is not just betrayal! This proves the British have been using people on our wanted list to undermine our interests in Africa! Song Heping releasing this now is obviously to prevent us from working with the British against him! But this also confirms the British's duplicity! If we still cooperate with them in Sena, wouldn't that be..."
Vincent raised his hand, signaling Simon to stop talking.
The office fell into dead silence, with only the faint hissing sound of the lighter's fla.
After a long while, Vincent slowly spoke, his voice as deep as if it ca from the underground: "I understand. You handled this matter 'very tily.'"
He deliberately emphasized the words "very tily," his gaze slicing through Simon's face like a knife, as if trying to see through his true thoughts.
Simon's back was instantly soaked with cold sweat.
Vincent picked up the internal phone and pressed a button: "Notify the Africa desk and Operations Division, that all direct action support requests involving the Sen Republic, whether from London or anywhere else, are to be frozen. Without my written authorization, not a single bullet is to be sent there. Enhance intelligence gathering on Sena, especially on British movents, I want to know their every move. Furthermore..."
He paused, a hint of cruelty flashing in his eyes, "Contact our 'friends' at the African Union and UN Security Council, it's ti to teach our 'ally' a lesson. Since they like playing with fire in the dark, let's make the fire burn brighter, to illuminate what's hidden under their elegant tuxedos."
Putting down the phone, Vincent looked at the intelligence on the screen again, his fingers tapping lightly on the desk, slow and oppressive.
"Song Heping... what a move, driving a wedge between the tiger and the wolf, diverting disaster eastward."
He murmured coldly, a hint of a frosty curve appearing at the corner of his mouth, "Want us and the British to tear each other apart so you can benefit? Interesting. But do you think this will allow you to sit tight and grow in Sena? Too naive. When you two mad dogs are biting each other to the bitter end..."
He didn't continue, but Simon felt a chill rise from his spine.
Song Heping's sche of sowing discord succeeded, but it also made the more cunning and sinister "Vulture" Director fix his gaze more intently on Sena, a land soon to be drenched in blood and fire.
A temporary obstruction of alliance, exchanged for future, more dangerous covetousness.
London, MI6 Headquarters, "Q" Level, Strategic Intelligence Room.
Just a few hours later, the atmosphere in the strategy room had changed from heavy to the oppressive calm before a storm.
Deputy Director Hammond's face was ashen, staring intently at the screenshots of network pages and an urgent intelligence summary on the tablet in front of him.
On the screen, the post title on the deep web forum was like a red-hot iron branding his eyes—"Cracks in the Alliance: Ms. M's Deal with Terrorist Leader 'Ghost'?"
The attached audio clip icon seed like a demon's mockery.
"SIR!"
The intelligence analysis supervisor's voice carried unprecedented panic, "The ssage... the ssage has leaked! Anonymous posts have appeared at multiple key nodes on the deep web, containing... containing details of so of our secret operations with Song Heping in Africa, along with... an audio clip that's been processed, but clearly points to Ms. M!"
"What?!"
Hammond suddenly stood up, knocking over a bone china coffee cup, as the brown liquid quickly spread over the expensive wool carpet like dirty blood stains.
"Source?! Who did it?! I want it traced imdiately! Use every resource to suppress it! Delete it!"
"The tracking is fully underway, sir! But the opponent's thods are extrely sophisticated, using 'Ghost Protocol' level proxies, making the source hard to pinpoint! Moreover..."
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