Langley, CIA Headquarters.
The heavy oak door shut out the noise from the corridor.
The air conditioning in Director Vincent's office was set to a high level, filling the air with a unique scent of high-end leather, cigar tobacco, and power.
He had just ended a phone conference with a senior official from the Ministry of Defense regarding the final deploynt point for the Marlin Fish cargo, his mood relatively calm.
The assistant silently pushed the door open and placed a thin folder marked "Top Sensitivity/Source Reliable" on his wide mahogany desk, then exited as quietly as he entered.
Vincent frowned, picked up the folder, and opened it. Inside was only a single sheet of paper, its content brutally concise.
The title was extraordinarily striking: [Persian Gulf Ergency Intelligence - One Billion Dollar Bounty]
Target, location, reward, requirents... each word felt like a red-hot iron, causing Vincent's pupils to contract sharply.
"One billion..."
He almost involuntarily muttered it under his breath.
A surge of fury mixed with an almost absurd sense of emotion rushed to his head, causing the muscles in his cheeks to twitch uncontrollably.
He stood up abruptly.
"Bang!"
The thin intelligence report was slamd onto the smooth desk by Vincent with a dull thud.
The folder popped open and the paper slipped out.
"Song Heping!"
Vincent spat the na through gritted teeth, cold anger burning in his eyes, "It must be this lunatic! Who else would have such a hand, such... pure madness! One billion US dollars? Bounty on a US military ship?! Does he think he's playing so pirate ga?!"
He braced his hands on the edge of the table, leaning slightly forward, his chest heaving with anger.
He stared intently at the bounty notice on the table as if trying to penetrate the paper to see the opponent who was thousands of miles away.
The sense of absurdity surged again, even diluting a bit of the anger.
Vincent let out a short, sardonic chuckle.
"What a rotten idea!"
He shook his head, his tone filled with the utmost contempt of a superior for the ignorant, "Does a notorious rcenary leader think that by throwing out a billion US dollars, he can turn those rabble in the Middle East into heavenly soldiers? That he can shake the US transport ship? It's simply a Arabian tale!"
He straightened up and adjusted his ticulously neat tie, attempting to regain his usual calmness and sense of control.
That bounty notice, like a stained rag, was disdainfully pinched by the corner with two fingers.
"Notify the Navy to strengthen the escort. Tell the captain to be vigilant, but no need to be overly tense."
His voice returned to its usual steady tone, with an indisputable command, "As for this thing..."
He picked up the docunt, shook the paper, the cold smile at the corner of his mouth as sharp as a blade.
"Just a bunch of flies driven mad by greed."
Vincent's gaze was like looking at sothing insignificant and filthy.
"Just swat them."
Then with a swing of his hand, the bounty notice marked "One billion" was tossed onto the broad mahogany desk like discarded trash by Director Vincent.
One billion US dollars?
Bounty on the US military supply ship?
The cold smile lingering on Vincent's lips was as sharp as a blade.
Did that madman Song Heping think that by throwing money, he could incite a rabble to shake the mariti behemoth?
Utterly absurd.
He adjusted his tie and turned his attention to more important affairs—the final deploynt point for those "special cargo" on the Marlin Fish.
Outside the window, a few heavy clouds silently moved in, casting rapidly expanding shadows behind him.
...
That evening.
Arabian Sea, the night was just beginning to set.
The massive gray hull of the Marlin Fish plowed through the deep blue sea, its engines emitting a low and steady rumble.
In the bridge, Captain Jackson stared intently at the radar screen, where the clustered dots were suffocating.
On the deck, security team mbers wearing bulletproof vests relied on hastily stacked sandbag fortifications, their fingers tightly around the trigger guard of the Browning M2HB heavy machine gun, cold sweat running down their temples.
The sea breeze carried the scent of salt and a faint hint of diesel fuel, unable to dispel the tension filling the air.
"Two kiloters away! Port side! Number... God, at least twenty!"
The lookout's voice carried a subtle tremor, piercing everyone's eardrums through the intercom.
On the horizon, those ghostly little black dots that had been trailing them all day suddenly accelerated, the engine's screech tearing through the evening calm like a pack of sharks catching the scent of blood.
They were small and fast, leaping and weaving through the waves with unbelievable agility.
The pirates at the bow brandished worn AK-47s or RPG launchers, letting out beastly howls, their ferocious faces indistinct in the dusk, with only greed and madness clearly visible.
"Open fire! Warning shots!" Captain Jackson shouted into the communicator, his voice overpowering the growing engine noise.
"Ratatatat——!"
"Bang bang bang——!"
The roar of the heavy machine gun erupted instantly, dull and booming, the long tongues of fla glaringly bright in the darkening sky.
The 12.7mm armor-piercing rounds tore through the air, raising dense columns of water around the leading pirate speedboats, like a boiling white fence.
The bow of one speedboat exploded into splinters and fire, skewing and losing propulsion, spinning on the sea surface.
A pirate on another boat scread as he plunged into the ocean.
But this feeble strike did not scare off the desperadoes; it was like pouring oil on the fire.
"Charge! One billion dollars is right ahead!"
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