The scorching sun of the diterranean generously spilled over the terrace of a seaside villa along the diterranean Avenue in Tripoli, heating the white railings and floor tiles to a burning temperature.
In the distance, the harbor's faintly visible cannon-fire-charred ruins starkly contrasted with the unrealistically blue waves nearby.
Song Heping sat in a spacious wicker deck chair, wearing loose beach shorts, eyes squinting at the shimring sea. Deep within his gaze, the sharpness that lingered showed that his nerves had never truly relaxed.
Hurried footsteps sounded from inside the villa.
Henry erged from the house and approached him, whispering, "Boss, the Frenchman Shire's convoy entered Marshal Haftar's temporary command post five minutes ago. He brought two assistants, four bodyguards. Quite the entourage."
Song Heping took a large sip of iced water, his gaze still fixed on the distant sea: "Any feedback from Haftar's side?"
"No official news for now. However..."
Henry lowered his voice, "Our people stationed around the command post noticed that one of Shire's assistants 'accidentally' left a coded USB drive in the gap of the lounge sofa while waiting for a eting. We've acquired it, and the tech team is working on decryption. It should be soon."
Song Heping's eyebrows twitched ever so slightly.
Shire was a veteran agent of the French External Security Agency (DGSE), now adorned with the halo of a foreign ministry envoy.
This kind of "accidental oversight" could only be a carefully designed signal delivery.
What did the French want to say?
And what did they want to get?
"Understood. As soon as you crack it, bring it to imdiately."
Song Heping stood up and walked to the edge of the terrace, gripping the still-burning hot railing, looking out towards the city.
Haftar's command post was right in that area of half-destroyed buildings.
Tripoli basked calmly in the sun, but beneath the calm, various forces engaged in a silent struggle.
Shire's arrival was certainly not just for congratulations.
The French have always excelled at seizing benefits amid chaos.
In less than half an hour, Henry returned, handing a tablet to Song Heping.
On the screen were scanned copies of several decrypted docunts, labeled with the highest confidentiality level in French.
The contents of so docunts made Song Heping's eyes instantly turn ice-cold.
One was the core points of a statent draft prepared by the U.S. State Departnt for the African Union summit.
The wording was extrely severe, directly characterizing Song Heping as the "head of a terrorist rcenary group causing mass bloodshed and chaos on the African continent," accusing him and his "Musician" defense of committing "war cris" in places like Sawinu.
It called for comprehensive sanctions against Song Heping from all African Union mber countries, including asset freezes, travel bans, and extradition.
The docunt's end listed potential "counterasures" the U.S. might take against non-cooperative countries: from trade restrictions and financial sanctions to "security control" (aka blockade) of key ports and channels.
Another was a top-secret morandum submitted by the CIA's Operations Directorate (DO) to the White House National Security Council, codenad "Scavenger Operation" outline.
The core strategy was clear: by utilizing African Union sanctions and diplomatic isolation, cut off all of Song Heping's protection networks in Africa, force him off the African continent, and ultimately eliminate him in a "more suitable environnt."
The morandum particularly noted steps to pressure Haftar and key points to request cooperation from England and France.
Vincent's na was prominently listed.
The last docunt was the most weighty.
This was a joint assessnt report, spearheaded by the U.S. Director of National Intelligence Office (ODNI) and completed in cooperation with the CIA, DIA (Defense Intelligence Agency), and several other organizations, on the threat posed by Song Heping and his organization to regional stability in Africa.
The report went to great lengths in its descriptions, portraying Song Heping as a rcenary with no principles, always prepared to ignite conflicts in neighboring countries, a "regional powder keg," and providing "credible intelligence" that suggested Song Heping "might" have "hidden ties" with extremist organizations in North Africa and the Sahel Region.
This report was clearly intended as a "blockbuster bombshell" for lobbying at the African Union summit.
"Fuck him!"
Even soone as composed as Song Heping couldn't help but curse.
Shaless!
No.
No words can describe the shalessness of the Aricans.
What's called framing?
This goes beyond simple framing.
This is straight-up slander and conviction.
Damn it!
Song Heping's anger flared up again.
He recalled Angel's earlier warnings.
Indeed, the shalessness of Washington politicians sank even lower than he had imagined.
Compared to those old Washington political hacks, he, as a rcenary leader who had killed countless people, seed outright pure like a white lotus!
CIA Director Vincent indeed couldn't swallow this, employing thods more ruthless and insidious than Song Heping expected.
This was no longer a simple military assassination but a political siege aiming to uproot and thoroughly bury him.
Africa, this land he knew well and relied upon for survival, was being woven into a giant noose by Washington.
But impulse and anger wouldn't solve the problem.
Song Heping vaguely felt that this ti, the difficulties he faced were more nurous, greater, and more complex than he'd ever encountered before.
Any carelessness would lead to his ruin.
Sotis, political ans are far more ruthless and effective than military ones.
He put down the tablet, his fingertips subconsciously tapping on the hot railing, creating a dull thudding sound, like the beat of war drums before a battlefield mobilization.
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