Washington D.C., Langley, CIA Headquarters.
It's been three days, and the shock from the disaster at the African Union summit is still ongoing.
Behind the large oak desk, Director Vincent felt as if his eyes were about to shoot fire.
Before him lay the latest assessnt report just delivered from the intelligence departnt.
The bolded title on the cover seared his eyes like a branding iron—"'Musician' Song Heping: Movent Assessnt (Top Priority)".
The conclusion section contained only a few lines, yet each word was piercing:
"...Activated all resources in the Africa Division (including core insiders from Libya, Sudan, and Sena) to implent the highest intensity tracking on target Song Heping. As of now, no reliable intelligence indicates his continued presence on the African continent."
"'X rcenary Group' has completed the superficial takeover of all 'Musician Defense' assets in the aforentioned three countries. Initial monitoring shows no significant movent in the original 'Musician' defense personnel and equipnt sequences within the three countries; they still maintain the original deploynt and operation model. It is inferred that 'Musician's' core forces continue to operate under the 'X' legal facade. There is a high suspicion of coordination between Qin Fei and Song Heping."
"Final destination of target Song Heping: Unconfird. Threat level: High."
"Unconfird?"
Vincent abruptly stopped his pacing, his knuckles rapped heavily on the report, making a dull sound.
"Activated all moles! All signal interception resources! How many days has it been since the African Union summit? And just like that... a living person vanished?"
His voice was not loud, yet it carried a forcibly suppressed raspiness about to explode, as his gaze swept over Deputy Director Simon and intelligence analyst Williams standing in front of the desk.
Simon replied sowhat awkwardly: "Director, we used all resources to conduct high-intensity signal scanning and facial recognition screenings at all major aviation hubs, land routes, and ports in Africa. The ti window covers from a week ago to now, but indeed there are no matching records; it seems he did not leave via regular channels."
The CIA has network backdoors in various countries; many surveillance devices at airports, stations, and docks in African countries have "hooks" ready to extract intelligence when activated.
This is a secret agreent between the CIA and U.S. tech companies, a secret to outsiders but an open secret internally.
"The guy in Haftar's forces whom we bought for a hefty sum knew only that Haftar signed an urgent docunt three days before the summit; his level wasn't high enough to access specific content. Insiders from Sudan and Sena reported the sa—they only knew that 'Musician's' business was transferred to 'X', but had no clue about Song Heping's whereabouts."
"Useless! A bunch of useless people!"
The veins on Vincent's temples were throbbing.
"What about that 'X' rcenary Group? Still haven't dug up Qin Fei's background? Registering in a godforsaken place like Comoros can wash off his East University associations?"
He grabbed another thin dossier on the table.
"Qin Fei."
Williams spoke up: "Public information is limited. He is the de facto controller of Eritrea's well-known rcenary training camp. Over the past few years, more than thirty percent of new rcenaries on the African continent, especially in French-speaking areas, have undergone his camp's 'baptism'. The business scope is extensive, from routine governnt army training, VIP security, to high-risk area ard escorts, and even... assisting the Comoros governnt in quelling serious military coups. Therefore, he has significant influence over the Comoros governnt. Choosing it as the registration location is very smart, avoiding direct oversight by major powers."
Williams paused, seeming to weigh his words: "As for his background... so old friends in Europe have privately hinted at 'deep cooperation' with Qin, but specifics are kept secretive. His actions are cautious and efficient, with a complex background like a tangled web. We've tried infiltrating Eritrea's training camp and 'X's core managent, but it's extrely difficult, and several attempts have cost us precious resources. He and Song Heping are of the sa kind—deep waters, complex backgrounds, hard to define with conventional labels."
Vincent slamd Qin Fei's dossier back on the table: "So, we just sit back and watch as Song Heping preserves all his assets in Libya, Sudan, and Sena right under our noses using the 'X' facade? All those minerals! Those oil contracts! And his network in the Sahel, built over years! All wrapped up in a legal disguise, continuing operations?"
He suddenly turned to Simon.
"Simon! Submit a report to the White House, highlighting their re costic changes! Haftar and the others cutting ties so neatly at the African Union summit? That is outright fraud! Disregard for international rules! Demand that the African Union must continue sanctions until Song Heping's forces are truly expelled!"
Simon raised his eyelids, his murky blue eyes showing no fluctuation.
"Director, submitting this report will certainly please the White House so they can continue wielding the sanction stick. But it is pointless and will backfire."
His voice remained flat but carried an undeniable weight, "Haftar, Sudan, and Sena presented legitimate contracts with governnt seals, complying with international comrcial transfer rules. Black and white, all legal procedures in place. Everyone at the African Union summit saw it. We question the contracts' authenticity? Where's the proof? We suspect Song Heping is still there? Where's the proof? Just based on our intelligence departnt's 'high suspicion'?"
He shook his head slightly: "Without solid evidence, forcibly pushing sanctions will only make the entire African Union feel we are tyrannical and unreasonable, interfering in mber states' internal affairs, and even dictating normal comrcial contracts. The French and British would love to see us humiliated. They would imdiately manipulate the dia to portray this as 'Arica's new colonialism in Africa', 'Washington's irrational actions'. Our expansion plans in Africa, especially the counter-terrorism layout in the Sahel, would instantly fall into a passive position, allies disintegrating. Paying such a strategic price for a currently unfindable Song Heping? Not worth it."
The office fell into dead silence.
Light from outside stread in, reflecting off Vincent's iron-blue face.
Simon's analysis, like a basin of cold water, extinguished the anger ignited by frustration, leaving only the cold reality and a deeper sense of helplessness.
He raised his hand, pressing hard on his throbbing temple.
After a long while, he squeezed out a sentence through clenched teeth, laden with exhaustion and a hint of imperceptible ferocity:
"Alright, Simon, you're right. The White House... let's put it on hold for now."
He lifted his head, his gaze nailed on Williams's face, "Williams! I don't care what thods you use! Mobilize global resources—satellites! Signals! Manpower! Everything! Everything that can be used! Get Song Heping! Alive or dead, I want to see him! Find him! I need to know where the hell he's hiding! Imdiately! Now!"
"Yes, Director!"
Williams responded solemnly, turned, and quickly left.
The heavy office door closed silently, sealing off the world inside and out.
Vincent leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, his eyes vacant.
Song Heping's face, appearing calm and even a bit refined in the intelligence files, lood in his mind like a giant ghostly shadow at this mont.
He felt like a boxer clenching his fists, just about to punch with all his might, only for his opponent to disappear like a phantom into the mist before him.
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