United States, Virginia, Langley, CIA Headquarters.
The morning sunlight stread through the bullet-proof glass, landing on Director Vincent's broad and tidy mahogany desk, yet it failed to dispel the heavy atmosphere in the room.
Deputy Director Simon Jones sat across from the director, leaning slightly forward, listening to Vincent tapping his knuckles on the map of the Northwest Illigo region spread out on the desk.
"...The airstrike evaluation shows we've dealt a considerable blow to 1515's command nodes and logistics warehouses."
Vincent's voice was steady, carrying his usual authority, "But you know, bombs cannot eradicate ideology or occupy land. We need eyes, more precise target indication."
Simon nodded repeatedly in agreent.
Today, he wore a well-fitted dark gray suit, his expression was one of standard professional focus as he leisurely analyzed: "Our network in the northwest region is activating. But over the past six months, due to 1515's rciless purges and massacres, many old networks were uprooted. Only a few core intelligence networks remain. Rebuilding new infiltrations takes ti, and the risk is extrely high."
"Ti is what we are most lacking."
Vincent picked up his coffee cup but did not drink, his hand suspended in mid-air.
"The White House and the Pentagon want to see rapid results but are unwilling to commit ground troops again. So, the strategy is clear: the Air Force will maintain pressure, while the Illigo Governnt Army and those militias of the 'People's Movent' are responsible for ground advancent and reclaiming lost territory. What we must do is ensure that the Air Force's punches hit vital points and..."
He paused, his gaze drifting to the expansive mountainous regions in the north on the map.
"...The White House requires us to ensure enduring influence there once the situation stabilizes. The Kurds are a good lever; whether in Northern Illigo or Northern Siria, we must strongly support them. Holding onto them is tantamount to driving a stake there that can influence Tehran, Baghdad, and Damascus in the future."
Simon agreed: "The Kurd Ard does indeed have combat power and an inclination for independence, worth long-term investnt. With them, if we want the Middle East in chaos, it can indeed beco chaotic. Rest assured, I will arrange for intelligence and material support to lean towards them, helping them hold their control area in this counteroffensive..."
Knock, knock, knock—
At this mont, the office door was gently knocked.
"Co in."
Vincent responded.
A middle-aged analyst, wearing a suit, glasses, and maintaining a ticulous expression, walked in briskly with a file folder.
He was the head of the intelligence evaluation departnt responsible for Middle East affairs.
"Director, Deputy Director, this is a preliminary evaluation report just completed on an encounter battle in the Dry River Valley area of Northwest Illigo. We believe it needs to be reported imdiately."
The analyst's voice carried a faint trace of urgency.
Vincent raised an eyebrow and accepted the folder, opening it. Simon also glanced over.
The first page of the report contained several enlarged satellite images, showing interlocking positions on either side of a dried riverbed and nurous charred explosion marks.
The textual analysis indicated, based on image interpretation and cross-verification of scattered signal intelligence, that approximately three days ago, a militia organization called "Eligo Liberation Force" successfully ambushed a large armored convoy and its accompanying infantry of 1515 in this location.
The evaluation concluded that 1515 suffered extrely heavy losses, possibly exceeding two thousand, marking their heaviest single tactical defeat within Illigo territory in recent tis.
Vincent's eyes flashed with surprise: "'Liberation Forces'? That small group under Samir? That loose militia organization? Can they wield such combat power?"
He continued turning pages, which included several high-resolution satellite photographs taken shortly after the battle concluded.
The photos captured a small team of people evacuating the battlefield.
One photo had been specially processed, enlarging an individual assisting a wounded person, whose face was sared with camouflage paint yet had a distinctly clear Asian appearance.
The analysis report noted: Through image recognition database comparison, it is highly confident that this person is "Ghost," whom the CIA has been pursuing, Song Heping, forr "Musician" Defense Company boss, involved in multiple incidents contrary to our interests, currently wanted. His location coincides with the activity area of the "Liberation Forces."
"Song Heping?!"
Vincent's voice suddenly rose, filled with incredulous shock.
He abruptly pushed the report towards Simon, "Simon, look at this! How could he be appearing there? And mingling with Samir! Didn't we say he was within Persian territory?"
In truth, sitting opposite, Simon's heart had already surged with waves of astonishnt, but years of intelligence experience had trained him to remain composed even when faced with a crisis.
He picked up the report, carefully examining the pictures and text, his brain rapidly processing.
He must provide a reasonable explanation that can temporarily protect Song Heping.
"Indeed... quite unexpected."
Simon put down the report, speaking with a heavy and cautious tone, "But thinking carefully, it's not entirely impossible. Director, do you rember that before Samir joined the 'Musician', he spent two years at Song Heping's company? I estimate they have a pretty good personal relationship. Song Heping in Africa... caused a lot of trouble, almost with no place to stand. After arriving in Persia, he was assassinated, so he likely sensed the danger, and the situation in Northern Illigo is chaotic, a place where various forces are mixed. Seeking refuge and developnt opportunities with his old friend Samir is entirely logical."
An analyst added from the side, "Deputy Director Simon's analysis makes sense. Moreover, sporadic communications we've intercepted recently show Afan's confidant Naxin frequently contacting the 'Liberation Forces'. Song Heping's return this ti is very likely related to the 'Shia Crescent' strategy driven by the Persians. They may have taken a liking to Song Heping's military capabilities and hope to leverage him to consolidate and strengthen pro-Persian militia forces."
"Shia Crescent..."
Vincent's face turned gloomy, unconsciously tapping his fingers on the table.
"The Persians have extended their hand too far. This Song Heping is an extrely dangerous figure. If he cannot be used, he must be eliminated. Now, he's entangled with the Persians, making him a grave threat."
He lifted his head, a flicker of killing intent in his eyes: "Notify the frontline command to adjust the priority of airstrikes. Since it's confird he's in the area, let's have our drones focus on the 'Liberation Forces' camp. Since the airstrike directive targets all hostile threat objectives, eliminating this trouble in passing is very simple."
Simon's heart sank sharply. The situation he most dreaded had arisen.
He must buy ti.
"Director, I understand your decision." Simon began, speaking in a very pragmatic and professional tone, "However, with just these few satellite images, although the match is very high, we can't be 100% certain it's Song Heping. Image recognition technology isn't foolproof, especially in battle environnts; face paint and dust can cause misjudgnt. If the airstrike target is wrong, not only will we waste ammunition, we might also alert him, making him hide again."
He looked at Vincent, eyes "frank": "I suggest we first activate our intelligence network on the ground, send so agents, or leverage dormant sources to confirm closely on the 'Liberation Forces' camp and its leaders. Once we have concrete evidence proving Song Heping is indeed there, launching a thunderous strike afterward wouldn't be too late. This approach is more secure, ensuring nothing goes awry."
Vincent frowned, clearly finding Simon's caution sowhat annoying, but the Deputy Director's words certainly fit the norms of intelligence work and were hard to refute.
He pondered briefly, finally nodding: "Alright, do as you suggested. Imdiately arrange for agents to make confirmations. But Simon, I want results quickly. Every day this man is alive is a threat."
"Understood, Sir. I will personally follow up." Simon solemnly promised.
After discussing a few more details regarding airstrike target priority and support for the Kurd Ard, the eting concluded.
The analyst and Simon left the director's office successively.
With the door closing behind them, Simon walked briskly along the thick-carpeted corridor towards his office, his exterior calm though internally he was intensely anxious.
He must notify Song Heping at once.
Returning to his secure office, locking the door behind him, Simon swiftly took out a specially encrypted satellite phone, composing a brief ssage:
"The kite is spotted, the wind direction has shifted, beware of high-altitude objects falling. The Hunter is confirming the nest. Leave quickly."
After sending the ssage, he imdiately deleted the sent record, hiding the phone again.
Then he walked to the window, looking out at the lush greenery, yet his mood could not be calm.
"Kite" was the code they had agreed upon for Song Heping, "high-altitude objects falling" referred to an airstrike, "Hunter" represented the CIA, and "nest" was the current location. He hoped Song Heping could understand and have ti to react.
Each ti making such secret contact felt like walking on a tightrope.
Vincent was no fool; any anomaly could trigger an internal investigation.
Simon knew very well that the more he acted, the greater the chances of flaws appearing.
But now, he had no choice.
Song Heping had warned before.
If he died, those secrets would automatically be exposed.
This ti, Simon dared not gamble.
After all, he was now the Deputy Director, and Vincent was already of an age facing retirent issues.
In the next election for Director, based on his performance and relationship with the White House leader, he should be able to get the Director's appointnt.
Before that, he must not make mistakes.
Not a single one!
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