He extrely cunningly and viciously used the 1515, the most insane blade, to execute the most bloody, thorough, and untraceable perfect purge for him!
"Song! He! Ping!"
Vincent almost squeezed these three words out from the depths of his chest, his voice hoarse, filled with unprecedented rage, a deep humiliation after being utterly toyed with, and a chill that reached down to his bones.
He felt like a clumsy chess player who had been completely seen through by the opponent, with every step precisely predicted.
"Sir, we must imdiately initiate the highest ergency evacuation protocol! Maybe...maybe we can still save so peripheral personnel!"
The operations director urgently suggested, his face also devoid of color.
"Quick! Issue evacuation orders of the highest grade, covering all channels! Command all Northwest network existing personnel to abandon everything at all costs imdiately and retreat to the preset safe points or borders! Quick!"
Vincent almost hysterically shouted the orders, his voice completely changing tone due to extre emotional disturbance.
"Sir! The task force on standby in Baghdad has already taken off urgently, can we authorize them to take risks and dive deep to support several key locations..."
An officer in charge of special operations liaison urgently requested instructions.
"Approved! Approved completely! Grant them the engagent rules and fire authority! Go! Save one if you can!"
Vincent waved his arms, his emotions completely out of control, losing his composure.
The orders were quickly dispatched, encrypted radio waves carrying desperate instructions shot toward the turbulent northwest Illinois sky.
But everyone in the command center, from high-ranking officials to the lowest operators, knew clearly —
It was all too late.
From 1515's initiation of action to now, several precious, fatal hours had passed.
For those lurking deep within enemy territory, whose identities were exposed, these hours were an impassable chasm between life and death.
Many evacuation orders were sent out, like stones sinking into the sea, receiving no response, only suffocating silence.
The command center fell into complete silence.
Vincent stared vacantly at the big screen, where the signal lights representing agents and informants turned into eye-piercing red (lost contact) or despairing black (confird dead) one by one at unprecedented speed.
That flickering and extinguishing light was like the funeral knell in his personal vision.
He could almost clearly "see" Song Heping on that distant desolate Persian Plateau, facing this ever-lengthening list of deaths, with a cold and mocking smile on his lips.
Not far behind him, Simon Mitchell still stood silently, with an appropriately heavy, shocked, and sympathetic expression, perfectly blending into this mournful atmosphere.
However, deep within those profound eyes, there was a cold calmness and even a barely detectable satisfaction.
Song Heping's tactic of "killing with a borrowed knife" was exceedingly brilliant and extrely vicious.
It almost completely crippled one of Vincent's most important intelligence assets in Illinois and even the Middle East, with losses incalculable.
He knew that Vincent's deputy director seat would likely shake violently with the collapse of the Northwestern intelligence network.
Such significant setbacks required accountability from both the White House and Congress Hill.
And he, a senior, seemingly always on the sidelines yet exceptionally observant deputy, would be the strongest candidate to take over the ss, perhaps even vying for the director's seat in the future.
He even felt an extrely complex emotion in his heart towards that rival and "friend" far away on the Persian Plateau.
This shadow ga across the continent was far from over.
But there's no doubt, in this round, Song Heping won cleanly, decisively, and deadly.
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