"FUCK!"
The Chef was so anxious that he forgot to speak Russian, and directly shouted in heavily accented English, "Just got the news! Idlib... is lost! Those HTS bastards and the Freedom Army have entered the city!"
Song Heping's expression slightly darkened; the worst-case scenario had co to pass.
But his face remained calm, he only turned his head to look at the Chef: "What about Moscow? Any reaction? The Kremlin can't just watch Idlib fall, they must be doing sothing, have they held a press conference?"
The Chef scratched his bald head: "No! Not a damn thing! I just called my old buddies in the military and the Federal Security Bureau, even tried to contact the 'Supre Commander's' office in the Kremlin, and all the replies I got were 'closely monitoring,' 'the situation needs careful evaluation,' 'our position has always been clear'... all official rhetoric! President Vladimir hasn't given any clear signal! They seem to have been scared by the Cria issue and Western sanctions, still hesitating!"
The Chef's tone was filled with disappointnt and anxiety.
He had placed great hope in his holand's strong intervention, but now his holand remained silent, leaving him feeling cold.
Song Heping's frown deepened.
The Russian Army's intervention was the cornerstone of his entire strategic forecast, if the Kremlin ultimately chose to back down, then the days of the Hafez Regi might really be numbered.
At that mont, the satellite phone in his pocket started ringing.
The special ringtone made his eyes narrow—it was that private number of President Hafez.
He pressed the answer key, and Hafez's voice imdiately ca from the other end, having lost the calm it usually tried to maintain, full of irrepressible tension and exhaustion, even a hint of tremble:
"Mr. Song! The fall of Idlib... you must already know about it."
Hafez skipped all pleasantries, going straight to the point, "I just got off the phone with President Vladimir, I... I almost begged him on the grounds of traditional friendship and strategic interests between the two nations for imdiate military intervention. But... his answer was vague, only saying it was an 'extrely complex decision,' needing 'consideration of various factors,' suggesting I 'remain restrained and continue to resolve through political ans'..."
Hafez's voice was filled with despair: "Mr. Song, they have no intention of agreeing! With Idlib lost, the Freedom Army and HTS's vanguard troops can be at the gates of Homs City within three days at the quickest! Once Homs is lost, Damascus... Damascus will be completely finished! By then, everything will be too late!"
Song Heping heard the unspoken aning in the depths of Hafez's words—Hafez was not only worrying about his country, but also seeking an escape route for his personal and family's fate.
He could even imagine that at this mont the presidential residence was probably already secretly preparing ergency evacuation plans.
"Mr. President."
Song Heping's voice remained steady, trying to instill a shred of confidence in the other party.
"The situation is indeed severe, but it's far from desperate. The Russian side hasn't explicitly refused, so there's still room for maneuver. What they need is a reason that compels them to intervene, an undeniable bargaining chip, or an opportunity to reduce intervention risks."
"A reason? A bargaining chip? An opportunity?"
Hafez seed to grasp at a straw, urgently asking, "What else do we have? My army has suffered massive losses, morale is low... Mr. Song, can you... like in Halaib, personally go to the front line in Homs? I'm willing to grant you full authority to command all the troops that can be rallied, please, help defend Homs! Buy us so ti!"
Song Heping was silent for a few seconds. He knew Hafez was grabbing at straws, hoping to pass the hot potato of defending Homs to him.
Homs is a at grinder now, with scattered morale among governnt troops lacking heavy equipnt and reinforcents; even if Song Heping had three heads and six arms, he couldn't hold on for long by himself.
He's human, not a god.
Moreover, he would not let his company's precious elite forces get bogged down in a never-ending urban attrition warfare.
That's Siria's own war, requiring a national-level power duel.
"Mr. President."
Song Heping calmly refused this unrealistic request, " personally going to Homs won't change the overall situation. The key now is not temporary gains or losses of a city or region, but whether we can prompt the Russian Army to decisively make a large-scale entry. Only they can fundantally reverse the war situation."
"But... how do we make them make up their minds?"
Hafez's voice was full of helplessness.
Suddenly, a flash occurred in his mind.
A bold and risky plan instantly took shape in Song Heping's mind.
This plan requires precise intelligence, superb deception skills, and a bit of luck.
"Give so ti, Mr. President."
Song Heping's tone carried a kind of irrefutable decisiveness.
"I need to make a few calls. Later, I'll get back to you. Please keep communications open, and no matter what news you hear next, remain calm for the ti being."
After hanging up the phone, the room fell into a brief silence.
The Chef looked at Song Heping puzzled: "Song, what's your plan? Those people in Moscow won't listen to you."
"They won't listen to us, but they care about their interests and can be provoked by their enemies."
A icy gleam flashed in Song Heping's eyes.
"We need to create an 'opportunity' and also make the Kremlin feel humiliated and threatened."
He took out a phone and dialed a number.
"Henry."
Once connected, Song Heping directly commanded.
"It's Song. I'm giving you one hour; I want all the detailed files on the current acting head of the CIA Directorate of Operations, Jackson. Focus on his career trajectory and personal character weaknesses. Top priority, use all resources."
"Understood, Boss. Getting those personal details won't be difficult; I'll report back to you in an hour."
The other end, Henry, with no extra words, imdiately accepted the order and left.
"What do you want with the CIA operation head's information?"
The Chef was bewildered.
"What does CIA have to do with the situation here?"
Song Heping put down the phone and explained to the Chef: "As far as I'm aware, Jackson was a protégé personally promoted by the forr chief Kelly. Kelly beca a vegetable because of , so Jackson's been trying to kill by any ans necessary, even thinking of poisoning."
At this, he gave a cold laugh: "Heh, since he wants dead so bad, I'll give him a chance, and set a trap for him while I'm at it."
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