The guard conducted an extrely thorough body search according to procedure, even opening the insulation box to inspect whether the cans of exquisitely packaged caviar contained any foreign objects.
The CIA agent, disguised as a supplier, felt his heart pounding, but he maintained a humble and anxious expression of a businessman on his face.
He had undergone repeated training and psychological preparation beforehand, knowing this was the most critical juncture.
He was carrying a high-tech slow-release toxic substance, sealed within specially-made micro-capsules, cleverly embedded in the lid's layer of one of the caviar cans, undetectable unless the can was completely dismantled.
Once the can was opened and the caviar stirred, the specially-made capsule would break under pressure, and the toxin would mix evenly into the entire can of caviar, colorless and tasteless, hard to detect.
The guard's inspection focused on weapons, explosives, and eavesdropping devices; for well-sealed food cans, they used a detector to scan the exterior. Once they confird no tal or explosive reactions, they failed to discover the secret inside the can lid.
"Who is he?"
A guard suspiciously asked the approaching chef.
"He's the caviar delivery! It's the ingredient we urgently need! We're counting on this for the banquet!" The chef quickly explained, his tone urgent.
The guard assessed the agent again, confirming he appeared harmless and posed no threat upon inspection, and then waved to let him pass.
The agent carried the insulation box, following the chef briskly into the kitchen.
As soon as he entered the kitchen, he swiftly opened the box and took out the cans of caviar labeled in Russian.
The chef eagerly opened one of the cans, intending to scoop out a bit with his finger to taste, but suddenly rembered Chef Yevgeny's warning and quickly retracted his finger, only placing the caviar under his nose to sniff briefly.
After slling it, the chef's eyes lit up—based on his years of experience, the quality far exceeded his expectations; it truly was top-notch!
Half of his anxious heart was relieved, at least the goods were genuine, and he was sure to make a handso profit.
Just then, footsteps echoed again at the kitchen door.
The chef returned, ready to begin work.
He imdiately noticed the open caviar can on the table and the unfamiliar "supplier."
"The goods have arrived?" The chef strode over.
The agent recognized the chef and felt his heart leap to his throat again, imdiately lowering his head, avoiding eye contact with the chef.
"Arrived! Arrived! Mr. Yevgeny, look, it's absolutely top-grade!" The chef quickly offered the opened can like a precious treasure.
The chef glanced at the caviar, checked the color and particle size, and placed it under his nose to sll, a satisfied smile appearing on his rugged face, "Hmm! Not bad! It's authentic Siberian sturgeon caviar! Good stuff!"
He patted the chef on the shoulder, the force making the chef grimace, "You've done a good job!"
Then, the chef suddenly turned his head, his fierce gaze sweeping across everyone in the kitchen, including the head-drooping "supplier," and shouted loudly, "Listen up, everyone! Nobody touches this stuff now! Wait for to handle it! Anyone who dares to steal a taste, I'll stuff their head into a cannon and fire them out! Got it?!"
After shouting, he instructed the chef, "Keep an eye on it! I'll go confirm the nu and be back to start soon!" With that, he hurriedly left again.
The agent disguised as a supplier felt as though the clothes on his back were soaked with cold sweat.
When the chef's oppressive gaze swept over him just now, he almost thought he was exposed.
Thankfully, everything turned out fine.
Not daring to linger, he accepted the thick stack of cash handed over by the chef, nodded, and quickly excused himself with polite salutations.
Exiting through the back door of the safe house, he walked to a secluded street corner in the distance and imdiately got into a waiting car.
The car started promptly, driving away from the area. Once they had driven far enough, the agent took out an encrypted satellite phone with trembling hands, pressed a number, his voice altered by excitent and lingering fear:
"Report! The goods...the goods have been safely delivered! Confird received without arousing suspicion. Repeating, the goods have been delivered!"
On the other end of the phone, Jackson at Langley Command Center jumped up from his seat, punched the air with a forceful fist, unable to contain his ecstatic and ferocious expression.
"Great! Excellent! The 'Hunting Operation' is entering its final phase! Closely monitor Damascus's movents, report imdiately if there's any update! I want to personally confirm Song Heping's demise!"
Inside the safe house, in the kitchen.
The chef carefully placed the few precious cans of caviar, especially the one "saluted" by the chef, in the most prominent position on the kitchen counter, instructing the staff not to touch it, then began preparing other side dishes.
He calculated in his mind how much profit he could make this ti, almost forgetting his previous worries and fears.
Inside the safe house, in the office
Song Heping and Hafez's eting seed to conclude.
The chef quietly pushed the door open and entered.
Song Heping looked at him and asked, "Is everything ready?"
The chef nonchalantly replied, "Don't worry, Song! Everything is ready, and the goods have arrived."
"Very good."
Song Heping smiled and gestured to Hafez, "Mr. President, it seems it's ti for us to take the stage."
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