Damascus, the night wind rises, carrying the desert's unique dryness and coolness.
A few streets away from the safe house, a seemingly ordinary, dusty van quietly parked in the shadows.
The scene inside the van was quite different, with advanced electronic surveillance equipnt casting a faint glow, projecting real-ti footage of the safe house's outer walls and main entrances.
Two CIA agents held their breath and listened intently, their ears pressed against headphones, capturing any suspicious sound signals, even though they knew the building had excellent anti-eavesdropping asures, and the audio information they could gather was scant.
Minute by minute, ti passed, the safe house was brightly lit, yet unnervingly quiet, like a dormant giant beast.
This calmness, however, created an invisible pressure on the agents inside the van.
The dinner should have started by now, what exactly was happening inside?
Had the caviar been served?
Was the target already...
They could only wait, relying on external observation and pre-set intelligence nodes to transmit information.
Everything was so excruciatingly agonizing.
One agent was responsible for surveillance, the other for security.
After all, Damascus was currently in a state of war, and the area around the safe house was not safe, easily detectable.
Ti was like sand gripped tightly in a fist, leaking oh so slowly.
Until precisely eight o'clock in the evening, the deathly stillness was suddenly shattered.
First, there ca a faint sound of sirens from a distance, rapidly approaching, becoming sharp and piercing.
Imdiately, several ambulances with blue lights flashing at high speed rushed to the safe house, with the sound of screeching brakes piercing the night sky.
Almost simultaneously, more heavy engine roars were heard, several military trucks and armored personnel carriers loaded with governnt army soldiers followed closely behind, quickly surrounding the area where the safe house was located, leaving no gaps.
Soldiers jumped out of the vehicles, quickly set up a cordon, guns pointing outward, the atmosphere imdiately elevated to the highest alert level.
The agents inside the van felt their hearts pounding!
"Sothing's happening!"
The agent responsible for surveillance growled low, imdiately adjusting the focus of the high-magnification optical surveillance scope, fixing the lens firmly on the safe house's door.
His palms were sweaty from nervousness and excitent.
The safe house's door opened wide, and the figures inside moved around in a fluster.
A few minutes later, several dical personnel in white coats rushed out carrying stretchers.
One, two, three...
The people on the stretchers were covered with blankets, their faces unclear, but the hurried and grave atmosphere unmistakably pointed to a dical ergency.
"Take pictures! Quick!"
The other agent urged.
The surveillance agent continuously pressed the shutter, expertly using the high-resolution cara to clearly record the scene, thanks to his professional training.
The convoy quickly left, disappearing into the night.
The agent uploaded the photos to the laptop, manipulating the trackball to zoom in on the images, carefully identifying—
Despite the poor angle and the fact that most of the people on the stretchers were covered, he still captured a critical image at the mont one was loaded into the ambulance—
The side profile revealed on one of the stretchers was undoubtedly Song Heping!
And on another stretcher, as it was hurriedly pushed into the ambulance, a corner of the blanket slipped, revealing a military uniform and half a face, belonging to none other than President Hafez!
"Confird! The target is Song Heping! And... and Hafez!"
The agent's voice trembled with excitent; he could hardly believe his eyes, the plan was so successful, with a massive bonus!
"Report imdiately! 'Hunt Operation' successful! Repeat, 'Hunt Operation' successful! The target and Hafez have been taken away by ambulance!"
The ssage was transmitted via an encrypted channel at the speed of light back to Langley, thousands of miles away.
At the CIA Headquarters, it was early morning, but the operations command center staff had been sleepless overnight.
Jackson paced back and forth like a restless trapped beast in front of the screen.
When the confirmation from Damascus appeared on the main screen, he froze at first, then let out a low roar of ecstasy!
He punched the control panel hard, causing the coffee in the cup to spill.
"We did it! We did it! Song Heping! Hafez! Killing two birds with one stone!"
His facial muscles twisted with extre excitent, eyes sparkling with the glee of revenge and the glow of glory about to be obtained.
He almost jogged to Director Simon's office, forgetting to knock, pushing the door open directly.
"Sir! Good news! Trendous news!"
Jackson waved the freshly printed, still slightly warm photos.
"Damascus team confird!
Song Heping and Hafez were in an ergency after the dinner, and have been sent to the hospital by ambulance! Our plan was a success!"
Simon was sitting behind his desk, seemingly reviewing docunts but actually restless.
When Jackson burst in, his heart sank.
He took the photos, his fingertips slightly trembling imperceptibly.
The images of Song Heping lying lifeless with closed eyes on the stretcher and Hafez on the stretcher hit his visual nerves with such palpable reality.
Even though he knew it was likely that Song Heping self-directed and perford this act, seeing such "solid" evidence, a chill uncontrollably climbed from his spine, spreading throughout his body.
What if...
What if this wasn't an act?
What if Song Heping slipped up, the play turned real, and he actually died?
That thought gnawed at his sanity like a venomous snake.
The secrets Song Heping held, which could ruin his reputation or even bring him to court, hung over him like the Sword of Damocles.
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