Admit that Song Heping already possesses enough weight to make an arrogant superpower lower its guard and co to the negotiation table.
"Dagula's conditions are rudintary, with yellow sand blowing everywhere; I'm afraid it can't host such a distinguished guest as Director Simon."
Song Heping's tone continued with a hint of cat-and-mouse sarcasm, "Moreover, forgive my bluntness, but the situation here is not entirely peaceful, and I'm afraid I cannot fully guarantee your safety."
"This isn't a visit; it's about solving a problem. As for safety, you don't need to worry; I'll take care of that myself."
Simon completely discarded the usual bureaucratic politeness.
"My plane is ready and will take off soon. I hope that upon my arrival, we can have a... productive dialogue. Song, I believe you are a sensible man and should understand that the current stalemate benefits no one, except our common enemy—'1515'."
A common enemy?
Song Heping sneered inwardly.
In the eyes of true war players, especially in the Middle East's eternal vortex of interests, the lines between enemies and allies are always blurred.
The so-called enemies and friends can always be switched based on the ti and interests.
Today's friend could be pulling a gun over an oil field tomorrow.
"I understand."
Song Heping finally relented, "I will await your arrival in Dagula. However, I hope you bring more than just verbal 'sincerity' and empty checks from Washington. Doing so would waste my ti and the patience of my brothers."
"Of course."
Simon's reply was succinct, "I will bring sothing of interest to you. Let's et in Dagula then."
"See you in Dagula."
The call ended.
Song Heping slowly put down the satellite phone.
The command center returned to its earlier silence.
Simon's personal visit signified that the Aricans, under the dual pressure of military failings on the frontline and Angel's international public opinion campaign, had finally lowered their proud heads completely.
He recalled the words of a great person—if the Arican imperialists speak a little reason, it's because they are forced to.
A great person is always wise.
Those words are tiless.
Now the Aricans have not only implicitly admitted that Kote's actions were wrong, even despicable, but also acknowledged that Song Heping is an indispensable 'player' on the Illiguo chessboard.
Everything is unfolding precisely along the track he had set.
It also ant that he had truly stepped up to the dining table.
The chips are already on the table.
Now, just waiting for the "distinguished guest" from Washington to personally deliver the final, most substantial, and most symbolic contribution to his victory.
Simon is very punctual; the CIA's global deploynt capability is indeed not just talk.
In less than sixteen hours, Simon's military helicopter had slowly landed in an open space in Daguge City.
The hatch opened, and the dust and the sll of blood in the air made Simon instinctively frown.
He habitually adjusted the crisp and ironed suit on himself, although this outfit seed so out of place and comical on this chaotic land filled with ard pickups, rocket launchers, and masked soldiers. Yet he still needed this "armor" to maintain the last vestige of dignity and order symbolizing himself and the powerful country he represented.
Several ard pickups equipped with heavy machine guns and bulletproof steel plates had already been waiting ghost-like by the side. The rcenaries from the "Musician" Defense Company were all moving professionally and cautiously, exuding a certain fierceness unique to battle-hardened veterans.
No welcoming ceremony, no polite chit-chat, not even a proper reception official, only a scar-faced burly man leading the group made a silent hand gesture for "follow."
Simon took only two highly alert bodyguards, whose hands remained on their underarm gun holsters, and got into the middle pickup with the guide.
The convoy kicked up a massive cloud of dust once again, reminiscent of a moving sandstorm, heading towards the military command center located in the city.
Inside the command center, the lighting was dim, with only an old desk lamp casting a dim yellow glow on the table.
Song Heping did not go out to greet them, nor did he even turn around.
He remained with his back to the door, standing in front of that massive military map, only the faint scratching sounds of the red-blue pencil in his hand occasionally sliding over the map gave any indication of his presence and concentration.
"Director Simon, you must be tired from the journey."
Song Heping did not turn around, his tone as flat as if greeting an old neighbor he sees every day, rather than the CIA head who had traveled a great distance and taken risks to co for negotiations.
Simon suppressed the slight vexation from feeling underestimated, then quickly scanned the map.
The red circle drawn over Hulmatu stood out glaringly under the dim light.
And the blue arrows representing the directions of Ozham and Agra at this mont seed like lting snow and ice, collapsing and retreating, displaying an extrely precarious and crumbling situation for the two puppets supported by the Aricans on the entire northwest front.
The reality was far more direct, and cruelly shocking than those beautified intelligence briefings he had seen in Washington.
"Mr. Song, ti is pressing; let's get straight to the point."
Simon now didn't want to waste another minute.
Every minute wasted was a disaster for the Illiguo Governnt Army and the Kurd Ard.
"Colonel Kote's unauthorized, overreaching actions have left both the White House and us with deep regret and anger. This was never our intention, and we sincerely apologize to you here. Now, we urgently need the 'Musician' to imdiately restore strong military pressure on Hulmatu to prevent the aggressive montum of the 'Conquest Front' from continuing to spread and expand. For this, we can imdiately open higher-level, high-resolution real-ti satellite intelligence sharing channels and follow up with equipnt and funding..."
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