The cargo ship slowly turned southeast in the night of the Red Sea, Song Heping stood on the rusted deck, the sea breeze carrying a salty stench hit him.
He pulled out the satellite phone, his finger paused on the keypad for a mont, and finally dialed an encrypted number.
"The old teahouse needs new tea leaves."
After the call was connected, Song Heping spoke in Persian in code.
The distinctive raspy laugh of Avanti ca through on the other end: "My friend, you're late. The teahouse is already closed; there are wild dogs barking in the street."
Song Heping squinted his eyes, the lights from the distant US destroyer on the sea shimred like a beast's eyes.
"Set off a bit late, too many wild dogs on the way, I need a quiet little path."
There was silence on the other end for a few seconds, followed by the sound of pages turning.
"The back door in Yen is still open, but it's chaotic there, are you daring enough to go?"
"Better than dying at sea."
Song Heping replied calmly.
"At the fish market of Aden Port, find the hunchbacked old man selling shark fins. He will arrange everything for you, looking forward to seeing you, my friend."
Avanti's voice suddenly turned serious.
"Lately, Yen's weather is unpredictable, rember to bring an umbrella."
"I'll give you a new number."
The call ended.
Song Heping turned and walked towards the cockpit, Captain Hassan was puffing a cigar while studying the sea charts.
"Divert to Aden Port." Song Heping said, "Full speed ahead."
Hassan's eyebrows almost flew off his hairline: "You're crazy? At that ti—"
"I know what's there." Song Heping interrupted him, "But compared to the radar of the US Navy, I'd rather take my chances with Yen's chaos."
Prior to departure, the situation in North Africa and the Middle East had already changed sowhat.
Recently, a chaos called "Arab Spring" has been sweeping through Middle Eastern and North African countries; even in the distant oasis of Northern Darfur, Song Heping had already heard about it.
This chaos initiated by a Tunisian vendor spread like a flu virus into the already turbulent Middle Eastern countries, except Persia, which now rcilessly engulfed countries including Yen, Siria, Egypt, and others.
The the is always "freedom" and "democracy."
Song Heping is well aware of who is behind these banners.
But now his whereabouts are likely already leaked; the longer he stays at sea, the less safe he becos. Sailing through the Red Sea or directly crossing the Arabian Sea and Oman Bay into Persia is simply unviable.
The longer at sea, the probability of the CIA catching him increases geotrically.
"Alright…"
Captain Hassan made a concession.
He wasn't stupid.
The sudden rare interception and boarding by the Arican Arleigh Burke-class destroyer already indicated that this sea area was unsafe at the mont.
Aden Port in Yen is the nearest port; landing there is evidently the ideal choice.
The cargo ship carved a new track in the night.
Song Heping gathered Nura and Antonov for a eting in the cramped crew cabin.
Under dim lighting, the shadows of the three swayed against the cabin wall, resembling conspirators plotting a cri.
"I've already had Hassan divert to arrive early at Aden Port." Song Heping said straightforwardly, "The CIA has likely already roughly predicted our route."
Nura asked, "Do you think this leak is due to an internal mole?"
"Not necessarily." Song Heping shook his head, "It might just be so informants in Sudan discovered our tracks. The important thing is, the Red Sea route is already unsafe."
Antonov took a swig of vodka: "So to my Yen? I heard the situation there is recently worse than hell!"
"Precisely because it's bad, it's easier to fish in troubled waters, more convenient to conceal the trail."
Song Heping unfolded a hand-drawn map: "Avanti has soone waiting at Aden Port. We'll stay in Yen for a few days, change identities, and then from there enter the Arabian Sea, and be safe once entering Persian territorial waters."
Nura asked, "Can you trust that Avanti?"
Song Heping looked at the Bedouin woman before him, the vigilance in her eyes was as sharp as a knife edge.
Years of smuggling life have made her extrely sensitive and alert.
This was a good thing, at least able to survive longer in such places.
"He can be trusted." Song Heping gave a definitive answer: "Moreover, we have no choice now."
Egypt Cairo, third basent of the Arican Embassy.
The hum of the air circulation system masked the noise of the server array.
Jasper stood at the holographic projection table, sweat sliding down his temples, leaving dark marks at the collar of his deep blue shirt.
Seventy-two hours of relentless tracking had filled his eyeballs with bloodshots, but at this mont, all this fatigue was replaced by the excitent of a hunter approaching his prey.
"Right here, zoom in on the corner of the left eye."
He tapped on the projection surface, and a blurry image of an engine room froze on the screen.
Technician Carlson adjusted his glasses, his fingers dancing across the virtual keyboard.
All these images ca from the Navy.
They were recorded by the helt caras of boarding teams three days ago when the Navy fleet intercepted over a hundred suspicious civilian ships in the Red Sea and Arabian Sea regions.
Jasper had not closed his eyes since yesterday, sitting in the intelligence analysis room with technicians, repeatedly reviewing over 80 hours of footage.
This particular section of video was one of the highly suspicious ones after three rounds of selection.
The oil-smudged Asian face in the image was continually enhanced, the oil stains and shadows peeled away layer by layer, revealing a simulated image of the underlying skeletal structure.
"Skeleton match completed, congruence rate 85%."
Carlson's voice carried the characteristic calmness of a technical expert: "The cheekbone angle, forehead curve, and jawline shape are almost identical. Other facial features may be blurred due to oil stains."
Across the projection table, Captain Morris whistled: "This guy is a real damn ninja. Staying in the engine room, the toughest place to endure—you know I've been on ships, and that place is not fit for humans. He's cunning; the boarding team rappelled fully equipped onto the ship, and entering the engine room would make you sweat your ass off. He intentionally shortened the boarding search team's stay ti."
"He's indeed an old fox…"
Jasper's fingers swiped across the holographic image, displaying Song Heping's facial skeletal outline side by side with his file photo.
"He knew about our facial recognition technology, so he used oil to alter the surface contours. He just didn't expect we developed a new generation of skeletal perspective algorithms."
Simon stepped out of the shadows, holding two cups of coffee in his hands.
He handed one cup to Jasper: "So, our target was indeed on that freighter?"
Jasper accepted the coffee but didn't drink it, his eyes still fixed on the projection: "Not only that, he also pointed us the way."
He pulled up a map of the Red Sea, pointing at the route with different red and blue lines: "I estimate the original route of the freighter was to go through the Red Sea passage into Jordan and then to Illiguo, but after being intercepted, it suddenly turned southeast—toward Yen."
Morris leaned in closer to the map: "Yen is a ss now, definitely a good place to hide."
"Not only that."
Jasper enlarged the satellite images of Aden Port, where a few yellow markers flashed.
"The Houthi insurgency in Yen has been rising continuously this year, and everyone knows who's backing them. It seems Song Heping is indeed in cahoots with Avanti, otherwise, he wouldn't dare risk landing in a country with such a tumultuous situation."
The room fell silent.
After a long pause, Simon sipped his coffee and comnted: "So Song Heping plans to go to Yen and then detours to Persia? That's too risky. Yen is full of our informants now."
"It's precisely because it's risky that it's the route he would choose." Jasper suddenly turned and headed to the communication console: "Morris, have your `Watcher` team ready for deploynt within an hour. Carlson, I need all crew details on that freighter, especially the identity of the fake engine worker."
As the others got busy, Jasper noticed Simon still standing in place, thoughtfully staring at Song Heping's skeletal analysis image.
The chill that felt like being watched by a snake crawled up his spine again.
He approached Simon, lowering his voice: "Is there a problem?"
Simon seed to be awakening from a dream: "Just curious, why isn't the skeletal match 100%? If it's really Song Heping…"
"People undergo minute changes over ten years, especially soone like him. When you initially got his data, he was very young."
Jasper interrupted Simon, offering his judgnt: "Toothwear, minor fractures, changes in muscle attachnt points… 85% is sufficient confirmation."
Simon nodded, wearing that unsettling smile that made Jasper uncomfortable: "Of course, you're the expert."
Jasper turned and walked to his encrypted communication room, locking the door behind him. He retrieved an old satellite phone from the safe.
The dial tone persisted for a long ti before being connected.
"Confird, it's the target." Jasper said into the receiver, his voice lower than usual by eight pitches, "He's heading to Yen."
On the other end of the line, Campbell's distinctive old European Anglo-Saxon accent spoke: "The President's authorization only extends to the Persian Gulf."
"So we need… another solution." Jasper's thumb unconsciously rubbed the desktop, "Is Team A still on standby in Bahrain?"
"Nine operatives, ready to deploy at any ti." Campbell paused, "But you must understand, once we activate them, there's no turning back. This isn't a regular black operation; there's no room for official denial."
Jasper glanced at the surveillance cara in the corner of the communication room—technically, this room was supposed to be completely private, but he always felt Simon's eyes were everywhere.
"Song Heping knows too much. It's not just the Big Crow drone data but also… other things… including everything we did in xico, he has information on all of that. Recent military intelligence showed he's helped get so sensitive weapons to Africa, handing them over to local extremist groups. We can suppress online and dia hysteria for now, but it's not a long-term solution. The internet has brought us too much trouble, especially that Assange. If Song Heping hands the information to him…"
There were a few seconds of silence on the other end.
Finally, Campbell responded: "Team A will arrive in Aden by sunrise tomorrow. They will need real-ti intelligence support."
"It's already arranged; I'll handle that part. I will personally lead Team A on this mission."
"That risky?"
"If I don't go, soone else will. I have a feeling that there's a mole within our ranks…"
"A mole?"
"Maybe it's just my imagination… Let's leave it there; I need to set up the operation imdiately."
"Good luck, Jasper."
Jasper hung up the phone, locked the satellite phone back in the safe.
He didn't notice the grill of the ventilation duct in the communication room slightly shifting.
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