On the outskirts of Langley City, inside a single-family house.

The night was deep, and only a desk lamp was lit in the study. The dim light outlined Simon's slightly tired profile.

The whiskey glass in front of him held only a shallow layer of amber liquid.

The encrypted satellite phone on the desk lit up, displaying a complex and constantly changing key authentication sequence.

After hours of psychological struggle and risk assessment, he finally made up his mind.

His fingers entered a long string of numbers from deep in his memory on the encrypted dial.

This number existed only in his most secret memories and was the only channel for single-line contact with that "Ghost."

The phone rang for a long time. Just when Simon thought no one would answer, and even doubted if the line had long been abandoned, it was picked up on the other end, but no one spoke immediately, there was only the sound of steady breathing.

"It's me."

Simon spoke first, lowering his voice, even though he knew the phone had a high level of confidentiality.

"I know it's you."

Song Heping's voice came through without any emotional fluctuation, "Calling at this time, not like your style. Something happened?"

"Northern Illiguo, Kurd people's oil field area, four hours ago..."

Simon did not make any small talk and went straight to the point.

"The 1515 armed group launched a large-scale attack by taking advantage of the sandstorm. The Kurds suffered heavy losses, lost at least three oil field strongholds, with significant casualties... Additionally, we lost an Air Force technical expert in the on-site advisory group."

The other end of the line fell silent for two seconds, then a cold laugh came through.

"Sandstorm... It did come after all."

Song Heping's tone carried no surprise, but rather a sort of expected calmness.

"It seems the Persians' intelligence was very accurate."

Avanti's intelligence, as always, accurate.

Simon's heart sank suddenly.

The Persians indeed knew in advance!

Song Heping knew too!

He couldn't help but ask, "You knew already? Why..."

"Why didn't I warn you?"

Song Heping interrupted him, with a hint of icy sarcasm in his voice, "Simon, indeed supplying you with information could earn you merit, bring you a step closer to the director's position, but my team and I are under no obligation to pay for the strategic blunders of the United States Government. Moreover, warn you? In what capacity? As a 'KB Leader' on your global wanted list? Do you think your superior, Director Vincent, would believe my intelligence, or think it's a carefully designed trap? When he asks about your intelligence source, how do you respond? Deceive him? That would only expose more of your flaws."

Simon was left speechless.

He knew that what Song Heping said was true.

The bureaucratic system within the CIA and inherent prejudices would never accept intelligence from such a source, but would instead investigate the source, eventually likely bringing trouble upon himself.

"Moreover..."

Song Heping continued, "Doesn't this just prove my previous judgment correct? The Kurds' fighting ability is lacking, they can't be relied upon anymore, and your ground intelligence network is even more riddled with holes. Now it's you who should be anxious, not me."

Simon felt a sense of powerlessness.

He took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice steady, "Alright, what's past cannot be changed. Song, I'm reaching out to talk about the future. The current situation, for you and me alike, may be an opportunity."

"Opportunity?" Song Heping's laughter came through the line, "Hehe, let's hear it, what kind of opportunity?"

"A... chance for cooperation."

Simon struggled to utter the word, feeling his throat a little dry.

"Director Vincent and the White House are now under tremendous pressure. They urgently need to rebuild the intelligence and strike capabilities in Northwest Illinois, especially targeting high-value targets for decapitation within the 1515 leadership, to quickly bring an end to this counter-terrorism war against the extremist organization and account to the public, avoiding being blamed as the crisis makers. However, rebuilding intelligence takes time..."

He paused, emphasizing his tone, "I can submit a report suggesting... suggesting limited, highly confidential intelligence cooperation with you all. Use your ground network and operational capabilities to provide us with real-time locations and accurate coordinates of 1515 leadership. In exchange, we can... consider reassessing your wanted status, even... providing some form of clarification or pardon at an appropriate time in the future. It's the best way to clear your name."

After Simon finished speaking, his heart involuntarily sped up.

He felt like he was crazy to propose a collaboration to someone regarded by the CIA as the top threat.

But deep down, a voice told him this was the fastest, most effective solution currently.

Moreover, perhaps it could once and for all solve the "troublesome" case of Song Heping — either by recruiting him or after the cooperation ends...

A brief cold laugh came through the phone again.

"Cooperation? With the CIA? Simon, have you drunk too much today, or has Vincent scolded you senseless?"

Song Heping's outright refusal caught Simon off guard.

"Why?"

Simon was truly confused.

This Song Heping, unexpectedly, wasn't taking advantage of this opportunity.

He wasn't even grateful to me.

And flatly rejected me.

Is this guy crazy?!

"This is your best chance to get out of your current predicament! As long as you cooperate, provide some key intelligence, and help us take down a few crucial figures in 1515, I can have enough reason to persuade the higher-ups to re-evaluate your case! Do you really want to carry the stigma of a KB member and be hunted by the whole world for the rest of your life?!"

"Of course, I want to clear my name, but not this way, and certainly not at this moment."

Song Heping's voice turned cold and hard, "Simon, take my advice, don't submit any report to Vincent about cooperating with me. Not a single word."

"Why?!" Simon almost blurted out, unable to understand Song Heping's logic.

"Because the time isn't right yet. Your report won't facilitate cooperation but will immediately arouse Vincent's suspicion and distrust. He will wonder why you are speaking for a mortal enemy? Is there already collusion between you and me? Did you have prior knowledge of, or even participate in, the recent 1515 attack? Such suspicion could be your undoing and might even get you 'suicided.'"

Song Heping's tone carried a hint of mockery, "You want to help me? I'm afraid you'll end up dragging yourself into it too."

Simon's back broke out in a cold sweat instantly.

He had to admit that Song Heping's insight into the dark side of CIA politics was exceptionally precise.

He even suspected that Song Heping had other insiders within the CIA apart from himself.

Vincent, being inherently suspicious, would find such a sensational proposal at this critical moment extremely risky indeed.

"I..."

Simon found himself at a loss for words, completely led by Song Heping's logic.

Song Heping's voice softened slightly, with a mixture of candor and realism: "Simon, we both know that your willingness to 'help' me does not stem from any friendship or sense of justice. You are simply worried that if something happens to me, your unsavory 'little secrets' and the misuse of CIA operational funds through certain secret accounts would automatically be sent to the CIA Inspector General's office and the Washington Post's inbox by my preset dead man's switch. Am I right?"

Simon's face turned pallid under the desk lamp, his fingers grasping the whiskey glass trembling slightly.

Song Heping had precisely seized him by his achilles' heel.

And he held it firmly.

He hated this feeling.

And he hated Song Heping.

But he had no choice but to comply.

"So..." Song Heping continued, as if stating a simple fact, "My being alive and relatively stable is in your best interest. We are in an abnormal symbiotic relationship. Therefore, you must listen to me and hold your position for now."

Simon was silent for a whole half-minute, finally conceding as if drained of energy, "…Alright. You're right. But Song, opportunities slip by quickly; don't be too confident. The threat of 1515 is very real, and if the situation worsens, the White House and Pentagon might take more extreme and uncontrollable measures."

"I know." Song Heping's answer remained calm, "That's why we need to create opportunities instead of waiting for them."

"Create opportunities?" Simon frowned.

"Yes." There was a touch of mystery in Song Heping's voice, "For instance, if you were to become CIA Director, I think we'd be very amenable to your cooperation proposal."

"What!?"

Simon almost jumped out of his seat, his heart pounding wildly.

Amidst the shock, a tinge of secret joy and desire rose uncontrollably from deep within.

"What... what do you mean by that?!"

"Literally."

Song Heping said placidly, "How long do you think Vincent can stay in that position? The continued failures with the mess in Iraq, someone will have to be responsible. Will it be the brilliant president himself?"

Simon's breathing became heavy.

Song Heping's words, like the Devil's whispers, precisely provoked the deepest power ambitions within him.

He had always thought he was more capable than Vincent, just short of an opportunity...

"Do you... do you have some kind of plan?"

Simon's voice was slightly hoarse with excitement.

"Don't ask." Song Heping abruptly cut him off, "Knowing too much does you no good. When the time comes, you will naturally know. Just remember, keep silent, hold your current position, and... be prepared for the possible opportunity."

After speaking, without waiting for Simon to ask any further, Song Heping directly ended the call.

Listening to the busy signal in the phone, Simon couldn't calm down for a long time.

He sat in the dark, looking at the remnants of whiskey in the glass, his mind filled with thoughts. Song Heping's words were like a boulder thrown into a calm lake, stirring up massive waves. The position of director…

He had never dared to think about this possibility so clearly, but now, this thought was growing wildly like weeds.

That man far away in Persia, what exactly was he plotting?

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by lotustale.com