00:23.

Miller pushed the door open again.

"Sir, all direct lines are unresponsive. Chairman Masoud's encrypted landline indicates 'line fault,' both satellite phones have no response or show 'out of service area.' His private mobile goes straight to voicemail. Office Director Mr. Najib answered the call, but..."

She paused, then continued:

"His tone was very formal, insisting that Chairman Masoud was already asleep, conserving energy for tomorrow's inspection at the Kirkuk front lines, and strictly ordered not to be disturbed. I conveyed the urgent life-and-death message, but he refused to wake the chairman and suggested we contact the office at 8 AM local time when they resume normal hours."

"Bullshit!"

Duke sneered and cursed.

"It's 00:23 Erbil time now! 'Asleep'? At a critical juncture when relations between the Kold Autonomous Region and Baghdad are tense, and the Kirkuk dispute is on the brink, would he be 'asleep' at this time? Keep calling! By any means possible! Tell that office director this is not a request; it's a warning! If anything happens to Masoud, he will be held accountable!"

"Yes, Sir!" Miller turned to leave.

"Wait," Duke stopped her, "who was the last person you connected with? What exactly happened?"

Miller halted, furrowing her brow, trying to recall the details: "About two minutes ago, I connected with Major Jalal, Masoud's Guard Captain, through the backup emergency channel we share with the Kold Intelligence Agency. It was him, I could recognize his voice. But it was odd."

"Odd how?"

"His tone was too calm, Sir. Almost as if he were reading from a pre-prepared statement. He said, 'Major General Duke, the chairman is resting for important travel and has explicitly instructed not to be disturbed before eight. Please contact the office for any matters during business hours tomorrow.' I stressed the extreme urgency, concerning the chairman's safety, and begged him to wake the chairman or ask him to call back. His reply was: 'Orders are absolute. I will convey your concerns. Goodnight, Major General.' Then he cut off the communication."

Miller paused, "And, the background noise... it was too quiet. Logically, since Masoud is heading to Kirkuk tomorrow, there should be someone on duty at his security command center, with radio communications, equipment alerts, personnel murmuring. But I heard nothing..."

Duke's expression sharpened.

All clues seemed to point to two possibilities—

Jalal might have already defected or been compromised.

The so-called "chairman asleep" is likely a ruse.

Barzani's people might have already, in some way, practically taken over or monitored Masoud Mansion's core communication nodes.

All incoming and outgoing communications were filtered, monitored, and possibly tampered with.

Chairman Masoud himself was likely unknowingly under invisible house arrest, unaware of the assassination being plotted against him from the outside.

"Frank,"

Duke turned to Anderson, his voice regaining calmness.

"Is there feasibility in immediately using military intervention to prevent this assassination?"

Anderson had anticipated this question long before, with relevant deployment charts and risk assessment models already pulled up on his tablet.

"Theoretically feasible, Sir. We do have a Delta Special Operations Task Unit in Baghdad, but for them to complete assembly, acquire specific equipment, formulate a detailed plan, and infiltrate the unfamiliar ambush region over a hundred kilometers away from Erbil by land or air... conservatively would take at least six to eight hours. This doesn't include the time needed for obtaining formal permission from the Eligo Central Government."

He looked up, directly at Duke:

"Moreover, General, directly dispatching US Special Forces to intervene in Kurdistan's internal political disputes carries disastrous political and strategic risks. It blatantly violates the Status of Forces Agreement in Iraq regarding respecting Eligo sovereignty and non-interference in domestic affairs. Without explicit authorization from the Pentagon and the White House, we cannot do this."

Duke remained silent.

He knew Anderson was stating facts.

"So, Frank, your suggestion is we sit here, drinking coffee, watching Masoud die, then draft a carefully worded report that says 'we noticed the signs but were constrained by policies, procedures, and sovereignty from taking effective action'?"

He glanced at the electronic clock on the wall.

The time silently ticked to 00:28.

Each tick of the second hand seemed like a death knell for Masoud.

At this moment, Captain Miller cautiously spoke up.

"Sir, maybe... maybe we don't have to intervene directly. Perhaps we can look for a 'third party'."

Duke and Anderson both turned their gaze to her simultaneously.

"What third party?" Duke asked, a hint of inquiry rekindled in his eyes.

Miller carefully framed her words: "I think we could contact the CIA, they definitely have covert action teams here, and their operational authority and flexibility are greater than ours. Maybe they can help us resolve the current dilemma..."

As he listened, Duke's eyes suddenly lit up.

Exactly!

CIA!

Eastern Standard Time, Langley, Virginia, Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) Headquarters.

Local time: 16:28.

The silence in the director's office was broken by a low, continuous vibration.

Simon glanced up from a report assessing quantum computing competition trends in the Asia-Pacific region, casting a glance at the phone screen, his brow slightly furrowing.