At the same time, in a CIA safe house on the outskirts of Yadim Suburb.

Jasper kicked over the tactical table, and the electronic equipment on it crashed to the ground with a clatter.

The shattered blue light of the screen reflected on his twisted face, like a hideous mask: "He got away again! Seventeen people, three sniper points, and you still can't catch an injured target! And for those of you responsible for surveillance, why haven't you even found his trace yet? What's going on?! This isn't Africa! Song Heping has no support here!"

The technician's timid voice: "Sir, the target clearly received an intelligence tip-off in advance, otherwise it would be impossible..."

"Shut up!"

Jasper yanked off his headset and violently smashed it against the wall.

He turned to the Watcher team members behind him and those technicians sitting in front of computers: "I want every inch of this area turned over! Mobilize all our resources here!"

Two hours later, at a US Navy Base in Bahrain, a satellite analysis system named "Heavenly Eye" was urgently activated.

Two KH-12 Keyhole satellites adjusted their orbits, aiming their optical lenses with a resolution of 0.1 meters at Aden City and its surroundings.

"Call up all imagery from the past 48 hours."

Jasper ordered the CIA technical team.

"Focus on searching for abnormal heat sources and personnel movements within a five-kilometer radius of the fish market, I want you to find his trace immediately!"

On the huge screen, thousands of satellite photos cascaded like a waterfall.

The system began to mark every suspicious point: glints on rooftops, unusual vehicle tracks, abnormal behavior patterns in crowds...

"Sir, the data volume is huge, we need some time..."

The agent in charge of technology somewhat awkwardly reported to Jasper.

Jasper wanted to lose his temper but quickly reined in his surging emotions.

The situation is what it is now, and losing his temper is useless.

He has done intelligence analysis work before; it's a meticulous, taxing job.

To identify suspicious points from the massive satellite images and then enlarge and analyze them one by one.

For some blurry points, specialized software must be used to filter and obtain clearer images.

These tasks are very tedious, and even if the data were sent back to Langley Headquarters for the analysis department to handle, it wouldn't be completed immediately.

"How many hours at minimum?" he asked.

"At least 72 hours."

The technical analyst answered honestly.

"No way!" Jasper said grimly, swinging his hand sharply in the air: "We don't have that much time. Song Heping is very decisive in his style of work. After tonight's ambush, he's definitely as jumpy as a startled bird. He's probably already looking for ways to leave Yemen. Even if we find his trace in 72 hours, he won't be in Yemen anymore!"

He paused, extending one hand with four fingers spread out.

"No more than forty-eight hours! If you can't do it, resign now, and I'll find someone else to replace you immediately."

"I will do my best."

The technician responsible for intelligence analysis clearly felt the pressure from Jasper, believing that his boss wasn't joking.

If he couldn't complete this task, he'd likely be fired upon return.

"Not doing your best, but ensuring it!"

"Ensuring it..."

In Khalid's guest room, Song Heping was checking and cleaning his weapon.

The smell of gun oil from the AKM assault rifle mixed with the jasmine fragrance wafting in from outside the window, creating a peculiar sense of discord.

He pulled open a corner of the curtain, and under the moonlight, Aden City was shrouded in darkness—its power system had been down for days.

Nura appeared silently at the door: "The professor is using a radio in the study to listen to the BBC broadcast."

Song Heping nodded. The behavior pattern of this former army doctor increasingly intrigued him.

"Do you think he's trustworthy?"

Nura hesitated unusually: "His daughter... is very innocent, I don't think they are like bad people."

The implication of that statement made Song Heping raise an eyebrow.

Nura—the leader of a notorious smuggling cartel, known for her cold-blooded nature—was actually trusting the whole family because of a little girl?

Antonov walked in, chewing on an energy bar, and handed a satellite phone to Song Heping: "The satellite phone is fully charged, there's power outage everywhere, but fortunately, Khalid's garage has backup batteries for power."

Song Heping said, "Avanti said the new contact will arrive at midnight the day after tomorrow."

Antonov leaned closer and whispered: "Guess what I discovered in the garage?"

Nura and Song Heping turned to look at the Da Maozi, warily asking: "What did you find?"

Antonov whispered: "I found a hidden compartment in his tool drawer, inside was a Makarov pistol, Soviet-made."

Song Heping frowned.

Why would a university lecturer who used to be a military doctor own a Soviet-made pistol?

If he were a Western operative or spy, he wouldn't use such an old-fashioned pistol.

What's more, considering Khalid's earlier remarks about the current situation and his intense hatred for the West, it didn't seem acted, but genuine.

He should not be a person from Western intelligence agencies.

"Maybe it's because there's chaos everywhere now, so the professor bought it to protect his family?"

Nura looked at the two of them and provided what seemed like a reasonable explanation.

Song Heping's mind conjured up a corner of the previous map.

Khalid's identity increasingly resembled a shadow concealed in mist, with more and more doubts seemingly hinting that his background was not simple.

"Be careful at night, we'll take turns sleeping and leave someone on duty."

"That's a good idea." Antonov shrugged: "After all, there are only three days."

It seems he is not willing to expose Khalid's identity, much less interested in digging deeper.

After all, falling out benefits no one.

At least for now, Khalid hasn't shown any hostility.

At three in the morning, when Song Heping was on night watch and went to the bathroom, he noticed a sliver of light coming from the study door.

He quietly approached and heard the broadcast from the BBC Arabic channel on the shortwave radio:

"...Conflict broke out again today at Aden Port, reportedly involving foreign agents..."

Khalid's voice suddenly rang out, as if talking to himself: "Time is running out..."

Song Heping gently knocked on the door, and the sound inside instantly disappeared.

When the door opened, he saw the military map spread out on the table in front of Khalid, with an old telegraph machine beside it.

"Can't sleep?"

Song Heping pretended not to see the equipment.

Khalid took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes: "I'm used to working late at night."

He hesitated for a moment and then asked, "When will your friends arrive?"

"The night after tomorrow." Song Heping decided to test him: "At the old shipyard in the old port area."

Khalid's fingers tapped lightly on the map — right at the location of the shipyard.

"That area is not safe now, because there are some old ships, and those are quite coveted items nowadays, so the government army has sent soldiers to patrol there. It seems your friends aren't familiar with the situation here."

Song Heping's heart trembled slightly.

Indeed.

This time, to prevent information from leaking, Avanti directly arranged for his trusted Naxin to bring people over here for support.

But Naxin is with the Revolutionary Guard, a Persian, not a local Yemeni, so it's expected that he's unfamiliar with the situation at Aden Port.

At this moment, Song Heping suddenly realized a very serious problem.

Although Avanti sending Naxin as the new contact avoids leaks, it also brings new troubles.

The situation in Yemen is a mess right now, and civil war is very likely to break out.

Naxin, like a dragon crossing the river, even with a few elite special operations squads from the Revolutionary Guard, can easily run into trouble if unfamiliar with the situation.

Seeing Song Heping remain silent, Khalid seemed more assured.

He looked directly into Song Heping's eyes: "I can arrange a safer route for you."

Song Heping didn't immediately respond.

He noticed the paper tape on the telegraph machine displaying a string of numbers — some kind of coded message.

This "professor" was obviously not just a scholar or a former army medic.

"Why help us?" Song Heping finally asked.

Khalid's gaze became firm: "Yesterday, there was intense crossfire at Pier No. 3. I asked around; they say foreign agents were hunting down three foreigners. As for who those three are, I don't know."

By this point, his gaze became sharper, seemingly seeing through Song Heping's identity.

Seeing this, Song Heping did not deny it: "Yes, those three are me, Nura, and Anton. We are being hunted by the CIA's action team, and their target is me."

"Who are you?" Khalid's eyes held a touch of delight.

"Well..." Song Heping was momentarily at a loss as to how to introduce himself, but eventually, he simply summarized: "I'm on their most-wanted list, and I've heard the bounty is quite high, in the top five. If you're interested, you can report me; I estimate you could earn twenty or thirty million US dollars."

The reason Song Heping dared to say this was because he was confident in Khalid before revealing his identity.

The reason he was being honest about being hunted by the CIA was a gamble.

A gamble that Khalid wasn't with a Western intelligence agency.

"What do you take me for?"

Khalid's expression turned angry, as if insulted.

Song Heping knew he had bet correctly.

"Sorry, I just said that offhandedly; after all, twenty or thirty million US dollars is enough for many people to live a life of wealth and glory."

Khalid snorted coldly: "I'm not so poor that I'd covet the filthy money of those Western colonizers!"

These words made Song Heping look at him in a new light.

In this region of the Middle East, there are still tough guys.

Like Samir, probably also a localist against the West.

"You really dislike Westerners?" Song Heping asked with a smile: "Don't you want them to bring you freedom and democracy?"

Khalid pointed to the city shrouded in darkness outside the window, speaking with resentment: "Look at Aden now, this is their promised 'democracy' and 'freedom.'

Song Heping suddenly understood.

Khalid wasn't just any opposition; he was part of some underground resistance network — perhaps backed by Iran or a native patriot organization.

In any case, he likely saw through Song Heping's disguise the moment he knocked on the door but chose to offer help.

"So where do you think is best for us to rendezvous?" Song Heping decided to take a leap: "Are you willing to offer help?"

Khalid revealed his first genuine smile of the night: "Of course, anyone allied against the Americans is my friend."

Just then, Nina's cries suddenly echoed from upstairs.

"This country is likely heading into civil war, and things will be chaotic for some time." Khalid glanced towards the door and then said, "I have a request: when you leave, could you take my wife and daughter with you and send them to Persia?"

"Persia?!"

Song Heping was momentarily stunned.

"Why Persia?"

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by lotustale.com