Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 1077 Undercurrents and Deadly Intent

Langley, Virginia, USA, CIA Headquarters.

The morning sunlight streamed through the bulletproof glass, falling on Director Vincent's large, tidy mahogany desk, but it couldn't dispel the somber atmosphere in the room.

Deputy Director Simon Jones sat opposite the director, leaning slightly forward, listening to Vincent tapping his knuckles on the map of northwestern Iligo on the table.

"...Air strike effectiveness assessment shows that we have inflicted considerable damage on the command node and logistics warehouse of 1515."

Vincent's voice was steady, with his usual air of authority, "But you know, bombs can't eradicate ideology, nor can they conquer land. We need eyes, we need more precise targeting."

Simon nodded repeatedly in agreement.

Today, he was wearing a well-fitting dark gray suit, his expression one of standard professional focus. He slowly analyzed, "Our network in the Northwest region is being activated. However, due to the extremely brutal massacres carried out by 1515 over the past six months, many old networks have been uprooted. Only some core intelligence networks remain. Replenishing them with new infiltration will take time and is extremely risky."

"Time is what we lack most."

Vincent picked up his coffee cup, but didn't drink it; his hand remained suspended in the air.

"The White House and the Pentagon want to see quick results, but they are absolutely unwilling to commit more ground troops. So the strategy is clear: the Air Force will continue to apply pressure, while the Iligo government forces and the 'Popular Movement' militias will be responsible for the ground advance to retake lost territory. What we need to do is ensure that the Air Force's punches land where they are most needed, and..."

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the vast mountainous region to the north of the map.

"...The White House asked us to ensure that we still have influence there after the situation stabilizes. The Kurds are a good starting point. Whether in northern Iligo or northern Seria, we should support them vigorously. If we can keep them, it's like driving a nail into the ground. In the future, it will be a good move for Tehran, Baghdad, or Damascus."

Simon agreed: "The Kold'd forces do have fighting capabilities and independence tendencies, making them worthy of long-term investment. With them around, if we want chaos in the Middle East, they can create chaos. Don't worry, I will arrange for support, from intelligence to supplies, to be directed towards them, helping them retain their controlled areas in this counter-offensive..."

Tuk-tuk-tuk——

At this moment, there was a gentle knock on the office door.

"Come in."

Vincent replied.

A middle-aged analyst, dressed in a suit and wearing glasses, with a meticulous expression, strode in carrying a folder.

He is the head of the intelligence assessment department responsible for Middle East affairs.

"Chief, Deputy Chief. This is a preliminary assessment report on a recent skirmish in the Dry Valley region of northwestern Iriego, which we believe needs to be submitted immediately."

There was a hint of barely perceptible urgency in the analyst's voice.

Vincent raised an eyebrow, took the folder, and opened it. Simon's gaze followed.

The first page of the report features several enlarged satellite images showing jagged positions on both sides of the dried-up riverbed and numerous charred explosion marks.

Textual analysis indicates that, based on image interpretation and cross-verification of sporadic signal intelligence, approximately three days ago, a militia group called the "Iligor Liberation Forces" successfully ambushed a large armored convoy and its accompanying infantry in this area.

The assessment concluded that the 1515 side suffered extremely heavy losses, possibly exceeding two thousand men, representing the group's heaviest single tactical defeat in recent times within Iligority.

A flicker of surprise crossed Vincent's eyes: "'Liberation Forces'? Samir's little organization? That loose militia? They can have this kind of fighting power?"

He continued turning the pages, which were followed by several high-resolution satellite photographs taken shortly after the battle ended.

The photo captures a small team evacuating from the battlefield.

One of the photos was specially processed to enlarge an Asian face that was clearly defined, with greasepaint on its face, as it was helping a wounded person.

The analysis report noted: "Based on image recognition database comparison, it is highly believed that this person is 'Ghost,' Song Heping, the former owner of the 'Musician' defense company, who has been pursued by the CIA and is involved in multiple incidents that conflict with our interests. He is currently wanted by the police. His location of appearance highly overlaps with the area of activity of the 'Liberation Forces.'"

"Song Heping?!"

Vincent's voice suddenly rose, filled with disbelief and shock.

He shoved the report in front of Simon. "Simon, look at this! How did he end up there? And with Samir! Didn't they say he was in Persia?"

Simon, sitting opposite him, was actually inwardly turbulent, but years of intelligence work had honed his ability to remain calm even in the face of adversity.

He picked up the report, carefully examining the pictures and text, his mind racing.

He must provide a reasonable explanation that can temporarily protect Song Heping.

“Indeed…it’s quite surprising.” Simon put down the report, his tone heavy and cautious. “But upon closer examination, it’s not entirely impossible. Director, do you recall that Samir worked for Song Heping’s company for two years before joining ‘The Musician’? I suspect they had a fairly good personal relationship. Song Heping caused so much trouble in Africa…he had almost nowhere to go. Then he was assassinated in Persia. I guess he sensed danger, and the situation in northern Iligo is chaotic, a place where all sorts of forces mingle. It makes perfect sense that he went to his old friend Samir for protection and opportunities.”

An analyst added, "Deputy Director Simon's analysis makes sense. Furthermore, some sporadic communications we intercepted indicate that Nassim, a close confidant of Afanti, has been in frequent contact with the 'Liberation Forces' recently. Song Heping's return is likely related to the 'Shia Crescent' strategy promoted by the Persians. They may have valued Song Heping's military capabilities and hope to use him to integrate and strengthen pro-Persian militia forces."

"The Shia Arc..."

Vincent's face darkened, and his fingers tapped unconsciously on the table.

"The Persians have overreached. This Song Heping is an extremely dangerous man. He cannot be used by him and must be eliminated. Now that he is involved with the Persians, he is an even greater threat."

He raised his head, a murderous glint in his eyes: "Notify the frontline command to adjust the airstrike priority. Now that we've confirmed he's in the area, have our drones focus on the 'Liberation Forces' camp. Anyway, the airstrike orders are now targeting all hostile threats, so we can easily eliminate this troublesome target while we're at it."

Simon's heart sank. His worst fears had come true.

He has to buy time.

“Director, I understand your decision,” Simon said, his tone pragmatic and professional. “However, based solely on these few satellite photos, although the match is very high, we cannot be 100% certain that it is Song Heping. Image recognition technology is not foolproof, especially in a battlefield environment, where paint and dust can cause misjudgments. If the air strike target is wrong, it will not only waste ammunition but may also alert him, allowing him to hide again.”

He looked at Vincent, his gaze "frank," and said, "I suggest that we first activate our local intelligence network, send out some agents, or use our undercover sources to conduct close-up verification of the 'Liberation Forces' camp and its leaders. Once we have conclusive evidence proving that Song Heping is indeed there, it won't be too late to launch a swift and decisive attack. This is a more prudent approach, ensuring that nothing goes wrong."

Vincent frowned, clearly impatient with Simon's caution, but the deputy director's words were indeed in line with the norms of intelligence work and difficult to refute.

He hesitated for a moment, then finally nodded: "Alright, do as you say. Arrange for agents to confirm immediately. But Simon, I need results as soon as possible. This man is a threat every day he lives."

“Understood, sir. I will personally follow up,” Simon solemnly promised.

After a few more words of discussion about the priority of airstrike targets and details of Kold's armed support, the meeting concluded.

The analyst and Simon left the director's office one after the other.

The door closed behind him, and Simon strode quickly down the carpeted corridor toward his office, outwardly calm but inwardly extremely anxious.

He must inform Song Heping as soon as possible.

Back in his secure office, Simon locked the door and quickly retrieved a specially encrypted satellite phone, composing a short message:

"Kite spotted, wind direction suddenly changed, watch out for falling objects. Hunters are checking bird nests. Leave immediately."

After sending the message, he immediately deleted the sending record and hid the phone number again.

Then I walked to the window and looked at the lush woodland outside, but I couldn't calm down.

"Kite" was the code name they had agreed upon for Song Heping; "Falling Object" referred to an air raid; "Hunter" was the CIA; and "Bird's Nest" was their current location. He hoped Song Heping could understand it and react in time.

Every such secret contact felt like walking a tightrope.

Vincent is not stupid; any unusual occurrence could trigger an internal investigation.

Simon knew very well that the more he did, the greater the chance of a loophole appearing.

But now, he has no choice.

Song Heping had warned him before.

He's dead, and those secrets will be exposed automatically.

This time, Simon dared not gamble.

After all, he was already the deputy director, and Vincent was getting quite old and facing retirement.

Based on his performance and relationship with the White House occupant, he should be able to secure a bureau chief appointment in the next election.

No mistakes can be made before this.

Not even a little bit!

　Asking for a monthly ticket!