Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 1111 The Time Is Not Yet Ripe
Inside a detached house on the outskirts of Langley.

Night had fallen, and only a desk lamp was lit in the study, its dim light outlining Simon's slightly tired profile.

In the whiskey glass in front of him, only a thin layer of amber liquid remained.

The encrypted satellite phone screen on the table was lit up, displaying a complex, constantly changing sequence of key authentications.

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

My finger typed a long string of numbers from deep within my memory onto the encrypted dial pad.

This number exists only in his most secret memories; it is the only channel for him to communicate one-way with that "ghost."

The phone rang for a long time. Just when Simon thought no one would answer and even wondered if the line had been abandoned, the other end picked up the phone. But no one spoke immediately; only steady breathing could be heard.

"it's me."

Simon spoke first, his voice low, even though he knew the phone call was highly confidential.

"I know it is you."

Song Heping's voice came through, devoid of any emotional fluctuation, "Calling at this hour is unlike you. Has something happened?"

"North of Iligor, in the Kold's oil field region, four hours ago..."

Simon skipped the pleasantries and got straight to the point.

"The 1515 militants launched a large-scale surprise attack using a sandstorm. The Kold suffered heavy losses, losing at least three oil field outposts and incurring significant casualties... Moreover, we lost an air force technical expert who was on the field advisory team."

There was a two-second silence on the other end of the phone, followed by a cold laugh.

"The sandstorm...it really came."

Song Heping's tone showed no surprise, but rather a calm acceptance.

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

As always, Afanti's intelligence was accurate.

Simon's heart sank.

The Persians did indeed find out in advance!

Song Heping knew too!

He couldn't help but press, "You knew all along? Why...?"

Why weren't you reminded?

Song Heping interrupted him, his voice laced with a cold sarcasm, “Simon, providing you with information will indeed earn you merit and bring you one step closer to the position of director, but my team and I have no obligation to pay for the strategic mistakes of the US government. Besides, remind you? In what capacity? By a ‘KB leader’ who is wanted globally by you? Do you think your superior, Director Vincent, will believe my intelligence, or will he think it’s an elaborate trap? When he asks about your source of information, how will you answer? Deceive him? That will only expose more of your weaknesses.”

Simon was speechless.

He knew that what Song Heping said was true.

The CIA's internal bureaucracy and inherent biases mean it will not accept intelligence from such a source. Instead, it will investigate the source of the intelligence, which may ultimately backfire on the CIA.

"and……"

Song Heping continued, "Doesn't this just confirm my previous judgment? The Kold's fighting strength is weak and they can't be relied on anymore, plus your ground intelligence network is riddled with holes. Now it's you who are anxious, not me."

Simon felt a wave of helplessness.

He took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice steady: "Okay, the past can't be changed. Song, I'm here to talk to you about the future. The current situation might be an opportunity for both of us."

"Opportunity?" Song Heping's laughter came from the other end of the radio: "Hehe, tell me, what opportunity?"

"An opportunity for...cooperation."

Simon managed to utter the word, feeling his throat go dry.

"Director Vincent and the White House are under immense pressure. They urgently need to rebuild intelligence and strike capabilities in northwestern Iriego, especially the decapitation strikes against high-value targets in the 1515 leadership, and end this war on terror against extremist groups as soon as possible to appease the public and avoid being blamed for the crisis. However, rebuilding intelligence will take time..."

He paused, then emphasized, “I can submit a report recommending… recommending limited, highly classified intelligence cooperation with you. Utilize your ground networks and operational capabilities to provide us with the real-time location and precise coordinates of 1515’s leader. In exchange, we can… consider reassessing your arrest warrant, or even… offer some form of 'clarification' or 'pardon' at an appropriate time in the future. This is the best way for you to clear your name.”

As Simon finished speaking, his heart began to pound involuntarily.

He felt he had gone mad to propose cooperation to someone the CIA considered its number one threat.

But a voice deep inside him told him that this was the fastest and most effective solution at the moment.

Moreover, this might be a way to solve the "trouble" of Song Heping once and for all—either by recruiting him or after the cooperation ends...

Another short, cold laugh came from the other end of the phone.

"Cooperation? With the CIA? Simon, are you drunk today, or have you been spurred into a daze by Vincent's insults?"

Song Heping's refusal caught Simon completely off guard.

"why?"

Simon was truly perplexed.

This Song Heping, he actually didn't seize this opportunity. He didn't even appreciate it.

He even resolutely rejected himself.

Is this guy crazy?!

"This is your best chance to get out of your current predicament! As long as you cooperate, provide a few key pieces of intelligence, and help us take down some important figures from 1515, I will have enough reason to lobby my superiors to re-examine your case! Do you want to carry the stigma of being a KB member for the rest of your life and be hunted down by the whole world?!"

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

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

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

"Because the time is not right. Your report will not only fail to promote cooperation, but will immediately arouse Vincent's suspicion and distrust. He will think, why are you speaking for a mortal enemy? Have you and I been in cahoots before? Did you know about or even participate in the 1515 attack in advance? Such suspicion is enough to ruin you, and you may even be 'forced to commit suicide'."

Song Heping's tone was tinged with sarcasm, "You want to help me? I'm afraid you'll end up getting yourself involved too."

Simon broke out in a cold sweat instantly.

He had to admit that Song Heping's insight into the dark side of CIA internal politics was extremely accurate.

He even suspected that Song Heping had an inside man within the CIA besides himself.

Vincent was inherently suspicious, and it was indeed extremely risky for him to make such a shocking suggestion at this critical juncture.

"I……"

Simon was speechless for a moment, realizing that his thoughts were completely being led by Song Heping.

Song Heping's voice softened, carrying a hint of candor mixed with reality: "Simon, you and I both know that your willingness to 'help' me isn't out of friendship or a sense of justice. You're just worried that if something happens to me, your shady 'little secrets' and the fact that you misappropriated CIA operational funds through certain hidden accounts will be automatically sent to the CIA Inspector General's office and the Washington Post's email inbox via my preset death switch. Right?"

Simon's face turned deathly pale under the lamplight, and his fingers trembled slightly as he held the wine glass.

Song Heping precisely grasped his vital point.

And they're holding it very tight.

He hates this feeling.

I also dislike Song Heping.

But they had no choice but to obey.

“So…” Song Heping continued, as if stating a simple fact, “My being alive and in a relatively stable situation is in your best interest. We have a distorted symbiotic relationship. Therefore, you have to listen to me and hold back for now.”

Simon remained silent for a full half minute, then, as if all his strength had been drained, he said dejectedly, "...Okay. You're right. But Song, opportunities are fleeting, don't be too confident. The threat from 1515 is real, and if the situation deteriorates further, the White House and the Pentagon may take more extreme and uncontrollable measures."

“I know,” Song Heping replied calmly. “Therefore, we need to create opportunities, not wait for them.”

“Creating an opportunity?” Simon frowned.

“Yes.” Song Heping’s voice held a hint of mystery. “For example, if you were to become the CIA director, I think we would be happy to accept your proposal for cooperation.”

"What!?"

Simon nearly jumped out of his chair; his heart was pounding.

Amidst the shock, a secret ecstasy and longing welled up uncontrollably from the depths of my heart.

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

"literal meaning."

Song Heping said calmly, "How long do you think Vincent can stay in that position? With Iligo's series of failures leaving a mess, someone has to take responsibility. Surely it won't be the wise and great President himself?"

Simon's breathing became heavy.

Song Heping's words were like the devil's whisper, precisely stirring up his deepest desire for power.

He always believed he was more capable than Vincent, he just lacked an opportunity...

"You...you have some kind of plan, don't you?"

Simon's voice was a little hoarse from excitement.

"Don't ask." Song Heping interrupted him decisively. "Knowing too much won't do you any good. When the time comes, you'll naturally know. You just need to remember to remain silent, hold onto your current position, and... be prepared for any opportunities that may arise."

After saying that, Song Heping ended the call without waiting for Simon to ask any further questions.

Simon remained unsettled for a long time as he listened to the busy tone on the phone.

He sat in the darkness, staring at the remaining whiskey in his glass, his mind racing. Song Heping's words were like a boulder thrown into a calm lake, creating huge ripples. The position of bureau chief…

He had never dared to think about this possibility so clearly before, but at this moment, the idea was growing wildly like weeds.

What exactly is that man in Persia plotting?
　Asking for a monthly ticket!

　　
　
(End of this chapter)