Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 947 Simon Promoted to Deputy Director

Langley, seventh floor of CIA headquarters.

The air here always carries the cool ozone smell of precision instruments in operation, mixed with the rich aroma of top-quality coffee beans and a certain invisible pressure.

The thick carpet absorbed all the noise, leaving only the low, constant hum of the central air conditioning system, like the tireless heartbeat of the building.

Simon took a deep breath, suppressing the inappropriate tension in his chest, and tapped his knuckles twice on the heavy walnut door of the director's office with a clear, confident sound.

"Come in."

Director Vincent's voice came through the door, as steady as a polished granite.

Simon pushed open the door and entered.

Outside the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, the generous afternoon sun of early summer in Virginia poured in, gilding the solid wood furniture and the abstract paintings on the walls with a dazzling golden edge.

Vincent stood with his back to the door and by the window, his tall figure and meticulously styled silver-gray hair gleaming in the sunlight.

He was holding a bone china coffee cup, and without turning around, he simply turned his head slightly to the side.

"Director."

Simon stood still, his voice perfectly controlled, conveying the respect due to a subordinate while maintaining his competence.

Vincent slowly turned around, his eyes sharp as scalpel blades, lingering on Simon for a few seconds, as if trying to peel away his impeccably tailored dark gray suit and carefully maintained composure.

“Sit down, Simon.”

Vincent pointed to the large, comfortable leather chair opposite the desk, then walked around the large desk and sat back in the high-backed chair.

He didn't speak immediately, but picked up a gleaming briar pipe from the table and slowly filled it with tobacco. Then he picked up the tamping stick and carefully pressed and flattened the fluffy tobacco. Every little movement was done with an almost ritualistic focus.

The air grew still, with only the soft rustling sound of the tobacco being gently pressed.

Sunlight streamed through the blinds, casting stripes of light and shadow on Simon's knees.

Every second of silence felt like an invisible weight of lead, pressing heavily on Simon's heart.

What's going on?

Is it about the decapitation operation that occurred in Deir ez-Zor?
Or did Song Heping die, and the secrets he left behind about himself were revealed?
Has it already been delivered to the bureau chief's desk?

He couldn't help but glance at the desk in front of Vincent, but didn't see anything special.

Countless fragmented thoughts raced through his mind, only to be forcibly suppressed.

Finally, Vincent struck a long match, the orange flame licking the rim of his pipe bowl.

A wisp of smoke, carrying the aroma of nuts, rose up, blurring part of his expression.

"Sirius's operation..."

Vincent's voice rang out from behind the smoke, calm and unwavering, revealing no bias. "You spearheaded the 'decapitation' operation. I've reviewed the execution report."

coming!

It was indeed related to Celia's operation.

Simon's hand, resting on his knee, twitched slightly, his knuckles turning white, but a restrained seriousness quickly appeared on his face.

"Yes, Director. The target has been confirmed and eliminated. Although there were some unforeseen setbacks during the process, the final result was as expected. Song Heping's threat has been eradicated."

He specifically emphasized the word "eradicate," as if to bolster his conclusion.

"twists and turns?"

Vincent took a drag on his pipe, and gray smoke escaped from the corner of his mouth. His sharp eyes pierced through the smoke and locked onto Simon.

"I think it was a great success. Satellite images show that Mount Gelby was almost completely covered by cluster bombs, and the destructive effect far exceeded expectations."

His tone remained steady.

Simon met Vincent's gaze, his voice remaining as steady as ever: "Thank you for the compliment, Director. It's my duty."

He paused, then added, "Most importantly, the target was indeed eliminated. Subsequent cross-checking and analysis of intelligence all pointed to the same conclusion: the probability of Song Heping's death is over 95%."

"Ninety-five percent..."

Vincent repeated the number as if chewing on a hard candy. His gaze swept over Simon's face with the scrutiny of an old fox examining its prey.

"So, there's still a 5%... uncertainty?"

Simon's heart skipped a beat.

That damn five percent!

Like a tiny poisonous thorn, it pierced deeply into the composure he had been feigning these past few days.

He struggled to maintain his composure: "Director, in intelligence work, absolute certainty is a luxury. Considering all factors, assessing it as 'death' is prudent and reasonable."

Silence fell again in the office, broken only by the soft hissing of the tobacco burning in Vincent's pipe.

The sunlight shifted slightly, illuminating the gold badge on the corner of the desk that symbolized the highest authority of the CIA.

Time seems to have frozen.

Simon could clearly hear the sound of his own blood surging against his eardrums.

Finally, Vincent put down his pipe.

He placed the tips of his two fingers together, forming a spire shape, and rested it in front of his chin.

This is a habitual action he takes before making an important decision.

"Simon."

His voice suddenly became clear and powerful, breaking the suffocating silence.

“The position of deputy director has been vacant for too long, and the White House has already taken notice. We need new talent, people who can face complex challenges head-on and achieve decisive results to fill this role.”

The scrutinizing look in his gray eyes faded, replaced by a deep, unquestionable authority.

“Sirius’s actions are proof of your capabilities. The elimination of Song Heping, a long-standing threat, has removed a deeply embedded thorn for us and for our allies.”

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze sharp: "After careful consideration and with the necessary approvals, I have decided that you will assume the position of Deputy Director of the CIA. Effective immediately."

"boom--"

Simon felt a surge of heat rush to his head, and immense joy, like a shockwave from an explosion, swept over him instantly!
My heart was pounding wildly in my chest, almost shattering my ribs!

Deputy Director!
The number two figure in the CIA!
The pinnacle of power is within reach!
He poured countless efforts into dancing on the edge of a knife and walking in the gray area, all for this moment.

He could even feel his fingertips trembling slightly with excitement.

He jumped to his feet, his movements so fast he almost reached the back of the chair, his face instantly radiating an incredulous glow, a mixture of immense excitement and relief.

"Chief! I...I..."

His voice trembled slightly, and for a moment he couldn't find the right words to express his overwhelming joy and gratitude.

"I...thank you for your trust! Thank you for your recognition! I assure you, I will do my utmost and live up to your expectations! I will dedicate everything I have to our country!"

He stood tall, like a soldier receiving a medal, his eyes burning with boundless anticipation and a desire to conquer the future.

Vincent looked at the undisguised excitement on his face and a barely perceptible smile appeared on his lips, as if admiring a tool that had just been wiped clean and was ready to be used.

"Very good, Simon. I look forward to your next performance."

He nodded slightly and said, "The appointment notice will be sent to all department heads today. Now, go and begin your new work."

"Yes! Director!"

Simon's voice was loud and powerful.

He suppressed his almost overflowing elation, bowed respectfully, then turned and walked with an unprecedented lightness and strength toward the door that symbolized his advancement in power.

"and many more."

Vincent's voice suddenly came from behind.

Simon was startled, and his smile vanished instantly.

Could there be another unexpected event?

A terrible thought flashed through his mind.

"Chief, is there anything else you need?"

He turned around and asked cautiously.

"It's nothing, just letting you know that when you get back, pack your things and move to Pence's old office."

"OK……"

Simon secretly breathed a sigh of relief and walked towards the door of the chief's office again.

The door closed silently behind him, shutting out the lingering smell of tobacco in the office and Vincent's once again unfathomable gray eyes. The bright light in the corridor was somewhat dazzling.

Simon walked briskly, a smile playing on his lips, feeling as if he were walking on clouds with every step.

Deputy Director!
The title echoed in his mind, bringing waves of dizzying pleasure.

He almost wanted to pull out his phone immediately to share this incredible good news with…

The moment the thought crossed my mind, it felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over my head!
Song Heping!
The wave of ecstasy receded instantly, leaving behind a cold, damp beach of fear.

My heart felt like it was being gripped tightly by an invisible hand, suddenly constricting and almost stopping!
The composure I had just maintained in front of the bureau chief crumbled instantly, and a fine layer of cold sweat seeped from my forehead and back.

Five percent!

Yes, that damn five percent survival rate.

That ghost!

Is he dead or not?

He practically jogged back to his spacious office at the end of the corridor, and slammed the heavy solid wood door shut with a "click."

He was isolated from everything outside, including his sudden outburst of panic.

The immense joy vanished, leaving only a chilling, bone-deep fear coursing through my veins.

After confirming that it was absolutely safe, he took out the special satellite phone from his pocket, his fingers hovering over the keypad, trembling violently as if the small keys were red-hot branding irons.

He closed his eyes, forcing himself to recall the number he knew by heart but wished to forget forever, and pressed down the numbers one by one.

The last time I made that call was a few days earlier, the day after Operation Celia had ended.

He pressed the last digit, held his breath, and hovered his thumb over the green dial key.

Sunlight streamed through the blinds, cutting sharp spots of light across the cold metal casing of the satellite phone and illuminating his pale, sweat-covered face.

Time seemed to freeze.

One second... two seconds...

He pressed down hard!
"Beep-beep-beep-"

The monotonous, long, and cold busy tone was like a rusty saw, pulling back and forth on Simon's nerves, which were already stretched to the limit.

Each "beep" sound was like a heavy hammer blow, slamming into his heart.

He gripped the phone tightly, as if he wanted to crush the cold machine.

"Don't go through...don't go through..."

He kept repeating it to himself.

The busy signal continued relentlessly.

Just as Simon was about to break down from the torture of waiting, the busy signal suddenly stopped!

Simon's heart leaped into his throat!
The call connected?!
However, the next second, a cold, synthesized female voice clearly penetrated the earpiece and reached his eardrums:
"The user you dialed is not in service. Please try again later."

English: The number you have dialed is currently not in service. Please try your call again later.
"The user you dialed is not in service. Please try again later..."

French: Le numéro que vous avez composé n'est pas attribué…

"The user you dialed is not in service..."

It's not that the phone is off, or that the line is busy, it's that... it's out of service!

For a top-tier military satellite phone that can theoretically receive signals from anywhere on Earth, this is almost tantamount to declaring that the phone, along with its former owner, has been completely erased from the network that covers it!

Or... they were actively cut off from contact!
Out of service area...

Out of service area...

It worked!
He climbed to the pinnacle of power he had always dreamed of.

He personally "killed" Song Heping, using the other party's "death" to pave his own path to promotion.

The nightmare that had been haunting my mind has disappeared...

"Hahahahaha!"

He couldn't help but burst into unrestrained laughter in his office.

Before the laughter had even subsided, the satellite phone in my hand suddenly vibrated and the screen lit up.

"Call this new number when you have time, and I'll wait for your call back."

Below is a new string of numbers.

Although there was no signature, the tone...

So familiar!

"FUCK!"

Simon's smile began to melt away as quickly as ice cream under the scorching sun.

It’s Song Heping!

FUCK!

He used to talk to me in this tone!

FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!

This guy is not dead!
Simon panicked. He didn't even dare to make a phone call in the office. Instead, he left, quickly crossed the corridor, and took the elevator to the underground parking lot.

After getting into the car and turning on some music, he dialed the new number that had just been sent to him.

Hello! My old friend!

As soon as the call connected, Song Heping's voice sounded like it came from hell.

"It's been a while since we last met. Have you missed me?"

His voice was full of mockery.

Simon clenched his fists tightly, wanting to smash something but not daring to, afraid that making a sound would alert Song Heping on the other end of the phone.

"Song?! You're not dead?!"

He feigned surprise.

"I received intelligence that you were killed in an explosion north of Gelby Hill!"

“It’s alright. The King of Hell hates me. I don’t believe in your religion, and your God doesn’t know me and has no interest in me. Satan is even worse. I’m more ruthless than him, so he’s afraid of me too. I have nowhere to go, so I can only return to the human world.”

Song Heping spoke as casually as if he were joking with an old friend, but Simon, sitting in his car in the underground parking lot of Langley headquarters, was filled with bitterness.

"I...I'm so happy..."

Simon uttered those words with the difficulty of regurgitating a pebble from his stomach.

Even he himself didn't believe it, and found it laughable.

"It's good that you're not dead... By the way, is there something you need? Why were you in such a hurry to see me?"

Song Heping said, "It's nothing serious. I need some equipment and would like your help. I believe you can definitely do it."

"Done..."

Simon thought to himself, "Damn it, of course I can do it."

I'm already the deputy director.

What equipment do you need?

"A set of equipment that can eavesdrop on the communications of British intelligence agencies. I will send you the specific requirements later. I am contacting you to confirm the delivery time and location. I need it urgently. Please deliver it to the Darfur border within three days."

“Three days?! That’s too fast!” Simon instinctively refused.

Song Heping laughed: "A person who can arbitrarily use intelligence funds to build a shadow army in the Middle East is telling me that he can't even get a set of eavesdropping and jamming equipment?"

Double entendre.

It both subtly mocked Simon and brought up the fact that Simon had established a shadow squad and used it to kill his colleagues.

Simon immediately tensed up, instinctively looking left and right, afraid that someone nearby was watching him.

“Okay, no problem. You need to send me the model number and functions. I’ll get it done for you within three days. I’ll give you the transaction location and time later.”

“OK!” Song Heping sounded very happy: “Simon, you know what? I’m really happy to have a friend like you.”

“Me too…” Simon felt his face contort: ​​“I’m so happy…”

(End of this chapter)