Tehran Grocery Store: My Intelligence is Priced Clearly

Reza's face turned deathly pale, and he instinctively reached back with both hands to brace himself.

"The area outside the South District is swarming with military personnel. Running out now is suicide!"

Alvis toyed with the dagger in his hand, the blade gleaming coldly in the dim light.

"Who said I'm going to kill him now?"

He grabbed a rag from the side and wiped the blood off his face.

"I'm just going to take a look around and familiarize myself with the environment."

"That won't do either!"

Reza was so anxious that he aggravated the wound on his thigh, causing him to turn even paler with pain.

"You have no idea how thorough the Revolutionary Guard's search is!"

"They won't loosen their control over the southern district until dawn!"

Alvis was too lazy to waste words.

He pulled out an HK416 from the table and pressed the muzzle against Reza's forehead with a "click".

The hard, metallic touch made Reza shut his mouth instantly.

"I have my own way."

Alvis looked down at him.

"Lead the way, or die here now."

Reza's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed a large mouthful of saliva.

He glanced at the satellite phone in his arms.

The lure of two million dollars, coupled with the gun pointed at his head, left him with no choice.

Forcibly suppressing his worries, he gritted his teeth and took a heavy breath.

"good……"

"I'll take you there."

Reza struggled to his feet, supporting himself on the chair; blood was still dripping from his thigh.

"However, I'm afraid my legs can't accompany you that far!"

Alvis glanced at the knife wound he had inflicted on Alvis's thigh.

Are there any unlicensed clinics nearby?

Reza nodded.

"Two streets away, there's a basement that specializes in these shady jobs."

"Walk."

Ten minutes later.

The two followed the dark alleyway and crept into a basement that reeked of strong disinfectant.

A gaunt old man was dozing off at the table when he was startled awake by the sound of the door being pushed open.

Before he could even speak, a rifle with a silencer was already pointed at his nose.

"Sew him up and stop the bleeding."

Yalvis said something in English, then turned to look at Reza.

Translate it to him and tell him to hurry up and stop trying to pull any tricks.

Despite the pain, Reza quickly spoke a few words in Persian.

The old man was so frightened that he trembled all over. He quickly rummaged through his first-aid kit, and without even daring to administer anesthesia, he cleaned the wound with alcohol and began to sew it up.

"what!"

Reza bit down hard on a tattered towel, veins bulging on his forehead, cold sweat streaming down his face.

The whole process took less than five minutes.

The old man quickly wrapped the bandage around his neck, retreated to the corner of the wall, and squatted down with his hands behind his head.

Jarvis pulled out several bloodstained US dollars from his tactical vest and threw them on the table.

He ignored the old man and grabbed a cane from the side, pulling Reza up by the arm.

The two left the illegal clinic and ventured back into the intricate alleyways of the slum.

Alvis took a miniature communicator out of his pocket, pressed a few buttons, and whispered a few coded words into it.

Not long after, a man wearing a black headscarf, whose face was obscured, emerged from the shadows.

The man didn't say a word, just gestured to Ilvis, and turned to leave.

Reza was secretly surprised.

The CIA's infiltration in Tehran is so deep that it can mobilize informants at any time, right under the military's nose.

The informant led them through a maze of twists and turns until they uncovered a sewer manhole cover hidden beneath a pile of garbage.

A strong, foul stench hit us.

Reza almost vomited, but seeing the gun in Alvis's hand, he had no choice but to grit his teeth and climb down.

The sewer was pitch black, and the sewage was ankle-deep.

The heavy footsteps of military search teams and the roar of armored vehicles could be heard from above.

Every tremor sent shivers down Reza's spine.

The three trekked through the sewers for nearly an hour before finally climbing back to the surface at the exit of a remote, abandoned air-raid shelter.

It was already past midnight.

A faint glimmer of dawn appeared on the horizon.

The informant led them out, drove around the southern district, and dropped them off nearby before leaving.

"This is the North District."

Reza got out of the car, limped against the wall, and gasped for breath.

"The military's main focus is on the southern docks, which are relatively safe."

Alvis nodded, adjusted his equipment, and hid the spear under his large trench coat.

"Lead the way to that Chinese man's general store."

Reza, dragging his injured leg, led Alvis through several deserted streets and into the Naft district.

After turning several corners, the two stopped at the entrance of an alley.

Reza pointed to the depths of the alley.

"Go in for about 200 meters, and it's on your left. It's the one with the white roller shutter door."

Reza lowered his voice.

"That guy usually stays there and rarely goes out."

Alvis looked in the direction he was pointing.

It's just an ordinary alley, nothing special about it.

He didn't go in.

He simply stood at the entrance of the alley, carefully observing the surrounding environment.

High vantage points on both sides, possible locations of surveillance cameras, evacuation routes...

He even quickly went through the wind direction in the alley in his mind.

After confirming the terrain, Alvis looked away.

Reza breathed a sigh of relief.

"Now that you've accepted this place, can you send me away?"

Reza clutched the satellite phone tightly to his chest, pondering how he should live after leaving the Middle East.

Yalvis turned around and looked at Reza.

Suddenly, without warning, he reached out his hand.

The movement was so fast that Reza couldn't react at all.

"Whoosh!"

Alvis ripped open Reza's coat and forcefully pulled the black satellite phone away.

Reza was completely stunned.

"What are you doing!"

He instinctively lunged forward to grab it.

Yalvis raised his foot and kicked Reza directly in the stomach.

"Bang!"

Reza screamed and fell heavily to the ground.

The wound reopened instantly, and blood stained the bandages again.

Yalvis put the satellite phone in his pocket and looked down at Reza, who was rolling on the ground.

"Your value ends here."

Reza was in so much pain that his whole body was convulsing, and he stared at Ilvis with bloodshot eyes.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"You promised to give me two million to send me away!"

"yes."

Alvis sneered.

"Didn't I give you money?"

"It's just that I took it back."

Reza was so angry he was trembling.

He was scammed!

We were completely fooled by this American!

All the dreams of getting rich quick and all the escape plans vanished at this moment.

Not only did they not receive a single penny, they also nearly lost their lives.

"I kill you!"

Reza lost his mind and struggled to get up and fight back.

Yalvis stepped forward, squatted down, grabbed Reza by the neck with one hand, and slammed him to the ground.

Reza lay on the ground, clinging tightly to Ilvis's arm with both hands, his face turning purplish-red.

"Save your energy, Major."

Yalvis leaned closer to Reza's face and lowered his voice.

"I'm not killing you because you're still useful."

Reza stopped struggling and gasped for breath.

"Now, I want you to go back to the Revolutionary Guard's intelligence department and continue being your major."

Reza's eyes widened.

"What...what do you want to do?!"

"My men were killed at the dock, and the military will definitely follow the trail."

Alvis released his grip.

"I want you to keep a close eye on the military's movements and report to me at any time."

"You want me to be your mole?"

Reza clutched his neck and coughed violently.

"What, you don't want to?"

Alvis drew his pistol.

The bullet was chambered, and the muzzle was pressed directly against Reza's forehead.

"If you don't want to, then die."