Tehran Grocery Store: My Intelligence is Priced Clearly

Zhang Jian was asked to get into the car by two soldiers.

No one spoke, no one explained, and no one even glanced at him.

Farhad and Karimi did not accompany him; he was the only one brought out.

The car door closed, and the cane was shoved at his feet.

Zhang Jian leaned back in the back seat and looked out the car window.

He knew the streets of Tehran all too well.

It's been three years. I can find my way around any road with my eyes closed.

The car didn't take the main road, but instead took the back roads.

After passing two military checkpoints, the frequency of guard shift changes was significantly higher than at ordinary sentry posts.

The further north you go, the fewer civilian vehicles there are on the road.

Zhang Jian felt more at ease.

If the intelligence is wrong, Reza will most likely take action directly at the hospital; there's no need for this extra step.

The current situation clearly indicates that the information on those twelve targets has been verified.

Although the visitors were from the General Staff Department, they were there to share information, and we also received the news here.

This is a good thing.

Once verified, it means that his value has been confirmed.

Valuable people are generally not easily disposed of.

But there's a gap between "not easily" and "not at all".

He still needs to figure out how to replace "won't easily" with "won't".

After driving for about forty minutes, the car turned into the underground parking garage of a gray building.

Zhang Jian was led off the car, through two iron gates, and walked down a windowless corridor.

Finally, they were pushed into a room.

This is a standard interrogation room.

An iron table, two chairs, and an incandescent light bulb overhead.

A familiar portrait hangs on the wall, the face of the supreme leader appearing particularly solemn under the light.

Zhang Jian was forced to sit down in a chair.

There are already people on the other side.

He was in his forties, thin, wearing a crisp military uniform with the collar buttoned up tightly.

There was a folder on the table, but nothing else.

At the entrance, two soldiers stood there, their hands behind their backs, standing ramrod straight.

"Zhang Jian."

The person on the other end spoke.

He spoke Persian very well, and at a slow pace.

"Male, 26 years old, from Dongda University. He entered Iran three years ago on a business visa and runs a grocery store in southern Tehran."

"No criminal record, no political background, and no religious affiliation."

"My social circle is extremely small. I have no more than twenty people I interact with on a daily basis, all of whom are ordinary vendors and residents."

He turned a page.

"Clean bank statements, clean communication records, clean entry and exit records."

Close the folder.

"Everything seems normal."

He looked up and stared at Zhang Jian.

"But such a normal identity."

"How did they obtain intelligence about the US bombing of the 47th Air Defense Battalion?"

"How did you obtain precise intelligence on the twelve air strike locations for today?"

The presiding judge leaned back and tapped his fingers lightly twice on the table.

"Mr. Zhang, I've actually seen many people sit in your position."

"Some people are genuinely innocent, while others are faking it."

"But someone like you, who spends three years establishing yourself in a country, building an identity, integrating into the community, and not attracting anyone's attention..."

"There aren't many."

"Here, we have a special name for this kind of person."

He paused for a moment.

"The Hibernator".

"To put it simply, they are spies."

Although the words were plain, Zhang Mingjian suddenly felt the pressure behind him increase.

I'll give you a chance.

"As long as you tell us your true identity, your organization, and your mission, we can consider a lenient punishment."

"otherwise……"

The words weren't finished, but the meaning was clear enough.

Zhang Jian sat opposite him.

He was a little nervous at first, but as he read his own message, he became much calmer.

"If I said I don't know why I know these things, would you believe me?"

The presiding judge's expression remained unchanged.

"I don't believe it."

"That's right."

Zhang Jian leaned back in his chair.

"I wouldn't believe it either."

"So, I'll try to talk to you in a different way."

"You brought me here because you want to know two things."

"First, where do I get my intelligence? Second, what else can I offer?"

"To be honest, I can't answer your first question."

"It's not that I don't want to tell you, it's that you wouldn't believe me even if I did, and you'd think I'm making up stories to fool you."

"But the second question is, what else can I offer...?"

"I suppose you've already seen this."

The presiding judge remained silent.

Zhang Jian continued speaking.

"Twelve targets, a timetable accurate to the second, penetration routes, and pilot call signs."

"You've all verified these, haven't you?"

"Otherwise, I wouldn't be sitting here."

The presiding judge still did not respond, but he also did not interrupt Zhang Jian.

"I know what you're thinking."

Zhang Jian leaned forward.

"You're wondering which side I'm on!"

"Is it a bait planted by the Americans, or a double agent from Israel?"

"Even my skin color and nationality can make you think of certain things."

"You can keep guessing, but what I want to say is that I am not actually a threat to you."

"If you still don't believe me, I can give you an even simpler way to verify it."

The presiding judge finally reacted.

"In what way?"

"I'll give you another piece of information."

Zhang Jian extended one finger.

"You should verify it."

"If it's fake, you can do whatever you want with it."

"But if that's the case, I think we can sit down and have a proper talk."

The presiding judge stared at him for a full ten seconds.

Then he nodded to the person at the door.

A pen and a piece of paper were handed to Zhang Jian.

Zhang Jian took the pen and lowered his head.

"System, exchange for information on Mossad agents lurking in the Tehran region. Just one piece will do."

【Ding! 】

[Spend $5000 to exchange for "Intelligence on Mossad Agents in Tehran x1"]

[Target: Avi Dahan, alias "Falhad Noruz".]

[Iranian national, currently an associate professor in the Department of Persian Literature at the University of Tehran.]

[True Identity: Field agent of Mossad's "Gideon" Operations Group, codename "Gardener".]

[Duration of infiltration: Seven years.]

[Contact method: Dead mail is handed over every Wednesday through the back door of "Safawi Carpet Shop" in the eastern part of Tehran's Grand Bazaar.]

Zhang Jian then wrote down the key information on a piece of paper and pushed it over.

The presiding judge picked it up and glanced at it.

His expression changed instantly.

He suddenly stood up, grabbed the paper, and strode out of the interrogation room.

The door was closed again.

Zhang Jian sat alone in the interrogation room, staring blankly at the portrait of the supreme leader for a while.

My legs hurt, my butt hurts, and this iron chair is so uncomfortable.

He was already covered in injuries, and then he was interrogated twice.

If I hadn't taken a nap beforehand, I really wouldn't have been able to hold on.

However, it will likely take a while to verify this information.

Arresting and interrogating people.

If it goes quickly, it will take an hour; if it goes slowly, it will take at least three or four hours.

However, the efficiency here is clearly acceptable.

In fact, after waiting for two hours, the door was pushed open again.

The same presiding judge came in, but his whole demeanor was completely different.

His facial expression was complex.

He stood at the door, looked at Zhang Jian for a while, and then reached out his hand to greet him.

"Come with me."

Zhang Jian was led out of the interrogation room, through another corridor, and into a completely different room.

This place is clearly several levels higher.

The carpet was hand-woven, and in addition to the portrait of the leader, a Persian miniature painting hung on the wall.

On the coffee table, there was freshly brewed black tea and a dish of dates.

A person was sitting on the sofa.

He was in his fifties, wearing a military uniform, with two curved swords wrapped around ears of wheat on his shoulder insignia.

Second-class brigadier general.

This rank would be considered a high-ranking military officer in Iran.

"sit."

The man in military uniform pointed to the sofa opposite him.

Zhang Jian walked over with his cane and plopped down on the ground.

"We have verified the information you provided."

The man in military uniform spoke Persian with a heavy northern accent.

"No problem."

Zhang Jian nodded, but didn't speak immediately.

"Now, I want to know who you really are."

The man in military uniform picked up his teacup and took a sip.

"Of course, I'm talking about the real you."

Zhang Jian remained silent for a few seconds.

"My name is Zhang Jian, and I own a general store in Tehran."

The man in military uniform frowned.

"But my skin color, my nationality, will never change!"

Zhang Jian's voice wasn't loud.

"Actually, you don't need to worry about me posing a threat to you. I am not your enemy."

"On the contrary, I can give you what you want."

"I can give you intelligence, continuously."

"These are exactly what you urgently need right now."

"Of course, these things aren't given to you for free."

"You need to pay for it; it's a cash-on-delivery transaction."

"Besides that, I need one more thing: security."

The man in military uniform slowly put down his teacup.

"Are you trying to negotiate with me?"

"No, this is cooperation, a cooperation that allows us to achieve a win-win situation."

"cooperate?"

The man in military uniform repeated the word.

"Aren't you afraid I'll lock you up?"

His tone was calm.

"Lock him up, we'll question him slowly."

"We have plenty of time, and we have plenty of 'solutions'."

Zhang Jian smiled.

"You won't."

"Oh?"

"Because you don't know how much I know."

Zhang Jian shrugged.

"Today I gave you the airstrike plan and captured a Mossad spy."

"What about tomorrow? What about the day after tomorrow?"

"As I just said, I can provide you with consistent and accurate intelligence."

"Locking me up will only prevent you from getting the most accurate information."

"In that case, who will suffer greater losses?"

"Oh, right."

He paused.

"Don't even think about getting any information from me."

"And even if you obtain it through some means, you won't be able to verify it and get the intelligence."

"Believe me, I have no reason to lie to you about this."

The man in military uniform's pupils contracted sharply.

The room fell silent instantly.

ten seconds.

Twenty seconds.

The man in military uniform smiled.

"Twenty years ago, I also interrogated a Chinese man."

He leaned back on the sofa, his tone suddenly becoming somewhat wistful.

"That person is older than you, and he talks less than you."

"He only said one sentence the whole time while sitting in the chair."

Zhang Jian raised an eyebrow.

He said, 'Let me make a phone call before you touch me.'"

The man in military uniform looked at Zhang Jian.

"Then he was released."

"I never saw him in Tehran again after that."

The man in military uniform picked up his teacup again and took another sip.

"You're smarter than him."

"He said nothing, but he said everything."

Zhang Jian didn't respond to that.

He was a fraud from the start. Some things are better left unsaid; saying too much will only make things worse.

"You can leave now."

The man in military uniform put down his teacup, took out a business card from his pocket, placed it on the coffee table, and pushed it towards him.

"But you must stay in touch with us."

"The number on this card is answered 24 hours a day."

Zhang Jian picked up the business card and glanced at it. There was no name, only a string of numbers.

"in addition."

I'll get you a bodyguard.

"Need not."

Zhang Jian refused without even thinking.

"I run a small grocery store. If I hire a bodyguard, what will the neighbors think of me?"

The man in military uniform smiled.

"A woman."

"A woman?"

Zhang Jian opened his mouth, then closed it again.

If it's a woman, then it's alright.

The man in military uniform clapped his hands.

The door opened, and a woman walked in.

Twenty-five or twenty-six years old, with his hair wrapped in a black headscarf, wearing a military uniform, and a gun at his waist.

He wasn't tall, but he stood very straight, exuding a sharp and efficient air about him.

Most importantly, it's quite pretty.

The man in military uniform stood up and patted Zhang Jian on the shoulder with considerable force.

"Mr. Zhang, just focus on your business."

"Contact me anytime if you need anything."