Tehran Grocery Store: My Intelligence is Priced Clearly

Zhang Jian walked out of the gray building's door, leaning on his cane.

The sunlight streamed down, so bright that he couldn't help but squint.

He turned his head and looked his female bodyguard up and down.

"What's your name?"

"Shahera".

"What's your full name?"

"Shahra is enough."

Zhang Jian nodded and didn't ask any further questions.

The people sent by the military will say what they can, and there's no point in asking what they can't say.

The two got into the car.

It was the same car they came in, but this time there was no sense of being escorted; there were only the two of them in the back.

Zhang Jian propped his cane up beside his legs and leaned back in his chair to catch his breath.

After a long day of struggling, my wounds started to ache again.

"Shall we chat?"

Shahra turned her head and glanced at him.

"What are you going to talk about?"

"Your situation."

Zhang Jian pointed to the gun at her waist.

"From now on, you'll be following me around every day. I need to know what you're doing, so I don't end up thinking you're going to kill me when you pull out a gun."

Shahra remained silent for a few seconds.

"A female special forces soldier in the Revolutionary Guard Army, serving for four years."

"Can shoot, fight, and drive."

"Mission: Protect your safety."

Zhang Jian waited for a while.

"That's it?"

Shahra glanced at him. "That's enough for you to know."

Zhang Jian smacked his lips.

Fine.

He came from the Revolutionary Guard Special Forces; no wonder he has a different kind of energy than ordinary people.

Shooting, hand-to-hand combat, and driving are all child's play for special forces soldiers.

As for protecting security...

That's probably just the official version of events.

Everyone knows to what extent the intention is to monitor him.

However, Zhang Jian didn't care.

He had nothing to hide in the first place.

His source of intelligence is the system; even if you monitor him 24 hours a day, you still won't be able to figure anything out.

Having a special forces soldier with you does indeed significantly increase the safety factor.

After all, Tehran is currently in a state of war, and anything can happen on the streets.

Forty minutes later, the car stopped in front of the hospital.

Zhang Jian took Shahra back to Karami's ward.

His grocery store has been bombed, and he has nowhere else to go anyway.

In addition, since he had already been exposed and was injured, staying in the hospital would save him the trouble of going through all that trouble himself.

"Karami".

Zhang Jian pushed open the door and entered the room.

"open?"

Karami didn't expect Zhang Jian to come back so quickly.

Intelligence issues are no small matter; he was just worried that Zhang Jian might be detained by the General Staff.

After all, if it weren't for him, Zhang wouldn't have gotten into this mess.

Karimi looked Zhang Jian up and down.

"They didn't give you any trouble, did they? If my injury weren't so serious, I should have gone with you."

Zhang Jian threw his crutch aside and plopped down on the bed next to him.

"You? What are you going to do?"

"You're just a lowly captain. Even if you went, what could you do? Stand guard at the gate?"

"Besides, your General Staff general was having tea and chatting with me. If a captain like you barged in, wouldn't that just be causing trouble for him?"

Karimi opened his mouth.

"You're having tea with the general?"

"certainly!"

"Black tea, served with dates, quite sweet."

Karimi was completely dumbfounded.

He genuinely had no idea what Zhang Jian was talking about.

He knew all too well what being taken away by the military for intelligence-related issues meant in Iran.

Those who manage to return unscathed are considered lucky.

Want some tea?

Are you kidding me!

Seeing his expression, Zhang Jian stopped teasing him.

"Don't worry, I'm really fine."

He patted Karimi on the shoulder.

"Not only was I fine, but the General Staff also thought I was quite valuable and arranged a bodyguard for me."

"bodyguard?"

Karimi was stunned.

Zhang Jian gestured behind him with his chin.

Karimi had just noticed that there was another person following behind Zhang Jian.

He wore a black headscarf, a crisp military uniform, and a pistol at his waist.

He assumed the woman was just someone who had escorted Zhang Jian back and didn't pay much attention to her.

So, this is Zhang's bodyguard?

Karimi's expression was like a rollercoaster, first surprise, then confusion.

Finally, he lowered his voice a few decibels.

"Did the General Staff assign you a female bodyguard?"

Zhang Jian glanced at him.

"What, you have a problem with that?"

No, no.

Karimi waved his hands repeatedly.

"I just...didn't expect that."

He glanced at Shahra stealthily.

To be honest, even though Shahra was wearing a military uniform and her head was covered up with a headscarf, her face was really hard to ignore.

With well-defined facial features, fair skin, and a high nose bridge, coupled with his crisp and decisive demeanor, he appeared even more dashing and heroic.

Karimi unconsciously puffed out his chest.

Then he realized that Shahra wasn't even looking at him, and he couldn't help but feel a little discouraged.

His gaze shifted back to the side.

"Zhang, so from now on, are you going to take her with you everywhere you go?"

"More or less."

Karimi opened his mouth as if to say something, but Zhang Jian stopped him.

"Alright, I know what you're trying to say."

"I understand all of this, but circumstances are beyond my control."

"When I agreed to help you, I was already thinking about this now."

Karimi was speechless, and a hint of guilt crept onto his face.

Zhang Jian rolled over and found a more comfortable position.

"Alright, stop overthinking it."

In short, I'm fine, and they didn't give me any trouble.

"From now on, we'll live our lives as usual."

Before Karimi could ask any more questions, Zhang Jian had already reached for the remote control next to him and turned on the TV opposite the hospital bed.

The logo of Iranian state television appears in the upper left corner of the screen.

An announcer is facing the camera with a serious expression.

"The General Staff of the Armed Forces of the Islamic Republic of Iran hereby issues a statement."

"Regarding the so-called 'precision strike operations' claimed by the US and its false reports of combat results..."

"We hereby solemnly declare!"

"The US attack did not cause any substantial damage to Iran's air defense system."

"Our intelligence agencies had prior knowledge of the US military's strike plan, and all core equipment and personnel had been transferred before the strike."

"The US military's claim of a '100% hit rate' is pure self-deception."

Then, the scene changed.

A video was broadcast.

In the footage, the intact S-300 missile launcher is parked in the valley, with soldiers standing beside it, giving a thumbs-up to the camera.

The next scene shows two F-14 fighter jets being slowly pulled out of the aircraft shelter.

Next, radar operators in Bandar Abbas are working in a backup bunker.

The signal on the device screen is fluctuating, and everything is operating normally.

The last scene shows the original position that was destroyed.

The wreckage was scattered all over the ground, but upon closer inspection...

They were all fragments of inflatable fake targets.

A rubber "radar antenna" and a charred corner reflector.

The announcer raised his voice slightly.

"The so-called airstrikes by the US military only destroyed a few inflatable models and abandoned bunkers."

"This is not a glorious victory, but the biggest joke of this war!"

"We hereby solemnly warn the US government!"

"Iran will not be intimidated by any threat of force."

"What you call a 'devastating blow' is nothing more than a dazzling fireworks display in our eyes!"

The ward fell silent instantly.

After a long while, Karimi finally managed to turn his head.

He stared at Zhang Jian in shock.

"Zhang, are these images real?"

Zhang Jian didn't say anything.

He leaned leisurely against the headboard, looking at the intact equipment on the screen, without a ripple in his heart.

He knew this would be the outcome from the moment he was taken away by the General Staff.

Judging from the footage, the intelligence was executed quite effectively.

The equipment and personnel at those key nodes were all saved.

As for the remaining non-core targets, the combined cost of the inflatable models and corner reflectors might not even be a fraction of the price of a cruise missile.

Compared to the war expenditures of the US military, Tehran's expenditures are negligible.

The footage on the television was still playing.

The Iranian side even extracted footage from a previous US military press conference and compared it with actual evidence.

On the left is a CNN broadcast of a US military spokesperson looking smug, and on the right is a video released by Iran showing its well-maintained equipment.

That's a pretty underhanded move.

It's like rubbing the face of the US military into the ground.

at the same time.

Qatar, Al Udeid Air Base.

The atmosphere at the U.S. Central Command forward command center was extremely tense.

Michael Martinson stood in front of the control panel.

The screen is displaying a statement from Iranian state television.

Every frame felt like a resounding slap across his face.

An intact S-300.

An intact F-14.

The radar operator, still in good condition, gave him a thumbs-up in front of the camera.

And those deflated inflatable decoys.

The rubber fragments reflected the sunlight, making them glaringly conspicuous.

Martinson gripped the edge of the table tightly, his veins bulging.

"Can anyone tell me!"

His voice was low, and his anger had reached its peak.

"Why did the Iranians know about our multi-axis coordinated strike plan, which we spent three weeks preparing?"

No one in the command center dared to utter a sound.

"Twelve goals!"

"Twelve interconnected strike points! Even the timing is precise to the second!"

"They not only know where we're going to attack, they also know when we're going to attack!"

"EA-18G's electronic jamming window parameters! F-35's penetration route! Even the pilot's call sign..."

"Who leaked this information?!"

The staff officers around him all had their heads down, as if they wanted to bury their heads in their necks.

Martinson glanced around, but no one responded. He gritted his teeth and waved to the side.

"Lieutenant, get me the complete list of personnel involved in this operation, their classification levels, and their access permissions!"

"From the Pentagon to our command center, everyone who has had contact with this plan must be investigated!"

"Not a single one can be spared!"

Just then, the side door of the command center suddenly opened.

A middle-aged man wearing a dark blue polo shirt walked in.

He was in his early forties, wearing metal-framed glasses, and his short brown hair was neatly combed.

The pass hanging around his neck had a line of small black text on it.

Robert Hall, Director of the Iran Operations Division of the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA).

Martinson turned his head and looked at the newcomer with a hostile expression.

"Hall, don't you CIA people owe me an explanation?"

Hall pushed up his glasses.

"General, this is why I've come."

"Langley initiated an internal investigation fifteen minutes ago."

"I have been authorized to be fully involved in the investigation into the source of this leak."

Martinson slammed his fist hard on the table.

"I don't want the procedure! I want the result!"

"I need to know who, and through what channels, handed this top-secret operational plan to the Iranians!"

Hall nodded.

"We will find out the truth."

He glanced around the command center and added another sentence.

"But until the facts are clear, I recommend suspending the approval of all offensive war plans against Iran."

"Until the source of the leak is identified."

Martinson did not respond immediately.

He stared intently at the Iranian soldier's thumbs-up on the screen, his face grim.

Tehran.

The television in the ward was still playing Iranian statements on a loop.

Karimi was excited for a while before he calmed down.

Zhang Jian leaned against the headboard, his eyes still on the television, but his mind was wandering to other things.

The General Staff has already confirmed his value.

They provided contact information and even sent bodyguards.

There shouldn't be any safety issues in the short term.

In the long run, however, the Iranian military cannot allow him to stay in the hospital doing nothing.

He needs to have an identity.

A reasonable, ordinary, and inconspicuous identity.

Returning to China?

Zhang Jian thought about it for a moment and then dismissed the idea.

The Iranian military will not let him leave.

He's a golden goose now; if he leaves, who will provide them with intelligence?

Moreover, even if the military agrees, there are still problems with his exit procedures and flight safety.

In wartime, civilian flights are simply impossible.

If I go by land, I'm afraid I'll be caught and brought back the moment I leave.

Since we can't leave, we might as well stay.

He had previously run a grocery store in Tehran for three years, and although the store was bombed, that was the smoothest path he had taken.

To open a shop, you need a fixed location and a reasonable source of income.

You can come and go freely, and interacting with the people around you is natural.

This is the most suitable identity.

After all, who would care about a grocery store owner?

Zhang Jian turned his head away.

Shahra stood leaning against the wall by the door of the ward.

Arms crossed over his chest, a standard ready-to-go posture.

"Shahera".

"Um."

"Does your military have any vacant shops in Tehran?"

"It doesn't need to be big, a smaller one will do."

Shahra turned her head away.

"What's it for?"

Zhang Jian propped the pillow up behind him, finding a more comfortable position.

"Open a general store."

Karimi almost choked on his water glass as soon as he picked it up.

"What did you say?"

"Open a general store."

Zhang Jian repeated it.

"My old place got bombed, so I have to open a new one."

Karimi stared wide-eyed, his face filled with disbelief.

You just came out of the General Staff Department, with bodyguards all set up, and now you're going to open a general store?

Shahra didn't speak, but the angle at which she looked at Zhang Jian changed slightly.

Zhang Jian put his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling.

"It doesn't need to be too big, just like my old one, a little smaller is fine."

Shahra remained silent for a few seconds.

"I'll go ask."

She opened the door and went out.

Karimi leaned closer and lowered his voice.

"Zhang, are you serious?"

"I've never been more serious than I am now."

Ten minutes later, Shahra pushed open the door and came back, holding a piece of paper in her hand.

"South Tehran, two blocks from your old shop."

"Thirty square meters, with a small storage room."

"There's another floor underground, and there's an emergency exit there too."

She handed the paper over.

"Take a look."

Zhang Jian picked up the paper and glanced at it.

The address, size, and surrounding conditions are all clearly stated.

The efficiency is good.

He folded the paper and stuffed it into his pocket.

"No problem, this is the place."