Tehran Grocery Store: My Intelligence is Priced Clearly

High-value intelligence selection section?

Zhang Jian was stunned for a moment.

Previously, he would simply ask the system for what he needed and exchange it. It seems that the purpose of this self-selection section is not that significant!

"Check!"

With a thought, Zhang Jian's high-value intelligence selection section slowly unfolded before his eyes.

The blue interface clearly divides the screen into several large sections.

The EU, the US, the Middle East, and Russia.

Zhang Jian glanced around, his gaze suddenly stopping at the bottom right corner.

There stood a small module all alone, with two words written on it: "Myself".

Yourself?

Does that mean the system has even included information about him?

Driven by curiosity, Zhang Jian clicked on his own module.

The screen flickered, and a line of red text popped up.

[A piece of high-value intelligence related to the host has been detected. Would you like to redeem it?]

[Required funds for exchange: US$20000.]

Twenty thousand US dollars?

Zhang Jian couldn't help but click his tongue in amazement.

They only spent a few thousand dollars to buy the US military's strike plans, but they want twenty thousand dollars for intelligence about themselves?

Is this pricing based on the level of threat?

Without much hesitation, he chose to redeem it.

The account balance was deducted instantly.

A brand new intelligence document came to mind.

"The CIA's Iran Operations has initiated the highest level of internal investigation procedures, covering all classified personnel from the Pentagon to forward command centers."

"Preliminary investigation results: The possibility of a leak from within the US is less than 15%."

"The investigation has shifted its focus to infiltration networks within the Iranian Revolutionary Guard."

"Based on the loopholes in Iran's existing security measures and the density of the CIA's intelligence network in Tehran, it is expected that the suspicious target area will be identified within 72 hours and the precise location will be completed within 168 hours."

"Note: The General Staff's communication records, personnel transfer records, and fund flows have all been placed under close surveillance."

A cold sweat instantly broke out on Zhang Jian's back.

Seventy-two hours!

Three days!

Based on this calculation, the CIA should be able to track him down within a week at most!

He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down.

He was prepared for the Revolutionary Guard's security measures to be as tight as a sieve.

The entire military, from top to bottom, has long been infiltrated and riddled with holes.

During this period, physicists were assassinated on the streets every now and then, and the whereabouts of high-ranking generals were as transparent as if they were invisible.

If even the most core secrets can be leaked, then this suddenly appearing "information broker" is even more likely to be leaked.

Although the General Staff assigned him bodyguards and promised protection, if he were to be targeted by CIA spies, those people would have plenty of ways to kill him.

He had expected this day to come, but he didn't expect the CIA to act so quickly.

Zhang Jian leaned against the counter, his mind racing.

The grocery store is a good cover, but not enough.

He had to make himself look more ordinary, more harmless, and less suspicious.

Ideally...

They completely blended into the chaotic neighborhood of southern Tehran.

at the same time.

Tehran, the General Staff underground command post.

Brigadier General Aiharid sat behind his desk, staring at the newly printed document in his hand, feeling his head buzzing.

The content was dictated by Shahra and then recorded by the staff.

It was nominally Zhang Jian's purchase list for the opening of his new store.

"General, there's definitely something wrong with this list!"

The adjutant stood at the table, looking excited, pointing to a few lines of text on the document.

"Look here, fifty boxes of canned beef nearing their expiration date!"

"Why would a tiny 30-square-meter shop need so many near-expiry canned goods? This must be some kind of sophisticated code!"

Aiharid looked up and stared at his adjutant as if he were a fool.

The adjutant, oblivious to the situation, continued his analysis.

"Approaching the due date means time is of the essence!"

"Canned beef usually represents heavily armored units!"

"This could very well be hinting that the US military has a short-term strike plan targeting our armored forces in the near future!"

"And this too! Two hundred packs of discounted toilet paper!"

"Toilet paper is flammable; discounts mean it's at low altitude or about to land!"

"Isn't this a warning that enemy paratroopers are preparing to raid our fuel depot?"

The command room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Aiharid took a deep breath and suppressed the urge to smash the ashtray.

"Shut up."

The adjutant paused, taken aback. "General, was my analysis insufficient?"

"Clearly understood my foot!"

Aiharid slammed his hand on the table.

"He's just a general store owner! Near-expiry canned goods are cheap, discounted toilet paper sells well, it's that simple!"

"Have you been watching too many spy movies? Is your brain full of mush?"

The adjutant shrank back after being scolded and muttered under his breath.

"But he's no ordinary person; he's an intelligence tycoon who can get his hands on top-secret US military plans..."

Aiharid pinched his throbbing temples.

"No matter who he is, now that he's chosen to run a grocery store, we'll just play along."

"Tell Shahra that as long as he doesn't leave Tehran and doesn't contact sensitive individuals, let him do whatever he wants!"

"yes!"

The adjutant saluted, then quickly turned and slipped out.

Aiharid leaned back in his chair and let out a long sigh.

What exactly does this Chinese man want to do?

Switch the focus back to Qatar.

Al Udeid Air Base, the U.S. military's forward command center.

Robert Hall stood in front of the whiteboard, staring at the densely packed relationship diagrams, his face ashen.

It's been three days.

The CIA, in conjunction with military intelligence, thoroughly investigated everyone who had access to the strike plan.

From Pentagon staff to the base cleaners, they even know exactly how many times they go to the toilet each day.

As a result, nothing was gained.

The internal review ruled out any suspicion of leaks from senior management and key personnel.

There were no unusual fund movements or communications.

This top-secret plan seemed to have appeared out of thin air on the Iranians' desks.

"Director."

An agent strode over and handed over a report.

"The latest comparison results from the National Security Bureau are out, and the polygraph data of all personnel with access to classified information are normal."

Hall grabbed the report, didn't even look at it, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it on the ground.

"A lie detector? Even my wife can't be fooled by that!"

He gritted his teeth, his hands braced on the table, his chest heaving violently.

Since no problems can be found internally, we can only look for a breakthrough from the outside.

The Iranians obtained the intelligence, and someone had to hand it over; there had to be traces of the money transfer.

If it's done by a human, it's impossible not to leave behind even the slightest clue.

Hall straightened up, loosened his tie, and lowered his voice.

"Go to Encrypted Communications Room Number One."

The agent's expression changed.

"Director, you need..."

"Activate 'Watchmen'."

Hall coldly uttered a few words.

The agent gasped.

"Watchmen" is the highest-ranking CIA agent infiltrated in Tehran.

This person has been lying low in the Iranian high command for nearly ten years, spending countless resources to reach his current position.

Once enabled, the risk of exposure is extremely high.

"Chief, Langley probably won't approve using 'Watchmen' just to find a source of the leak."

"I'll take responsibility if anything goes wrong!"

Hall turned his head sharply and stared at the agent.

"The US military has completely lost face! If we can't find this mole, we'll all be court-martialed!"

"Tell the Watchmen to spare no expense and use all available resources."

"Find out that bastard who passed intelligence to the Revolutionary Guard!"

The next morning.

A slightly dilapidated old street in southern Tehran.

Zhang Jian's "Oriental General Store" quietly opened.

There was no ribbon-cutting ceremony, no firecrackers, and not even a decent sign.

Zhang Jian simply found a piece of old cardboard, wrote the three Persian words "Open for Business" in a crooked hand with a marker, and pinned it to the door frame with a thumbtack.

The shop is small, just over thirty square meters.

The shelves were filled with various daily necessities that Aziz had delivered yesterday.

only……

It was all near-expiry food, discounted daily necessities, and a bunch of colorful, cheap candies.

Zhang Jian moved a rocking chair and lay comfortably at the cashier, holding a cup of freshly brewed black tea in his hand.

The morning sunlight slanted across the street.

Several local women dressed in black robes hurried past carrying baskets, occasionally glancing at the newly opened grocery store.

If you ignored the bomb craters on the street next door, everything seemed so peaceful.

But Zhang Jian's mind was not on selling goods at all.

He sipped his black tea while mentally reviewing the current situation.

Just as I was pondering this, a soft footstep came from the side.

Zhang Jian turned his head away.

Shahra walked in from outside the door, dressed in plain gray clothes with a black headscarf.

He stopped beside the rocking chair, looking down at Zhang Jian.

"Business doesn't seem to be doing very well."

Zhang Jian blew on the steam rising from the cup.

"We've only been open for five minutes, there won't be anyone here."

Shahra didn't respond, and glanced around.

After confirming that no one was paying attention to them, they bent down slightly.

"The military needs to speak with you."

Zhang Jian paused, the cup hovering in mid-air.

"What is it?"

Shahra stared at him.

"Bahramy is dead."

Zhang Jian suddenly raised his head.

"He was attacked by a bomb early this morning on his way to the Holy City Brigade."

Shahra's voice was completely flat.

"Including two nurses and a driver, the entire army was wiped out."

Bahrami?

Karami's superior?

The deputy battalion commander who chose to believe him and saved the entire battalion?

"Who did it?"

"Still under investigation."

"But the General Staff suspects it's because he reported the intelligence you gave to the 47th Battalion, so..."

Shahra straightened up and looked in the direction of the street.

"Come on, General Aiharid wants to see you, now."

Zhang Jian put down his teacup and stood up.

It seems that trouble came sooner than he expected.