Tehran Grocery Store: My Intelligence is Priced Clearly

Inside the basement.

Zhang Jian, leaning on his cane, led Fahad to the end of the basement.

The place was piled with old cardboard boxes, covered in a layer of dust, and the air was filled with the musty smell of damp cardboard.

The two of them found a place to sit, separated by a row of shelves.

"Fahd, former senior agent of the Iranian intelligence service, codename 'Ghost'."

Zhang Jian spoke first.

"He has carried out 23 covert operations overseas, 11 of which involved targeted killings."

"In 2019, he was framed as a traitor by his superiors during an internal purge."

"On the night the kill order was issued, you blew up your own car to stage a death scene, and then disappeared from all official records."

"Officially, your arrest warrant hasn't been lifted; you're essentially in a state of suspended animation."

"I told you so, didn't I?"

Farhad's expression changed for a moment.

But it was only for a moment.

He leaned against the wall, his hands in his pockets.

He was silent for about three seconds, then slowly nodded.

"Your intelligence sources are very impressive."

"He should be a little better than you."

Zhang Jian didn't explain much.

"Tell me, how did you get in touch with Karimi?"

Farhad pulled out a crumpled cigarette, put it in his mouth but didn't light it.

"After faking my death, I hid in a small town on the Kurdish border for two years."

"I have no ID card, no passport, and even my bank account has been frozen."

"I still need to eat, so I run errands and pass on information for a few smugglers."

"and then?"

"Then Karimi's men happened to be blocking the drug trafficking route at the border and intercepted a batch of smuggling intelligence."

"They followed the trail and naturally found their way to me."

Farhad took the unlit cigarette out of his mouth and twirled it between his fingers.

"Karimi is a rather interesting guy."

"After he found out my true identity, he did not hand me over to the Revolutionary Guard."

"Instead, they talked to me for an entire afternoon, gave me a hundred dollars, and then let me go."

Zhang Jian pondered for a moment, then said nothing more.

That's exactly the kind of thing Karimi would do.

This guy is naturally kind-hearted, just like I was back then.

If it weren't for him, I might not have been able to open my own little shop.

"OK."

Zhang Jian changed his posture, resting his cane on his knee.

"One last question."

"Explain in detail why you faked your death."

The system only says that he was framed as a traitor by his superiors, but it doesn't explain why he was framed.

He was quite interested in this.

Farhad stopped turning the cigarette.

The end of the basement was very quiet, so quiet that you could hear the rats running through the sewers next door.

"I worked in the intelligence department for nine years."

Farhad lowered his voice and spoke slowly.

"For the last three years, I was under the jurisdiction of the Second Operations Division, and my direct superior was Division Chief Jawad Saleh."

"I discovered that Saleh was secretly selling intelligence to the Israeli Mossad."

Zhang Jian's brow twitched slightly.

"What intelligence?"

"The whereabouts, addresses, travel routes, and security plans of nuclear scientists."

I won't say who it is specifically.

Farhad put the cigarette back in his pocket.

"Between 2017 and 2019, at least three nuclear physicists were targeted for assassination by Mossad."

"Before each operation, Saleh would send the latest updates on the target to Tel Aviv via an encrypted channel."

"I spent more than half a year collecting evidence and obtained his encrypted frequency records of communication with Mossad and the transaction records of two offshore accounts."

"On the night I was preparing to report it, I discovered that my office had been ransacked."

"The next morning, Saleh struck first, reporting me directly to his superiors as a 'double agent'."

"The kill order was issued that very afternoon."

Farhad's tone remained calm throughout, without any anger or resentment.

It's like reporting on an old case that has nothing to do with you.

"That night, I made a copy of all the evidence I had collected and hid it in the safe house, then blew up my car."

"There was an unidentified body in the car, taken from the morgue. The DNA comparison was tampered with, enough to fool the initial investigation."

"Farhad died after that."

After listening, Zhang Jian did not immediately express his opinion.

He silently activated the system in his mind.

"System, verify what Farhad just said."

[Verification request has been accepted. Fee: US$2000.]

Two thousand again.

Zhang Jian reluctantly clicked "confirm" despite the financial pain.

A blue virtual screen unfolded in the field of vision, and after a few seconds of loading, the information was displayed line by line.

[Verification result of Farhad's statement: basically true.]

[Additional information: Javad Saleh, former head of the Second Operations Division of the Iranian Ministry of Intelligence.]

He died in an "accidental" car accident in 2020.

[The Iranian government has not publicly launched an investigation into his death, but unconfirmed rumors circulate within the organization that it is related to Mossad's "cut-off" strategy.]

The evidence collected by Fahad remains undiscovered and is currently stored in a safe house on the outskirts of Tehran.

Zhang Jian put the system away.

He looked at the bearded man opposite him, remained silent for two seconds, and then extended his right hand.

"Welcome, Mr. Farhad."

Farhad was taken aback.

He looked down at the hand, then looked up at Zhang Jian's face.

He grasped it.

It wasn't very powerful, but it was very stable.

"Aren't you going to ask a few more questions?"

Farhad released his grip.

"For example, will I cause you trouble?"

"You are a problem in yourself."

Zhang Jian stood up, leaning on his cane.

"But if it's a useful nuisance, I don't mind raising another one."

"Let's go, we still have things to do outside."

---

The two came out of the cubicle.

Shahra had already set up a folding table in the center of the basement.

A sheet of paper covered with Persian writing was spread on the table, densely packed.

Shahra pushed the paper over.

Zhang Jian took it and glanced at it.

Then the hand holding the paper froze.

RPG-7 rocket launcher x2.

Sayyad sniper rifle x2.

PKM general-purpose machine gun ×1.

5 kg of C4 plastic explosive.

M18A1 Claymore Mine ×4.

Night vision goggles x6.

There are two more pages after that.

Anti-tank weapons, directional explosive devices, signal jammers...

Each one is more outrageous than the last.

Zhang Jian looked up at Shahra.

"Are they planning to start a war or blow up the building?"

Shahra remained expressionless.

"The basic configuration of a standard special operations team."

"This is already a simplified version."

"A full complement of personnel also requires communication jamming equipment and drones."

Zhang Jian swallowed.

"But not all of them come from special operations units!"

He rubbed his throbbing temples and tentatively asked a question.

"Can the General Staff provide these things?"

Shahra turned to look at him.

He didn't say anything, but Zhang Jian understood from his expression.

Those four words are written all over your face, are you kidding me?

He awkwardly looked away.

Right.

To put it bluntly, his current role is that of a "cooperative informant".

The fact that Ahmad was willing to assign him a Shahra as a bodyguard was already considered an exceptional favor.

Does he really expect the General Staff to open the armory for him?

Unless he can conjure up a nuclear warhead.

Zhang Jian sighed.

Pick up the pen next to you and cross out most of the items on the list.

RPG - Go for it.

C4 — cross.

Claymore mine – cut.

In the end, I only checked the boxes for AK-47 assault rifle, pistol, bulletproof vest, and basic communication equipment.

"Let's leave it at that for now."

Zhang Jian copied the remaining text again and handed it to Shahra, keeping the copy for himself.

"Go ask the General Staff for these, just say they are needed for routine security."

"Let's not talk about the rest for now."

Shahra took the list.

"There's one more thing."

Zhang Jian tapped his cane.

"This shop is too small. More than ten people are crammed into the basement. There's not even room to turn over."

"Could you help me find a suitable house nearby? Ideally, it should be a detached house with a yard, a basement, and a large area."

"Of course, money is not a problem."

Shahra nodded, put away the list, and prepared to turn and go upstairs.

"By the way, go get that wound on your ribs checked, don't try to tough it out."

He had just reached the top of the stairs when Zhang Jian called out from behind.

Shahra paused for a moment.

He didn't turn around.

"It's not deep, don't worry."

The voice was very soft, and after speaking, it went upstairs.

Zhang Jian paused for a moment, then shook his head and didn't think about it anymore.

After everyone left, the basement was empty.

He sat alone on the wooden crate in the corner, his expression gradually darkening.

The list that Shahra compiled wasn't something those guys did on a whim.

That's a genuine, essential need.

Those guys are best at using those kinds of things.

Since Shahra showed those things to him, she must have had her reasons.

Otherwise, she could simply refuse.

Moreover, I do need some capable people to handle things.

The CIA has already sent an assassin of Ivan's caliber to investigate.

The next wave will not be a solo attempt.

Armed assault, simultaneous attacks from multiple points, or even the direct use of drones are all possibilities.

Will we be able to rely on just a few AKs and pistols then?

Block it with your head?

But the General Staff won't give him heavy equipment.

He's not a member of the Revolutionary Guard.

There is no official position or authority.

No matter how much Ahred valued him, he would never risk his own career.

If this path is blocked, then we'll have to find a way ourselves.

Zhang Jian opened the system interface.

"System, search the area around Tehran for black market channels where you can purchase military-grade weapons and equipment."

The system quickly displayed a notification.

[Searching for arms trading channels, cost: $5000 USD, confirm?]

Five thousand.

Zhang Jian was extremely distressed.

Today, the money I spent on the system alone is almost ten thousand yuan.

Adding in the wages paid to those people, the money in my hand shrank considerably in an instant.

But the money still had to be spent, so I gritted my teeth and confirmed it.

The system loaded in about two seconds, and then three results popped up.

[Channel 1: Smuggling route across the Iraqi border. Passing through Kurdistan, high-risk, transportation time two to three weeks.]

[Channel Two: Smuggling route across the Afghan border. This route passes through Pakistan's Balochistan province, traversing at least three armed strongholds. It is extremely risky and takes more than three weeks.]

Zhang Jian shook his head.

These two channels are either too far or too slow.

By the time the goods arrived, the daylilies were already cold.

He continued reading.

[Channel 3: An underground arms dealer in the old industrial area south of Tehran, codenamed "Bazaar." Ample inventory, complete product range, delivery within 24 hours.]

Local in Tehran? Delivery within 24 hours?

Zhang Jian almost stood up from the box.

Isn't this exactly what he needs most?

However, when he looked at it again...

A line of red text appeared in the notes section at the very bottom of the screen.

[Warning: This arms dealer has a history of dealings with intelligence agencies of multiple countries, including the CIA Middle East.]

Zhang Jian stared at the line of red text.

CIA, it's the CIA again.

The person who sold him the gun was also doing business with the person who wanted to kill him.

He slowly leaned back against the wall, his cane resting on his knees, his fingers tapping the cane unconsciously.

After a long while, he looked up and shouted towards the stairs in the basement.

"Farhad, come here for a moment."