Tehran Grocery Store: My Intelligence is Priced Clearly

Farhad, with an unlit, crumpled cigarette dangling from his mouth, descended the wooden stairs.

Zhang Jian sat on the wooden box and got straight to the point.

"In the old industrial area south of the city, there's an underground arms dealer called 'Bazaar.' Did you have any contact with them back then?"

Upon hearing the name, Farhad paused in his movements.

He slowly took the cigarette out of his mouth, his expression gradually becoming serious, and he involuntarily straightened his posture.

"Boss, 'Baza' is not a single person at all."

Fahadela sat down next to an empty box, lowering his voice.

"The so-called 'bazaar' is actually a huge and unscrupulous underground syndicate."

"As long as the money is right, they can even get you spare parts for attack helicopters and main battle tanks."

Zhang Jian looked at him, gesturing for him to continue.

Farhad held the cigarette in his hand, toying with it, his tone very serious.

"This group of people has a complete range of goods, and their delivery speed is extremely fast."

"But the problem is, they have connections in both the legal and illegal worlds."

"Based on the clues I previously obtained in the intelligence department, 'Baza' has very deep-rooted interests with intelligence agencies of many countries, including the CIA's Middle East office."

"Getting goods from them is extremely risky, as it's easy for clues to be used to uncover the buyer's true identity."

Farhad paused briefly before adding.

"The intelligence department once arrested several smugglers and followed the leads to investigate the 'Bazaar'."

"The investigation ran out of leads halfway through, and the agent in charge of the investigation was in a car accident."

"These people not only sell weapons, but also intelligence."

"They sell customer information to whoever pays the most; they have absolutely no professional ethics."

Zhang Jian remained silent.

If what Farhad said is true, these people really are opportunistic!

The problem is, if we don't buy from him, we have no other options.

The General Staff would never provide them with those prohibited weapons.

The other two channels are too slow.

He had given the Revolutionary Guard several intelligence reports in a row, and the CIA had begun to show signs of keeping an eye on him.

I don't have much time left, and if something unexpected happens, that would be really...

He hesitated for a moment, then his eyes gradually hardened.

He took the list out of his pocket.

It was the piece of paper that Shahra had listed, the one with most of its heavy firepower crossed out by him.

He handed it directly to Farhad.

Farhad took it and glanced at it with a puzzled look.

He froze on the spot.

Two RPG-7 rocket launchers, five kilograms of C4 plastic explosive, four M18A1 broadsword mines, a large-caliber anti-materiel sniper rifle...

Farhad suddenly looked up at Zhang Jian.

"Boss, are you preparing to wage a localized war in downtown Tehran? This stuff on top of everything is enough to raze half a city block to the ground!"

Zhang Jian didn't reply; he just sat there calmly.

Farhad swallowed hard and pointed to the crossed-out marks on the paper.

"I clearly saw you just now, right in front of Shahra, cut off all these heavy weapons."

"Why are you asking for all this now when you only requested basic light weapons and body armor from the General Staff?"

"The light weapons on display are for the General Staff and outsiders to see."

Zhang Jian tapped his cane.

"The real trump card must be held in our own hands."

"You know better than I do what the situation is in Tehran right now; conventional weapons simply cannot guarantee safety."

Zhang Jian leaned forward slightly, his tone becoming more forceful.

"The General Staff gave me weapons because they needed me to be alive, because I was valuable to them."

"But they will absolutely not allow an uncontrolled, heavily armed force to appear in the capital region."

"No matter how much Ahred values ​​me, he still has to follow the rules."

"When it really comes down to life and death, a few broken rifles won't stop those who want me dead."

"Moreover, the CIA has already sent people up here today."

"This is just the beginning."

"Next time, it might not be just one person, but an entire fully armed commando team."

"With that little bit of stuff the General Staff gave us, how am I supposed to carry it?"

Zhang Jian took a deep breath and slowly climbed down from the wooden box.

"So, even though it's dangerous at the 'bazaar,' we still have to buy things there."

"Now, I'll give you your first task."

"I need you to find a way to get all the heavy weapons on the list to me, without the CIA's eyes and ears, and without the possibility of 'Bazaar' leaking intelligence."

"Is it possible?"

Farhad took a deep breath, his mind racing.

He quickly calculated various transaction routes and possibilities in his mind.

About a minute later, Farhad spoke.

"A direct purchase is definitely not an option; it would be too conspicuous and draw too much attention."

Farhad drew several circles on the paper with his pen.

"We can adopt a black market transaction scheme of 'breaking down large transactions into smaller ones and using multiple shells'."

"Oh? Tell me more."

Zhang Jian became interested.

"When I worked in the intelligence department, I left a few dead mailboxes outside the city, as well as a few ghost accounts that no one could trace."

Farhad quickly drew a route on the paper.

"We can break this order into seven or eight smaller orders and use different ghost accounts to target the outer perimeter of 'Bazaar'."

"All delivery locations were chosen in blind spots, and goods were picked up using dead mailboxes."

The more Farhad spoke, the clearer his thoughts became.

"For example, we bought these five kilograms of C4 in three separate transactions, each time buying just over one kilogram, to disguise it as a small, scattered demand for mine blasting."

"As for the RPG, we can order the launcher and the warhead separately."

"In this way, even if the CIA checks the 'bazaar's' ledgers, they will only see a few scattered small-scale transactions, and they will definitely not be able to trace it back to us."

Zhang Jian's eyes lit up after hearing this.

"We'll do as you say."

the other side.

Inside a secret room at the CIA Middle East Bureau's covert operations station in Iran.

Robert Hall paced anxiously back and forth in his office.

The leather shoes made a dull thud as they stepped on the floor.

"Haven't we heard from the Watchers yet?"

The adjutant beside him quickly stood up. "I'll go check again."

Before he could even leave the house.

"Bang!"

A loud bang.

The office door was suddenly kicked open.

The intelligence officer in the confidential office rushed in, his face ashen.

"Chief! Something terrible has happened!"

The intelligence officer's voice trembled, and he was struggling to breathe.

Hall's heart skipped a beat, a huge sense of crisis surged through him, and he abruptly turned his head to look.

"The Watchers...have gone missing!"

Upon hearing this, Hall froze on the spot.

He rushed forward, grabbed the intelligence officer by the collar, and lifted him up by force.

"Say that again?!"

Hall's veins bulged, and spittle sprayed onto the intelligence officer's face.

"The 'Watchman' was our highest-ranking informant, who had been infiltrated into the Iranian General Staff for ten years!"

"He survived countless purges by the Revolutionary Guard, how could he just disappear at this critical juncture?!"

The intelligence officer stammered his report.

"I don't know... there really isn't a single sign."

"We have used all the backup frequencies and tried all kinds of emergency contact methods, but we still can't get in touch with them."

"The informant said that a large number of strangers visited his apartment building in the afternoon, and a large number of unidentified armed men also appeared in the surrounding area..."

The intelligence officer swallowed hard and uttered his conclusion with difficulty.

"We suspect that 'Watchmen'... has been exposed."

Hall slumped and released his grip.

He slumped into the large office chair, his back instantly soaked with cold sweat.

Hall's breathing became rapid.

He understood the value of the "Watchmen" all too well!

Ten years ago, the CIA spent countless efforts and resources to help this person rise to a high-ranking position in the Iranian military.

For the past decade, Watchmen have been providing Washington with a steady stream of top-secret intelligence, and have even played a decisive role in several major crises.

This person lurked in the heart of the enemy, never being detected.

But today, just as they were preparing to use it again, this trump card that had been lying dormant for ten years disappeared without warning!

Scavenger Ivan is dead.

Now even the star center "Watchman" is gone.

When did Iran's intelligence counter-infiltration efforts become so sophisticated?

Ivan represents absolute military force, while "Watchmen" represents the deepest level of intelligence infiltration.

The two cards were silently erased one after the other within just a few hours.

This is absolutely no coincidence!

This indicates that the other side was prepared in advance, and may even have already reverse-targeted the CIA's operational network!

Hall sat motionless in his chair for a long time without saying a word.

Only the faint hum of electronic instruments could be heard in the sealed room.

After a long while, Hall slowly turned his head and looked at the intelligence officer who was still slumped on the ground.

"How's the progress on that person you were tasked with turning?"

Hall's voice was a little hoarse.

The intelligence officer quickly got up.

"Chief, that guy's asking price is too high, and the negotiations are at a stalemate."

"How much does he want?"

Two million US dollars.

The intelligence officer wiped the cold sweat from his forehead.

"This price is far beyond our budget limit, and they are demanding half a deposit before they will provide any substantial information."

Hall gritted his teeth and cursed.

"Two million? This bastard's got a death wish before he can spend it all!"

He quickly weighed the pros and cons in his mind.

Conventional methods have all failed, and even our trump cards have been exhausted.

If he can't figure out what's going on here as soon as possible, he won't be able to explain himself to headquarters in Washington.

Putting everything else aside, Langley has to kill him.

Hall gripped the armrests of the chair tightly with both hands, the veins on the back of his hands bulging.

Finally, a fierce glint flashed across his face, and he spat out a single word through gritted teeth, filled with hatred.

"Give!"