Tehran Grocery Store: My Intelligence is Priced Clearly

Zhang Jian yawned and lay back down in the rocking chair.

She grabbed a coat from the side and covered her stomach with it.

"Didn't I already tell you? It won't be that fast."

"Do you think this is a vegetable market where you buy cabbage? You can just pick it, pay, and take it?"

Zhang Jian adjusted to a comfortable position and closed his eyes.

"My informants also have to take risks to find out, and that takes time."

"I'll take a nap first. My phone will ring when I get news. We'll talk then."

After saying that, he ignored Zhao Ping'an and his breathing gradually became steady.

Zhao Ping'an's anxiety was trapped in his throat.

Looking at Zhang Jian's leisurely demeanor, he wished he could kick the guy.

But reason told him that there was nothing he could do but wait.

That's how intelligence work works.

The more highly classified and top-secret the intelligence, the more patience and time are required.

Zhao Ping'an could only lean back in his chair and look up at the night sky outside the gazebo.

A night breeze swept through the park, carrying with it the scent of sand and dust.

He couldn't sleep at all.

He took out his cigarette case, pulled out a cigarette and lit it; the red cigarette butt glowed intermittently in the darkness.

The house must be in complete chaos right now.

He heard Director Chen's tone on the phone very clearly; he was genuinely anxious.

Kites are very important to them.

Not only Chen Jianguo, but even Minister Wang Ya is probably alarmed now.

Right now, in the command center back home, the staff officers and intelligence analysts are probably working on simulations all night.

They tried every possible way to rescue the kite from Dubai.

But Zhao Ping'an knew very well what was going on.

Useless.

Dubai is the home base of the CIA Middle East Division, where the customs system is under complete surveillance, and special operations teams have laid a tight net.

Without concrete intelligence to support it, any simulation is just theoretical.

Their greatest, and only, hope right now lies in that young man lying in the rocking chair.

But this kid turned out to be someone who wasn't in a hurry at all.

Zhao Pingan looked up at the dark night sky, his thoughts racing.

How is the kite doing now?

Does he know that he's being watched by the CIA?

What if the CIA closes in early, and Zhang Jian's intelligence hasn't arrived yet?

A series of questions swirled in Zhao Ping'an's mind, making him feel uneasy.

Time passed by, second by second.

The courtyard was so quiet that only Zhang Jian's soft snoring could be heard.

There were already seven or eight cigarette butts in the ashtray in front of Zhao Ping'an.

He would glance at his watch every now and then, then at Zhang Jian's phone in his pocket.

Every minute of waiting was an indescribable torment for him.

More than an hour later.

"drop."

A crisp text message notification sound suddenly rang out in the quiet courtyard.

Zhao Ping'an, whose eyes were practically swollen from lack of sleep, suddenly shuddered.

finally come!

Zhao Ping'an practically jumped up from his chair.

He took two steps to the rocking chair and slapped Zhang Jian's arm hard.

"Zhang Jian!"

"My phone is ringing!"

Zhao Ping'an has immense strength in his hands.

Zhang Jian was jolted awake from his sleep by the slap.

He opened his sleepy eyes and was momentarily blinded by the dim yellow light overhead. He instinctively raised his hand to shield his eyes.

When you focus your gaze, you see Zhao Ping'an's face, which is distorted with anxiety.

Zhang Jian picked up his phone and glanced at it; the screen was lit up.

He mumbled a random "hmm" and yawned widely.

"Quickly, take a look!"

Zhao Ping'an urged him anxiously from the side.

Zhang Jian lay in the rocking chair, still not fully recovered.

There are no informants sending messages.

The system had already generated and downloaded that route map to his phone.

That sound just now was simply the time he had set before going to bed.

He simply had his backup phone send a blank text message at a set time.

If you're going to put on a show, go all the way.

It would be ridiculous if Zhao Ping'an made a request and then immediately revealed the route.

If the National Security Bureau feels that this intelligence is hard-won, they will cherish it more and take better care of the old lady.

Zhang Jian slowly sat up and rubbed his face vigorously.

He slowly picked up his phone and swiped the screen.

Zhao Pingan craned his neck, practically wanting to press his face against the phone screen.

Zhang Jian tapped the screen a few times, sending the route map provided by the system directly to the tablet.

"Alright."

Zhang Jian took his tablet computer from the shelf next to the chair.

He zoomed in on the map with two fingers on the screen and pushed it in front of Zhao Ping'an.

"Take a look first."

Zhao Pingan took the tablet, held it with both hands, and quickly checked the route on the screen.

The light from the courtyard shone on his face, reflecting his ever-changing expressions.

At first, there was anticipation.

This was followed by doubt.

Then came the shock.

Finally, Zhao Ping'an's mouth slowly opened wide, and he froze on the spot.

He looked up at Zhang Jian in disbelief.

"this……"

"Are you sure this is the evacuation route?"

Zhao Ping'an pointed to the twisted red line on the screen and asked in a low, suppressed voice.

"Are you sending him to escape or to his death?!"

Zhang Jian picked up the water glass on the table and took a sip to clear his head.

"What? Is there a problem?"

Zhao Pingan placed the tablet in front of Zhang Jian.

"Is this what you call a problem?"

"This is simply a fantasy!"

Zhao Ping'an pointed to several key points on the map, his fingers trembling.

"Look at this first step."

"Should we let Kite leave for work as usual tomorrow morning?"

"Are you crazy?!"

"The CIA surveillance vehicle was parked right downstairs at his apartment building!"

"By stepping out the door, isn't he just walking right into someone's line of fire?"