Langley City, Virginia, CIA Headquarters.
At 3:15 in the morning, the lights in the seventh-floor conference room were blazing.
Director Vincent Crawford's fist slammed onto the mahogany conference table, overturning the coffee cup in front of him.
The dark brown liquid spread over the top-secret files, looking just like the bloodstains inside the bulletproof car when Pence Howard was blown to pieces.
"More than twenty elite bodyguards! Four bulletproof cars! Helicopter support!"
Vincent's voice seemed to squeeze out from between his teeth.
"And they got sent sky-high by a terrorist with a roadside bomb?!"
The twelve senior officials in the conference room were frozen in their seats like plaster statues.
Counterterrorism Center Director Simon Wright calmly wiped the coffee splattered on his glasses, while Coleman, head of African affairs, was swallowing hard, his shirt collar soaked with sweat.
"Take a good look at the site investigation report."
Vincent grabbed a tablet and slammed it to the center of the table.
"6 kilograms of TNT mixed with 20 kilograms of metal fragments, typical Illigo-style IED. Our former deputy director now needs the forensic team to use a spoon to scrape him out of the car!"
Coleman adjusted his glasses: "Director, according to ballistic analysis provided by the Chad police, the attacker used—"
"I know what they used!" Vincent interrupted him impatiently. "What I want to know is why our former deputy director died in that African cesspit, and why that lunatic Song Heping is still alive! We are the CIA, the most powerful intelligence agency on this planet! We can orchestrate the assassination of a country's president, yet we can't take down the boss of some lousy defense company!"
"Tell me! Should I fire every one of you, or even give up my position as director, and let the security council bring him back to sit in my chair!"
Usually calm and steady, Vincent now seemed as unsettled as an angry youth, pointing at his own seat as his face filled with profound humiliation.
After the roar, the conference room fell into dead silence.
On one side of the conference table, Jasper sneaked a glance at the pictures on the tablet, which showed the explosion site; the open car door, the back seat littered with severed limbs and meat chunks, impossible to distinguish which was Pence's and which was the bodyguard's.
His emotions were mixed.
There was inexplicable sadness, but also a hint of excitement.
The deputy director position was now vacant, bringing him one step closer to that seat.
"Gentlemen."
Vincent suddenly calmed down, and this calm was more terrifying than the shout.
"From this moment on, the pursuit of Song Heping is the CIA's top priority. I've decided to assemble the elites from the agency to reinforce this team and fully launch the hunt for Song Heping, so I've called back someone."
Before everyone could react, Vincent pressed the speed dial button on the phone in front of him: "Bring Simon in."
Simon?
Jasper's face instantly changed, looking toward the door in surprise.
Soon, the door opened.
Simon walked into the conference room.
"Simon needs no introduction; we're all old colleagues. He once dealt with Song Heping in Illigo and is currently the only one in our agency who has captured Song Heping. He was also the first to report to the agency that there was a problem with him, leading to an investigation on Song, although it didn't receive the necessary attention, which was our mistake."
He gestured for Simon to sit down.
Simon found a seat below Jasper.
As he sat down, Jasper instinctively shifted slightly in the other direction, though he didn't actually move away, it was just an unconscious action.
Seeing Simon, Jasper seemed to watch his previous dreams burst like a soap bubble in the sunlight.
Bringing Simon back to Langley Headquarters from afar was clearly to entrust him with a significant role.
Jasper didn't know about the intricacies between Simon and Song Heping.
But Director Vincent was right.
Simon is the only one in our agency who has ever caught Song Heping.
This means the team leader of the special group may already be in the director's heart long ago.
Thinking about this made him instantly feel a turmoil in his heart.
While the mood of Simon sitting next to him was no better.
The director's intention to recall him, Simon guessed it.
Assuming the group leader position of the special unit is certainly a good opportunity for promotion, but if the task of the special unit is to hunt Song Heping...
Just thinking about it made him feel like he had two heads.
Six or seven years ago, he would have been very willing to take on this responsibility.
But times have changed.
He is no longer the person he used to be.
Simon used to be the legitimate CIA Station Chief at Illigo Station.
Now, Simon is still a station chief.
The difference is an added identity—a mole.