On the outskirts of Langley City, inside a single-family house.
The night was deep, and only a desk lamp was lit in the study. The dim light outlined Simon's slightly tired profile.
The whiskey glass in front of him held only a shallow layer of amber liquid.
The encrypted satellite phone on the desk lit up, displaying a complex and constantly changing key authentication sequence.
After hours of psychological struggle and risk assessment, he finally made up his mind.
His fingers entered a long string of numbers from deep in his memory on the encrypted dial.
This number existed only in his most secret memories and was the only channel for single-line contact with that "Ghost."
The phone rang for a long time. Just when Simon thought no one would answer, and even doubted if the line had long been abandoned, it was picked up on the other end, but no one spoke immediately, there was only the sound of steady breathing.
"It's me."
Simon spoke first, lowering his voice, even though he knew the phone had a high level of confidentiality.
"I know it's you."
Song Heping's voice came through without any emotional fluctuation, "Calling at this time, not like your style. Something happened?"
"Northern Illiguo, Kurd people's oil field area, four hours ago..."
Simon did not make any small talk and went straight to the point.
"The 1515 armed group launched a large-scale attack by taking advantage of the sandstorm. The Kurds suffered heavy losses, lost at least three oil field strongholds, with significant casualties... Additionally, we lost an Air Force technical expert in the on-site advisory group."
The other end of the line fell silent for two seconds, then a cold laugh came through.
"Sandstorm... It did come after all."
Song Heping's tone carried no surprise, but rather a sort of expected calmness.
"It seems the Persians' intelligence was very accurate."
Avanti's intelligence, as always, accurate.
Simon's heart sank suddenly.
The Persians indeed knew in advance!
Song Heping knew too!
He couldn't help but ask, "You knew already? Why..."
"Why didn't I warn you?"
Song Heping interrupted him, with a hint of icy sarcasm in his voice, "Simon, indeed supplying you with information could earn you merit, bring you a step closer to the director's position, but my team and I are under no obligation to pay for the strategic blunders of the United States Government. Moreover, warn you? In what capacity? As a 'KB Leader' on your global wanted list? Do you think your superior, Director Vincent, would believe my intelligence, or think it's a carefully designed trap? When he asks about your intelligence source, how do you respond? Deceive him? That would only expose more of your flaws."
Simon was left speechless.
He knew that what Song Heping said was true.
The bureaucratic system within the CIA and inherent prejudices would never accept intelligence from such a source, but would instead investigate the source, eventually likely bringing trouble upon himself.
"Moreover..."
Song Heping continued, "Doesn't this just prove my previous judgment correct? The Kurds' fighting ability is lacking, they can't be relied upon anymore, and your ground intelligence network is even more riddled with holes. Now it's you who should be anxious, not me."
Simon felt a sense of powerlessness.
He took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice steady, "Alright, what's past cannot be changed. Song, I'm reaching out to talk about the future. The current situation, for you and me alike, may be an opportunity."
"Opportunity?" Song Heping's laughter came through the line, "Hehe, let's hear it, what kind of opportunity?"
"A... chance for cooperation."
Simon struggled to utter the word, feeling his throat a little dry.
"Director Vincent and the White House are now under tremendous pressure. They urgently need to rebuild the intelligence and strike capabilities in Northwest Illinois, especially targeting high-value targets for decapitation within the 1515 leadership, to quickly bring an end to this counter-terrorism war against the extremist organization and account to the public, avoiding being blamed as the crisis makers. However, rebuilding intelligence takes time..."
He paused, emphasizing his tone, "I can submit a report suggesting... suggesting limited, highly confidential intelligence cooperation with you all. Use your ground network and operational capabilities to provide us with real-time locations and accurate coordinates of 1515 leadership. In exchange, we can... consider reassessing your wanted status, even... providing some form of clarification or pardon at an appropriate time in the future. It's the best way to clear your name."
After Simon finished speaking, his heart involuntarily sped up.
He felt like he was crazy to propose a collaboration to someone regarded by the CIA as the top threat.
But deep down, a voice told him this was the fastest, most effective solution currently.
Moreover, perhaps it could once and for all solve the "troublesome" case of Song Heping — either by recruiting him or after the cooperation ends...
A brief cold laugh came through the phone again.
"Cooperation? With the CIA? Simon, have you drunk too much today, or has Vincent scolded you senseless?"
Song Heping's outright refusal caught Simon off guard.
"Why?"
Simon was truly confused.
This Song Heping, unexpectedly, wasn't taking advantage of this opportunity.
He wasn't even grateful to me.
And flatly rejected me.