163: Chapter 163 Maintaining a Tokyo University spy is very expensive.

Jiang Rumu stood in front of the sink for half a minute.

She splashed her face twice with cold water.

The chill set in, but the flush on her face didn't fade.

She turned off the faucet and glanced at the mirror.

Sleepy.

It was past five in the morning; a person's brain shouldn't be processing things like "getting a marriage certificate," "grandfather," or "no name, no status."

Especially since those words were shouted by her own father in front of Li Li.

She lay back on the bed and turned over.

She turned over again.

The words "get the certificate first" spun in her mind.

Like an echo.

Jiang Rumu pressed the pillow against her face, deciding to force a shutdown.

Three seconds later.

Shutdown successful.

But the dream didn't let her go.

In the dream, she was sitting in front of a Civil Affairs Bureau window, holding a pen, and the first column of the form read—

Name: Jiang Rumu.

Spouse's Name: Li Li.

She stared at those four characters, the tip of her pen hovering for a long time.

The staff at the window urged her.

"Hurry up, there's still a line behind you."

Jiang Rumu closed her eyes and pressed the pillow down a bit tighter.

—

Seven thousand kilometers away.

It was early morning in Pengcheng.

On the other side of the globe, the sun was shining brightly.

Israel, at a temporary military outpost.

Half of the courtyard wall had collapsed.

On the left were bombed-out civilian houses, with rebar sticking out from the concrete. On the right, an olive tree was half-charred, with a few leaves still hanging on the other half.

In the middle of the courtyard, an English-style round table was set up.

A white tablecloth.

A silver teapot.

Fine porcelain cups and saucers.

A three-tier dessert stand.

Scones on the top layer, lemon tarts in the middle, and two pieces of cake of questionable variety on the bottom.

Two people sat at the table.

One was wearing khaki military casuals, his hair slicked close to his scalp, with a square chin and high cheekbones. He held a black tea cup in his hand, his pinky finger raised.

General Watawobuhu.

The head of the Israel military.

A man sat opposite him.

He had short, golden-brown hair, his military uniform collar was unbuttoned, three stars were on his shoulders, and his legs were draped over the side of his chair.

John Browning.

The head of the US military's Middle East theater.

A three-star general.

Two men who could mobilize hundreds of thousands of troops were having afternoon tea amidst the ruins.

A dull thud came from the distance.

John held his cup, his hand steady.

General Watawobuhu chewed on a scone without looking up.

John picked up a silver spoon and stirred his tea.

"Did your ammunition depot explode again?"

General Watawobuhu tore off a piece of the scone.

"The shooting range. Recruits doing live-fire training."

"The shooting range is this close to the headquarters?"

"It's not close."

General Watawobuhu lifted his chin.

"Twelve kilometers in that direction."

John paused.

An explosion twelve kilometers away could be heard clearly here.

He didn't ask about the caliber.

Anyone who could survive this long in this place knew what questions to ask and which ones not to.

John set down his teacup and changed the subject.

"I heard you lost a few lines in the East."

General Watawobuhu took a bite of the lemon tart.

After chewing, he wiped his hands with a napkin.

"They were all low-level contacts. Locals in the East, recruited temporarily."

He threw the napkin back onto the table.

"The real spies, not a single one was touched."

John picked up his tea.

"But Yossi's codename was exposed."

General Watawobuhu's hand paused.

"That codename should already be a corpse in the Easterners' files; now they will be even more confused."

John stirred his tea.

"That time in Ala Country, when Delia detonated the explosives, that Easterner saw it with his own eyes. They have reason to believe that Yossi also died in that building."

General Watawobuhu put the remaining half of the lemon tart back on the plate.

"Who Yossi is, no one knows except our high-level officials."

He spread his hands.

"A codename is just a codename; the Easterners get the name but not the face, they get the traces of the operation but not the real identity."

He took a sip of tea.

"Their trail ends here."

"And the trouble we've caused them has only just begun."

John nodded.

"Your spy network is indeed solid."

General Watawobuhu leaned back in his chair.

"You didn't fly all the way here just to compliment me, did you?"

John set down his teacup.

"There's a favor we need from you."

General Watawobuhu picked up a second scone.

"Speak."

"We need the Israel spy network in East Asia to assist with an operation."

General Watawobuhu didn't answer, just took a bite of the scone.

John continued.

"Within a month, we need to capture a defecting intelligence officer. We haven't located them yet. During the operation, we need you to create incidents in the relevant areas."

General Watawobuhu looked up.

"What kind of intelligence officer is so important?"

"A young man who seems to have an idiotic sense of justice; he couldn't stand some of the intelligence system's actions, so he stole the data and ran."

General Watawobuhu nodded; there were plenty of such people every year, but this was the first time he'd heard of one actually successfully running away.

"You need us to provide cover?"

"Provide cover locally, distract the police and military, and cut off the local response chain when necessary."

"Which area in East Asia?"

"Not determined yet."

John reached out and took a piece of cake, cutting off a corner with his fork.

"It could be Japan, it could be the Peninsula, or it could be Southeast Asia."

As he brought the cake to his mouth, he paused.

"Best if it's not in the East."

General Watawobuhu turned his teacup half a circle.

"Is that defector that important?"

John set down his fork.

"The data in his hands is enough to overturn the relationship between us and all our allies."

The courtyard was silent for a few seconds.

General Watawobuhu stopped eating.

"All allies?"

John didn't deny it.

NATO.

Five Eyes.

Half the Western world.

Coming from John, those words carried enough weight.

General Watawobuhu didn't press for details on which specific data it was.

If he asked too specifically, he might be silenced before he could raise the price.

He changed the question.

"What if he runs to the East?"

John picked up his teacup and took a sip.

"Then we go into the East to capture him."

A dull thud came from the distance again.

Closer than before.

The porcelain saucer on the table clinked softly.

General Watawobuhu didn't move.

John didn't move either.

General Watawobuhu put down the scone in his hand.

"Taking action within the East will burn through a lot of our resources."

He held up a finger.

"Every spy in the East takes at least five years to train. Language, identity, social connections, living habits—everything has to be rebuilt from scratch."

He paused.

"Burn one, and that's one less. We can't replace them."

John nodded.

"We will provide compensation."

General Watawobuhu smiled.

"John, are you trying to pull my leg?"

He leaned forward a bit.

"In places like Syria or Iraq, you can train an informant in three months. A box of dollars, a crappy phone—that's enough."

He held up three fingers.

"The East is different."

"The security departments there are highly efficient. It's very difficult for spies to survive."

"The cost of training a qualified spy in the East is twenty times that of the Middle East."

John didn't interrupt.

General Watawobuhu continued.

"And the East has a bad habit."

"When they catch someone, they aren't in a hurry to make it public."

"They follow the trail upward. Superiors, subordinates, funding chains, communication chains, social circles—they dig through everything."

"By the time you realize someone has lost contact, half the network is already gone."

After he finished speaking, he pushed the scone further away.

"It's very expensive."

John crossed his hands.

"What do you want?"

General Watawobuhu didn't answer immediately.

He picked up his cup; the tea had gone cold.

He set it down.

He picked up the silver teapot and poured himself a new cup.

Steam rose up.

He blew on it and took a sip.

Then he spoke.

"It's going to cost extra."

John looked at him, not responding.

General Watawobuhu set the cup back on the saucer.

"We can discuss exactly how much once you confirm the operational area."

The porcelain made a soft clink.

"Consumables like spies are never calculated by the head."

John sat in his place, pausing for ten seconds.

Finally, he picked up his teacup.

"I will go back and seek approval."

General Watawobuhu stood up and brushed the cookie crumbs off his military uniform.

"When you seek approval, write the quote higher."

He adjusted his collar.

"In negotiations, you always need to leave some room."

A third dull thud in the distance.

Two of the remaining leaves on the olive tree fell onto the white tablecloth.

General Watawobuhu looked down and took a glance.

"The recruits' aim is getting worse."

After saying that, he turned and walked out through the half-collapsed courtyard wall.

A military jeep was parked outside, the engine still running.

General Watawobuhu opened the car door and got in.

Before the door closed, he poked his head out again.

"Almost forgot."

John looked up.

General Watawobuhu patted the car door.

"Next time for afternoon tea, bring a cup of coffee. Your American black tea is brewed like foot-washing water."

The jeep drove away.

Only John was left in the courtyard.

The white tablecloth was still spread out.

The silver teapot was still gleaming.

A plate of lemon tarts had half a piece left.

John picked up the half-eaten piece General Watawobuhu had left, and took a bite.

Sour.

He threw the lemon tart back onto the plate and pulled out an encrypted phone.

He dialed.

It connected.

"Prepare the tracking plan."

There was no nonsense on the other end of the line.

"Has the target's location been confirmed?"

"Not yet."

John looked toward the East.

"But he may enter the East."

The other end of the line was silent for two seconds.

"If he enters the East, the commotion will be significant."

John picked up the napkin and wiped the powdered sugar off his hands.

"Activate all East Asian nodes."

"Budget?"

John threw the napkin onto the table.

"No limit."