42: If the enemy doesn't move, I can't move.

The KGB Director bowed slightly, his expression serious.

"We have verified through multiple channels that Iraq did indeed deploy thirty-six f-15 'eagle' fighter jets in the Location air battle."

"Furthermore, according to our satellite reconnaissance, this batch of fighter jets has been fully deployed to a secret airbase in western Iraq."

"They have formed a complete combat capability."

The cigarette in Gorbachev's hand was unconsciously snapped in two.

He threw the broken cigarette into the ashtray, leaned back in his large chair, and narrowed his eyes slightly.

Not three, not six, but thirty-six!

This is no longer a simple arms deal; this is arming the core of a nation's air force!

"The Americans..."

Gorbachev squeezed these two words through his teeth.

"What are they trying to do? Tear off the mask completely, openly support Iraq, and push us out of the Middle East entirely?"

The KGB Director said in a low voice: "Judging from the current situation, this possibility is very high."

"Iraq suddenly obtaining such advanced American fighter jets."

"There is only one explanation: they have reached some secret agreement with the Americans and have completely leaned towards the Western camp."

"Bastards!"

Gorbachev cursed under his breath.

How much has Russia invested in Iraq over these years?

Weapons aid, economic support, technical advisors...

And what was the result?

The result was raising an ungrateful wretch!

Eating Russia's aid while turning around to embrace the Americans!

This is simply rubbing Russia's face into the ground!

"Our aid must be stopped immediately!"

The KGB Director immediately suggested.

"We cannot give that bastard in Baghdad another gun or bullet! We cannot use our own resources to help a potential enemy!"

"I agree."

Gorbachev nodded, his eyes becoming cold.

"Not only must we stop the aid, but we must also let them know the consequences of betraying Russia!"

Just then, the red telephone on the desk suddenly rang.

Gorbachev picked up the phone; it was the Foreign Minister.

"Comrade General Secretary, we have just received news that Lang Country has sent an urgent note, hoping to send a high-level military delegation to visit Moscow immediately."

"Lang Country?"

Gorbachev paused for a moment, then a meaningful curve appeared at the corner of his mouth.

Just when you're sleepy, someone brings you a pillow.

Iraq has defected to the Americans and used American planes to cripple Lang Country.

Now, Lang Country, having been abandoned and backstabbed by the Americans, has no other option but to come to them for help.

This game of chess has suddenly come alive!

"Tell them we welcome them!"

A shrewd light flashed in Gorbachev's eyes.

"Receive them with the highest protocol! I want to see them myself!"

He hung up the phone and immediately issued new orders to the KGB Director.

"First, contact Iraq immediately and lodge the most solemn protest regarding the f-15 'eagle' fighter jet issue!"

"I want to hear how they plan to explain this to us!"

"Second, mobilize the intelligence department to the fullest! Investigate! Strip away all the secrets between Iraq and the Americans!"

"I want to know exactly what they traded, who brokered the deal, and who provided the money!"

"The chess game in the Middle East is about to change."

Gorbachev stood up, walked to the large world map, and his gaze fell on that chaotic land.

"It is time for us... to make our next move."

Across the ocean.

The Americans, The Pentagon.

"Who the hell did it?!"

A roar shook the entire conference room.

President Ronald Reagan's face turned red, he slammed his fist on the table, and stared fixedly at the military and intelligence officials in front of him.

"f-15 'eagle' fighter jet! Our 'Eagle'! It has actually appeared in the Iraqi army! Who can give me an explanation?!"

"Who authorized it?! Who approved it?! Who did it?!"

In the conference room, a group of generals and government officials with stars on their shoulders were silent as cicadas in winter.

The Chief of Staff was the first to stand up, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and said with a stiff scalp.

"Mr. President, I can stake my military career on the fact that the military has absolutely not sold or transferred a single f-15 'eagle' fighter jet to Iraq!"

"Then did the planes grow wings and fly over there themselves?!"

Reagan was furious.

"What about General Dynamics? They are the manufacturer! Have you checked?!"

The CIA Director quickly reported: "We have checked, Mr. President."

"We immediately reviewed all sales records of General Dynamics."

"There is no transaction pointing to Iraq or any related intermediaries. Their accounts are clean."

"Clean? Clean as hell!"

Reagan was so angry he wanted to laugh.

"Thirty-six f-15 'eagle' fighter jets, not thirty-six bicycles! How could such a huge transaction be done without anyone knowing?!"

"Could it be our allies? Like the British?" an official guessed in a low voice.

The Secretary of State immediately shook his head and denied it.

"Impossible. Exports of the f-15 'eagle' fighter jet are subject to extremely strict restrictions, and any transaction must be approved by Congress and The Pentagon."

"The British would not dare, nor do they have any reason to risk breaking our relationship to do something like this."

Now, everyone fell silent.

Not the military.

Not the manufacturer.

Nor the allies.

Then where... did these planes come from?

A general couldn't help but speak: "Mr. President, how about... we put direct pressure on Iraq?"

"Send a carrier strike group to the Persian Gulf, and let's see if they still dare to be stubborn!"

"And then what?"

The Secretary of State immediately retorted.

"And push them completely into the arms of Russia? Don't forget, the most nervous party right now is not us, but Moscow!"

"If we go and interrogate them now, what will the Iraqis think? They will only feel that we are threatening them!"

"What if... they really break with us, and even expose the source of the planes."

"If they say a third party we don't know sold it to them, where would we hide our faces?"

"The whole world will laugh at us! Either we can't control our own weapons, or we are the ones playing tricks behind the scenes!"

These words calmed everyone down.

Indeed, the current situation is extremely strange.

If the enemy doesn't move, I cannot move.

Before finding out the truth, any radical action could lead to irreversible consequences.

Reagan's chest was heaving violently, he tried hard to calm his anger, and finally, his gaze fell on the CIA Director.

That gaze was sharp enough to pierce through bone marrow.

"I don't care what method you use."

Reagan said, word by word.

"Dig three feet deep, or turn the earth upside down."

"Find me that 'ghost' who sold the planes!"

"I want to know who has the audacity to resell the Americans' most advanced fighter jets right under my nose!"

"I want his name, his background, everything about him!"

"Go do it!"

"Yes, Mr. President!"

The CIA Director stood at attention abruptly, feeling a chill surge from his spine to his head.

He knew that a storm sweeping through the global intelligence community was inevitable.

Baghdad, Presidential Palace.

The luxurious Persian carpet stretched from the entrance to the end of the hall, and the crystal chandelier emitted brilliant light, illuminating the entire palace like daylight.

Prince Sultan of The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, in a white, gold-trimmed Arabian robe, walked in with big strides, surrounded by attendants.

"My dear brother!"

Before he arrived, his hearty laughter came first.

Saddam walked up quickly and gave Sultan a warm hug.