Chapter 132 Intelligence Verification

At 2:00 AM, in an inconspicuous office building in the provincial capital, Fang Lin still had her lights on.

Her office was small, with simple furnishings—a desk, a computer, a few filing cabinets, and a map of the province hanging on the wall.

The only decoration was a pothos plant on the windowsill, growing lushly; it was a gift from a colleague when she moved in three years ago.

The coffee on her desk had gone cold, but she didn't have time to replace it; her eyes were locked onto the computer screen.

Six hours had passed since Zhao Gang sent the message. She had exhausted every available channel to investigate the background of that "Imposter."

The official employee list of the Geological Exploration Institute—comparison complete. There was indeed a technician named Imposter, but he was fifty-eight years old, and the photo didn't match. This Imposter was clearly using a fake identity.

Bank account information—retrieved through special channels. This person calling himself Imposter had two accounts under his name. One was his own, with a balance of over three thousand yuan, and there had been no large transactions in the last three months. The other...

Fang Lin's gaze froze.

The other account was not under his name, but the linked mobile phone number was his. A sum of money had recently appeared in the account—exactly two hundred thousand. Deposit method: cash. Time: one week ago.

A cash deposit meant the source could not be traced. Two hundred thousand—not too much, not too little—was just enough to tempt an ordinary person without drawing too much attention.

Fang Lin leaned back in her chair and rubbed her throbbing temples.

Two hundred thousand. One week ago. Impersonation. Scouting on the Gobi Desert.

When these words were put together, there was only one explanation—he had been bought off.

She picked up the phone and dialed the number of the technical department: "Xiao Wang, help me check the call logs for a mobile number, the last month, the more detailed the better."

Ten minutes later, the call logs were sent to her email.

Fang Lin reviewed them one by one. Most were ordinary calls—family, friends, food delivery, couriers. But there were three numbers marked "Unknown Origin"; each call was very short, not exceeding two minutes, and all took place late at night.

She tried calling back—the number was disconnected.

Professional tactics. Use and discard, leaving no trace.

Fang Lin sneered. A veteran, indeed.

At 4:00 AM, she dialed Zhao Gang's number.

The other side answered almost instantly: "Director Fang, do you have results?"

"Yes." Fang Lin's voice was filled with the exhaustion of a sleepless night, but her logic remained clear. "The 'Imposter' you caught is actually named Li Moumou, forty-two years old, unemployed, with a criminal record. He was sentenced to a year and a half for illegal surveying five years ago, and hasn't had a steady job since he got out."

Zhao Gang gasped on the other end: "Illegal surveying? Then he has worked in this field?"

"Yes. That's why he isn't afraid of the Gobi Desert, can recognize those devices, and knows how to scout," Fang Lin continued. "More importantly, his account received an extra two hundred thousand one week ago, deposited in cash. In the last month, there were three late-night calls; the other party used a temporary number, which has now been deactivated."

Zhao Gang was silent for a few seconds: "He was bought off?"

"Likely," Fang Lin said. "Two hundred thousand to buy him to go in and scout—it's worth it. There might be bigger moves to follow."

"Then I'll take my men to arrest him right now!" Zhao Gang's voice was filled with a fierce determination. "We'll interrogate him through the night; I don't believe we can't pry his mouth open!"

"No," Fang Lin interrupted him. "If you arrest him, you'll alert the enemy. The people behind him will disappear immediately, and you won't get anything."

Zhao Gang fell silent.

"Captain Zhao," Fang Lin softened her tone. "I know you're anxious. But the more anxious you are, the easier it is to make mistakes. What do we have in our hands right now? An Imposter, a sum of money with an unclear source, a few calls that won't go through. If you arrest him, he'll insist the money was a loan and the calls were harassment—what can you do then?"

Zhao Gang took a deep breath: "Then what do you mean..."

"Cast a long line to catch a big fish," Fang Lin said. "He thinks we haven't discovered him yet, so he'll continue his activities. Strengthen your vigilance, but don't alert the enemy. Watch him, see who he contacts, and see what his next move is. Wait for him to show his true colors, then close the net."

There was a long silence on the other end of the line.

"Fine," Zhao Gang finally spoke, his voice tinged with reluctance but mostly compliance. "I'll listen to you. But Director Fang, you have to promise me that when it's time to close the net, you'll let me make the arrest personally."

The corners of Fang Lin's mouth turned up slightly: "Don't worry, I won't leave you out."

Hanging up the phone, she stood up and walked to the window. Outside was the sleeping city, with scattered streetlights outlining the contours of the streets. In the distance, the horizon was beginning to turn white; a new day was about to begin.

She suddenly remembered what the old director had said to her three years ago when she was just transferred to this position:

"Xiao Fang, in our line of work, the hardest part isn't catching people; it's waiting for them. Waiting for the enemy to show their true colors, waiting for them to jump in themselves. Sometimes you have to wait for months, or even years. You must be patient."

Fang Lin didn't quite understand at the time. Now she did.

Only by being patient can you catch the big fish.

The next morning, Zhao Gang called a meeting of the patrol team.

Captain Zhou and several key members sat in the conference room, waiting for him to speak. Zhao Gang stood in front of the whiteboard, which had a simple map of the construction site drawn on it, marking several key areas.

"Starting today, our patrol strategy will change." He drew several circles on the map with a red pen. "The fixed outer patrols will remain as they are; stick to the schedule and stop where you're supposed to. But—"

He drew crosses in several inconspicuous locations: "Arrange undercover sentries in these places. Twenty-four-hour shifts, use binoculars and night-vision goggles to watch every move outside. If you spot suspicious personnel, don't alert them; report it immediately."

Captain Zhou raised his hand: "Captain Zhao, if that Imposter comes again, what should we do?"

"The same as yesterday," Zhao Gang said. "If you spot him, conduct a normal interrogation, register him normally, and then let him go. Make him think we haven't discovered anything."

"But..."

"No buts." Zhao Gang interrupted him. "This is an order."

Captain Zhou opened his mouth, then finally nodded: "Understood."

Zhao Gang looked at everyone present, his tone becoming solemn: "Brothers, I know you're frustrated. We know that guy is trouble, but we can't arrest him and have to let him go. But this is strategy—we aren't here to catch this small fry, but the big fish behind him. So, everyone, stay patient, understand?"

"Understood!" the group replied in unison.

After the meeting, Captain Zhou pulled Zhao Gang aside and asked quietly: "Captain Zhao, is there any news from Director Fang?"

Zhao Gang nodded: "It's been cleared up. That guy is a scout who was bought off for two hundred thousand to do the scouting. There's someone behind him."

Captain Zhou gasped: "So we're just going to wait like this?"

"Wait." Zhao Gang patted his shoulder. "Wait for them to jump in themselves."

In the days that followed, everything at the construction site continued as usual.

Machines roared, vehicles shuttled back and forth, and workers were busy. During the day, the sun was scorching, and everyone was sweating profusely; at night, the site was brightly lit, and the shift teams continued their work.

No one knew that outside this seemingly normal construction site, there were a few extra pairs of eyes.

Behind a sand dune three kilometers to the east, two people wearing desert camouflage lay on the ground, taking turns observing the construction site through binoculars. Their position had been carefully chosen so they could see the main roads leading in and out of the site without being discovered by the patrol team.

"Captain Zhou, do you think that guy will come back?" a young team member asked in a low voice.

Captain Zhou lay beside him, his eyes never leaving the binoculars: "He will. He's here to scout; one time isn't enough. He'll definitely come back."

"So we just keep watching?"

"Keep watching," Captain Zhou said. "Watch until he shows his true colors."

The young team member sighed: "This job is really grueling."

Captain Zhou didn't speak, just continued staring at the construction site through the binoculars.

Yes, it was grueling.

But no matter how grueling it was, they had to keep watching.

Five days later, Imposter appeared again.

This time he changed his clothes, wore a baseball cap, and carried a backpack, looking from a distance like a hiker. He walked slowly along the gravel road on the outskirts of the construction site, stopping from time to time to take a few photos with his phone, then continuing on as if nothing was wrong.

The undercover sentries spotted him immediately.

"Captain Zhou, target spotted, active on the eastern perimeter."

"Copy that. Continue observing, don't alert him."

Captain Zhou put down the radio and picked up the binoculars. In the lens, Imposter was crouching behind a sand dune, taking something out of his backpack and gesturing toward the construction site.

"Damn, he's quite professional," Captain Zhou cursed, then picked up the radio. "All teams, attention. The target is active on the east side. Outer patrol teams, proceed along your original route and pass by him normally. Don't show any signs of anything unusual."

A few "Copy that" responses came over the radio.

Ten minutes later, a patrol car drove slowly along the gravel road, passing right by Imposter. The car stopped, and a team member leaned out: "Comrade, this is a construction zone; unauthorized personnel are not allowed near here."

Imposter smiled broadly: "Oh, oh, I'm just passing through, passing through. I'll leave now, I'll leave now."

He packed up his things and left quickly.

The patrol car continued driving forward, as if nothing had happened.

In the sentry's lens, after Imposter had walked several hundred meters, he looked back once, then quickened his pace and disappeared behind a sand dune in the distance.

"Captain Zhou, he's gone."

"Follow him," Captain Zhou ordered. "Don't get too close, see where he's going."

A team member slid silently down from behind the sand dune, following Imposter's tracks from a distance.

At dusk, news came back: Imposter walked to the side of a road thirty kilometers away and got into a white van; the license plate was local. The car drove off toward the provincial capital.

Captain Zhou reported this news to Zhao Gang.

Zhao Gang nodded and picked up the phone: "Director Fang, the fish is moving again. This time he changed cars, a white van, the license plate is..."

Provincial capital, Fang Lin's office.

She noted down the license plate number and entered it into the system to query.

Five minutes later, the result came out—the car was rented, and the ID used by the person who rented it was that of Imposter.

Fang Lin smiled.

The fish is moving, which means the fish is still there.

She dialed Zhao Gang's number: "Keep watching. If he wants to scout, let him scout. The more detailed he scouts, the more he'll expose himself."

"Understood," Zhao Gang's voice also carried a smile. "Director Fang, when do you think we can close the net on this fish?"

"Soon," Fang Lin looked out the window as the sky grew dark and the city lights turned on one by one. "When they think they've scouted enough, when they think it's foolproof, when they think they can make their move—that's when we close the net."

Hanging up the phone, she opened the drawer and took out a photograph.

The photo showed George—the opponent who appeared refined on the surface but had sinister eyes. After his failed attempt to turn Zhang Jianguo last time, he had disappeared like a drop of water into the ocean.

But Fang Lin knew he hadn't left.

He was somewhere out there, watching this Gobi Desert, watching that rising Nuclear Fusion base.

Waiting for his next move.

Fang Lin put the photo back in the drawer and gently closed it.

Come on.

I'm waiting for you.