Chapter 1876 - 1401: Two Phone Calls (Part 3)

Under the dim emergency lights, six medics were desperately sustaining the vital signs of their comrades with rapidly depleting medicines and the last remaining medical supplies.

The blood plasma required for the critically injured was down to the last two units, guarded like gold, reserved for those in greatest need.

Colonel Lemont carefully observed the darkness beyond the walls through the periscope extending from the reinforced command post observation port.

The shelling had ceased for over two minutes, yet the sudden silence was more unnerving than the deafening explosions before.

Through the night vision goggles, the Tenth Division's tank convoy had come to a complete stop about two kilometers away from the base's perimeter, headlights still on.

"What are they waiting for?" Ryan whispered.

"Waiting for us to make a mistake, to show a flaw," Lemont's eyes did not leave the periscope, "or... waiting for a change of mind from Washington, a new order."

The latter seemed a slim possibility, even to him.

Just then, his satellite phone vibrated against his body.

The special encrypted frequency identifier showed the caller to be Simon, the Director of the Central Intelligence Agency, and also his immediate boss.

Lemont's heart skipped a beat, quickly retreating to a relatively quiet corner to answer.

"Latest intelligence," Simon began without any pleasantries, his tone formulaic and cold: "Song Heping's counterattack has begun. Our network monitoring shows he is intensively contacting foreign media, Horizon News has just released the first wave of edited attack videos, with views and shares growing exponentially."

"So what?" Lemont tightened his grip on the phone.

He needed a solution, not a situation update.

"So you must hold on, withstand the pressure," Simon replied. "Lemont, it was those high-ranking officials at the White House who bypassed usual procedures to directly authorize and insist on placing you in Illiguo, to finish off 'Seeder' plan, ensuring all 'unstable factors' are cleared before the election, not affecting the Donkey Party's election prospects. Before you took up the post, I gave you a private, well-meaning warning, reminding you that Song Heping's background is complex and his methods unpredictable, best to keep distance and just do your job, not to provoke him. You didn't listen."

Lemont remained silent.

Simon spoke the truth.

He had noted Simon's warning about Song Heping back then, but hadn't truly realized its weight until the conflict spiraled irreversibly.

"How much longer must we hold out? Director, I need an approximate time frame to plan defense and resource allocation!" Lemont asked, suppressing his emotions.

"I can't predict," Simon's voice suddenly became even colder: "The evolution of the situation depends on too many variables, Washington's political maneuvering, the speed of public opinion fermentation, the opponent's next move, even luck. I'm no prophet."

A cold, desperate mix of emotions surged through Lemont's heart, shooting straight to his head.

"SIR!" His voice involuntarily raised: "I and over a hundred soldiers under me are cowering in the ruins, everyone gambling with their lives! And you're in a soundproof office at Langley, telling me you can't predict?!"

On the other end, Simon seemed angered, his voice icy enough to form icicles:

"Watch your attitude, Colonel Lemont! Let me remind you, you are not 'my person'! Your special deployment this time, and all actions associated, have nothing to do with me or the regular overseas operation command chain of the Central Intelligence Agency! None of the action orders, authorization documents bear my signature, neither in the past, nor now, nor in the future!"

"Do you want to complain? OK! Go complain to those White House bigwigs! Go to the National Security Advisor Walter, or directly to the Donkey Party candidate Hillary! FUCK! I certainly am not the one to clean up after you and your operations! Were it not for the fact that, nominally, you're still a subordinate within the agency's establishment, do you think at this time, I would personally call to give you this intelligence?"

A whole series of cold and cruel blunt words, like a pot of ice water, instantly doused Lemont's rising anger, leaving only an overwhelming chill and helplessness.

He was left speechless, opening his mouth, but unable to utter any meaningful syllables.

Yes, this is politics, this is a typical "dissociation procedure."

When things are going smoothly, everyone shares the credit; when things go wrong and scandal threatens, each layer desperately distances itself to ensure they stay unsullied.

Simon seemed to also have taken a breath, but his tone remained cold with a subtle, almost imperceptible complexity:

"Things have reached this point, you, Lemont, can only pray that God is somewhat merciful to you and your subordinates. Pray that the public opinion offensive launched by Song Heping works, putting enough pressure to force some people to change their minds. Otherwise... hehe,"

The short, piercing laugh was grating.

"You might as well be ready to drape the national flag over yourself and your soldiers on your return."

With a click, communications were unilaterally cut off, leaving only a dial tone.

Lemont stood in place, dazed.

Simon's words sliced through his nerves repeatedly like a dull blade.

Only after several seconds did he manage to recover slightly from the immense psychological impact, his thoughts starting to turn again, albeit with difficulty.

He slowly moved the phone away from his ear, preparing to put it down.

Yet, in that very instant—

The familiar whistling once more came from the distant sky, from far to near, at an incredibly fast speed!

But this time, the density and intensity of the sound were completely different from before.

Not just one.

Not a mere few isolated shots.

It was an intensive, continuous barrage, as if tearing the entire sky apart with their screams!

At least twelve shots, perhaps more, reaching the auditory boundary almost simultaneously, heralding the deluge of destructive rain about to pour down.

The barrage had begun.

The real steel storm had arrived.