An hour later, having prepared everything, Song Heping drove Henry to the Happy Reunion Chinese Restaurant in the Green Zone in his bulletproof Lincoln.
All the way there, Henry still worried about this meeting with Simon.
"Could they have snipers ambush and kill us halfway through?"
As he said this, Henry carefully observed the surroundings through the car window.
At this time, the sun had just set in the west, showing only half its face, and the light was dim. The Green Zone was filled with buildings, all shrouded in a kind of semi-darkness, making everything look suspicious as if under the shadow of some obscure corner lay a sniper, with a high-powered scope aimed directly at them, ready to pull the trigger at any moment.
"No," Song Heping said, "my car is bulletproof. Besides, Simon wouldn't do something as stupid as killing us in the Green Zone."
"Ah... a bulletproof car..."
Henry seemed a bit more reassured.
But soon he came up with a new speculation, "Could he poison us in the food? CIA is too common with poison."
Song Heping laughed and said, "Your guess does make some sense, but don't worry, I anticipated that. Do you know why I insisted on bringing you to meet him tonight?"
Henry asked, "Why?"
Song Heping said, "It's the only way to keep you safe."
The Green Zone wasn't large, and Song Heping soon arrived at the Happy Reunion Restaurant.
The owner of the restaurant was Chinese, as were the staff.
Chinese people wherever they go like to engage in food and beverage businesses.
Not because Chinese cuisine is so popular with foreigners, but from a business perspective, there's hardly any other industry with lower barriers to entry and the assurance of a steady cash flow.
Simon was actually waiting outside.
This showed how important this meeting was to him.
After parking the car, Song Heping, accompanied by Henry, went straight to Simon, pointing directly to Henry at his side, "You know each other, no need for introductions, right?"
"I do, I do..."
"Of course, I know..."
Both Henry and Simon seemed quite awkward.
Half a month ago, neither could have imagined meeting this way, here.
"Please, I have reserved a room." Simon took the lead, his enthusiasm undiminished.
Once inside the VIP room, everyone sat down, and Simon ordered the waiter, "Bring me my good Whiskey."
Soon, the Whiskey was brought over.
It was a bottle of Whiskey.
Simon, in front of the two, deliberately opened the cap and deeply inhaled the aroma at the mouth of the bottle with pride, introducing it, "Peat smoked single malt Whiskey, phenol at 45PPM, very unique among English brands, with a smoky flavor."
After that, he picked up three wide-mouth glasses from the tray, grabbed some ice cubes from the ice bucket, placed them directly into the glasses, and finally poured a bit of Whiskey into them, handing two of the glasses to Song Heping and Henry.
"Try this."
Song Heping and Henry took them.
The former held the glass under his nose and took a sniff.
The fragrance indeed was very unique. However, such a drink would be considered niche in China, where most people have trouble accepting the strong flavor of peat with a hint of smoke.
Henry was British.
This was Whiskey from his homeland.
He instantly recognized it as something exceptional.
It was well-aged, with a rich and distinct aroma.
This nearly had him drooling with anticipation, as he picked up the glass, ready to try this precious Whiskey.
"Hold on."
Song Heping stopped him with a smile.
"Don't rush to drink it."
Henry asked in confusion, "Why not?"
Song Heping said, "This Whiskey hasn't woken up yet."
Henry was even more puzzled, "But this isn't wine, it doesn't need to wake up."
Grinning, Song Heping took the glass from Henry, set it on the table, then pulled out his mobile phone, clicked a few times, and brought up a video.
"Station chief, I think we should talk about business before we eat," he said, then handed over the phone.
Simon's face turned ugly; he hesitated for a while but still took the phone.
It was a large-screen Nokia phone, with the video already queued up.
Simon pressed the play button.
It was a video of Song Heping interrogating CIA assassination squad agent Hart in Algiers, but only a short clip was taken—the part where Hart confessed his assassination intentions and the department he belonged to.
As Simon watched, his complexion became paler and paler.
In the end, he emotionlessly returned the phone to Song Heping.
"What do you mean by this?"
"Nothing much," Song Heping said, "I'm just reminding the station chief not to play any tricks."
"What tricks could I possibly play!?" Simon said with a livid face, "Do you really think so little of me? Would I invite you to dinner if I wanted to kill you?"
Song Heping's gaze fell upon the bottle of whiskey.
Simon was stunned for a moment, then said, "Are you suspecting the whiskey is poisoned?"
Having said that, he poured some whiskey into his own glass, tipped his head back, drank it all, and showed the empty glass to Song Heping.
Henry had been scared pale earlier when he heard Song Heping say the whiskey was poisoned, but he visibly relaxed when he saw Simon drink it all with no ill effects.
Song Heping said indifferently, "Station chief, I've made backups of these videos and some evidence about your involvement in this operation. If anything happens to me, the data will quickly be sent to the military, Langley, and the media through special channels. They will all receive it, and it will also be made public online."
Simon's complexion changed from livid to shocked.
Song Heping ignored him, picked up his glass, and slowly moved it toward his lips.
Just as the glass was about to touch his lips, Simon suddenly stood up, "Wait!"
He snatched Song Heping's glass, then grabbed Henry's, and called the waiter over, "These ice cubes are no good; get some new ones. I want ice balls, not cubes! What kind of service is this! Can't you take care of the details of the order?"
After the waiter sheepishly took the two glasses away, Simon managed to squeeze out a bit of a smile and said, "Good whiskey should never be served with cube ice; it needs to be ice balls. The owner here just doesn't know how to do things properly."
Song Heping smiled and nodded, "Exactly, it is important to understand the rules, but the problem is you didn't establish clear rules with them beforehand."
Simon sat back down, but for a moment, he didn't know what to say, as if he had lost his thread of thought and couldn't pick it up again.
Henry was still in shock at this point.
Was the whiskey really poisoned?
No, that can't be right...
Simon drank it in front of us, and he's fine.
It must be something else...
He really dared to do this!
Henry felt he had been insulted.
"Simon, we used to work well together, and you actually sent someone to kill me?"
He wouldn't normally have asked that question.
Because Simon sending someone to kill him to silence him was only to be expected.
But now, overcome by anger, he was losing control.
"You know the rules... If you have to blame someone, blame your own greed!" Simon was holding back a bellyful of anger that he didn't dare release in front of Song Heping. His tone of voice was pinched and strained, as if he was about to burst an internal injury.
"If you hadn't been greedy for the Frenchman's money, would you have left traces if you'd just sent the intelligence anonymously? Would I have to send someone to kill you?!"
"FUCK YOU!"
What Simon said was true, but Henry still stood up emotionally, gesturing the middle finger at him.
"That's enough," Song Heping saw that the time was ripe, and if Henry continued to make a scene, tonight's purpose would be ruined.
It was time to play the peacemaker.
"Henry, sit down."
After Henry sat down, the waiter came with new glasses and ice balls.
Song Heping took the initiative to take a glass, put an ice ball in it, then poured some whiskey, doing so for everyone.
"Let's forget the past events, station chief. From now on, just like you said, we are friends, right?"
Simon's facial expression became very stiff, his smile was unattractive, but he still smiled, "Right, friends."
"Then you won't trouble me anymore, right?" Song Heping asked.
Simon nodded, "Of course not, it was all a misunderstanding before."
Song Heping looked at Henry beside him, "His safety, there's no problem, right? If he dies or has an accident, don't blame me for pointing fingers at you."
Simon swallowed another gulp of vexation, "I can only guarantee that my people will absolutely not touch JK, but he is an intelligence broker who has offended people in the past and been involved in things I can't control."
Song Heping thought about it and realized this was probably the most sincerity he was going to get from Simon, so he raised his glass, "Come on, let's drink to friendship."
"To friendship..."
"To friendship."
Their glasses clinked gently together.
Under the light, the amber liquid through the glasses reflected their twisted and surreal faces.