My Years in National Security
There exists a group of people who hear thunder where silence reigns, who accomplish extraordinary feats in the shadows, their names lost amidst the swirling tides of conflict. They willingly remain nameless, guarding the light in the quiet and unseen corners of the world. Their identities are unknown to the public, yet their achievements will be remembered forever. This is the story I wish to tell—for I am one of them. With this book, I pay tribute to the unsung heroes who fight on the hidden front lines.
My Years in National Security
Beirut, capital of Lebanon.
"Headquarters, this is B2. I’ve just left the airport. Where do I go now?"
A rather unremarkable-looking Asian man, about one meter seventy-eight tall, glanced around in confusion as he spoke softly into his phone.
"Go to the embassy. Your vacation is waiting for you there," came a woman's languid voice from the other end of the line, sounding as if she’d just woken up.
"Who goes on vacation to Lebanon?" Zhang Liang muttered under his breath, exasperated. Who in their right mind would come to this godforsaken place for a holiday? Unless you wanted to see for yourself if Israeli artillery was as powerful as they say.
"Count yourself lucky. B1’s vacation spot is in Baghdad. Want me to switch you two?"
"Never mind, it’s all the same," Zhang Liang grumbled. As if Baghdad and Beirut were any different.
He hung up, resigned, and followed the directions on his map, hailing a cab to the Chinese embassy in the heart of Beirut.
"Hello, I have an appointment with Ambassador Han," Zhang Liang said to a nearby staff member after showing his credentials.
"Come with me."
The staffer, who wasn’t much for conversation, led Zhang Liang up to a room on the second floor. After a few knocks, a deep voice called from inside.
"Come in."
"Ambassador Han, your guest has arrived," the staffer announced quietly, nodding at Zhang Liang before leaving.
"Hello, Ambassador Han. I’m Zhang Liang."
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