Murphy's team all understood the gravity of their current situation without needing to say it aloud.
When Murphy called everyone over, he relayed Christensen's response to the suggestion of initiating the operation early, as well as the corresponding countermeasures Long Zhan had proposed. He laid everything out clearly for the team.
All it took was a single piece of less-than-accurate intel to potentially avoid being swarmed by over 200 enemy fighters.
The vote passed unanimously.
No matter how elite a special operator is, he's still just one man—and anyone who's human values their life. If you can make it out alive, nobody wants to end up on a stretcher.
With all team members aligned in their messaging, the next steps would be much easier.
They now had a justifiable pretext to push the commander toward daytime action. The only thing left was to craft the right kind of suggestions to appeal to Christensen's primary concerns.
Christensen feared excessive civilian casualties could get him in trouble with the BSOs once the mission was over.
Then help him figure out how to reduce collateral damage.
Christensen also worried about losing too many operatives, which would make it difficult to answer to the many higher-ups overseeing this joint mission.
Then help him come up with a plan that would reduce enemy contact altogether.
If the commander didn't want to use his brain, they'd do it for him.
Long Zhan had provided targeted solutions for both pain points. Murphy was confident that whether Christensen had never considered these options or simply didn't think they were possible, once they were laid out in front of him, he'd have no choice but to respond.
Combine that with the earlier piece of disinformation, and the three-pronged approach was sure to yield results.
Murphy had already thought Long Zhan's initial plan was ingenious. After hearing these two additional suggestions, he was completely sold. If he wasn't already convinced before, he now firmly believed Long Zhan was the better fit for the role of commander.
At the same time, Murphy's confidence in persuading Christensen had risen to one hundred percent.
12:19 p.m.
The satellite phone finally picked up a signal again. Murphy wasted no time dialing the Olett Operations Command Center.
This time, Barton answered the call.
After their last communication, once Christensen learned Murphy's team was safe, he'd returned to his quarters to rest and recharge for that night's direct-action mission.
"Barton, I need to speak to the boss urgently. Go get him now."
Hearing the same sense of urgency in Murphy's voice as before, Barton had learned his lesson. No more dragging his feet. He dropped the receiver and bolted.
Less than 40 seconds later—
Christensen, who had barely fallen asleep, returned with Barton, picked up the phone, and asked, "Mike, has there been a change in the Shepherd?"
Christensen had no idea he was about to be led around so hard his knees would give out.
"No, boss. The Shepherd's fine. But we've observed something more serious. A portion of the Taliban fighters in the village are regrouping, and Shah seems to be showing signs of relocation. We can't get close enough to confirm, and his intentions remain unclear. But if Shah really is preparing to move…"
Murphy trailed off deliberately, not finishing the sentence.
Sometimes, what goes unsaid delivers more impact than words ever could.
It's like how bare thighs might not be that enticing, but slip on some semi-sheer black stockings, pair it with a tight skirt and black heels—
Suddenly the allure multiplies tenfold.
What's hidden often stirs the imagination more than what's plainly visible. That's the uniqueness of human sensory psychology.
Christensen followed Murphy's train of thought, and the potential outcome that surfaced in his mind was disastrous: a mission they had spent months meticulously preparing, undone by Shah's sudden relocation.
It was unacceptable.
His previously relaxed brow instantly furrowed into a tight knot.
"Are you certain?" Christensen asked.
"We haven't been able to intercept any voice traffic, so we can't confirm the intel's accuracy. We can only base our judgment on what we've observed and what we've seen in the past. But the likelihood of Shah leaving Qadaku is extremely high."
Murphy's response was masterfully nuanced—his entire tone implied that this scenario was imminent, yet he didn't utter a single word of certainty.
It was subtle.
Even if someone went back and scoured the phone recording afterward, they wouldn't be able to pin a single misleading statement on Murphy's team.
This was deception at its finest.
Murphy had offered no conclusive claim, but Christensen had no choice but to treat the matter with gravity. Even if the probability was only ten percent, the consequence was too great for him to risk.
But launching a direct assault immediately—especially in broad daylight—was an equally hard pill to swallow.
What now?
Christensen found himself caught in a dilemma.
Murphy noticed the long silence and knew Long Zhan's fabricated intel had done its job. Time for Phase Two of Long Zhan's plan—
Boost Christensen's confidence. Guide him into believing that daytime action was viable.
"Boss, our current position is excellent. The village's terrain is also wide and open—it's ideal for ground-based laser designation to enable precision strikes. We can replace the need for nighttime gunship support."
The U.S. military typically uses three methods to deliver precise strikes on high-value targets: laser-guided bombings from aircraft, long-range missile strikes, and close-range fire support from aerial gunships.
Murphy's team had no access to radio communications, which meant they couldn't upload precise GPS coordinates of Shah's location.
And without coordinates accurate to the meter, neither bombs nor missiles were viable. If they missed and hit nearby civilian homes—
The media coverage the next day would be overwhelming. Once word got out that U.S. forces bombed civilians, the fallout could be enough to end Christensen's career on the spot.
In situations like this, gunships were usually the fallback.
Christensen had insisted on a nighttime operation partly because the Air Force only deployed gunships after dark.
But Long Zhan's idea—using ground-based laser targeting—was a perfect workaround. No need for precise coordinates; just aim for Qadaku's general location.
The final targeting guidance would all be done from the ground.
"Ground-based designation?"
Christensen's eyes lit up. His mind instantly told him this was totally feasible—but then, another complication came to mind.