Northern Darfur Region.
The safehouse, transford from an abandoned rubber plantation, resembles a giant stear, with the humid and hot air stagnating, heavily pressing down on everyone's lungs.
Outside the window, deep in the impenetrable tropical rainforest, the cicadas' intense noise forms a massive net of sound that makes one's scalp tingle.
Inside the house, the old fan, like a tractor, emits a tremor, making it seem like it might fall apart any second.
Sweat dripped down Song Heping's brow and landed on the thin ink spot at the edge of the Sen Republic's military map covering the entire table, saring a small part of the map at the Nangita mining area.
It's been two days since he returned from Damascus. To avoid being detected by the British upon entering Sen Republic, this ti Song Heping took a smuggling ship directly back to Ethiopia, then entered Sen Republic from Ethiopia, retracing the original route back to the Darfur region.
His whereabouts are currently the highest secret, with few in his company even aware of his return.
This is a safehouse in the Darfur region, not their newly built training base. It is an isolated place, most suitable for Song Heping to temporarily hide and "play dead."
Sayina has already been sent away, the destination being the Chiefdom, where, given Song Heping's financial resources, he can easily ensure Sayina lives a comfortable life there.
As the saying goes, money makes the world go round.
There are plenty of international schools in the Chiefdom, it's rely a matter of spending money.
The problems that can be solved with money are no longer problems for Song Heping.
Financial capability is precisely Song Heping's current strongest confidence.
Now he wants more than just money.
Once a company reaches a certain level of developnt, money is just numbers.
Money without the support of power is akin to water without a source, trees without roots, eventually nothing but an empty dream.
Song Heping is no longer the sa as he was a few years ago.
Having a seat at the table of power is what he desires.
The door was pushed open, bringing in a wave of even thicker heat.
Ferrari walked in briskly, the fatigue of a long journey etched into the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, and the African sun had darkened him by at least two shades.
"Song!"
After entering, he rushed to the table, grabbed a bottle of mineral water, and took a big gulp before catching his breath and speaking, "The people are in! From Darfur, we transferred our skilled personnel; the first batch of five hundred, all spread into the large mining pits of Nangita, Karama, and Sangha as 'new miners,' with credentials, uniforms, tools—no loose ends. The mouths of the few in charge at the mines are tighter than welded iron doors."
"Keep it confidential, avoid leaks, and don't let anyone see these are military personnel disguised as miners," Song Heping instructed sternly.
"Rest assured! We specially 'expanded' the miners' sheds, cramped like a sardine can, dirty and broken, that's the right flavor. Tool allocation, descent records, daily check-ins, every formality is complete. The officials responsible for visas on the Sena Governnt's side ca to inspect just yesterday."
He sneered, his disdain unconcealed.
"That guy focused on the ore scales and machine tracks at the mine; I had the mine's supervisor give him a three thousand US Dollar envelope, and his mouth almost split in laughter! He imdiately issued a thousand more labor certificates. With these docunts, our people can enter Sena on schedule three days from now."
"How many troops do we have over there now?"
"Five thousand."
"Not enough, to be safe, I need seven thousand. By the way, how's the arrangent for weapon transportation?"
"No problem, handling their mineral departnt and border guards is too easy. We transported the equipnt under the guise of mining tools, gave them so money, and they even waived the checks."
Song Heping's gaze remained locked on several key points in the Nangita mining area on the map, his hand steadily circling with a red marker, the force penetrating the paper's back.
He didn't lift his head, only uttered a sound from deep in his throat: "Mm."
After a pause, he continued, "We don't have much ti. If I'm not mistaken, the British are confirming whether I'm dead. If they don't find a corpse, they can list as deceased within a month, and MI6 would then surely notify the Duer Governnt, who would take action against us. In this month's ti, we have to strike first."
"One month..."
Ferrari spread his hands, showing a helpless expression.
Planning a coup in one month's ti...
It's a mission impossible for anyone.
Even top intelligence agencies like MI6 or CIA would need at least six months.
And we are just a defense company, having to accomplish this within a month.
It's indeed sowhat fantastical.
Song Heping's pen finally moved away from Nangita, slowly shifting towards the center of the map - the capital Butare.
The pen hovered above that small area representing the power core.
"What about the shift schedule of Duer's watchdogs?"
"Got it!"
Ferrari imdiately took out a deeply creased print from his bulging briefcase, densely filled with tis precise to the minute and troop numbers.
"Every Tuesday and Friday, at exactly four in the morning. The camp on the western outskirts and the Presidential Guard change shifts. The route is fixed, the escort involves the usual - two armored vehicles, four pickups mounted with machine guns, barely a platoon. It seems that with the new official feeling backed by the British and holding military power, they've beco a bit complacent."
Song Heping took the thin paper filled with ti codes.
His gaze precisely dissected each character like a scalpel, his mind rapidly calculating nurous possible action paths and instant collapses of unexpected events.
He picked up a cold blue magnet pin, pressing it with a "pa" at the position of the western outskirts' camp.
Then, several black magnets representing their forces were steadily moved by his fingers, along a ghost-route marked by dashed lines, winding out of the Nangita mining area, eventually stopping at the icon of an abandoned plantation on the western outskirts.
"Here."
The red marker fiercely drew a cross at the point representing the abandoned plantation, like a symbol for beheading.
"First assembly point. Nangita's three thousand people, divided into three batches, during the mining holiday gap. With 'going to the city to buy goods,' 'visiting relatives' as an excuse, move quietly here to hide. Bring enough light gear, explosives."
He looked up and cast his gaze to the corner of the room.
White Bear was playing cards with Jiang Feng.
Previously, Jiang Feng taught him a card ga - arranging thirteen cards.
Jiang Feng kept winning, stacking thick US Dollars in front of him.
White Bear refused to concede, determined to turn the tide even if it ant emptying his pockets.
"The western outskirts direction is the main attack direction; White Bear, you and Queen lead the team personally. Lately, you've gained considerable territory in Darfur, so I believe you can handle this military task."
Jiang Feng and White Bear left the cards and quickly moved to the map.
White Bear's gaze swept across the marked route and the striking cross made by Song Heping, his jawline tightened, uttering only: "Yes."
"Jiang Feng, bring Collins along when it's ti."
Song Heping didn't lift his head, saying, "All the eyes (surveillance caras) on Duer Presidential Mansion and that shift route - positions, models, how to cut the lines, timing of the cut... Also, the British advisory group's buzzing beehive (communication center), all frequencies, primary and backup ones, monitor everything without exception."
Collins at the other end of the tent turned around and loudly said, "Boss, surveillance caras are easy, but the British's communication equipnt is tricky, it's military-grade... I need equipnt."
"What equipnt do you need?" Song Heping asked.
Collins scratched his ear, troubled, "Sothing more advanced than theirs."
"More advanced?"
Everyone was stunned.
The British advisors responsible for technology are intelligence officers using top-notch gear. Monitoring and invading their channels can't be done just by having soone like Collins who understands technology; they need more advanced equipnt.
But who has interference and eavesdropping equipnt better than British MI6?
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