Self-establishnt?
The impact of this word was a hundred tis stronger than the previous "do it ourselves," as if a grenade had been thrown into the room.
This was no longer a simple military action; this was about uprooting the century-old foundations of France and Britain, the two major colonial powers, in Sena!
This is bare-faced, flipping the table!
This is equivalent to declaring war on two great powers at once!
The massive risk was like a substantial iceberg, pressing down on everyone present in an instant.
Moreover, ti! Where will they find, in just a few months, an "agent" with enough military strength, influence, and willingness to act as their puppet?
This is simply a pipe dream!
It's a thought only a madman would have!
The imnse shock left everyone speechless.
Collins instinctively gripped the handle of the gun at his waist, his knuckles white.
Jiang Feng's throat bobbed as he swallowed with difficulty, his eyes complex as he looked at the glaring red dot on the map.
Even the always brave White Bear bowed his head deeply, as if to shrink into the shadows.
They followed Song Heping through life and death, witnessing his ruthlessness and intelligence, but this proposal still exceeded the boundaries of their imagination.
"Henry!"
Song Heping's voice rang out again like a bolt of thunder.
The nad Henry shuddered violently, as if awakened from a nightmare, cold sweat instantly covering his forehead.
"I'm here... Boss..." he
replied with a slight tremor in his voice.
"Pass my exact words to Shire directly!"
Song Heping stared at him, enunciating each word clearly, like a final verdict in a courtroom.
"Not a word should be changed!"
His gaze was sharp as a blade, with an undeniable authority: "I guarantee, once he hears it, he'll agree to all my conditions imdiately, without delay! Including eting on my terms!"
"...Yes! Boss!"
Henry shivered violently, like being whipped, all his hesitation and fear forcibly suppressed.
He straightened his back, his voice hoarse with a sense of abandon.
"I will contact him right away!" He almost staggered as he turned, rushing towards the communication chamber, as if fleeing from the suffocating pressure center.
The heavy soundproof door shut behind Henry with a muffled thud.
The safe house once again fell into dead silence, only heavy breathing and the relentless ticking of the clock could be heard.
All eyes were on the man who had sat back at the table, unconsciously tapping his fingers on the map spread out there.
The tantalum-niobium ore vein symbolizing endless wealth was circled in red pen on the map, like prey.
Song Heping's fingers continued tapping the table rhythmically, that low and steady thunk sound in the silent safe house was like a cold heartbeat, striking every nerve ending.
Outside, the blazing sun of West Africa scorched the earth, the acrid sll of burning garbage from the distant slums faintly seeped through the inadequately sealed gaps, mixing with the dense sll of tobacco and sweat inside, creating an irritating atmosphere.
Henry closed the heavy iron door of the communication chamber, isolating the inside from the outside.
He leaned against the cold tal door panel, gasping for breath a few tis, barely suppressing the surging waves of shock in his heart.
Is the boss insane?
No, Henry quickly dismissed this thought.
He had followed Song Heping for quite so ti, knowing the wild fla burning inside this seemingly calm man, behind every seemingly mad gamble lay ticulous calculation and cold-hearted balance beyond ordinary people's reach.
This ti...
Maybe it's the biggest gamble yet.
The stakes are everyone's lives, and the "black gold" river flowing beneath this land of Sena.
Taking a deep breath, he went to the encrypted communicator, his fingers trembling slightly from lingering tension, but still skillfully inputting the complex cipher.
The faint hiss of static when the signal connected sounded particularly piercing at this mont.
"Mr. Shire." Henry's voice, processed by equipnt, carried a trace of electronic synthesis coldness, trying to maintain surface composure: "I have conveyed your conditions to Mr. Song."
There was silence for a few seconds on the other end before Shire's slow, heavily accented English ca through: "So, Mr. Henry, what did the 'Ghost' say?"
The tone carried a hint of amusent and an unnoticeable probe, along with a touch of French-style arrogance.
Henry's Adam's apple bobbed, the thunderous "do it ourselves" from the boss seed to still roar in his ears.
He closed his eyes briefly, the words he was about to say felt like a branding iron, squeezing out each word from between his teeth: "My boss says: location and ti, we decide. If you agree, he'll et you personally. If not..."
Henry paused for a mont, clearly hearing his own heart drum like a beating drum, "then cancel the transaction. We'll establish our own agent, overthrow Du Er, and do it ourselves."
Dead silence...
There was a prolonged, suffocating silence on the other end of the communicator.
Henry could even imagine Shire, in his luxuriously carpeted office, holding a cigar, the playful smile on his face frozen instantly.
The French's century of colonization led to the cultivation of countless "loyal dogs" in Sena, Isis was just one that looked stronger.
Song Heping's intention was stark and brutal — one more or less of you makes no difference.
Without the "diplomatic veil" of the French, Song Heping would step into the fray himself, overturning the chessboard of Sena, then starting anew!
This was akin to smashing a heavy hamr onto the chessboard Shire prided himself on.
Ti ticked away, each second felt like an eternity.
On this end of the communicator, Henry's back was already soaked with cold sweat, sticking clammily to his shirt.
He could almost hear the sound of his blood rushing through his eardrums.
Finally, a heavy inhalation was heard over the communicator.
Shire's voice rang out again, his usual composed tone vanished, replaced by an icy hardness after being offended.
"Mr. Henry!"
Shire's voice was like ice: "Is your boss threatening the French Republic? Does he think Sena is so kind of place? His backyard? Nurturing a proxy? With just him?"
A series of questions, teeming with lofty anger.
Henry's heart sank, could the boss's prediction...
Be wrong?
But right now, this is a negotiation.
Negotiating with the intelligence head of DGES.
Winning or losing often hinges on a single action.
He braced himself, yet his voice involuntarily carried the toughness Song Heping instilled in him: "Mr. Shire, I'm just relaying the ssage. The boss also says..."
He took a deep breath, as if to inhale the insouciant madness of Song Heping into his lungs, "He guarantees that after you hear it, you will imdiately agree to his terms."
As he spoke these words, even he found it ridiculous.
"Guarantee?"
Shire let out a short and sharp cold laugh, like tal scraping glass, "With what is he guaranteeing? With his worthless life being hunted by the CIA? Or with those few thousand rcenaries under him who sell their lives for money? You all don't understand what great power politics are! Without France's recognition and protection, even if you temporarily occupy the President's Mansion, you wouldn't last three days! The African Union's condemnation, the United Nations' sanctions, even the International Criminal Court's arrest warrant... can you withstand these?"
Shire beca more and more agitated, his voice getting louder and filled with the anger of being underestimated and the arrogance of being a permanent mber of the great powers.
"Tell Song Heping, without France's 'diplomatic screen,' even if he seizes the niobium-tantalum mine, it's nothing more than holding a hot potato, waiting to be hunted by the whole world! Does he think the Aricans will sit idly by? And the British, will they stand by and do nothing?! Naive!"
Shire's words were like hailstones, striking hard on Henry's heart.
Every word he said was the cold reality, the abysmal cliff behind Song Heping's plan.
Cold sweat, at this mont, was trickling down Henry's forehead.
The boss's all-in bet, in the eyes of an old hand like Shire, really just reckless madness?
Just as Henry was about to be overwheld by this trendous pressure, contemplating how to tactfully relay Shire's rage, the voice on the other side of the communicator unexpectedly vanished.
Shire's angry roar stopped abruptly, as if an invisible hand had seized his throat.
Imdiately followed by a long silence that was unnerving.
Only the hissing sound of the current proved the line was still open.
Henry held his breath, his heart in his throat.
A full minute later.
Shire's voice finally returned. This ti, all the anger and roaring were gone, leaving only a peculiar, forcibly suppressed calmness, so calm it was almost eerie.
It was a shock and reevaluation like a chess player suddenly discovering the opponent's unorthodox move has disrupted all their arrangents in a desperate situation.
"... Location, ti."
Shire's voice was low and slow, each syllable seed squeezed through clenched teeth, carrying a stiffness of forced composure after defeat, but as if nothing had happened before.
"You can decide both. But it must be absolutely safe. And..."
He emphasized with an indisputable tone, "I only give him thirty minutes. After thirty minutes, regardless of the outco, my people must withdraw. I don't want to be caught by the British or any unstable elents within your ranks."
A dramatic turn!
A huge wave of joy instantly crushed Henry's tense nerves, he almost collapsed.
The boss...
Won the gamble!
Behind Shire's blustering, was the real fear of Song Heping's ability to upset the table!
The French truly could not afford the consequences of Sena completely slipping out of control and falling into the hands of a "madman" not constrained by any big power.
That risk was greater than cooperating with a dangerous "Ghost!"
"Understood! Mr. Shire!"
Henry's reply was filled with post-crisis excitent and a hint of imperceptible trembling, "I will imdiately report to the boss and notify you as soon as the details are finalized!"
Communication cut off.
Henry sat in front of the cold communication equipnt and took a long breath, wiped his forehead, it was full of water.
He suddenly stood up, pulled open the iron door of the compartnt, and walked quickly back to the main room.
All eyes instantly focused on him, a mix of tension, expectation, and fear.
"Boss!"
Henry's voice carried a hint of excited hoarseness, "Shire... he agreed! To et on our terms!"
The tense atmosphere in the safe house, like a fully drawn bowstring, was suddenly released.
Everyone let out a long sigh, only then realizing their palms were full of sweat.
Song Heping's face, however, showed no surprise or joy.
He didn't even look up at Henry, rely stopping his tapping on the table.
The red pen used for marking was gently picked up by him, skillfully spinning at his fingertips, as if toying with a blood-stained dagger.
"You arrange the location and ti."
Song Heping's voice was as calm as ever, as if the thrilling remote confrontation just experienced had never occurred.
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