After boarding the Chinook helicopter, Song Heping and others were blindfolded, and the "Scorpion" team mbers used restraint straps to bind their hands behind their backs.
Sitting in the cabin, they could only hear the sound of the engine and the propellers.
This style, indeed, was much like the legends.
These intelligence agents always made a simple thing seem mysterious.
Song Heping silently pondered to himself.
It was just like cooking.
Making it complex didn't make the food taste better.
But it definitely made the food more expensive.
He heard Thomas and his own team mbers chattering idly.
Of course, it was about so trivial topics.
These people's sense of secrecy was strong; they wouldn't discuss any sensitive topics in front of Song Heping, especially not the background of this operation.
Mostly, they were intentionally or unintentionally mocking the people from the "Musician" Defense Company, essentially saying that Song Heping and the cooks underestimated the CIA, not expecting the warhead to end up in their own hands.
As for this kind of discussion, Song Heping was not worried.
The matter of the warhead was not an issue.
It had already been arranged properly.
Now, what Song Heping was most concerned about was the situation with Angel.
This was the killer countermove.
If it went according to what he had said.
The whole incident would be reversed.
While escaping, he would drag the CIA's Baghdad intelligence station, Thomas, and even Blackwater International down with him.
About an hour later, the helicopter finally landed.
After getting off the plane, Song Heping heard the sound of Humvee armored vehicles driving past nearby.
Soon, they were taken into a building.
Song Heping silently morized these directions in his heart—where to turn, which way they went, how far they walked.
Rembering this information was not because he thought it would be very useful.
The "Musician" Defense was a small company among the many rcenary Corps and Defense Companies in Illiguo—it was rely a small fry.
With no powerful background and no extensive connections.
Even if the CIA secretly wiped them out, no one would know them.
The recent experiences had given Song Heping quite a few new ideas.
Running a PMC company was not an easy task.
Often, it wasn't just about your core team's combat effectiveness; you needed people above you and behind you with influence.
Currently, by a twist of fate, Angel had beco one of his few resources.
If he could get out this ti, he definitely needed to cultivate his connections and background well.
As for Thomas.
This asshole.
Sooner or later, he would make him pay for tonight's events.
Ssshh—
The hood was finally pulled off.
Song Heping opened his eyes to look around.
The dim light bulb.
Sturdy wooden chairs.
Tables on both sides.
In front, there was sothing like a massage table, of course, without the soft sponge, just hard planks of wood.
Next to the bed was a wooden bucket covered with several towels.
And there were burly n wearing khaki T-shirts and sandy combat pants.
One could tell they were operational personnel from an intelligence organization.
Song Heping was bound back to the chair.
Nobody attended to him; several burly n seed to be preparing for their own tasks.
"Motherfucker..."
Song Heping seed to anticipate what was going to happen.
He should have known.
Blindfolding him and the cooks, taking him to such a secretive place…
Where was this?
Song Heping looked around, trying to get a clear view of the room.
It seed to be a warehouse that had been refurbished.
Judging from the short walk after getting off the plane, they might not even have left the airport.
It seed that Thomas and his team were in a hurry.
Desperate to dig the answers out of their own mouths.
They couldn't even wait for the ballistic test results?
Or were they planning to fabricate fake evidence here if they really couldn't obtain any, and then destroy the body to erase all traces?
Both were possible.
"Damn it..."
Song Heping suddenly realized he had still underestimated the CIA's shalessness.
He had thought that they would at least feign propriety until the ballistic tests were completed before showing their true colors.
But they didn't even pretend; they went straight to the point.
Interrogation.
That was the only explanation.
Song Heping suddenly felt a chill over his entire body.
The cold surged up from the soles of his feet.
A hint of fear mixed with a hint of excitent.
Strange emotions swirled inside his body.
He had been trained in counter-interrogation.
But this was his first ti in real action.
His gaze landed on the bucket and towel.
This... Damn it...
Waterboarding.
Looking at the long tables on either side, with several suitcases on them.
Previously, he couldn't guess what they were.
Now there was no need to ask.
They were definitely so bizarre instrunts of torture.
He took a deep breath.
Trying to calm both his emotions and heart rate.
Being highly emotional at this ti was extrely unwise.
Because it would lead to excessive energy consumption in the body, which is absolutely disadvantageous for resisting interrogation, especially waterboarding.
Thomas pushed the door and entered.
He ca to Song Heping with a big smile, bent over while squatting, and brought his bearded face close to Song Heping's.
"Song, I've always admired you, so I really don't want you to suffer. Just tell the answers I want to know; you don't even need to sign anything, just say them, and you can leave imdiately."
Song Heping suddenly broke into a grin.
Seeing his smile, Thomas also smiled and moved closer.
Suddenly, Song Heping's head lunged forward, smashing hard into Thomas's nose.
Crack—
The sound was so jarring in the quiet warehouse.
"Ow—"
Thomas scread in pain, covering his nose as he staggered back several steps, tears streaming down as blood seeped through his fingers on his nose.
"Fuck, I've helped you before, and this is how you show your appreciation? Hahahaha!"
Song Heping's laughter grew louder.
"FUCK! FUCK!"
Thomas hopped on his feet, pain distorting his voice.
"Damn it!"
He cursed several tis, furiously as if it could lessen his pain.
Eventually, he said to the others, "Give him the 'A-class package'! Take good care of him!"
After speaking, he walked to the bucket, picked up the towel to wipe the blood off his face, and returned to Song Heping, still furious.
"Kid! Do you know the maximum number of tis soone can endure waterboarding?"
Song Heping still smiled: "I know you are a ball-less bastard."
Thomas's face turned uglier: "139 tis. It was one of Omar's n, but after enduring 139 tis, he was permanently ntally disabled."
He reached out to pat Song Heping's face, then proudly told him to enjoy himself.
He withdrew his hand halfway, though.
He was afraid that Song Heping, this madman, would suddenly bite his fingers.
That was no joke.
He had to admit, this was the first ti he had seen soone so calm in the face of CIA interrogation.
"Are you really a pig farr?"
Thomas suddenly rembered Song Heping's background check.
Song Heping still smiled: "Not only that, I also slaughter pigs."
User Comments
0 comments from readers