"Extraordinary tis call for extraordinary asures!"
Song Heping interrupted him, his eyes ablaze with almost obsessive fire, "Dismantle! Take it apart until it can fit into a container! The target isn't the Gobi; it's the ports of Egypt! Load it onto ships at Alexandria Port or Suez Port and set sail!"
He offered no further explanation, returning imdiately to his room, where he took out another encrypted satellite phone, his fingers swiftly inputting a long string of extrely complex, multi-layered communication codes on the keypad.
A monotonous and drawn-out waiting tone filled the earpiece, each sound striking at the taut nerves of the command center.
It took nearly a full minute before the call was answered.
A heavily Greek-accented, hoarse, and sleepy male voice ca through, extrely irritable: "Who?! Do you know what ti it is?! Which blind idiot..."
"Toby, it's , Song."
Song Heping's voice was icy, cutting through the man's curses.
The other end fell silent instantly, and a few seconds later, Toby Papadopoulos's voice erged, ten tis clearer, filled with astonishnt and a barely discernible thread of fear: "Funeral?! Holy Mother of God! You're still alive? Isn't the trouble in Darfur big enough? Wait... Did you use this 'grave' line to find ? What's going on? Need cargo? The situation is tighter than a whore's waistband, especially going to Egypt and Libya..."
"Toby, shut up and listen to ."
Song Heping swiftly interrupted the chatterbox that was Toby, with an indisputable tone of command.
"I need a ship. A bulk cargo vessel or a ro-ro ship around ten thousand tons, the older and more inconspicuous the better, but it has to have engines and a hull capable of long-distance travel and withstand so storms. The registration should be in a convenient place like Panama, Liberia, or the Marshall Islands. The ship needs to arrive in Egypt at Alexandria Port or Suez Port within 72 hours, no, 48 hours, on standby! I'll inform you of the specific port later."
The sound on the other end was one of a violent cough, as if choked, followed by Toby's voice, raised by eight degrees and filled with incredulity: "What?! Funeral! Are you high or sunbaked in the Sahara?! 48 hours?! A ten-thousand-ton freighter?! You think this is ordering takeout?! And specify an Egyptian port?! You know how strict Egyptian customs and the port authority are now? Coast Guard, Navy patrols are like flies! Especially for unknown ships! Also, what do you need such a big ship for? To transport an armored brigade to attack Jerusalem?!"
"Not an armored brigade, but sothing a bit 'sensitive.'"
Song Heping's voice didn't waver, "So... large 'engineering equipnt.' It's pretty big, needs heavy lifting. I'm very afraid of 'bumps and bruises.' So it needs a ship big enough, old, and harmless to cover for it."
"Large engineering equipnt? Fuck you, Song! Do you think I've just started in this business?"
Toby's voice was full of caution and anger, "Anything that makes you call personally and damn well requires a ten-thousand-ton ship within 48 hours is definitely not so bullshit engineering equipnt! Is it tanks? Self-propelled artillery? Or fucking... missiles?! Are you trying to get killed? I can't do this job! Not for any amount of money! The risk is too damn high! If exposed, I'd be strung up as a target by Mossad, MI6, CIA, even the Egyptian Intelligence Bureau!"
"Thirty million US dollars."
Song Heping stated a number, his voice as calm as if he were saying three thousand.
"In cash. Unmarked old bills. Five million advance, the rest paid in full before the cargo is safely loaded. All expenses for smoothing things over are separate, reimbursed as happened. Port handling, 'special passage fees,' hush money... Whatever it costs, I'll pay double."
The other end fell into a deathly silence.
Even the sound of breathing seed to disappear.
Thirty million US dollars in cash!
In this death-defying business, it's a fortune that could send any madman into a frenzy!
Not to ntion the limitless 'operational expenses'!
It took over ten seconds before Toby's voice sounded again, now extrely hoarse and dry, squeezing each word painfully from his throat, burnt by massive greed: "...Song... you are the Devil... you make better offers than Satan... thirty million dollars... in cash... double the expenses..."
He seed to be swallowing hard, with the power of money locked in a fierce battle with the fear of death.
"Listen, Toby."
Song Heping's voice lowered a little, carrying a seductive knowledge of the human psyche and a chilling pressure.
"I know you have a way. You've been operating in Alexandria Port for twenty years; from the port authority director to the small heads of customs inspection, from the gang godfather in the port area to the coast guard lieutenant in charge of the night patrols, who among them haven't you fed?"
"A rusty ten-thousand-ton old ship registered under a flag of convenience, looking like it's about to fall apart any second, carrying so 'mining machinery parts' into the port under 'sufficient' arrangents, hoisting 'cargo' at a designated secluded berth under cover of night, then vanishing without a trace… Isn't this routine for Toby Papadopoulos?"
He paused, his tone suddenly sharpening like a drawn ice blade: "Besides, do you think refusing now makes you really safe?"
"Oh, Toby, don't be naive, you also know the kind of person I am. I know about your old ho on Crete Island filled with olive trees, your mistress who plays piano at the National Music Academy of Athens, and the illegitimate child she bore you, just starting primary school... the na is very cute, Sofia, right?"
User Comments
0 comments from readers