Mercenaries, I Will Be King Chapter 1201 - 1054: Codename, Poison Needle2

"Turn off the radio."

Song Heping commanded, his tone allowing no room for doubt.

"Shut it down completely. Cut off the power, remove the backup battery. Sever all electronic connections this vehicle has with the outside world. Now, imdiately!"

Kafvan felt the gun pressed against him and dared not hesitate.

He fumbled to turn off the main power switch of the car radio, then, under Song Heping's icy gaze, he awkwardly bent down, feeling his way underneath the dashboard, found the radio's backup battery compartnt, and forcibly removed it.

As the backup battery was detached, the last faint indicator light on the radio panel extinguished completely.

The car plunged into dead silence, with only the sound of their heavy or unsteady breathing remaining.

"Cell phone."

Song Heping's gun remained steady.

Kafvan quickly pulled out his military encrypted cell phone, and at Song Heping's instruction, powered it off, removed the battery, and then tossed both the phone and the spare battery onto the carpet of the back seat.

Only then did Song Heping slowly retract his gun, but he continued to watch Kafvan intently.

Then, from an extrely hidden pocket in his tactical vest, he took out a black satellite phone and dialed Avanti's number.

He then placed the receiver to Kafvan's ear.

"Report the situation here to Avanti."

Kafvan took a deep breath, trying to calm his wildly pounding heart.

The call connected, and Avanti's deep and authoritative voice ca through: "Kafvan?"

"General!"

Kafvan's voice carried an irrepressible grief.

"It's Kafvan! Our... convoy outside Eagle's Beak Gorge... was struck by an accurate Hellfire missile from a US Army drone... obliterated completely! Mr. Song suspects… a traitor! A high-level traitor! Mr. Song is unhurt, he's right beside ."

At this point, Song Heping took the phone back, placing it to his own ear: "Avanti, now you see I was right, don't you?"

"Song, you're a formidable fellow..."

Avanti found himself speechless.

Song Heping said: "Now, for and for yourselves, do one thing."

"Say it," Avanti had lost his temper: "What is it?"

"The convoy at Eagle's Beak Gorge was precisely hit by drones, so the traitor must be within your ranks. I'm not dead, but the Aricans will surely use the traitor to confirm my life or death; arrange a setup plan for , location at Tehran Army General Hospital..."

A short, suffocating silence fell on the other end of the line.

A few seconds later, Avanti's voice returned: "Understood, I'll arrange it; go to the base I've prepared, there..."

He wanted to habitually say "It's absolutely fine," but now he suddenly lacked confidence.

"Should be fine..."

Avanti ultimately changed his wording.

Kafvan watched as Song Heping put the phone away and couldn't help but whisper, "What do we... do now? Wait here?"

Song Heping withdrew his gun, leaned back on the seat, and fell into thought.

His voice carried a trace of exhaustion, but more prominently, cold calculation: "Wait. Wait so more. Wait for those drones to leave. Rember, from now on, we are 'dead n'. Any bit of disturbance will bring the real Grim Reaper."

Inside the tunnel, only the sound of dripping water and their suppressed breathing remained.

The darkness seed almost tangible, swallowing the lone car.

Song Heping closed his eyes for a mont, while Kafvan was tense, staring at the darkness on both ends of the tunnel, his grip on the gun slick with sweat.

Ti crawled slowly amidst fear and waiting.

Eight hours later.

Langley, CIA Headquarters, Operations Command Center.

Ti seed frozen.

Vincent paced restlessly before the command desk like a beast trapped in a cage, his gaze continuously sweeping over the encrypted communication terminal in front of him.

On the screen, the indicator light representing the status of contact with "Poison Needle" remained a worrying red—offline.

"Still no news?!"

Stretching out, yawning, Vincent couldn't help asking the agent in charge of communications.

"Eight hours have passed! What's he doing?! On vacation?!"

"Sir, it's deep night in Persia right now, and such a major attack just took place; the Revolutionary Guard is surely on high alert, locking down information, 'Poison Needle' must be extrely cautious to gather intelligence."

The female agent, Sarah, analyzing the internal lines calmly, though a trace of unease also flickered in her eyes.

Just then, the red indicator light suddenly began flashing and then changed to a steady green!

Simultaneously, the terminal emitted a low alert tone.

"Here it cos!"

Sarah perked up, her fingers swiftly tapping on the keyboard to establish a higher level decryption channel.

Vincent imdiately lunged at the screen, almost pressing his face against it.

Line by line, text decrypted through multiple layers began scrolling on the screen:

[Target Status Update: Confird through ergency channels, Song Heping (Code Na "Ghost") did not die in the attack. Prior to the convoy's departure, he sat in the lead vehicle. After encountering precise strikes at the Eagle's Beak Gorge outskirts, the rest of the Guard mbers perished. Song Heping's lead vehicle rolled down into the slope and escaped harm, as its heat signal was weak, it was undetected by the drones, narrowly surviving. Song Heping has now been secretly transferred to the Tehran Army General Hospital's highest confidentiality level ward for urgent treatnt. Ward location: Top floor of the Surgery Building, VIP-3. Tight security, guarded by Avanti's direct Guard. Information reliability: A. Finished.]

"FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!!!"

Vincent saw the words "not dead" and instantly flew into a rage! Like a lion thoroughly provoked, he grabbed a tal coffee cup near him and hurled it fiercely against the adjacent wall!

The coffee cup emitted an excruciating collision sound, coffee stains spreading across the pristine white wall like filthy marks.

"Swapping vehicles?! He did it on purpose! Why is his dogged life so resilient!!"

Vincent roared hysterically, veins bulging on his forehead.

Suddenly turning, bloodshot eyes glaring at Sarah, he shouted: "Establish contact with 'Poison Needle' imdiately! Maximum ergency level! Tell him the target's not dead! At the Army General Hospital! At all costs, now! Imdiately! In the hospital, get Song Heping for , dead! Now! Hurry!"

Sarah promptly executed the command, encrypted information dispatched once more.

A few minutes later, a reply from "Poison Needle" arrived, conveying strong resistance and fear:

[Directive received. But this mission is akin to suicide! The target's ward is heavily guarded by Avanti's trusted Guard in rotating shifts 24 hours, non-core personnel cannot approach. Any unusual move will be imdiately exposed. Risk is entirely uncontrollable! Refuse to execute! Repeat: Refuse to execute! Finished.]

Seeing the words "Refuse to execute," the muscles in Vincent's face contracted severely, with a flash of a Poison Snake-like coldness in his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, as if striving to suppress a destructive impulse, he then voiced a reply with almost coldly calm articulation:

["Poison Needle," listen. Your son Thomas, today at 3:10 PM, just finished class at the Swiss Federal Institute of Technology Zurich, currently in 'Eagle' café with a few friends enjoying coffee. Your daughter Sofia, vacationing in Nice, France, basking in the diterranean sun, quite blissful. Need to send their photos for confirmation?]

After dispatching this ssage, the communication channel descended into deathly silence.

It felt as though even the air froze. After a full five minutes, a reply ca from the other side, every word filled with trembling despair:

[...You devil! What are you trying to do?!]

Vincent's lips curled into a cruel and satisfied cold smile, continuing to dictate:

[Simple. Complete your task. Song Heping must die. Not asking you to storm the front. In the hospital, there's surely soone who can be bribed. Doctors, nurses, cleaners... even al delivery staff. Find one. He doesn't need to personally act, just add a bit of 'special dicine' to Song Heping's IV drip. For instance, highly concentrated potassium chloride? Or a little 'succinylcholine'? Ghostly silent. Autopsy takes ti, by the ti they notice a problem, you've already fled far with your family.]

He paused a mont, adding to the stakes:

[If you succeed, you and that executor will receive thirty-five million US Dollars. Cash, bearer bonds, your choice. We'll arrange the perfect escape route for you, brand new identity, ensuring your family enjoys a millionaire lifestyle on the sunny beaches of the United States or Europe for the rest of their lives. Think about it, thirty-five million! This is your last chance, and only chance. Act, or watch your family... disappear like fireworks? The choice is yours. Countdown starts now.]

Information sent.

In Langley's command center, only Vincent's heavy breathing and the low hum of machines remained.

He stared unblinkingly at the screen, waiting for that "Poison Needle" from Persia to make the ultimate decision under the twin pressures of fear and greed.