This type of vehicle is very common in the White Elephant Country, reliable in performance and unobtrusive.
He drove the SUV out of the airport, rging into Goa's evening traffic.
The setting sun dyed the sky a reddish-orange, with dense coconut groves and colonial-style buildings lining the roads.
Won in brightly colored saris, young people whizzing past on motorcycles, and cows leisurely walking by…
Full of the unique vitality and chaos of South Asia.
The air was filled with the aroma of curry and grilled at, along with an occasional whiff of "fresh" cow dung, while his ears were filled with the sounds of Bollywood music, sotis distant, sotis near.
Despite the seemingly relaxed atmosphere, Song Heping's nerves were always tense. He changed routes multiple tis, checking the rearview mirror to ensure he wasn't being followed.
At 7:40 PM, he arrived twenty minutes early at his eting place with Zayed—a seaside café on the edge of a bustling district.
The large crowds provided enough background noise to mask conversations, while the complex surrounding environnt made it easy to observe and retreat.
He parked the car in a secluded corner a little farther away, then walked over.
He chose a seat against the wall. From this angle, he could clearly see the café entrance and most of the area, with his back relatively safe.
He ordered a black coffee, seemingly relaxed as he surveyed his surroundings.
Tourists in beach shorts and flip-flops, couples talking softly, street vendors hawking their goods…
Everything seed normal.
At exactly 8 o'clock, a figure appeared punctually at the entrance of the café.
It was a dium-built man with dark skin, about forty-sothing, sporting a well-trimd short beard, wearing a slightly flashy silk shirt and casual pants, with a heavy gold watch on his wrist, the typical dress of a White Elephant Country businessman.
He scanned the room and quickly locked eyes on the solitary Song Heping.
He walked over with a businessman's slick smile on his face.
"Mr. Song?" he asked in English with a heavy White Elephant Country accent, naturally pulling out a chair to sit down.
"Mr. Zayed?"
Song Heping nodded, confirming the other's identity.
"Glad you are on ti."
Zayed waved to call a waiter, ordering a whiskey on the rocks.
"Jackson said you're a man of action, and it seems he was right. The journey from Tehran went smoothly?"
His casual small talk was actually a probe.
"It's okay. It's tourist season, quite a lot of people."
Song Heping responded vaguely, steering the conversation back on track, "Mr. Zayed, have you considered my proposal?"
Zayed leaned forward, lowering his voice, "A hundred million dollars' worth of Persian crude oil… Mr. Song, your offer is substantial, but the risks in this business are even greater. The Aricans have been closely monitoring Persian oil for years, and the US Navy's Fifth Fleet in the Indian Ocean is no decoration. If anything leaks out… no one can bear the consequences."
He rattled the ice cubes in his glass.
"You need to show more sincerity, and… that you indeed have the capability to deliver this batch."
"I can provide partial docuntation for verification," Song Heping said calmly, "but first, I need to know you truly have the capacity to handle it."
While the two were in preliminary probes and bargaining, Song Heping's peripheral vision keenly caught a trace of disharmony.
At a souvenir shop diagonally opposite the café, a man in a polo shirt and a baseball cap seed overly engrossed in the display items. He had been standing there for too long, and his gaze seed to float towards their direction now and then.
Song Heping's heart sank slightly, but he kept a straight face, continuing to listen to Zayed explain the complex process of mariti transfer and money laundering.
He took the opportunity of lifting his coffee cup to observe the man more closely.
The man seed to realize he might have attracted attention, suddenly growing uneasy. He quickly turned away, no longer looking towards the café, but instead walked briskly towards the alley connecting to the back of the café.
"Excuse a mont, Mr. Zayed, I need to visit the restroom."
Song Heping suddenly interrupted Zayed, standing up with a calm tone.
"What are you…"
Zayed was taken aback, clearly displeased with the abrupt interruption, but he nodded nonetheless.
Song Heping didn't head towards the café's restroom but swiftly exited through the side door, quickly making his way to the alley.
His movents were light and swift, like a stealthy cheetah.
Just as he turned into the dim alley, he saw the baseball-capped man walking briskly not far away, seemingly trying to leave the area as quickly as possible.
"Hey! Friend!" Song Heping called out in English.
The man's body stiffened, he turned sharply, a trace of panic flashing across his face. Instead of replying, he sped up to run.
At this mont, Song Heping was certain this man was up to no good.
He burst into action, quickly catching up. Just as the man attempted to pull sothing from his waist, Song Heping leaped, delivering a sidekick that sent the man flying like a ball, landing heavily on the ground.
Not giving the man any chance to recover, Song Heping, as swift as lightning, dashed to his side, precisely seizing his wrist, twisting it forcefully, while his other hand, shaped like a knife, chopped swiftly and decisively at the side of his neck.
The man grunted, his body went limp, eyes still wide with shock as he lost consciousness, collapsing.
Song Heping quickly supported him, avoiding any loud noises as he fell.
He swiftly searched the man's pockets, finding nothing but so cash, a cheap cell phone, and a folding knife without anything to prove his identity.
Song Heping's gaze turned cold.
No matter who sent this spy, he couldn't let him relay any information.
He deftly used the man's shoelace to bind several of his fingers together, then hoisted the unconscious "drunk," half dragging, half carrying him towards his Toyota SUV parked nearby.
The entire process was neat and clean, going almost unnoticed in Goa's noisy night streets.
He opened the SUV's trunk, stuffed the unconscious tail into it, and slamd the door shut.
After doing all this, he tidied his slightly creased shirt, took a deep breath, and worked to restore a calm expression before turning and quickly walking back to the café.
His heart was beating a bit faster than before, but his mind remained exceptionally calm.
Zayed must be stabilized; this transaction must not be interrupted because of this, but this unexpected incident also ant the situation was far more complex and dangerous than he had anticipated.
Later, he needed to find an opportunity to interrogate the spy to find out his background.
Back at his seat, he apologized in a low voice to Zayed, who now showed signs of impatience and doubt, "Sorry, Mr. Zayed. Let's continue with our business. Regarding the 15% commission you just ntioned, I think we can have a more detailed discussion about the paynt security details…"
User Comments
0 comments from readers