Mercenaries, I Will Be King Chapter 1340 - 1133: Two People in the Same Boat

That evening, on the outskirts of Langley City, at Simon's ho.

The curtains were tightly closed, with only a desk lamp casting a dim halo on the desk.

Simon was alone, repeatedly checking that the anti-surveillance equipnt was working properly, before using the highest-level encrypted satellite phone to dial that number he only kept in his mind.

The phone rang for a long ti before being answered.

In the background, there seed to be the sound of helicopter rotor blades fading into the distance, just disappearing.

"Why are you calling ?"

Song Heping's distinctive voice ca through, as concise as ever.

"Listen, there's not much ti."

Simon spoke very quickly, his voice pressed so low it was almost a whisper.

"Today I held a high-level eting specifically to discuss your situation. During the eting... they approved an assassination plan against you. Led by the Operations Departnt, their proposed sche is... poison."

He carefully spat out the last two words, finding it almost comical.

Indeed.

He thought Song Heping would also find it funny.

To formulate an assassination plan against himself and then inform him...

Perhaps this world is already quite abnormal.

"They will try every possible way to buy off people around you. You must be very cautious about your diet recently, especially after leaving the frontline, once you enter the so-called 'safe zone' in Damascus."

The other end of the phone fell into a brief silence, a deathly stillness, with even the faint buzz of electricity audible.

"FUCK! Hahaha!"

A few seconds later, Song Heping's voice returned, accompanied by laughter, as if hearing a ssage unrelated to him: "Got it. Thanks. When does your Operations Departnt plan to act?"

"The plan has just been approved, and is being handled by Acting Director Jackson. I estimate they need ti to select personnel, formulate a detailed plan, and arrange infiltration. This will at least take a few days; they definitely won't act imdiately, but you must stay on high alert from now on."

Simon reminded, "At the ti, I'll inform you of the assassination thod and executors, but be extra careful for now."

"Don't worry, the people around aren't easily bought."

Song Heping's voice didn't carry much emotion, yet the cold confidence transmitted through the signal, "But I will be diligent. Nothing will slip through."

He changed the subject, asking, "And how is it over there? Are you solidly seated?"

If Simon wasn't steady, he would lack a critical source of information.

If he was unsafe, Simon would be unsafe too.

Now, Simon and he were like ants on the sa rope.

He must stabilize things.

After all, that's the CIA Acting Director; he had previously expended so much effort helping him, and today he finally saw the payoff.

"Only temporarily. It's like sitting on nails."

Simon chuckled bitterly, his tone carrying a hint of fatigue: "So absolutely nothing between us can leak. You are safe, and then I am safe. You understand..."

"Rest assured, as long as I'm alive, your secrets are safe."

Song Heping said casually, as if stating a simple fact, "Anything else? There's so new situation here."

"No more, take care. Keep in touch."

Simon hung up the phone, almost collapsing against the back of his chair, noticing his palms had unknowingly covered in cold sweat.

This feeling of walking a tightrope between two major dangers, simultaneously deceiving his own people and enemies, brought both a twisted thrill and boundless psychological pressure and ntal exhaustion.

...

Siria, Halaib, in the makeshift tent next to the frontline command center.

Song Heping had just put down the satellite phone, his sharp gaze sweeping around the interior of the tent, as if searching for any unusual details.

The phone conversation rapidly replayed and analyzed in his mind.

Poisoning...

The CIA's specialty.

He actually enjoyed the sa treatnt as Castro back then.

Not bad...

The Aricans really do hold him in high regard.

Where will they strike from?

Food?

Water sources?

dicine?

The people around us...

Everything seems possible at the mont.

Human hearts are unpredictable, especially in the presence of enough money or threats, particularly on this land where lives are worthless.

As he was deep in thought, the tent flap was suddenly lifted, and the cook Yevgeny's distinctive bald head peeked in, his face a mix of excitent and urgency.

"Song! I've been looking for you everywhere! Good news, great news!"

The cook rushed in with a grin, tightly holding a military communicator in his hand, waving it around, "There's news from Damascus, an urgent summons! It's the highest-level order!"

Song Heping quickly gathered all his exposed emotions, reverting to his usual calmness, but his brows furrowed instinctively: "A summons? By whom?"

He instinctively felt averse and vigilant towards such political settings away from the battlefield.

There are no clear enemies and comrades there, only complex interests and lies, more exhausting than facing enemy machine guns.

"Who else? President Hafez himself!"

The cook stepped closer, lowering his voice, his face flushed with excitent.

"The offensive from 1515 in the east has been halted, and that group of Mad Dogs called 'Victory Front' in the south was taken down by you with a single shot, retreating in disarray! You, my friend, are now the top hero who turned the tide! Mr. President wants to personally award you in the capital! I've heard from friends above that it's very likely you'll be awarded the 'Hero of Syria' dal! God, that's the highest honor of this country, a symbol of immortal military achievents!"

Song Heping didn't speak, just silently took out a crumpled pack of gum from his pocket, pulled out a piece, and tossed it into his mouth, chewing slowly.

"I'm not interested in attending any award ceremony. You know , cook. I'm not here for so damn dal; I don't care about that thing."

The cook, obviously anticipating this reaction, moved even closer, his voice nearly a whisper: "My old friend, my brother! Listen to , don't act foolishly at this mont! I know you don't like these superficial formalities, I don't either! But you must realize, this is not a simple awarding ceremony!"

He swung his arms forcefully: "President Hafez personally summoning you! What does this signify? It ans you can bypass all middlen and speak directly with him! You can negotiate terms directly! Haven't you always wanted to expand your company's business here? Think carefully, about the arms trade here and the arms smuggling route to Liben... As long as President Hafez grants you privileges, any future activities you conduct via Syria will be legal! This is about money! Mate, don't be foolish!"

Song Heping squinted at the cook's excited and flushed face.

He knew, the cook's words made sense with every sentence.

Coming here was partly to help the cook repay an old favor, but also for business.

Establishing direct contact with the highest ruler of a country offers potential benefits and opportunities far exceeding the direct rewards from a successful military operation.

He quickly weighed the pros and cons in his mind.

"When do we leave?"

Seconds later, he made up his mind.

"In two hours! The special plane is on the way!"

The cook's face instantly lit up with a brilliant smile: "I knew you wouldn't miss this! Hurry up, change into a slightly cleaner combat uniform, at least look presentable. Damn, 'Hero of Syria'! Just thinking about it is exciting! This is enough to brag about for a lifeti!"

Two hours later, as the sunset painted the sky a magnificent blood red.

A Mi-171 transport helicopter, bearing the insignia of the Syrian Air Force, dust-covered, roared down onto the hastily cleared patch of land at the Halaib Military Camp.

The giant rotors kicked up a storm of dust, making it hard to keep one's eyes open.

Song Heping and the cook Yevgeny, bracing against the strong wind, bent over, carrying their simple luggage, and quickly ran towards the helicopter.

The cabin door opened, and a fully ard Presidential Guard soldier reached out to pull them aboard.

The helicopter rapidly ascended, nimbly veering southwest, heading towards Damascus.

Beneath them, the war-torn towns and charred fields gradually shrunk, bathed in the somber golden glow of the sunset.

Through the narrow porthole, Song Heping silently watched this land repeatedly torn apart by war.

The Mi-171's engine continued to roar, the deafening noise filling the cabin.

It carried Song Heping, flying towards the unknown next stop.

anwhile, on the other side of the globe, at daybreak in Langley City, Simon left his study, greeted his wife who was making breakfast, and then went into the yard to untie the chain of his bulldog. Two agents responsible for his security were already waiting at the door.

Simon nodded to them with a slight smile as a greeting, then led his dog into the park trail behind the community.

The invisible line woven from secrets, threats, and mutual interests between the two remained tense, spanning oceans, linking their fates and sches in an eerie manner.

The undercurrents never stopped surging.

A new chess ga has already begun.