Mercenaries, I Will Be King Chapter 1691 - 1341: The Convoy Driving Towards Death2

Song Heping's eyes narrowed.

At least two hours early!

Barzani is indeed anxious, or has the guy sensed so movent?

"Understood. We'll be prepared."

He ended the call and turned to look at the team mbers who were busy setting up defenses.

The real test might just be beginning.

They needed to lie in wait in this canyon for several hours, unable to leave any traces.

And when the convoy arrived, how to safely rescue Masood and control Barzani without triggering a full-scale firefight would be his next challenge.

The sky was getting brighter, and the night vision goggles had been turned off.

The outlines of the canyon gradually beca clear in the dawn.

Song Heping leaned against a rock, took out a high-energy compressed biscuit, and slowly chewed on it.

The long wait began.

Elbil, Kold Autonomous Region Chairman's residence.

Local ti: 05:30.

The morning light had not fully dispelled the darkness, and the sky showed a hazy deep blue, with only a faint line of pale white on the horizon in the east.

The plaza in front of the residence was illuminated starkly by the guards' searchlights, the shadows stretching long and hard, like an on of the tragedy about to unfold.

Three heavily modified rcedes G500 off-road vehicles had already started, their low diesel engine sounds piercing the quiet of the morning.

The composite armor panels added to the vehicle body shimred a matte dark gray under the lights, and the thick bullet-proof glass was almost opaque, only allowing a fuzzy figure to be seen from specific angles.

The tires were expensive explosion-proof models, capable of continuing to travel for dozens of kiloters at 80 km/h even when pierced.

This was the standard configuration of Chairman Masood Barzani's convoy.

Safe, low-key, but enough to withstand most roadside bombs and small-caliber weapon attacks.

Two ard Toyota Hilux pickups brought up the rear, with rotating gun racks welded onto the truck beds, the M2HB 12.7mm heavy machine gun covered with a dark green rain cover, but the long gun barrel remained exposed, reflecting the icy tallic sheen under the searchlights.

Each pickup truck had four fully ard soldiers in the cabin, wearing the standard camouflage of the Kurd "Freedom Fighters," their eyes vigilantly scanning the dark corners around.

Salah al-Din Barzani stood at the front of the convoy, holding an unfolded military map, conducting the final itinerary confirmation with Major Jalal, Masood's Guard Captain.

"The route has been thoroughly cleared."

Barzani's fingers slid over the map, extending from Erbil City out to the hilly areas in the northwest direction of Kirkuk.

"There are three checkpoints along the way, and since last night, they've all been replaced with our most reliable people. All transit records will receive 'special treatnt.'"

His voice was steady, but his eyes were complex.

"For the absolute safety of the Chairman, I've ordered all civilian communication base stations to enter a 'technical maintenance' state from the Sulaiman Street exit to the 'Vulture Canyon' area. Mobile signals will be completely blocked, and satellite phone frequencies will be directionally jamd—this is to prevent anyone from remotely detonating IEDs (Improvised Explosive Devices) or conducting unnecessary external communications."

It was a very convenient excuse.

Justifiably closing off Masood's external communication channels.

Major Jalal stood to attention and saluted, his movents as precise as if he were participating in a military parade:

"Understood, General! We will definitely ensure the Chairman's safety!"

But the mont his eyes t Barzani's, they involuntarily shifted to the side, his Adam's apple moving slightly.

This forty-five-year-old veteran Guard Captain, who had followed Masood for a full twelve years, now had fine beads of cold sweat on his forehead.

Just last night at one in the morning, Rashid, Barzani's most trusted Special Forces Commander, visited Jalal's residence in the west of the city with six fully ard soldiers.

No violence, no threats, even the tone was almost polite.

Rashid simply smiled and told him, "Major, for your family's safety, and to let you focus on tomorrow's task without distraction, the General has specially arranged for your wife and two lovely young daughters to 'rest for a few days' at our holiday villa in Duhok. They'll return to you unhard when everything settles."

At that mont, Jalal understood everything.

The choice in front of him was simple.

Cooperate and see his family return safely; refuse and then...

Rashid did not continue, rely patting the gun holster on his waist.

At this point, Barzani seed to see through Jalal's inner struggle.

He reached out and patted the Guard Captain's shoulder heavily, the force causing Jalal's body to sway slightly.

"I know this is difficult, Jalal."

Barzani's voice lowered, carrying an almost kindly tone.

"But rember, everything we're doing is for Kurdistan's future. For a strong, unified Kurdistan that no longer has to look at anyone's face! Sotis, for a greater goal, we must make... personal sacrifices."

"Ye...yes, General."

Jalal felt his throat dry and painfully swallowed saliva.

He didn't dare to look up, his gaze fixated on the shining tips of his polished military boots.

Just then, the heavy oak doors of the residence slowly opened.

Masood walked out.

The old man was wearing traditional Kurdish robes, the deep blue fabric embroidered with complex geotric patterns in gold thread.