Mercenaries, I Will Be King Chapter 472 - 418 Blue Pill

Harold knocked on the door for a while but heard no sound from inside.

He frowned at the door lock.

It was intact.

Usually, around this ti, Aister would be at ho cooking, waiting for him.

Could she have gone out to buy sothing?

He thought for a few seconds and then turned the door knob.

The living room was dimly lit.

Harold noticed a person sitting on the sofa, a gun in hand.

"Hi, Captain."

Harold instinctively reached for his gun.

"Don't move," the other party warned, "That's not a smart move."

Harold's hand froze in mid-air.

A myriad of thoughts raced through his mind.

To fight or not to fight.

Who was this person?

Now, if only he could move backward, if only he was fast enough, maybe he could take a gamble.

But...

What about Aister?

She must be under control.

But at this point, he couldn't worry about her.

Just as Harold was about to make up his mind to bet whether he was quicker or the gun was, footsteps ca from behind.

He couldn't help but look back and saw two burly n standing on the stairs behind him, obviously Russian, both holding guns aid at him.

"Damn! Really, the Russians..."

At this point, he still thought it was the Russians' handiwork.

"Get in!"

White Bear stepped forward, snatched the gun from Harold's waist, and pushed him through the door.

Bang—

The door closed behind him.

Harold swallowed and tried to remain calm, "I'm an Arican."

"I know."

Song Heping gestured for him to sit down.

Harold had no choice but to sit opposite Song Heping.

White Bear and Disaster Star stepped forward and searched him again, this ti taking his phone as well.

"Do you have any idea what the consequences of harming an Arican citizen will be?"

Harold continued to play mind gas.

It's true that as an Arican, he felt a certain sense of superiority.

"I know."

Song Heping flipped through Harold's wallet.

Finally, he removed the magazine from the P226 Navy model handgun, toyed with it in his hand, and said, "An Arican carrying a gun?"

Harold replied, "I am a consular staff mber; it's legal for to carry a gun."

Song Heping laughed, put the items aside, then said, "Captain Harold, cut the act. If you keep this up, Oscar is going to give you a little golden man. I've never heard of a Seal Team specializing in acting."

His words turned Harold pale instantly.

Harold realized he could no longer pretend; the other party knew everything.

"Are you with the Russian intelligence services? Which departnt?"

Song Heping didn't answer, but shook his head, "Why do you always think we are Russian? Do I look like it?"

Harold stared at Song Heping and then gritted his teeth, "You are with the Chinese intelligence services."

Song Heping shook his head.

Harold asked, "What kind of intelligence do you want from ?"

Song Heping suddenly chuckled coldly, "Captain, your reasoning skills are as poor as your tactical command abilities."

Then he stood up, walked in front of Harold, and stared at him.

"Let tell you, we don't want intelligence. What we want is your life!"

Suddenly, he signaled with his eyes toward soone behind Harold.

White Bear and Disaster Star pounced like wolves, one on each side pinning Harold to the carpet, then began to wrap him in plastic film.

Harold tried to scream, but Song Heping stuffed a cloth into his mouth.

Harold attempted to struggle.

But he quickly found himself in despair, realizing that the strength of the two people behind him was simply astonishing.

Even as a rigorously trained Seal Team mber, he felt like he was being pinned down by two iron towers—there was no room for resistance at all.

Soon, Harold's hands and feet were wrapped tightly with plastic film.

He tried to struggle a bit.

He realized that the plastic film was just common kitchen cling wrap.

As thin as this film might seem, when layered, its toughness surpassed that of binding strips.

"Umm, umm, umm—"

He twisted his body desperately, his face turning red.

Song Heping pulled out the cloth gag from his mouth.

"Spit out any last words now."

Harold suddenly laughed, "I know who you are, you're rcenaries, the mysterious small squad that I encountered a few days ago in the Golden Triangle. But... do you know what the consequences of what you're doing will be?"

He had already figured it out.

The person before him was neither from the Russian intelligence agencies nor China's.

There could only be one possibility.

That was, they were rcenaries.

If the other party was rcenaries, he wasn't so afraid after all.

If it were the Russian intelligence services or China's intelligence agents, they certainly wouldn't show any rcy.

But if they were rcenaries, then opposing the United States would definitely be a dead end.

"Consequences? Of course I know, if we kill you, the CIA and the military will investigate this matter."

Song Heping's hand was rummaging in his pocket, seemingly reaching for sothing.

"No, there's more," said Harold. "If I die here, it'll be a diplomatic incident. The Siem Reap police and governnt will be under imnse pressure; they'll spare no effort in the investigation, too. You won't just face our pursuit, you'll also face that of Siem Reap."

Song Heping withdrew his hand from his pocket, holding a small box.

"Do you know what this is?"

He shook the dicine box in front of Harold.

Harold exclaid, "Poison!? Useless... If I die from poisoning, you'll still be chased."

Song Heping said: "Not necessarily. This box is labeled as Sildenafil citrate, which is correct, but it's been tampered with, including sothing peculiar, to be exact, not poison but an ingredient that can cause death due to rapid heart rate and it's difficult to detect."

He looked at Harold's hands: "Know why I'm wrapping you with this stuff?"

Harold's head buzzed.

He instantly understood.

Being wrapped up in this thin film would make sure that he didn't have any injuries while struggling.

Song Heping continued: "There are two pills here, one for you and one for Aister. The effect is the sa. Maybe tomorrow, when your consulate people notice you haven't returned and they can't reach you on the phone, they'll deem your situation abnormal and ask your team mbers. Your team mbers, who know your secret, will co here looking for you and will find you and Aister lying naked on the bed, cold for over a dozen hours. Another benefit of this drug is that it really contains Sildenafil citrate; that ans you really will have an erection, and it will last for quite a long ti... Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Listening to Song Heping's reasoning, Harold's face beca paler and paler.

If the drug really could cause heart attacks as this man described, then it would be hard for the coroner to detect upon inspection, which would lead to them being deed dead from natural causes...

Thinking of this, he felt an agony worse than death itself.

A Seal Team mber dying in such a humiliating way was worse than being shot in the head on the battlefield.

"Our kind of death, the CIA and the military won't believe it, they will still investigate!" he protested.

"Hmm!" Song Heping nodded while tearing open the foil: "You're right, they will suspect, but what can they do? All the surveillance in this area has been sabotaged by our people ahead of ti, and the newspapers and TV will feature the bizarre scene and speculation of your deaths the day after tomorrow. Do you think the CIA and the military will publicly challenge Siem Reap police's speculation? No. They will treat it as if you really died of natural causes and investigate in secret; so what? As long as this doesn't blow up, there won't be any pressure or results."

With that said, he grabbed Harold's jaw, squeezing hard.

Harold couldn't help but open his mouth.

Song Heping tossed a blue pill into his mouth and then took the red wine that White Bear had handed over, pouring it straight into Harold's stomach.

"Red wine with Viagra, enjoy like an immortal."

After that, Song Heping returned to the couch, silently watching Harold on the floor, who kept retching but couldn't vomit anything.

"Give this pill to that woman."

Song Heping threw the last pill to Disaster Star.

"Make it clean, don't leave any traces."

"Don't worry," Disaster Star jiggled his gloved hands.

Ten minutes later, Harold's face wasn't pale anymore; instead, it was turning red.

Red like the sunset sky or a drunkard craving for more liquor.

His eyes began to blur and beco vacant, his chest heaving wildly.

At this mont, White Bear's gaze fell on Harold's crotch, where a key part of him stood tall as if propping up a sun umbrella.

"Boss, this drug is sothing else!"

Song Heping asked, "You want to try it?"

White Bear shook his head imdiately: "I still value my life."

Another fifteen minutes passed, and Harold was motionless, his chest no longer rising and falling.

Song Heping said to White Bear: "Carry him in and set up the scene. I don't have your experience for this."

White Bear smiled cheekily and cursed, "Suka!"