Lascano sat in the passenger seat of the van, listening to the radio about the helicopter crash news, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.
No matter how skilled in martial arts, one fears the kitchen knife.
No matter how clever soone surnad Song is, isn't it just a matter of one Stinger missile?
Thinking about Song Heping's death, Lascano started whistling cheerfully.
Ever since his defeat by Song Heping, his confidence took a heavy hit.
Lascano, once a very arrogant Special Forces officer, had never tasted failure before.
Song Heping's ergence weighed down on him like a boulder, casting a lingering shadow.
This guy is finally dead!
While Lascano was still caught up in the excitent of killing Song Heping, the van passed through a remote road and approached a simple bridge with only about two ters of width.
The driver had to gently step on the brake and start to downshift, slowing down the van.
Nearby on the hillside, a head peeked out from behind a tree, followed by the barrel of a gun.
While the van was still wobbling onto the bridge, the marksman had already aid quickly and pulled the trigger.
—Pfft—
The sound was strange, very muffled, completely different from the decibel of a traditional gunpowder-fired bullet.
A special pointed bullet flew out at subsonic speed, directly entering from above the tire and fiercely lodging inside the mudguard.
Inside the van, Lascano and his n didn't realize their vehicle had been "hit," the noises from the uneven road covering everything up.
The marksman behind the tree quickly retracted his head, then took out a military-grade PDA from the tactical bag on the ground and stared at the screen for a while.
A bright spot appeared on the screen, moving slowly...
After crossing the bridge, the van's driver started to accelerate, soon disappearing at the end of the road.
The marksman picked up a phone and dialed a number.
Soon, his accomplice's voice ca through.
"Is it done?"
"Done! Co pick up!"
After speaking, he swiftly dismantled the gun and shoved it into the case, grabbing his tactical backpack and running down the hillside to the roadside.
About five minutes later, a Toyota SUV appeared, speeding along the road and stopping near where the marksman stood.
The marksman, with a South Arican face, silently stepped forward, opened the door, and jumped in.
Beneath the trees, sunlight dappled the marksman's figure, a patch of light falling on a Falcon tattoo on his forearm.
Sitting in the passenger seat, he checked the PDA again and said, "Turn left at the intersection ahead, onto Route 211."
"Okay."
The driver stepped on the gas and quickly caught up.
At two o'clock in the afternoon, Barrett, in a building in the northern city of San Jose, paced around the room with a phone in his hand.
Looking at the number he had dialed more than ten tis without response, he hesitated whether to continue.
The situation was becoming a bit delicate.
Song Heping seed to have disappeared.
He had wanted to confirm whether the other party had gone to et God, but unexpectedly the phone rang once and then was abruptly cut off; subsequent calls went to a switched-off phone.
The news about the helicopter crash on TV had quieted down, with no further ssages forthcoming.
There was also no news from his boss Kelly yet.
An hour ago, he and Kelly had spoken on the phone, Barrett expressing his suspicions.
He believed that Song Heping had not died in the crash.
The reason being, if Song Heping had perished in the crash, how could his phone still be online? It would have been burnt to ashes along with the helicopter.
The phone being switched off after initially ringing might suggest the scenario of a crash death.
Kelly had asked him to wait for news, ntioning that the efficiency of the xican police was quite low; the fire at the scene had been extinguished, human remains were found, but whether they were Song Heping's or how many were there was still unclear.
After three tense hours, Barrett's phone finally rang again.
The ringtone startled him, and seeing the number, Barrett's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.
"Song Heping..."
This number was very familiar.
He had called no fewer than ten tis since noon.
"Not dead..."
Did Barrett still harbor a sliver of hope that soone else was using his phone?
He quickly dismissed the thought and hurriedly answered the call.
"Is it the boss?"
"It's !"
"Boss... are you alright? I saw the news that a helicopter crashed on the outskirts of Carillo City, they said it was Shorty's helicopter, I thought you..."
"? I'm fine, damn it!" Song Heping cursed with a chuckle, "But I almost kicked the bucket this morning!"
Song Heping's exaggerated voice ca through the phone.
Barrett quickly asked, "You didn't take the helicopter to Carillo City?"
"No! And luckily I didn't! Damn it, I don't know who took out the helicopter that was supposed to carry , right on the outskirts of Carillo City. Luckily this morning after I got up, I had a bad feeling because my eyelid was twitching, so I chose to go by car instead, letting Shorty's helicopter fly to Carillo City. After I finished my talks there, I was going to fly back to Saltijo, but the plane was gone!"
Song Heping's tone sounded slightly angry.
Eyelid twitching?
Barrett beca anxious.
This was an excuse that Song Heping often used as a reason for his miraculous operations, supposedly a traditional superstition from their country, where twitching of the left eyelid ant fortune, and the right was disaster.
"It's good that you didn't take it, good that you didn't..."
Barrett wiped his forehead, where beads of sweat had ford.
Song Heping's next statent made sweat break out on his freshly wiped forehead again.
"Barrett, I think we have a mole among our people!"
Barrett felt as if struck by lightning, his heart pounding, yet he managed to sound calm, "A mole!?"
"Yes, a mole! Otherwise, how could soone know about my schedule today? Those lying in ambush knew my flight path, if I'm not wrong, they used man-portable missiles to take down the helicopter. We definitely have a mole among us!"
Song Heping spoke with conviction, making Barrett break out in a cold sweat over the phone.
He began to wonder if he should flee.
Could this guy suspect him?
If his identity was exposed, then he must make a quick getaway.
"Barrett, why are you silent?"
"It's not... Boss, I just thought it wasn't possible... Who did you discuss the route with last night? It was White Bear and those old buddies of yours who were there after I left yesterday, right? How could they be the moles?"
Barrett emphasized "after I left," to avoid raising Song Heping's suspicion.
But he knew Song Heping wasn't easy to deceive, unsure if this statent could clear his own suspicion.
The reason he left before Song Heping and others discussed the route and timing yesterday was to avoid suspicion.
Knowing it was a helicopter was already enough info.
He had relayed the ssage to Lascano, who, being a Special Forces veteran, surely knew how to set up an ambush.
"Of course it's not our own people!"
Song Heping suddenly changed his tone.
"The mole, I've had Shorty investigate; it surely is one of those bodyguards sent by them, these drug lord groups here are so infiltrated, you can't trust anyone."
"Yes, yes..."
Barrett breathed a sigh of relief.
Song Heping said, "Let it be for now, there's nothing else, I'll hang up."
"Boss, are the Templar Knights and Sita Group really willing to cooperate with us?" Barrett couldn't help but ask.
"Of course, the talks went very smoothly." Song Heping said, "But don't worry about things here, don't you have to deliver a shipnt to Texas tomorrow? Just focus on that. Once the goods are delivered, transfer the money to the account I designated, then I'll transfer your cut to your account."
"Yes, boss, I'll handle it smoothly, don't worry."
The two hung up the call, Song Heping looked at the fading phone screen, a cold smile forming on his lips: "Just wait!"
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