Niki, as the ISA's command officer for the Afghan division, was indeed punctual.
Half an hour later, the two t in one of the tents at the US Army camp in Kandahar.
As soon as Song Heping entered the tent, Niki spoke to soone beside her and then ca straight over: "Let's talk outside."
Song Heping glanced around the tent; ISA personnel were bustling about, setting up all sorts of electronic equipnt—it was clear they were arranging a frontline command setup.
Seeing the situation and the personnel deploynt, Song knew this was no small matter.
After leaving the tent and finding a secluded spot behind it, Song took the initiative to speak.
"Niki, this looks serious."
"Indeed. It's a significant issue, and it's urgent. Everything must be resolved within 48 hours, or there will be serious consequences."
Niki was frank.
She didn't intend to skirt the issue.
Just as she was about to explain the situation, Song interrupted again: "Wait, before I get involved in this, we need to talk terms."
"Terms?" asked Niki. "Isn't this a personal favor for ?"
"Personal is personal, but business is business," replied Song. "I have to repay your favor, otherwise I wouldn't get involved. I signed a contract with the British, not with you. My contract is only to train police and to assist the British Army with ergencies—each task has a price."
Niki questioned, "Are you really that greedy?"
Song pointed to himself: "I'm a PMC, a defense company. If a company isn't talking money, then what? Love?"
Initially irritated, Niki couldn't help but laugh at Song's response.
She thought it made sense.
People risk their lives to make money.
If not for money, why talk business? Why talk about feelings?
Wouldn't that be idiotic?
"Let's hear it, what are your conditions?"
"I know the British won't control the coalition for much longer," Song said. "You are tripping up Chariz. If I'm not mistaken, given the current state of operations, he won't last three months in that position. Even though I still have half a year left on my contract and can pocket that easily, what I'm after are long-term benefits."
He made a gesture as if counting money.
"I want to have long-term interests in Afghanistan."
Niki looked at Song, not responding imdiately.
After a long mont, she said, "As an ISA commander, I don't have that much power."
Song responded, "That's why I think we should wait until soone with the authority to cut a slice of the pie appears and gives a promise. I won't make a decision until I've got my own bargaining chips. I won't agree to get involved in your operation."
He paused, then added, "Because I know, doing business with you is too profitable."
Niki hmphed coldly.
She knew what Song was referring to.
The US annually invests hundreds of billions in the wars in Illiguo and Afghanistan.
Apart from the profits of the military industrial giants and the overheads and salaries of the US Army, a large portion goes to PMCs.
Afghanistan is a place too destitute to squeeze oil from a stone, but for PMCs, it's a juicy piece of at. Currently, PMCs worldwide are focusing here, many without the connections to enter.
To get a ticket to share the pie, one must have contacts in the military.
And clearly, that's what Song was after.
Niki hesitated.
Song was capitalizing on the situation, which was shaless.
But as a PMC owner, he was also very realistic.
Niki actually admired realists; at least, they were more reliable than idealists.
"Major General Miles will be here soon, I can introduce you," she finally relented.
Song's smile spread across his face; he knew who Miles was.
He was the deputy commander of special operations for the US military in Afghanistan, and in the entire coalition, his position was not low.
Even Miles was coming himself; it seed that sothing big had gone wrong with the operation in the south.
"I'm honored to have the opportunity to work with you again."
"Wait here, Commander Miles will arrive in a while."
Niki turned and went into the tent to attend to her matters.
Song Heping stood behind the tent, continuing to ponder the terms of the negotiation.
Afghan...
The holy land of PMC companies.
If this deal goes through, the company's revenue will surge again.
In fact, for Song Heping, money isn't as essential as Niki ntioned.
By now, he is no longer short of money.
It's just that Song Heping has an obsession.
He's a perfectionist, even sowhat paranoid.
Either don't do sothing or do it to the best of your ability.
What is the best?
For a PMC company, it ans reaching the scale of AAFSE, the fa of Black Water, and even greater ambitions for Song Heping.
Based on experiences dealing with various intelligence agencies, behind the normal world lies an unknown dark world.
Strength, intelligence, money, connections, power—in this world inaccessible to ordinary people, he might truly make a difference.
He felt that if he could include Afghan operations within his company's scope, he would certainly find a world map back ho, get so little red flags, and plant a flag in every place around the world where his business operates.
To view the map filled with his flags everywhere... what a spectacular sight that would be…
Just as Song Heping was fantasizing about his grand future plans, the sound of helicopter propellers churning rapidly through the night sky reached his ears.
Looking up, he saw two Apaches and a Black Hawk Helicopter in the sky.
In the warzone, the US Army always deploys Apaches for ground cover whenever helicopters are mobilized to avoid ground fire targeting the transport aircraft.
One could tell that Major General Miles has arrived, just by observing this formation.
Song Heping took out a piece of chewing gum, threw it into his mouth, and chewed vigorously.
After all, he's eting with a US Army major general; he needed to ensure his breath was fresh during the negotiations and not offend the old fellow.
The helicopter slowly descended onto the open space in the camp, and Miles, surrounded by a group of officers and Niki, hurried into the tent.
Song Heping deliberately stood in front of the tent, and as expected, Miles saw him when he approached.
Their eyes t, and Miles appeared slightly startled.
Song Heping's appearance clearly indicated he wasn't part of the US Army, nor any of Miles' subordinates.
But he seed to hold a vague recollection of Song Heping.
As if they had t sowhere before.
Yet he couldn't quite rember at that mont.
As everyone entered the tent, Rabbani was suddenly brought out from another tent and led toward the larger command tent in the frontline headquarters.
Song Heping hadn't seen Rabbani when he arrived; he guessed that Rabbani had been detained in another tent.
Old Arica wouldn't trust an Afghan local to wander freely around the tents like Song.
In their bones, they didn't trust the Afghans.
Seeing Song Heping, Rabbani appeared sowhat surprised, nodded slightly as a greeting, and then walked into the tent.
Song Heping looked into the tent.
Inside, a long table was assembled from folding military tables, covered with a green pad to resemble a conference table.
Miles had already taken his seat at the head of the table, with Niki at the first position to his left, a screen set up beside them on a stand. US Army technical sergeants and officers were already lined up, with various communication radios and computers before them; Song recognized so of the imagery as drone surveillance screens.
"Wow, quite an array..."
Niki sat beside Miles, and both leaned in and whispered to each other.
After talking for a while, Miles began to look towards the tent entrance, as if searching for soone.
Song Heping was standing in his line of sight; he nodded at him, a form of greeting.
Miles saw Song Heping but had no reaction; he seed lost in thought and remained silent for a long ti.
Finally, he stood up and, accompanied by Niki, started walking towards the tent entrance.
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