At three in the morning London ti, in the encrypted video conference room on the fifth underground floor of MI6 Headquarters, Lady M was sipping her third cup of black coffee.
The screen was divided into three sections — on the left was Deputy Director Pence from CIA Headquarters in Langley, and on the right was Deputy Director Levin from Mossad Headquarters in Tel Aviv.
Their faces appeared especially grim under the blue light.
"According to the latest intelligence, Song Heping's operation in Mogadishu has completely altered the PMC dynamics in Africa.
"Lady M put down the coffee cup, her fingers swiping across the tablet to bring up a set of satellite images.
"In just a week, his 'Musician' Defense has grown to over two hundred people in Africa. Most are forr special forces mbers from various countries drawn by his reputation, and their equipnt level is close to that of a regular army. It's fair to say that the current rcenary circles in Africa have changed. The setback of the 'Satan' battalion has made Song Heping's fa soar. We've inadvertently helped him, and now soone must clean up this ss."
"His growth rate is too fast and must be curbed, or it will have a huge impact on our plans over there!"
Pence squinted, staring at that all-too-familiar Eastern face on the screen.
"He has already sabotaged several of our operations, causing a huge blow to our reputation. If we don't eliminate him, we will lose our deterrent power in the Sahel Region of Africa."
"Not only that," Levin interrupted, his voice carrying a heavy Israeli accent, "our intelligence shows that he is establishing contact with the Persian Revolutionary Guard's 'Holy City Brigade'. If these two forces combine..."
"It won't just be a simple ard threat," Lady M interjected, "but will beco a geopolitical threat impacting the entire Middle East and Africa."
The conference room fell into a brief silence.
All three knew that Song Heping was no ordinary rcenary leader.
This forr PLA Special Forces mber was fluent in five languages and had significant influence in the rebel and drug lord circles of South Arica. More troubling was that he always seed able to anticipate the actions of Western intelligence agencies.
"We can no longer tolerate his existence." Pence's fingers tapped the table, "The President has authorized 'extre asures'."
Levin leaned slightly forward: "Our Mossad 'Stinger' team is ready to cooperate with the operation."
Lady M brought up a map of Africa, with several red dots flashing in the Northern Sudan area: "The latest news is that the North Sudan Governnt is in contact with him. They want him to train their troops to fight against the South Sudan rebels and the threat from Libya."
"God," Pence cursed, "if he establishes a base in Sudan, the entire Northeast Africa will get out of control."
"So we must act before the contact becos a formal agreent."
Lady M said calmly.
"I propose using the SAS 'Dagger' Squad to coordinate with your Delta and Mossad actions."
"Location?" Levin asked.
"Here." Lady M zood in on a coordinate in the Darfur Region, "According to reliable intelligence, Song Heping will visit the border oil fields in three days. We have detailed information on his itinerary."
Pence showed the first smile of the night: "A perfect ambush point. We will handle the air support."
"Intelligence sharing and real-ti monitoring will be provided by Mossad." Levin added.
Lady M looked around at her colleagues on the screen: "Then, 'Operation Owl Hunt' is officially launched. May God bless us."
The images of the three disappeared simultaneously from the screen, and the conference room plunged back into darkness.
Two days earlier, at dusk, in an unassuming villa on the outskirts of Khartoum, the capital of North Sudan, Song Heping stood in front of the window, watching the sun setting over the Nile River.
More than a week had passed since the Mogadishu operation.
And now he had moved to Khartoum.
The reason was that soone invited him here.
According to his original plan, it was to establish a base in Somalia.
But establishing a base there required killing, and although Abdul was dead, the internal warlords and local ard forces in Somalia had fallen into chaos. Establishing a foothold there would require nearly six months of eliminating and suppressing local forces until they bowed their heads.
This was not an easy task, after all, even the US Special Forces had suffered setbacks there.
However, as the fortune teller once said.
Upon reaching adulthood, Song Heping would have a turn of fortune and achieve great success, with limitless prospects.
Just as Song Heping was racking his brain for a foothold, the emissary sent by the North Sudan Governnt ca to the door.
"Boss, the people have arrived."
Jiang Feng opened the door and entered, followed by three African n in suits.
The leading man was in his fifties, with dark skin, his every move exuding the caution and smoothness unique to politicians.
"Mr. Song, it's an honor to et you. I am Presidential Special Advisor Hassan Omar."
Song Heping smiled and shook hands with the three of them. "Mr. Omar, your English is much better than my Arabic. Why don't we converse in English?"
Omar visibly sighed in relief. "Of course."
Once everyone was seated, Jiang Feng silently exited the room.
"Mr. Song, our governnt greatly appreciates your actions in Mogadishu."
Omar got straight to the point. "The professional ability and strategic foresight you have shown are exactly what we urgently need."
Song Heping sipped his mint tea impassively. "You have your own army, and the conflict zones also have UN Peacekeeping Forces. Why do you still need to seek out?"
"Yes, but..."
Omar exchanged a glance with his companion.
"We are simultaneously facing threats on both the northern and southern fronts. We know for a fact that the CIA is behind the South Sudanese rebels. There are complex historical intricacies behind this. The Aricans now want to intervene in our affairs here, although officially, these matters are primarily handled by the French. On the surface, they are allies, but in reality, they are using the war to play chess on our land. The role of the Peacekeeping Forces here, as you've seen, isn't significant. Now the rebels in the south are constantly attacking our oilfields; in the north, Qadhafi's troops have crossed the border three tis to attack the oil facilities in Darfur. We are at our wit's end..."
Song Heping put down his teacup. "So you need rcenaries? I'm sorry, Mr. Omar, but I'm not just a simple rcenary."
"No, we need a strategic partner," Omar corrected. "We hope your company can train three rapid response brigades for us and provide military advisory services. In return, we can offer you a permanent base in the Darfur Region and grant diplomatic passports to you and your core team from the Sudan governnt."
Song Heping's eyebrows slightly raised.
A diplomatic passport implies political asylum and immunity, precisely the kind of protection soone like him would find most necessary.
"An interesting proposal," he said slowly. "But, pardon my bluntness, I am currently listed as a terrorist by the Aricans and the UN. Collaborating with would likely bring substantial political trouble."
Omar flashed a shrewd smile. "Precisely why we are willing to offer such generous terms. Besides..."
He lowered his voice. "We know the CIA has already identified you as one of the highest threats. You need national protection, and we need your military expertise. It's a win-win. Regarding the Aricans and the UN, haha, we can handle it. If they were to quell the southern rebels and end the hostilities, I could expel you then. But how likely do you think that outco is?"
The room fell silent.
Song Heping stood up and walked to the window, looking out at the distant lights of Khartoum.
He knew Omar was right — the situation between North and South Sudan was the result of new and old empires vying for territory and influence in Africa. Everyone knew what was really going on behind the scenes.
The French were aware the Aricans were up to tricks.
The Aricans knew the French wouldn't compromise.
Everyone was using Sudan as a chessboard, indifferent to the lives of the local people.
Who cared?
If the North-South conflict could be settled, he would rely be expelled.
And that possibility implied the Aricans abandoning their pursuit of influence and control here.
Is that possible?
Certainly not.
So, basically, there was no issue with this plan.
"The exact location of the base?" he finally asked.
Omar unfolded a military map. "Here, an old military base in the Darfur Region, near the Libya and Chad borders. The location is secluded yet accessible, with natural caves underground that can be converted into bunkers and armories. We will ensure confidentiality, allowing you to freely develop your own defense zone. We won't interfere, as long as you provide training and tactical consultation for border operations."
Song Heping studied the map, his mind quickly calculating the strategic value.
This location was indeed ideal — it allowed swift response to the entirety of North Sudan and could influence Libya, Chad, and the Central African Republic.
"The training contract is for two years. My company will be fully responsible for the formation and training of three rapid response brigades," Song Heping began negotiating, "The base will be fully autonomous, with the Sudanese Military not interfering in internal affairs. The diplomatic passports must be issued directly by the President and be irrevocable."
Omar nodded. "Acceptable. However, there is an additional condition — within three months, you need to assist us in recapturing two major oilfields in the south occupied by rebels."
Song Heping laughed. "Now, that's the real test, isn't it? You want to see if my team is as formidable as the legends say."
"Given that oil revenues make up 70% of our GDP, we cannot take risks," Omar candidly admitted.
"Deal." Song Heping extended his hand. "But I'd like to add one thing — all operations must be strictly confidential. If the Aricans discover your governnt is formally cooperating with ..."
"We'll find a way," Omar shook his hand. "The President's nephew controls the National Intelligence Agency, and all docunts will follow special channels. To the outside world, your company is just a regular security contractor protecting oil facilities."
"Hmm..."
Song Heping nodded slightly. "Sounds interesting."
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