Klein forced himself to reveal the trademark crooked smile of the "Shepherd," the gold teeth sparkling in the sunlight.
"And may Allah bless you, Chief Hakeem."
He responded in a deliberately raspy voice, mimicking the tone of the arms dealer from the interrogation recording.
"The desert wind has finally blown us to the sa oasis."
Hakeem suddenly asked in English, "How are the cherry blossoms in Washington this year?"
This was the first trap.
Klein's heart skipped a beat but he remained expressionless.
Song Heping's briefing ntioned that the real "Shepherd" did spend two weeks in Washington last spring.
"I prefer the oak trees in autumn."
Klein responded calmly, "Especially those behind the Lincoln morial."
Then he added, "I brought a gift from there, would you like to see it?"
This was the opening line of the rendezvous.
"Let's see what gift you have."
Hakeem said coldly.
Klein took out the dagger and raised his hands to show he ant no harm.
Hakeem also raised his right hand to signal his n not to act rashly.
"May the Lord bless your peace."
Klein handed over the dagger.
Hakeem took it and examined the silver handle in the moonlight.
"Hahaha!"
A hint of surprise flashed in Hakeem's eyes, then he burst into laughter.
He stepped forward and suddenly grabbed Klein's fake beard—this movent was so quick that all the surrounding rcenaries tensed up.
All the rcenaries behind Klein imdiately raised their guns, aiming at Hakeem.
"It's okay! I'm okay!"
Klein felt a sting where the adhesive was but rely raised his eyebrows, imdiately gesturing his subordinates not to panic.
"Lower your guns."
Song Heping also issued the order.
The rcenaries lowered their gun barrels.
Everyone's tense nerves relaxed slightly.
"Habits die hard." Hakeem let go of his hand, implying, "These days, even my uncle might co to see wearing a fake beard."
He pointed to inside the sentry post and said, "Please follow ."
After speaking, he led the way ahead.
Song Heping exchanged a glance with Klein.
Both secretly breathed a sigh of relief.
It seed that the local warlord had finally opened the first door to trust.
The interior of the sentry post had been converted into a makeshift eting room.
A long table covered with green velvet occupied the center, surrounded by twelve ard guards.
Klein noticed their fingers never left the trigger guards.
Song Heping pretended to check safety, using the movent of patting Klein's shoulder to quietly remind him, "Don't touch the water cup."
A barely audible reminder ca from Song Heping through the earpiece.
"There might be sothing in the water."
In Africa, drugging often involves hallucinogens refined from drugs.
The warlords have a habit of using drugs.
Song Heping had to guard against it.
If Klein got poisoned, he could be exposed.
Hakeem sat at the head seat, signaling Klein to sit on the right.
"I heard you have a beautiful Moroccan lover in Tripoli?"
He asked seemingly casually, while gesturing for the attendant to serve mint tea.
The second trap.
"The Shepherd" has a chaotic private life but never keeps mistresses in North Africa.
Klein chuckled, showing the gold teeth, "You must be mistaken. Moroccan won? Rather than that, I'd prefer a French girl as a lover."
"The Shepherd" indeed has a secret lover in France.
Also an illegitimate daughter.
In their line of work, life and death are unpredictable.
Settling in Paris was "The Shepherd's" safest idea.
Hakeem didn't seem stupid.
He was wary of these Aricans suddenly presenting great gifts to him.
Miracles don't just happen.
Hakeem has survived in Northern Darfur for so long and raised a team to seize a large territory, not without reason.
At least before the eting, he had done his howork.
The attendant placed a teacup in front of Klein.
Beneath the floating mint leaves, faint white powder could be seen.
Klein pretended not to notice, and pushed the cup away with his hand: "During Ramadan, I only drink water after sunset, this is to respect Allah."
—This was Song Heping's temporary response strategy, today happened to be an important day for YSL.
Hakeem's expression loosened for the first ti.
He waved his hand, and the attendant imdiately withdrew the teacup.
"It seems my people got the intelligence wrong.
"He stared at Klein's cloudy left eye, "Your eyes..."
"Damn sandstorm." Klein cursed.
This was the pre-set background story.
"Last month at the Chad border, the doctor said it would take half a year to heal."
The eting room suddenly fell into silence.
Hakeem took out a dagger inlaid with ivory from the inner pocket of his robe, and began to slowly peel an apple.
The sound of the blade slicing through the flesh was particularly piercing in the quiet.
"Tell ," he suddenly handed the peeled apple to Klein.
"Why did the Aricans choose instead of Markuer? That guy controls more gold mines."
The key question ca.
Klein took the apple but did not eat it, instead placing it on the table. He leaned back in the chair, adopting "The Shepherd's" typical arrogant posture: "Last week Markuer had dinner with people from British Military Intelligence Six. Where do you think those anti-tank weapons he uses to attack the governnt army co from?"
This news exploded like a bomb in the room.
Hakeem's dagger slamd into the table, the handle vibrating.
"Lies!" he shouted angrily, "The British promised not to intervene in the Darfur conflict!"
Klein had been waiting for this mont.
He snapped his fingers, Song Heping imdiately opened the titanium alloy case he carried.
Bundles of hundred-dollar bills were neatly arranged, with a satellite photo on top—Markuer was shaking hands with several white n at so hidden camp.
"Five million down paynt, plus enough personal weapons to equip two battalions and 200 RPGs, 1000 rockets, 20 mortars of 80 caliber."
Klein lowered his voice.
"The White House wants chaos, and Markuer wants stability—because he needs the British mining permits."
He deliberately paused, watching the blue veins bulge on Hakeem's forehead.
"But you can possess all of Northern Darfur...including those new mineral veins the British have explored."
Hakeem grabbed the photo to inspect closely, his breathing gradually becoming heavy.
Klein knew he had taken the bait—MI6's synthesized photo was perfect down to the tribal tattoo detail on Markuer's wrist.
"What do the Aricans want in return?"
Hakeem finally spoke, his voice tinged with repressed excitent.
Klein showed a wolf-like smile: "Within three months, the weapons I promised will arrive, we don't want the British to control here, so you must send troops to eliminate Markuer and create chaos here."
He leaned forward.
"When CNN reports 'Conflict resus in the Darfur Region, British and UN Peacekeeping Forces unable to stabilize the situation,' then our Special Forces can rightfully deploy here."
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