An hour later, in the conference room of the underground command center at the gold mine, smoke lingered.
The map of Africa hanging on the wall was densely marked with various colored pins, and empty coffee cups and half-eaten field rations were scattered on the table.
"This is too risky."
Jiang Feng was the first to object: "If you head over there now, you'll have to pass through several countries. Do you think the CIA won't sniff out where you are?"
Song Heping stood in front of the map and traced a winding route with a red marker: "So we won't travel by land; we'll head straight to the sea from Sudan."
"Sounds as simple as a vacation plan."
Klein joked: "It's only easy when you say it. Don't forget, you're now in the top five on the CIA's bounty list."
Song Heping smiled: "Wasn't I number two? How did my ranking drop?"
"Now isn't the ti for jokes."
Henry cautioned: "The Persian area isn't safe; it's internally chaotic, and the pro-Arican faction is powerful there. If you head there, the news will likely reach the CIA headquarters quickly, and it won't be easy to get out. Right now you're in Northern Darfur, and it's relatively difficult for the CIA to act against you. Leaving here, they'll hunt you down like hyenas on the prairie."
Ferrari had been quietly sitting in the corner but suddenly spoke: "Even if you make it to Persia and et Avanti, why would he help you?"
Song Heping's lips curled into a slight sneer: "Because I have sothing he wants."
He pulled a small USB drive from his pocket and placed it on the table: "This contains the data and schematics of the Big Crow UAV that we obtained. Do you think the Persians would be interested?"
The conference room fell into a brief silence.
Although Song Heping's words seed reasonable, everyone knew the risks of this decision. Yet, they also understood that if the transport problem wasn't resolved, their entire layout in Africa could collapse.
Without a stable arms smuggling channel, expanding their rcenary forces seed like a castle in the air.
"When do we set off?"
Ferrari finally asked, his tone now pragmatic.
"Within three days," Song Heping said. "I need ti to arrange matters at the gold mine here and inform the Sudanese governnt, so they don't think I'm fleeing."
"I'm going with you," Jiang Feng said firmly.
"Two China People leaving together?" Song Heping shook his head: "Too conspicuous. This ti, I'll go with Nura and Antonov; they are more familiar with this area and can avoid a lot of danger."
The atmosphere in the conference room beca tense.
Everyone understood the implication of Song Heping's words—Nura and Antonov were the least experienced in the team.
Song Heping was intentionally protecting the core mbers.
"No," Ferrari suddenly stood up, "I think it should be going. I'm more familiar with the black market dealings around the Persian Gulf, and also..."
He locked eyes with Song Heping.
"If sothing happens to you, no one can hold this business together."
Their gazes clashed in the air, and finally Song Heping said: "Are you sure you can persuade Avanti?"
This rhetorical question left Ferrari speechless.
"That's settled, eting adjourned."
After the eting, Song Heping went alone to the sand dunes on the outskirts of the mining area.
The night sky was dotted with stars, and occasionally the howls of hyenas could be heard in the distance.
He lit a cigarette, his thoughts drifting back to the tropical rainforests of xico, back to the deserts of Illiguo, with past thrilling experiences flashing through his mind.
He had thought he would eventually settle down and establish an international defense company in the future.
Unexpectedly, things did not go as planned.
Sotis, fate is beyond one's control.
After all the twists and turns, he was now embarking on an even more perilous path.
"Old squad leader," ca Jiang Feng's voice from behind: "Ferrari asked to bring you sothing."
Song Heping turned around to see Jiang Feng holding a small black box.
"The latest model of satellite phone."
Jiang Feng handed over the box.
Song Heping, puzzled, said: "I already have a satellite phone."
Jiang Feng said: "It's different. Ferrari said this is a channel rented from a comrcial satellite by a shell company he registered overseas, a European company's satellite. It cost a lot, intended to create an encrypted channel for our own use, ensuring confidentiality. Now that you're going to Persia, you can put it to use first."
Song Heping took the box, feeling its hefty weight.
This wasn't an ordinary communication device; it was the lifeline his team was giving him.
"Tell him I'll bring back two bottles of authentic Persian saffron," Song Heping tried to lighten his tone, "I hear it's more expensive than gold."
Jiang Feng smiled, but the smile quickly faded: "Be careful, old squad leader. It's not like before. CIA, Mossad, DGSE... all intelligence agencies have their eyes on Africa as a piece of fat at. Especially the CIA, which has specially set up a redirection task force to deal with you. The way you're treated is almost up to Brother Deng's level."
Song Heping nodded, his gaze once again cast toward the boundless desert.
He thought of Simon.
Simon had sent him a ssage about the task force and inford him that he had beco the deputy leader.
However, the ssage gave Song Heping an odd feeling.
He couldn't quite pinpoint what was wrong.
Unable to figure it out, he decided not to dwell on it for now.
The most urgent issue he faced was resolving the arms smuggling route from the Middle East to here.
He already had a plan in mind.
But he needed to et Avanti in person and also required Yusuf and Samir to be present at the sa ti.
This would be a future secret arms smuggling route to confront the CIA in the Middle East, as protection from the forr US Army Command in Iraq could no longer be used. Without the military-given privileges, he had to rely on those "friends" in the local military and political departnts he had supported during his ti in Illiguo.
But these people weren't necessarily reliable.
Inside, the only one he could truly trust was probably Yusuf.
After all, his interests were deeply tied with his own, and Yusuf's family and children were currently living in Europe.
He was also aware of what the consequences of betraying him would be.
Everything.
He would give everything as a standby.
The night wind grew stronger, lifting and smacking fine sand against Song Heping's face, like countless tiny warnings.
He turned and walked towards the lights of the mining area, already beginning to plan the "Ghost Route" to Persia.
Three days later, at an old, abandoned dock at Sudan Port.
At four in the morning, the sea wind, carrying a salty stench, slapped against Song Heping's face.
He stood beside a rusty container, gazing at the distant old freighter nad "Blue Agate."
The ship's paint was peeling, the deck piled high with disordered cargo, looking just like any smuggling ship commonly seen along the Red Sea coast.
"Is the captain reliable?"
Song Heping asked in a low voice, his eyes never leaving the ship.
Standing next to him, Nura tightened her headscarf and revealed a sly smile: "Hassan owes three lives. The first was in Mogadishu, the second in Aden Bay, and the third..."
She paused: "Forget it, the story of the third isn't suitable for now."
Song Heping's lips slightly upturned.
This Bedouin woman had only been with the team for three months but had already proven her worth—she knew every capable smuggler in this sea area, and seemingly everyone owed her a favor.
"Did you check the luggage?" he turned to Antonov on the other side.
The forr Air Force officer patted the waterproof bag at his feet: "Weapons, ammunition, and dicine, all sealed. Hassan promised to hide them in the secret compartnt of the engine room."
In the distance ca a low whistle.
A short, stout man stood by the gangway, waving to them.
"It's ti," Nura hoisted her backpack: "Don't call by na on board; I'm now the cook Aisha."
Song Heping nodded, lowering his baseball cap further.
He took one last look around the dark dock, then followed the two towards the gangway.
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