Mercenaries, I Will Be King Chapter 922 - 859: Laying Out a Smoke Screen

Northern Persia mountains, three in the morning.

Song Heping stood in a military tent, facing a holographic projection displaying a three-dinsional map of the North Suburb of Bucharest.

Naxin, along with several intelligence officers from the Revolutionary Guard and recent arrivals such as Henry, White Bear, Hunter, gathered around. The air was filled with the mixed scent of Persian red tea and gun oil.

"Henry, confirm MI6 has sent the ssage over?"

Song Heping asked without lifting his head.

Henry adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose: "Ten minutes ago, Lady M's contact accidentally leaked the intel to a CIA informant in London."

A cold smile curled at the corner of his mouth.

"As per your request, the intel emphasized that you'll be taking the Turkish Airlines TK1042 flight, arriving in Bucharest tomorrow noon."

Song Heping nodded, tracing a red line on the map with his finger: "Has Russia arranged everything?"

Henry said: "The Cook has already utilized his connections within the Russian Governnt, and the GRU Special Forces' 'Ghost' team has appeared at the Moldova border as planned. They've faked their radio communication records, enough to keep the CIA's electronic reconnaissance team busy for a while."

Light laughter echoed in the tent.

Yet Song Heping maintained a stern face, his gaze sweeping back and forth across the map.

This operation cannot afford any mistakes—not only is it a matter of rescuing Ferrari, but it also concerns the survival of the entire "Musician" Defense Company.

"Song, do you think Wright will take the bait?"

Naxin couldn't help but ask.

Song Heping finally revealed a slight smile: "He will. People like Wright fear two things the most—losing control and unexpected surprises. We'll create enough chaos for him, and he'll end up confusing himself."

He turned to Henry: "Is Ferrari still at the original location?"

"Should still be." Henry said, "I've maintained contact with Weber, but according to his intel, Wright likely plans to move him in 48 hours."

"Then execute the plan." Song Heping straightened up and looked around, saying: "Rember, we want Wright to bring Ferrari out himself. This plan is a double-line operation, using the guard as bait, to thoroughly mobilize Wright."

Hunter and others exchanged a glance.

The plan was too bold, even sowhat insane—but if designed by Song Heping, it's worth a shot.

"Last equipnt check before departure." Song Heping ordered, "Henry, you stay here to continue maintaining contact with Weber. Nura, you and Antonov also stay and assist Henry."

"Why can't I go?!"

Nura was not pleased: "Just because I'm a woman?"

"Exactly." Song Heping said bluntly: "With your attire, entering Romania will have CIA imdiately watching you without even trying."

Nura was instantly speechless.

Though she wanted to argue, there was no ground for retort.

Antonov shrugged, he had no objections to this arrangent.

Knowing one's own capabilities.

With his combat strength, he'd only drag the others down.

The tent suddenly beca busy.

Song Heping walked to a corner, opened an encrypted laptop.

The screen displayed the last encrypted ssage before Ferrari got captured.

He stared at the chrysanthemum for a long ti, then gently closed the computer.

This ti, it's his turn to set the trap.

Previously, he was the passive side, now Wright gets to taste passive.

North Suburb of Bucharest, abandoned textile factory.

Wright stood in front of one-way glass, observing Ferrari in the interrogation room.

This guy, whose face was swollen like a pig's head, had endured eight hours of interrogation yet failed to reveal any valuable information.

More strangely, even under the effect of truth serum, Ferrari didn't resist but showed a bizarre bewildernt—like he really doesn't know those account details.

"Still no progress?" Wright asked the agent stepping out of the interrogation room.

The agent shook his head, wiping blood off his hands: "Sir, sothing's wrong with this guy. The truth serum doesn't work on him, regular interrogation is useless. Either he's received special training, or..."

"Or what?"

"Or he truly doesn't know the information." The agent hesitated, "But according to our intel, Ferrari is indeed the finance director of 'Musician' Defense."

Wright frowned.

As this defied logic.

Things shouldn't be like this, it completely diverged from his anticipated trajectory.

He couldn't help but push open the interrogation room door and enter.

Ferrari was bound to a special chair, his face stained with blood, yet his eyes were surprisingly calm.

Upon seeing Wright enter, he even managed a bloody smile, appearing sowhat odd.

Wright pulled up a chair to sit across, observing this prisoner closely.

Ferrari's pupils were sowhat dilated, his breathing pattern abnormal—this wasn't indicative of resisting interrogation, more like...

"What dicine did you take?" Wright suddenly asked.

Ferrari blinked: "dicine? Haha…what dicine? Tasty?"

Wright's frown deepened.

He scrutinized Ferrari's eyes carefully.

Suddenly, he stood up abruptly and rushed out of the interrogation room: "Draw blood! Take his blood sample for testing! Focus on checking nerve inhibitor type drugs!"

An hour later, the test report was delivered to the front.

"Sir, I feel you should look at this report."

The agent responsible for the test looked slightly uneasy.

Wright opened the report, quickly scanned through it.

The report confird his suspicion—Ferrari's blood contained a new type of nerve blocker, capable of inducing selective amnesia in a short period.

"Damn it!" Wright slamd the report on the table, "He was prepared!"

The interrogation agent cautiously asked: "Sir, what now? This drug typically lasts 24 to 72 hours. We can't wait that long, the Russians are already on the move. According to Ferrari's background information, he and the Cook were good friends back in the day. Song Heping definitely can mobilize the GRU team leveraging the Cook's connections within Russian intelligence agencies or the military."

Wright walked to the window, gazing at the pitch-black night outside.

Originally planning to slowly pry open Ferrari's mouth here, the situation has now changed.

If Ferrari indeed temporarily loses mory, keeping him here will only increase risk.

"Prepare for transfer." He ordered, "Proceed with the original plan to Lithuania."

As he finished speaking, his encrypted phone vibrated.

Wright glanced at the caller ID, then quickly exited the room: "Speak."

"London Station ergency intel." The voice on the other end was urgent, "MI6 internal report, Song Heping has already set off for Romania. Expected to arrive tomorrow noon."

Wright's eyes lit up: "Confird?"

The big fish has finally swum out of the deep waters.

"Highly credible. Source is the MI6 Eastern Europe Deputy Director, unaware we're monitoring."

Wright hung up, his brain racing.

His plan worked—if he can directly arrest Song Heping upon entry, there's no need to rely on Ferrari to lure him in.

He returned to the command room, addressing the waiting agents: "There's a change in plan, imdiately redeploy two action groups from Europe to the airport and main transportation nodes."

A cold smile appeared on his face: "We're giving Mr. Song an unforgettable welco."

"What about the prisoner?" an agent asked.

"The prisoner shall depart Romania via airport at dusk as planned tomorrow, we'll operate separately." Wright confidently said, "This ti, Song Heping won't escape."

He failed to notice that as he ntioned Song Heping, Ferrari in the interrogation room showed a slight smile.

Moldova-Romania border, four in the morning.

Three unmarked military trucks halted at an abandoned farm.

Twelve heavily ard soldiers disembarked, quickly dispersing for surveillance.

Their equipnt was top-notch, their movents professional, yet their uniforms bore no national insignia.

The leading officer walked to the farmhouse, knocked three tis, paused, then knocked twice. The door opened a crack.

"Ghost calling Haven."

The officer softly spoke in Russian.

The door opened fully, revealing the Cook's face: "Co in, the signal's been blocked."

Upon entering, the officer removed his helt, revealing a Slavic face: "As per your request, we've created enough commotion at the border. CIA drones have been tailing us for two hours."

The Cook nodded with a grin, turned back inside, picked up the satellite phone from the table, and sent a ssage: "'Ghost' is in position."

Soon, he received a reply—"Good. Any reaction from Wright's side?"

"Just intercepted communications indicate CIA has deployed additional surveillance teams at the border." The Cook grinned, extrely disdainful: "They indeed took the bait, believing GRU is crossing from the Moldova side into Romania for cross-border action."