The air in the room seed to have solidified.
Everyone was staring at Song Heping as if he hadn't just proposed an assault on the President's Mansion, but a casual walk on Mars.
"Old Sergeant, this idea is insane!"
Jiang Feng was the first to break the silence.
His voice was low and filled with disbelief.
"We don't even have proper rifles, what are we going to use to attack the President's Mansion? This?"
He fiddled with the Glock 17 pistol in his hand and then laughed at himself.
Song Heping ignored Jiang Feng's doubts and turned to Hassan, "I need the assistance of your militia, what can you provide us?"
"We don't have the capability to attack the President's Mansion..." Hassan admitted honestly, "but we can create chaos, distract the governnt army's attention, and maybe even lure away the guards nearby to ease so pressure on you."
"Not enough." Song Heping shook his head, "We need precise intel—the defense setup inside the mansion, Noel's exact location, and the shift change timings."
The room fell silent again.
Hassan couldn't answer that question.
In the corner, the silent female operator suddenly spoke, "I... I have an insider."
Everyone looked at her.
She timidly raised her hand, "My cousin is the supplier of kitchen ingredients for the President's Mansion, she... she might be able to help."
Song Heping squinted his eyes, "Can you contact her?"
The girl nodded, "Yes."
"Good, contact her imdiately," Song Heping turned to Hassan, "Provide with operational data right away, we need the internal layout of the mansion and Noel's schedule."
Song Heping's eyes lit up as he addressed everyone in the room, "We don't need a frontal assault. We'll have Hassan and his people create chaos, draw away the guards' attention, and then sneak in through the backdoor garbage transport route."
Ferrari stopped twirling his gun and squinted, "Are you saying have the opposition militia create chaos near the mansion?"
"Not just chaos."
Song Heping drew a circle on the map around several blocks near the mansion with his fingertip, "Make them believe the opposition forces have infiltrated the city and are organizing a large-scale assault on the mansion. This will surely draw the guard forces to reinforce their outer defenses."
Abdul interjected suddenly, "There's an ergency escape tunnel under the mansion leading two kiloters away to a military base. If Noel senses danger..."
"That's why we must control the situation within ten minutes," Song Heping cut him off, "Once inside, the primary targets are to control the communications room and the escape tunnel."
Collins, who had been silently leaning against the wall, suddenly spoke, "Even if we get in, how do we get out? Just casually walk out with a president? The guards will turn us into Swiss cheese."
Song Heping picked up a photo next to the map on the table, which showed the President's Mansion, and pointed at a helipad, asking Hassan, "Is this Mi-17 helicopter always parked on the west side?"
Hassan nodded, "Yes, this was the last set of photos taken before the war broke out. The helicopter is still there. Noel's a coward, the helicopter's for his escape."
Song Heping nodded, "Hmm, that confirms it..."
Ferrari seed to catch on, "You're not planning to use that to kidnap Noel, are you?"
Song Heping nodded, "Precisely, any objections? Is there a better escape tool than that?"
Ferrari asked curiously, "Can you fly the Mi-17?"
Song Heping said, "In South Arica, at our training school, I learned from those Russian pilots."
Ferrari was stunned for a mont, then gave him a thumbs up without saying anything.
"Damn, Old Sergeant, you really are a crazy guy," Jiang Feng shook his head but couldn't hide a grin, "but I like this plan."
Collins suddenly stood up, "We need more weapons. Pistols aren't enough."
Hassan imdiately said, "I can get AKs and grenades, maybe even a couple of RPGs."
"Still not enough," Song Heping contemplated for a mont, "We need sothing to incite panic... Do you have White Phosphorus Bombs?"
Hassan's face changed, "Those are banned by international law..."
"To hell with international law," Song Heping sneered, "We want the guards to think the entire city is burning."
The atmosphere in the room slowly shifted from shock to an eerie excitent.
Abdul and Hassan began praying softly, while Ferrari was already checking the magazines.
"What's the tiline?" Collins asked.
Song Heping looked at his watch, "It's 2 AM now. We move at 6. That's when dawn breaks, the guards are most fatigued, and when the garbage should be taken out. Hassan, your people must create the chaos at exactly 5:45."
Hassan nodded, "I'll lead the team myself."
Song Heping dismissed that, "Assign two reliable commanders to carry out the chaos operation, ensure you catch the attention of the governnt and the guards."
He then turned to the others, "Jiang Feng, Ferrari, you'll handle the communications room. Collins, Abdul, you co with to capture Noel. Rember, we want him alive."
"What if the plan fails?" Abdul couldn't help but ask.
Song Heping's eyes turned cold, "Then we blow up the entire mansion and take Noel to Hell with us."
4 AM, safe house.
Song Heping was inspecting the weapons Hassan had just delivered—four AK-74U short assault rifles, ten F1 grenades, two RPG-7 launchers, and several Sena governnt army uniforms.
"The uniforms are authentic," Hassan explained, "These will make our movents in the city much easier."
Song Heping picked up a captain's uniform and sized it up, "They'll do. Collins, this one is for you."
Jiang Feng was loading bullets into magazines when he suddenly looked up, "Is that cook reliable? If she rat us out..."
"We have her sister," Hassan said flatly, "and I promised her $50,000 after it's done."
Ferrari sneered, "Loyalty always has a price."
Song Heping didn't join the discussion. He was busy using waterproof tape to bind two magazines back-to-back, allowing for quick changes in combat.
"Communications check."
After finishing, he pressed his earpiece.
"Check."
"Check."
"Check."
The others responded one after another.
"Rember communication discipline," Song Heping emphasized, "Remain silent during the infiltration unless in an ergency."
Abdul nodded repeatedly, his hands shaking slightly.
Song Heping went over and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
"Being afraid is normal," he said softly, "but rember, fear is your weapon. It keeps you alert."
Abdul took a deep breath and nodded.
At 5 AM, everyone was ready.
Song Heping did a final gear check: an AK-74U slung across his chest, a Glock 17 pistol strapped to his thigh, four coupled magazines, two grenades, a multifunctional knife, and a small pack of C4 explosives—the final resort.
"Before we go," Song Heping looked around at everyone, "rember our goal: capture Noel alive, control the mansion. Don't get bogged down, act fast!"
"Understood!"
Everyone nodded in unison, a grim determination on their faces.
They left the safe house in groups, boarding the ready pickup trucks and blending into the pre-dawn darkness.
The streets of Butare were empty, with only occasional gunfire echoing from a distance.
On the second day of the coup, the city was already accustod to violence.
A half-hour later, Song Heping and Collins, dressed in governnt army uniforms, confidently walked toward the rendezvous—a butcher shop two blocks from the mansion.
Hassan's female operator and her cousin Amina were already waiting there.
Amina, a woman in her forties with swollen red eyes, had been crying.
Seeing the fully ard rcenaries, she recoiled in fear.
Hassan soothed her in the local language, then turned to Song Heping, "She says she's delivering a batch of fresh lamb inside this morning. We can hide in the transport vehicle."
Song Heping inspected the beat-up Toyota truck. The cargo compartnt had been modified with a makeshift false layer, just big enough for five people to fit inside.
"It's cramped," Jiang Feng tested the space and complained, "And it's hot as hell."
"Shut up!" Ferrari jeered, "We're lucky to sneak in like this! Better than getting caught outside and gunned down."
"Rember."
Song Heping looked at his watch again, "It's 6 AM now. You must create the chaos right on ti."
The truck jostled as it moved towards the President's Mansion.
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