"Mr. Song."
When Ms. M spoke again, her voice had returned to professional calmness, "I propose we et in Butare at 3 PM in two days to discuss the distribution of interests in detail. Britain is willing to act as a fair diator."
"It's an honor." Song Heping hung up the phone and looked at Lumar, whose face was ashen: "General, can we now talk about the three mining areas you owe ?"
Lumar's right hand quietly moved towards the gun at his waist.
Song Heping glanced at him and sneered, "General, I suggest you don't do that."
Song Heping stood up, still smiling, but his gaze had beco as sharp as a knife: "Unless you want these photos to appear online or on the headlines of major TV stations."
Saying this, his gaze fell on a file.
"This is just a backup, the original is with a friend of mine, currently in Darfur. Unless you cross the border to attack Sudan now, you can't get that thing."
A sudden commotion ca from outside the tent, followed by the roar of engines.
Song Heping's satellite phone vibrated, displaying the na "Ferrari."
"Take the call, General."
He handed the satellite phone over.
"Put it on speaker."
Lumar's trembling fingers pressed the answer button.
"Song!"
Ferrari's voice ca with the whistling wind.
"We've controlled all target areas as planned. Also, radar has detected two MiG-23s taking off from the direction of the capital, heading towards the Semor Mountain Area, expected to enter firing range in five minutes."
Song Heping's lips curled into a cold smile: "Let them enter the air defense identification zone before firing, rember to record the entire process of shooting them down."
"Understood!" Ferrari's voice was filled with excitent: "By the way, Noel's video has been uploaded to seven different cloud servers, with a scheduled release set. If our password isn't updated every twelve hours, the video will automatically be sent to major dia outlets."
Song Heping nodded with satisfaction and said to Lumar: "General, were you planning to send those two MiGs to bomb my mining areas just now?"
Beads of sweat appeared on Lumar's forehead. He opened his mouth but couldn't utter a word.
Outside the tent, the sunrise had completely erged, painting the barren land of the Sen Republic blood red.
Song Heping stood up and holstered the Glock 17 pistol: "General, see you at 3 PM in two days. Rember to tell President Du Er, if he dares to be absent, those tapes will end up on the French president's breakfast table."
He strode out of the tent, squinting against the blinding sunlight.
The phone vibrated again.
This ti it was a ssage.
Song Heping clicked open the ssage, which was from Ferrari—Target destroyed, pilots ejected, the recorded video is very clear, it absolutely can prove they first intruded into our defense area intending to bomb us!
"Well done."
Song Heping quickly replied with a ssage.
Just three words.
Now, he felt calm as an old dog inside.
At least for now, he had absolute control over the situation.
Just as Song Heping's lips couldn't suppress a smug smile, behind him ca Lumar's hysterical roar and the panicked footsteps of soldiers.
Song Heping didn't look back. He knew the real war had just begun—not on the battlefield where guns and cannons roared, but in the conference rooms covered with red carpets, behind the hypocritical smiles of diplomatic suits.
Two days later, at 2:30 PM.
The do of the Butare Congress Hall glimred with dazzling white light under the scorching sun.
Song Heping stood in front of the fountain, squinting at the magnificent building left from the colonial era.
Under the colonnade supported by twelve Roman pillars, guards in various military uniforms patrolled back and forth, among them were several white faces clearly not from Sena.
"Old squad leader, security check completed."
Jiang Feng ca hastily from the side door of the hall, speaking in a low voice: "Inside, there are at least twenty British SAS and French DGSE agents, all disguised as security personnel."
Song Heping adjusted his suit collar—this was a specially tailored Zegna suit for today.
Beneath the dark gray fabric, the outline of a bulletproof vest was faintly visible.
This suit was airlifted from London, England, custom made two days ago and arrived this morning.
Including the shoes, this outfit cost a total of 50,000 Euros.
Money makes things easier.
This kind of suit is one per person, with production taking a total of 40 hours, 95% handmade.
But Song Heping paid extra.
There's nothing that can't be done with more money, and if it can't be done, it's not a money problem.
"Has Ms. M arrived?" asked Song Heping.
"Half an hour earlier than us." Jiang Feng handed over a tiny earphone: "Ferrari sent news from Darfur, the defense line around the mining area has been constructed. He wants you to rest assured."
"Keep in touch with him, have him, and the Hunters keep a close watch. The closer we get to successfully signing the agreent, the more likely sothing will go wrong."
As Song Heping took the earphone and placed it in his right ear, he cautioned Jiang Feng.
On the other side of the fountain, three black rcedes bearing the French flag slowly ca to a halt, and several suited white n stepped out of the cars.
The bald man in the lead cast a glance in Song Heping's direction, his eyes behind gold-rimd glasses as sharp as a scalpel.
"Jacques Renault, Director of the Africa Division, French Ministry of Foreign Affairs."
Jiang Feng quickly reported the identity of the arrivals: "The guy on his left is the Africa Regional President of the mining giant, Eckman Group."
Song Heping's lips curled into a cold smile.
A representative of the French mining giant appearing at the mineral distribution eting, the French are just too blatantly greedy.
Justice?
Democracy?
All bullshit!
Finally, he straightened his tie and stepped towards the stairs.
The air conditioning in the conference hall was set to full, but it couldn't dispel the gunpowder scent in the air.
At the oval mahogany negotiation table sat over a dozen people, Song Heping's seat was placed at the end—a regular chair without a national naplate.
Directly opposite, Ms. M was elegantly sipping tea, as if she hadn't noticed his arrival.
This woman...
Really putting on a good act.
He knew Ms. M's thoughts very well.
In such situations, she would absolutely pretend not to know him.
After all, his identity was highly sensitive.
Currently, he was completely a rcenary leader hired by the opposition army to assist in the coup—if the Aricans pursued it, the British and the French would claim they had nothing to do with it, asserting that it was all the personal actions of the opposition's Du Er and Lumar.
Cunning old European foxes!
Song Heping chuckled inwardly.
"Gentlen."
Du Er tapped his glass, the sweat beads on the forehead of the newly appointed Sena president glistening under the chandelier, "First, I want to thank the representatives of various countries..."
"Let's get straight to the point, Mr. President."
French representative Renault interrupted impatiently, "Our ti is very valuable."
Du Er awkwardly cleared his throat, signaling the assistant to play the slideshow.
When the geological survey maps of the northern mining area projected onto the screen, Song Heping noticed that at least six eyes imdiately darted towards him.
"According to the latest exploration data, the proven rare earth reserves in the Semor Mountain Area are valued at approximately 12 billion US dollars.
Du Er's voice trembled slightly, "The uranium reserves..."
"We all know that."
A man with a monocle from the British delegation suddenly spoke, "The issue is the distribution sche. Our country believes that, given the technical support we provided during the coup..."
"Technical support?" The French oil executive sneered, "Do you an the batch of second-hand rifles stuck at Djibouti Port?"
The conference room erupted in uproar.
The old man from the British side imdiately changed color, took off his monocle, and retorted, "At least we didn't send the Foreign Legion into Sena..."
This was a jab at the French, implying that even though they sent the Lawless Corps, they still lost this contest.
Song Heping reclined in his chair, enjoying the dog-eat-dog farce with interest.
He noticed that Du Er and Lumar attempted to speak several tis, but were drowned out by the louder argunts.
The Sena Governnt Army's representative—an old one-eyed general, kept staring at the ceiling as though the destiny of the country was written there.
"Bang!"
Renault suddenly slamd the table, making the crystal glasses jingle: "At least we didn't deploy anti-aircraft missiles in Sena!"
He turned sharply to Song Heping, "Speaking of which, this...rcenary gentleman, what qualifies you to participate in the resource distribution?"
More than twenty gazes simultaneously pierced towards him.
Song Heping unhurriedly took out a tablet from his briefcase, entered the password, and pushed it towards the center of the table.
A high-definition video started playing on the screen: two MiG-23s turned into fireballs over the Semor Mountain Area, the SAM-6 missile trails etching deadly arcs across the blue sky.
"With this."
Song Heping's voice wasn't loud, yet it silenced the entire conference room.
"And..."
He clicked the tablet, switching the image to an aerial shot of over two thousand ard personnel constructing fortifications in the mining area.
"My two thousand rcenaries are currently in the mining area, if Mr. Renault feels uncomfortable, you can send your Lawless Corps to clear us out."
Clink—
Ms. M lightly tapped her teacup against its saucer.
Song Heping knew she understood the subtext—don't escalate things.
"Gentlen."
The once-silent one-eyed general suddenly spoke, his tone heavy like a sandbag hung with lead: "Before we argue over who should take how much, should we ask to whom these minerals belong?"
A wave of awkward silence ensued.
Renault pretended to adjust his tie, while the British monocle old man suddenly beca intensely interested in his docunts.
"Of course they belong to the Sena people."
Song Heping chid in and simultaneously pressed another video on the tablet—footage of Noel confessing tearfully during his capture about how he colluded with the French oil company.
"Just like this country belongs to its people."
This ti, Renault's face turned as sour as if sared with filth.
"Song, what do you an?!"
"Nothing special, I'm not a good person either, I also want to get the benefits I deserve."
He looked at Renault, showing a disdainful cold smile.
"But I won't be as unsightly as you French."
"Enough!" Ms. M finally put down her teacup, "Mr. Song is right. I propose to establish a multi-party supervisory committee to ensure the reasonable distribution of mineral revenue."
She gave the French a aningful glance.
Renault fell silent, then turned to murmur with a nearby mining giant.
The eting continued for three hours in an eerie harmony.
When the final agreent was printed, Song Heping's "Musician" Defense Company obtained exclusive mining rights for three mining areas in the northern mining area and a 99-year lease for two plots of land in the Semor Mountain Area.
It was already dusk by the ti the eting was adjourned.
Song Heping was stopped by Lumar at the corridor corner, who reeked of strong whiskey.
"You won, bastard." The opposition general said angrily, "But don't think this is over. The French won't..."
"General." Song Heping reached out to straighten his crooked dal, "What you should worry about is whether the British will continue to support you. After all…"
He lowered his voice, "I copied many copies of those transfer records."
Having said that, he lightly patted Lumar's chest and turned away, exiting the Congress Hall, with the evening wind carrying the heat of Africa rushing towards him.
Jiang Feng erged from the shadows, handing over a satellite phone, "A Russian nad Utekin called you, saying it's urgent."
User Comments
0 comments from readers