```
"Samir."
Song Heping pulled him aside.
"How do you communicate with your friends?"
"Mobile phone," Samir did not hide.
"Registered under real na?" asked Song Heping.
"No, I'm not that stupid!" Samir defended his intelligence, "I foresaw this situation long ago, so we use unregistered SIM cards between friends."
With this answer, Song Heping felt much more at ease.
But at the sa ti, he also vaguely understood.
Samir was no simple man.
But now was not the ti to inquire about his background.
"Good, you need to contact him right now, destroy all traces of your communication, and dispose of the mobile phone completely. Don't leave it behind; don't hesitate, no matter the cost, I'll reimburse you," Song Heping instructed, "The CIA will definitely get involved this ti. If you're not careful, you'll end up in Guantanamo."
Samir was very clear about what kind of place Guantanamo was.
"Boss, rest assured, I'll take care of everything."
After giving his instructions to Samir, Song Heping turned back to everyone and said, "Destroy all materials related to the area from that night, including maps and the like. Leave nothing behind."
"Okay."
The cook suddenly rembered that he had manually marked the coordinates of the eting between Lars and the Kurd Ard on a map.
"I have a map that might be problematic; I've marked it."
The others began to check their own materials.
None of them were fools.
Once the CIA got involved, their investigative capabilities were not to be underestimated.
Simply leaving the slightest trace could lead to exposure, and even the smallest flaw could an the affair was far from over, the kind you couldn't just walk away from unscathed!
Within the oil field, core mbers were busy at work.
Even Song Heping had to deal with his laptop.
He had used his laptop for mapping operations.
He had deleted the data, yes.
But the training he had received made him realize one fact — deleting files from the hard drive was useless, as the tech departnt could recover them with software if they wanted to.
Song Heping had learned such techniques during training sessions he had participated in before. To destroy a hard drive, the best thod was not to delete files or even perform a low-level format.
The safest approach was to demagnetize the hard drive and then boil it at high temperatures, irreparably damaging the magnetic tracks.
There were no such facilities here, but the oil field was considered to be in a remote area, far from the eyes of the emperor.
After so thought, Song Heping simply took the hard drive out of the laptop, carried it to a secluded area of the oil field, and blew it to pieces with a hand grenade.
For the sake of safety, Song Heping even threw the pieces into a swamp.
Song Heping had no experience with the thods of the CIA.
From the perspective of anticipating the worst from the enemy, everything must be done to the extre.
After everything was done, Song Heping still felt uneasy.
He anticipated that if Lars went to the rendezvous point to find the warhead, it ant that he wanted to determine which gun fired the bullet through the bullet's rifling marks.
This thod was commonly used in criminal investigations.
But it was also quite common in intelligence agencies.
The CIA was one of the world's largest intelligence agencies, and Song Heping truly did not dare to underestimate them, even feeling he had no confidence in coping with them.
But what was done was done.
The problem was right in front of him.
Even if it was a journey through hell, he had to push through.
"Song, we've handled everything."
The cook reported back after the hard drive explosion upon returning to the living area.
"We've dealt with everything that we could."
Song Heping's expression was solemn as he looked around, still not quite reassured, feeling a sense of vulnerability at heart.
What he was about to face was the intelligence agency reputed to be the world's finest.
Whether he could deceive them or not, he had no idea.
"Are you sure everything's been handled?"
"It's all taken care of."
```
The cook said, "I burned the maps I used right away."
"What about the others?" Song Heping asked.
"You already arranged the Hunter's gun, didn't you?" the cook said. "Even if they test the bullet trajectory, there's nothing to worry about!"
Indeed.
On the very night that the Hunter assassinated the Kurd liaison, Song Heping had already sensed that there might be a problem.
The casings had been taken, but what about the warhead?
Had it lodged in the target's skull, or penetrated through the cranium and into the ground?
Song Heping didn't dare go back to the scene to search.
No one could be sure if there would be Kurd people lying in ambush, waiting for soone to return.
Nor could he be certain that Lars wouldn't think of this and track down the sniper by finding the warhead.
So, he called Ferrari overnight.
To ask him to do sothing—
Buy an M24 sniper rifle from the black market and have it delivered to the Hassan Oil Field overnight.
Money was not an issue.
As long as it could be obtained, no matter how much it cost!
Ferrari didn't disappoint him.
Before dawn the next day, a second-hand M24 sniper rifle had already been delivered to the Hassan Oil Field.
Ferrari had a notable way of handling things.
The job would certainly get done.
But the price would surely make you wince.
This bare M24 sniper rifle cost $50,000.
Not a penny less.
Take it or leave it.
The seller was that bold.
Song Heping paid without a second word.
This was about the fate of the entire company.
Not just $50,000, but $500,000 would be given!
Everything was now ready; Song Heping had done all he could, and all that was left was to wait for the CIA and Lars to knock on the door.
Perhaps...
This was an opportunity.
Or maybe, it was the abyss.
Even with his intelligence, Song Heping didn't dare predict the outco.
It would all depend on the competence of the CIA.
"Losing, do you think we can get through this?"
The cook appeared very calm on the surface.
He took Song Heping outside the warehouse to privately express his concerns.
"I don't know..." Song Heping said: "I've never dealt with the CIA before..."
The cook's deep-set eyes moved in their sockets and suddenly made a suggestion that made Song Heping's scalp tingle.
"How about we leave tonight?" he said. "After all, we have so money on hand now. I have connections in Siria that can help us escape there. We could leave this place and go to Africa, where the Aricans don't call the shots! I have a friend I t in prison who's doing quite well in Africa now. If we join him, with your brains, we would certainly thrive."
"Are you insane?!" Song Heping said: "Ferrari is still in Baghdad! Run away and leave him behind? Moreover, we've just started, and it was not easy to establish what little we have. How can we just abandon it?"
The cook's crazy idea was sowhat repulsive to Song Heping.
It didn't match his own style of doing things.
Especially running away like this would definitely an abandoning Samir and Ferrari.
He couldn't do such a thing.
"It's just a suggestion." The cook, perhaps realizing he might have gone too far and sensing Song Heping's displeasure, quickly tried to make ands: "Since you've decided to stay and face it, I'll stay with you! If sothing happens, we'll shoulder it together!"
"That's more like it."
Song Heping said this, though in his heart, he had already developed so reservations.
"I estimate that Lars and his team will arrive tomorrow..."
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