Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 1045 The Disappearance of Song Heping
Langley, Washington, D.C., CIA headquarters building.

Three days have passed, and the shockwaves from the humiliating defeat at the African Union summit continue to reverberate.

Behind the massive oak desk, Chief Vincent felt like his eyes were spitting fire.

In front of him lay the latest assessment briefing, just delivered from the intelligence department.

The bolded title on the cover burned his eyes like a red-hot iron—"'Musician' Song Heping: Location Assessment (Highest Priority)."

The conclusion, though only a few lines long, is utterly scathing:

"...After mobilizing all resources in Africa (including core contacts in Lebia, Sudan, and Senegal), we have conducted the highest-intensity location tracking of the target, Song Heping. As of now, there is no reliable intelligence indicating that he is still on the African continent."

"The 'X Mercenary Group' has completed the apparent takeover of all 'Musician Defense' assets in the aforementioned three countries. Preliminary monitoring shows that there have been no large-scale changes in the original 'Musician Defense' personnel and equipment within the three countries, and they are still maintaining their original deployment and operation mode. It is judged that the core force of 'Musician' continues to operate under the legitimate shell of 'X'. Qin Fei and Song Heping are highly suspected of collusion."

"Target Song Heping's final whereabouts: Unconfirmed. Assessment level: High threat."

"Unable to confirm?"

Vincent stopped abruptly, slamming his knuckles down on the briefing, making a dull thud.

"All the moles have been mobilized! All signal interception resources! The African Union summit was only a few days ago? A perfectly healthy person just... vanished?"

His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a forced, suppressed hoarseness, as he glanced at Deputy Director Simon and Intelligence Analyst Williams standing at the table.

Simon said somewhat awkwardly, "Director, we've used all available resources to conduct intensive signal scanning and facial recognition screenings at all major air hubs, land routes, and ports in Africa. The timeframe covers a week from now, but there are indeed no matching records. It seems he didn't leave the country through legitimate channels."

The CIA has backdoors in networks in various countries. Many airports, train stations, ports and other surveillance equipment in African countries have "hooks" that can be used to steal intelligence once activated.

This is a secret agreement between the CIA and American technology companies. It's a secret to outsiders, but an open secret to insiders.

"The guy in Haftar's forces that we bought off with a lot of money only knows that Haftar urgently signed a document three days before the summit, but he's not high enough to get the details. The insiders in Sudan and Sena gave the same feedback—they only know that the 'musician' business has been transferred to 'X,' and they know nothing about Song Heping's whereabouts."

"Trash! A bunch of trash!"

Vincent's temples were throbbing.

"What about that 'X' mercenary group? Hasn't Qin Fei's background been uncovered yet? Do you think registering in a godforsaken place like Comoros can wash away the 'Tokyo University smell' from him?"

He grabbed another thin file from the table.

"Qin Fei".

Williams spoke up: “Public information is limited. He’s the actual controller of that famous mercenary training camp in Eritrea. In recent years, over 30% of the new mercenaries on the African continent, especially those from the French-speaking regions, have been ‘baptized’ by his camp. His business scope is extremely broad, ranging from routine training for government troops and security for VIPs to armed escorts in high-risk areas, and even… assisting the Comorian government in quelling a serious military coup. Therefore, he has a deep influence on the Comorian government’s top leadership. Choosing that location for registration is very smart, avoiding direct oversight from major powers.”

Williams paused, seemingly choosing his words carefully: “As for his background… some old friends in Europe have privately hinted that Qin has a ‘deep collaboration’ with them, but the specifics are shrouded in secrecy. He operates cautiously and efficiently, with a complex and intricate background, like a fog. We tried to infiltrate the training camps in Eritrea and the core management of ‘X,’ but it was extremely difficult, and we lost valuable resources several times. He and Song Heping belong to the same type of people—deeply involved, with complex backgrounds that are difficult to define with conventional labels.” Vincent slammed Qin Fei’s file back onto the table: “So, we just watched as Song Heping, right under our noses, used the shell of ‘X’ to preserve all his bases in Lebanon, Sudan, and Senegal? Those minerals! Those oil field contracts! And his network that he’s cultivated in the Sahel region for years! All of it, under a legal guise, continued to operate?”

He turned sharply to Simon.

"Simon! Submit a report to the White House, focusing on their superficial change of tactics! Haftar and his allies made a clean break at the AU summit? That was blatant fraud! It's a blatant disregard for international rules! Demand that the AU continue sanctions until they truly expel Song Heping's forces!"

Simon raised his eyelids, his cloudy blue eyes showing no emotion.

"Director, the White House will certainly be happy to submit this report, as they can continue to wield the sanctions stick. But this is meaningless and will only backfire."

His voice remained flat, yet carried an undeniable weight. "Haftar, Sudan, and Sena—they produced legitimate contracts bearing the official government seal and conforming to international commercial transfer rules. They were in black and white, with all legal formalities. Everyone at the AU summit saw them. We question the authenticity of the contracts? Where's the evidence? Are those who questioned Song Heping still in the same place? Where's the evidence? Based solely on our intelligence department's 'high suspicion'?"

He shook his head slightly: "Without solid evidence, forcibly pushing through sanctions will only make the entire African Union think we are domineering and unreasonable, interfering in the internal affairs of member states, even meddling in their normal business contracts. The French and British are eager to see us make a fool of ourselves. They will immediately manipulate the media to portray this as 'American neo-colonialism in Africa' and 'Washington's unreasonable demands.' Our expansion plans in Africa, especially our counter-terrorism deployment in the Sahel region, will immediately be put on the defensive, and our allies will become increasingly alienated. Is it worth paying such a strategic price for a Song Heping who can't be found for the time being? It's not worth it."

The office fell into a deathly silence.

The light from outside the window shone in, illuminating Vincent's ashen face.

Simon's analysis was like a bucket of ice water, extinguishing the anger ignited by his frustration, leaving only a cold reality and a deeper sense of powerlessness.

He raised his hand and pressed hard on his throbbing temples.

After a long silence, he finally managed to squeeze out a sentence through gritted teeth, tinged with deep exhaustion and a hint of barely perceptible ruthlessness:

“Okay, Simon, you’re right. The White House… let’s put that aside for now.”

He raised his head, his gaze fixed on Williams' face. "Williams! I don't care what methods you use! Mobilize global resources—satellites! Signals! Manpower! Everything! Everything at your disposal! Dig out Song Heping! Alive or dead! Find him! I need to know which rat hole he's hiding in! Now! Immediately!"

"Yes, Director!"

Williams responded in a deep voice, turned around, and strode away.

The heavy office door closed silently, isolating the world inside from the outside.

Vincent leaned back in his chair, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Song Heping's face, which appeared calm and even somewhat refined in the intelligence files, now seemed like a huge ghost in his mind.

He felt like a boxer clenching his fist, about to throw a powerful punch, when his opponent vanished into the mist like a ghost.

　Asking for a monthly ticket!

　　
　
(End of this chapter)