Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 1094 Expert
At 9:50 a.m. the following morning, Song Heping arrived at the agreed location on time in his white Toyota Fortuner.

This is an abandoned industrial area, with rusty factory buildings standing amidst weeds, deserted and uninhabited.

He followed the instructions and parked the car in front of a huge, half-collapsed crushing workshop.

A few minutes later, a dilapidated pickup truck slowly drove up and stopped opposite him.

A short, stocky, dark-skinned middle-aged man wearing a floral shirt got out of the car. He had a cigarette in his mouth and his sharp eyes scrutinized Song Heping and his car.

There was also a muscular, burly man sitting in the passenger seat, clearly a bodyguard.

"plum?"

The man in the floral shirt asked, his voice the same as on the phone.

"Mr. Vijay?"

Song Heping got out of the car, observing the other person and the surrounding environment with equal vigilance.

Vijay nodded, said nothing more, and went straight to the back of the pickup truck.

The bodyguard also got out of the car and stood aside, his hands seemingly casually placed on his waist, remaining vigilant.

The rear compartment was opened, revealing several inconspicuous burlap sacks and a toolbox.

Vijay lifted the cover, revealing the contents inside.

“Here’s what you wanted.” Vijay patted a long, rectangular canvas bag. “HK MP7A1, 90% new, original factory goods, not one of those Pakistani knockoffs. Comes with four 30-round magazines, original grip, and a ‘Knight’ brand military-grade wet suppressor, works very well.”

He opened another box, inside which was a dark-colored Glock 17 pistol.

"Glock 17, also 90% new, three standard magazines. And the 'canned food' you requested—"

He pointed to two green cylinders, “Two US-made M18 smoke grenades. And two Level III bulletproof vests, made of Kevlar, the inserts are extra.”

Song Heping stepped forward and began inspecting the goods without saying a word.

He skillfully inspected the MP7's bolt, rifling, and suppressor threaded interface, fired a dry shot to test the trigger feel, quickly checked the condition of the Glock 17, weighed the smoke grenade, and finally squeezed the material of the bulletproof vest.

Everything is top-quality, professionally made, and well-maintained. This Vijay is definitely well-connected.

"What's the price?" Song Heping put down his MP7 and asked directly.

Vijay exhaled a smoke ring and announced a number: "MP7 kit, $28,000. Glock, $3,500. Smoke grenades, $1,000 each. Bulletproof vests, $2,500 each. Plates, $1,000 each. Total $38,000. Cash only, old bills, not consecutive serial numbers."

This price is far above the market price; it's practically robbery.

On the black market, a used MP7 typically costs between $15,000 and $20,000, while a Glock costs around $2,000.

Vijay was clearly testing Song Heping's background and urgency.

Song Heping's face remained expressionless, but he sneered inwardly, thinking, "As expected, no businessman is without guile."

He didn't immediately refute, but said calmly, "Mr. Vijay, I've already paid Henry's referral fee. Your quote seems to include too much 'information tax' and 'risk fee.' This isn't my first time buying these things; I know the international market rates. An MP7 set is $18,000. A Glock is $2,000. Smoke grenades are $500 each. Vests are $1,500 each, and the power strip is free. That's a total of $24,500. That price is more reasonable."

Vijay was taken aback, not expecting the other party to be so knowledgeable and to bargain so ruthlessly and directly.

He frowned: "Friend, this is the White Elephant Country! Not Europe or America! Do you know how risky it is to bring these things in? This price is non-negotiable!"

“High risk, high profit.” Song Heping was adamant. “Twenty-five thousand, a fixed price. Okay, I’ll pay now and take the goods. No, I’ll find someone else. I think Goa has more than just you as a supplier.”

After saying that, he made a move to leave.

"and many more!"

Vijay called out to him, his expression shifting between anger and uncertainty.

Although 25,000 was much lower than his quoted price, the profit was still extremely high.

He scrutinized Song Heping closely. This man didn't seem like an ordinary buyer; his calmness and imposing manner made him somewhat unpredictable.

"Cash? Now?"

"Now." Song Heping stopped in his tracks.

Vijay gritted his teeth, seemingly weighing his options.

Ultimately, greed and the desire to make this quick money prevailed: "Fine! For Henry's sake, twenty-five thousand it is! But cash only! Pay upfront!"

Song Heping took out his phone: "Give me your bank account number." "Bank account?" Vijay hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. "No, I said I only accept cash!"

"I didn't bring that much cash; it's too conspicuous. Bank transfer, instant. Anonymous account, absolutely safe. You can check it now. I don't believe you in this line of work don't even have an overseas account!"

Song Heping's tone left no room for argument.

He had anticipated that the other party might ask for cash, but he preferred to leave fewer physical traces.

Vijay was skeptical, but he still gestured to the bodyguard next to him to provide an overseas bank account number.

Song Heping immediately dialed Henry's number, said a few words, and gave him the account number.

Less than five minutes later, Vijay's phone received a text message notification.

He glanced at it, and an expression of disbelief instantly appeared on his face. Sure enough, there was an extra sum of money in his account—25,000 US dollars!
When Vijay looked up at Song Heping again, his eyes showed a mixture of shock and apprehension.

This efficient, cross-border payment capability, and clearly through special channels, is something that ordinary buyers cannot possess.

This Asian man surnamed Li has an unfathomable background.

His attitude instantly became much more respectful, and the greed and arrogance on his face disappeared: "The money... has been received. Mr. Li, it's a pleasure doing business with you! The goods are yours."

He personally packed the weapons and ammunition carefully, put them into a black sports bag, and handed it to Song Heping.

Song Heping took the heavy sports bag, nodded, and without saying another word, turned around, got into the car, started the engine, and quickly left the abandoned factory area.

Watching the white SUV speed away, Vijay wiped the sweat from his brow and said to the bodyguard beside him, "Damn, who is this guy? Transferring money so quickly... We'll have to be more careful with his business in the future."

With the equipment in hand, Song Heping returned to the safe house, carefully inspected and maintained the newly purchased weapons, then disassembled the MP7 and hid it in a specially made guitar case, while carrying the Glock and spare magazines with him.

Smoke grenades and bulletproof vests are kept in the car for future use.

In the afternoon, he drove out and went to the area where Zayed often frequented.

He changed his hat, put on a pair of non-prescription glasses, and slightly altered his appearance. Taking advantage of Goa's busy traffic and tourist crowds, he began to track Zayed.

He knew that Narendra's assassins would definitely make their move.

The stalker he let go, in order to protect himself, is highly likely to conceal what happened last night and continue to provide Narendra with Zayed's travel information.

Since Narendra had decided to kill him, he wouldn't let go of this opportunity to eliminate his old rival.

He needs patience; he needs to wait like a hunter.

Waiting for Narendra's assassin to appear, waiting for the critical moment when he can "take the stage" most effectively.

He followed Zayed's car—a black Toyota Land Cruiser—watching him go in and out of several offices, clubs, and restaurants, handling business and meeting different people.

Zayed was clearly unaware of his dangerous situation and continued to act in a high-profile manner.

Song Heping was not impatient. He blended into the background of Goa like a ghost, calmly recording Zayed's patterns of action and possible weaknesses—which intersections were more congested, which sections of road were more remote, and which locations had less security.

Time passed by minute by minute.

As the setting sun once again painted the sky with magnificent colors, tourists from all over the world began to flock to the beaches and restaurants, and the city's nightlife was about to begin.

Song Heping remained highly focused, but at the same time, a sense of relief also surfaced in his heart.

At least for now, it seems the CIA's reach hasn't extended here yet.

His biggest fear—a devastating blow from the state apparatus—has not yet materialized.

This bought him valuable time and space.

The real danger is currently limited to the local gangs, which means he has more room to maneuver and more control.

He glanced at the guitar case on the passenger seat, where the cold MP7 was waiting to unleash its deep, deadly roar.

The hunt, or the rescue, is about to begin.

And he will be the mastermind behind the scenes who decides the outcome.

　Asking for a monthly ticket! Asking for a monthly ticket!

　　
　
(End of this chapter)