Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 1140 Urgent Briefing

In Damascus, the night wind begins to rise, carrying the dryness and coolness unique to the desert.

A few blocks away from the safe house, an ordinary-looking, dusty van sat quietly in the shadows.

Inside the vehicle, however, the scene was quite different. Advanced electronic monitoring equipment emitted a faint glow, and the screens displayed real-time images of the security building's exterior walls and main entrances.

Two CIA agents held their breath, their ears pressed against their earpieces, trying to catch any suspicious sound signals, even though they knew the building was heavily guarded and that they would get very little audio information.

Time passed by, and the safe house was brightly lit but unusually quiet, like a lurking beast.

This calm, ironically, made the agents inside the car feel an invisible pressure.

The banquet should have already begun. What exactly happened inside?
Has the caviar been served yet?
Has the target already been...?

They could only wait, relying on external observation and pre-established intelligence nodes to transmit information.

Everything was so agonizing.

Two agents were assigned to monitor and guard respectively.

After all, Damascus is currently in a state of war, and the area around safe houses is not safe either, as it is easy to be discovered.

The agonizing passage of time is like sand hidden in a clenched fist, slipping away so slowly.

The deathly silence was suddenly broken at exactly 8 p.m.

First came the faint sound of police sirens in the distance, which quickly grew louder and more piercing as they approached.

Immediately afterwards, several ambulances, their blue roof lights flashing, sped toward the safe house, the screeching sound of their brakes piercing the night.

Almost simultaneously, more heavy engine roars came from behind, and several military trucks and armored personnel carriers full of government soldiers followed closely behind, instantly surrounding the area where the safe house was located.

The soldiers jumped out of the vehicle, quickly set up a cordon, pointed their guns outwards, and the atmosphere instantly rose to the highest alert level.

The agent's heart was pounding inside the van!

"There is a situation!"

The agent in charge of surveillance gave a low growl and immediately adjusted the focus of the high-magnification optical surveillance scope, aiming the lens firmly at the door of the safe house.

His palms were sweating with nervousness and excitement.

The door to the safe house was wide open, and people inside were running around in a panic.

A few minutes later, several medical staff in white coats rushed out carrying a stretcher.

One, two, three...

The people on the stretchers were all covered with blankets, obscuring their faces, but the hurried and solemn atmosphere clearly indicated an emergency medical situation.

"Take a picture! Quickly!"

Another agent urged.

The surveillance agent pressed the shutter repeatedly, skillfully using a high-resolution camera to clearly record the scene, thanks to his professional training.

The convoy quickly left and disappeared into the night.

The agent uploaded the photo to his laptop, dragged the trackball to zoom in on the image, and examined it closely—

Although the angle was poor and most of the person on the stretcher was obscured, he still managed to capture a crucial moment as they were being lifted into the ambulance—

One of the stretchers showing a profile view is none other than Song Heping!
As another stretcher was hurriedly pushed into the ambulance, a corner of the blanket slipped off, revealing a military uniform and half a face—it was President Hafez!

"Confirmed! The target is Song Heping! And... and Hafiz!"

The agent's voice trembled with excitement. He could hardly believe his eyes. The plan had been so successful, and it had even brought huge additional benefits!
"Report immediately! 'Operation Hunt' successful! Repeat, 'Operation Hunt' successful! The target and Hafiz have been removed from the scene by ambulance!"

The message was transmitted back to Langley, thousands of miles away, via an encrypted channel at the speed of light.

At CIA headquarters, it was early morning, but the people in the operations command center had been up all night.

Jackson paced back and forth in front of the screen like a restless, trapped beast.

When the confirmation message from Damascus appeared on the main screen, he was stunned for a moment, then burst into a low growl of ecstasy!

He slammed his fist on the control panel, causing the coffee in his cup to splash out.

"We did it! We did it! Song Heping! Hafiz! We killed two birds with one stone!"

His facial muscles contorted with extreme excitement, his eyes gleaming with the pleasure of revenge and the light of the glory that was about to be his.

He practically jogged toward Chief Simon's office, forgetting to knock before pushing the door open and entering.

"Sir! Great news! Fantastic news!"

Jackson waved the still-warm, freshly printed photo.

"Damascus Group Confirmed!"
Song Heping and Hafiz experienced an emergency after the dinner and have been taken to the hospital by ambulance! Our plan was a success!

Simon was sitting behind his desk, seemingly reviewing documents, but he was actually quite distracted.

His heart sank when Jackson burst in.

He took the photo, his fingertips trembling almost imperceptibly.

The photos of Song Heping lying lifelessly on a stretcher with his eyes closed, and Hafiz lying on a stretcher, were incredibly realistic and shocked his visual senses.

Although he knew that this was most likely a play staged by Song Heping, seeing such "conclusive" evidence still sent a chill down his spine and spread throughout his body.

just in case……

What if this isn't just acting?

What if Song Heping goes too far, turns the charade into reality, and actually dies?
That thought, like a venomous snake, gnawed at his reason. The secrets Song Heping possessed—secrets that could ruin his reputation and even land him in court—were like a Damocles' sword hanging over his head.

As long as Song Heping is alive, the sword is tied with a rope; once Song Heping dies, that rope will break...

The consequences could be disastrous!

He forced himself to calm down, his facial muscles stiffening into a seemingly relieved expression: "Well done, Jackson. This...this is indeed a major breakthrough." His voice sounded somewhat hoarse.

Jackson, completely absorbed in the joy of victory, failed to notice his superior's unusual behavior: "Sir, I suggest immediately ordering the Damascus team to closely monitor the hospital's movements and confirm the target's final status! At the same time, we should activate the contingency plan and use this opportunity to create even greater chaos in Celia..."

"Um……"

Simon took a deep breath, trying to steady his voice. "You're right. Order the forward team to do everything in their power to find out which hospital Song Heping and Hafiz were taken to and confirm their condition. But be absolutely careful not to expose ourselves. Also, regarding follow-up actions... we need to carefully assess the situation and wait for more concrete information."

"Yes, sir!"

Jackson stood at attention, saluted, and turned away with high spirits to begin planning the next move.

The moment the office door closed, Simon slumped back in his high-backed chair as if he had collapsed, a fine layer of cold sweat already beading on his forehead.

He hesitated for a moment, then reached for an rarely used encrypted phone on the table and tried to dial the number that Song Heping used to communicate with him directly.

"The user you are dialing has switched off..."

The cold, mechanical female voice coming through the receiver made Simon's heart sink completely.

Shut down...

Should I shut it down at a time like this?
Is it part of the plan, or...?

He dared not think any further and could only force himself to remain calm, praying inwardly: Song Heping, you better be acting!
Otherwise, we'll all be buried with you!

Meanwhile, at a heavily guarded military hospital in Damascus.

Silence reigned in a completely sealed-off, secluded floor guarded by the elite Alawite presidential guard.

The corridor reeked of disinfectant, and the lights were a stark white.

In one of the "intensive care units," Song Heping, who was lying on the hospital bed with various simulated vital sign monitoring devices attached to his body, suddenly opened his eyes.

His eyes were clear, showing no signs of illness.

He sat up nimbly and skillfully removed the simulated IV tubing from his arm and the electrode pads attached to his chest.

He walked to the wall on one side of the ward, reached out and pressed a button in an inconspicuous corner, and a wall silently slid open, revealing a hidden door.

Behind the door was another room, also furnished as a ward, but more spacious and comfortable.

President Hafez of Syria sat on the sofa with a furrowed brow. Although he had changed into a hospital gown, his expression still carried the dignity and worry of a national leader.

He wasn't surprised to see Song Heping come in.

"Mr. Song, isn't your performance a little too realistic?"

Hafiz's voice carried a hint of weariness and dissatisfaction. "The world outside is probably in complete chaos right now. My phone is off, the government cabinet can't reach me, the military command can't find me, and it won't be long before the news of the president's critical condition due to poisoning spreads like wildfire throughout the country, and even the world."

At this time, there was a gentle knock on the door.

Song Heping walked over and opened the door. The cook, Yevgeny, poked his signature bald head in, grinned, slipped into the room, and locked the door behind him.

"How is it? What's the situation outside?" Song Heping asked.

The cook casually sat down on another sofa: "Don't worry, this floor is teeming with President Hafez's personal guards, and they're very tight-lipped. The other departments in the hospital only know that an important person is in emergency care, but they know nothing about the specifics. However, I bet those bastards in the CIA are ecstatic right now, thinking they've succeeded in getting their poison."

Song Heping nodded and looked at Hafez: "Mr. President, can you absolutely trust these guards outside your door?"

Hafiz nodded firmly: "They are all Alawite soldiers who have followed me for many years, and their loyalty is beyond question. However, Song, what I am worried about is not internal leaks, but the reaction from the outside world."

He emphasized, “As I just said, the longer we are out of contact, the more ferocious the rumors will become. The northern front is already teetering on the brink of collapse, and once it is confirmed that I am ‘in trouble,’ morale will instantly collapse! At that time, not only will the enemy in the north take the opportunity to launch a fierce attack, but the 1515 and ‘Victory Front’ terrorists, who have already quieted down, will definitely rush back like sharks smelling blood! The whole of Celia may fall into an even more terrible chaos than before!”

Song Heping walked to the window, lifted a corner of the heavy curtains, and looked out at the pitch-black, strictly sealed-off hospital grounds. His expression was calm to the point of being cold.

"Mr. President, I understand everything you've said."

He turned around, his gaze sharp. "But please consider this: given the current situation on the northern battlefield, even without tonight's drama, how long could our defenses hold out? A week? Or ten days?"

Hafiz fell silent. He knew better than anyone the dire situation and immense pressure at the front.

The limited air support from the Russian army and the ground forces of Wagner and "Musikverein" defense companies are barely maintaining a fragile defensive line. Faced with opposition forces that have received strong external support, defeat is only a matter of time.

Song Heping continued, “Since defeat is inevitable, we might as well make it come faster and more violently. Only by making Moscow truly feel that the Seria regime has reached the final moment of life and death, that without you, without us, the entire Seria will collapse completely in an instant, becoming a breeding ground for terrorism and a source of regional instability, directly threatening their only strategic foothold in the Mediterranean—the Tartus naval base… Only in this way can we completely shatter the illusions and hesitations of those in the Kremlin, forcing them to make a choice: either full-scale military intervention or complete loss of Seria.”

He walked up to Hafez, his voice low but powerful: “This is a gamble, Mr. President. But we have no other choice. I have already had the cook secretly mobilize Wagner’s most elite troops, secretly assembling them near Homs. If the Kremlin does not announce a formal, large-scale military intervention decision within three days…”

“Then, I will personally go to Homs with the cook to establish the last line of defense. Even if we fight to the last man, we will buy time for the Russian army to arrive, or at least let the world see who is fighting to the very end.”

There was a brief silence in the room.

Looking at the determined-looking Easterner before him, Hafiz understood that Song Heping was betting not only the fate of Celia, but also his own life and his entire career.

This is a risky move, but it may be the only way to break the current deadlock.

"Okay, Song."

Hafez let out a long sigh. "I trust your judgment. But I'm only giving you three days. After three days, regardless of Moscow's response, I must show up, or the situation will completely spiral out of control."

"make a deal."

Song Heping extended his hand and shook hands firmly with Hafiz.

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

　　
　
(End of this chapter)