Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 815 Collusion
Simon put down the phone and sat in his office for a long time, stunned.

He suddenly realized how terrifying Song Heping was.

When I'm facing this person, I feel like I'm being choked but I'm powerless to resist.

Even though I know very well that this person will definitely be a great threat in the future.

However, that's from the perspective of American interests.

For myself...

not necessarily……

Like now.

For years, Simon had dreamed—no, fantasized—that he had completely lost hope of becoming CIA deputy director a few months ago.

Now, it has miraculously returned, right in front of me.

The cherry wood desk and lambskin chair in Langleyburn's office seemed almost within reach; perhaps he could actually sit there and admire the pleasant scenery along the Potomac River through the thick bulletproof glass...

"Do it!"

He gritted his teeth and secretly made up his mind to cooperate with Song Heping.

After all, U.S. policy is subject to change.

Each president has their own style.

Just over two years ago, Song Heping was a friend of the Americans, a sought-after contractor in the military, and a CIA "black glove" in South America.

More than two years later, he is now an enemy, a leader of terrorist groups, and the second most wanted target on the assassination list.

but.

Who can guarantee that in a year or two, he won't suddenly become a guest of honor in America again, and a "Friend" in the mouths of those politicians?
The following day, at the Presidential Suite of the Kempinski Hotel in N'Djamena, the capital of Chad.

The heavy curtains kept out the scorching Sahara sun, and the air conditioner hummed softly.

Former CIA Deputy Director Pence stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, holding a glass of whiskey on the rocks, gently swirling it clockwise. The sound of the ice cubes clinking together was particularly crisp in the quiet room.

Even though the air conditioning was set to 18 degrees Celsius, Pence still felt somewhat unsettled.

"This kid is more dangerous than I thought..."

He muttered to himself while looking at his reflection in the glass, constantly going over the details of the plan in his mind.

In the shadows of the corner of the room, a man wrapped in a traditional Arabic robe slowly raised his head.

The crisscrossing scars on his face looked particularly gruesome in the dim light, and the cloudy white film over his left eye showed that he had been blind in that eye for many years.

"The Shepherd"—that was his code name in the intelligence community.

No one knows his real name, but everyone knows that he is the most dangerous arms dealer and intelligence broker in the Central African region. For the past few years, he has been working for the "Elders' Council" and doing some shady business.

"Song Heping is no ordinary mercenary."

The shepherd's voice sounded like sandpaper being rubbed.

"He did dirty work for your CIA in South America for over a year, and he knows all your operational patterns."

Pence turned around, a flash of annoyance in his eyes: "That's why the department decided to completely resolve this problem, but we didn't expect he was already on guard against us."

The shepherd let out a low laugh: "I don't know if you have investigated all his real-world cases over the years. I have, and he always won with fewer troops and never failed. To be honest, I have never seen such a formidable character."

Pence said, "That's why I need your help. Now I understand. The Chinese are good at military strategy, and so am I. Now, as long as you step in to coordinate between the two armed factions, Hakim and Makul, they will definitely agree to join forces against Song Heping. At that time, we won't even need to lift a finger. Even if these two armed groups can't kill him, they can severely damage him. Then we can take care of this despicable guy."

At this point, he couldn't help but snap his fingers.

“Hakim and Makur don’t know me at all. The armed groups in North Darfur only listen to guns and weapons. With enough guns and weapons, they’ll obey you like dogs.”

The shepherd grinned, revealing a few gold teeth: "Just like those 'professionals' you hired."

Just as he finished speaking, the doorbell rang for the suite.

Pence pressed the intercom on the table: "Come in."

The door opened, and a white man nearly two meters tall strode in.

He had a nearly shaved head, a missing corner of his right ear, and bulging muscles under his camouflage uniform that stretched the fabric taut.

Most striking is the tattoo on his left arm—the logo of EO company, with the words "Executive Outcomes" in smaller print below.

"Captain Brody, you're right on time."

Pence glanced at his watch and smiled.

Brody did not respond to the greeting; his gaze was fixed directly on the "shepherd," and his right hand instinctively moved closer to the pistol at his waist.

"Relax, Captain."

The shepherd raised his hands, making a harmless gesture.

"We're all in the same boat."

Pence stepped between the two: "Brody is EO's most elite commando commander, having carried out 17 high-risk missions in the Congo and South Sudan over the past five years."

“I’ve heard of you.” The “Shepherd” nodded. “Last year in the Niger Delta, your squad wiped out 'Blood Lion' Makuru’s entire guard.”

Brody relaxed slightly: "That was an easy job. Unlike this one."

He turned to Pence, "Are you sure the target is Song Heping? That Chinese-American mercenary leader who's been making headlines lately?"

“Yes, it’s him. But let me warn you… he’s not your average mercenary leader. His net worth is conservatively estimated at over eight billion dollars. You can think of him as a very wealthy mercenary leader.”

Pence took a stack of photos from his briefcase and spread them on the coffee table. In the photos, an Asian man was training soldiers in the desert. He had tanned skin and sunglasses that covered his eyes, but even so, one could still feel a strong sense of menace and an invisible oppression from the photos.

"Song Heping, a former PLA special forces member, later became an international mercenary. He has worked for the CIA and the US military, and was also a partner of the ISA. He is fluent in four languages, skilled in sniping, demolition, and close combat, and especially adept at military command and tactical application. He is cunning and treacherous..."

At this point, Pence's voice turned cold, and his teeth ached slightly.

Brody picked up a photograph and examined it closely.

Those in the same industry can see the intricacies.

With just one glance, Brody's expression turned serious.

"This guy doesn't look like someone you want to mess with."

"That's why we're willing to pay a high price."

Pence opened the safe and took out a Swiss bank draft.

"Five million US dollars, half paid in advance. The balance will be paid upon completion of the transaction."

Five million dollars?

Brody stared at the check, his Adam's apple bobbing.

This figure represents the total income of his team for an entire year.

The shepherd suddenly stood up and walked up to Brody: "Scared?"

A defiant glint flashed in his single eye.

Brody scoffed. "I'm only worried about not having enough money. The question is, why do you need us? Your CIA has its own operations teams."

Pence and the "shepherd" exchanged a glance.

“The official denial,” Pence said, offering an excuse. “This operation has no government backing. If it fails, or is exposed by the media, the White House will claim it was an unauthorized operation by a private military company.”

"Standard operating procedure."

Brody said sarcastically, but his hand was already reaching for the check.

"Action plan?"

"Tomorrow you will come with me to North Darfur to make contact with the two armed factions there. We will use money to persuade them to cooperate with our operation. Your task is to ensure my safety."

The shepherd took out a satellite map and spread it out.

"Seven days later, the weapons will be delivered to North Darfur and handed over to these two armed groups. Nine days later, the forces of these two armed groups will attack the Atron Oasis from the east and west, which is Song's stronghold."

"A direct confrontation?" Brody frowned.

"It could be considered a frontal attack, but it was just a feint."

The shepherd drew a route on the map with his fingertips.

"Based on my research on him, and following Song's past command habits, when facing superior enemy forces, he would choose to retreat through the southern canyon. The terrain there is complex, suitable for small units to conduct guerrilla warfare; he has used this tactic many times in the past against enemies with superior numbers."

"The main event is with you guys," Pence continued. "Your squad is positioned near the canyon entrance, waiting for them to enter the ambush zone."

He made a motion of wiping his neck.

Brody studied the map: "The canyon is over three kilometers long, how did you determine its exact route?"

The shepherd gave a mysterious smile: "Song Heping has a habit—he always chooses the most dangerous route. He believes the enemy will avoid those places."

He pointed to a narrow pass on the map.

"Here, at 'Scorpion's Tail,' are twenty-meter-high rock walls on both sides, with a passage only three meters wide in the middle."

“A perfect killing circle,” Brody muttered to himself, then asked, “My squad only has 13 men. What makes you think I can take down Song Heping by ambush?”

“Song Heping’s main force will definitely be the rearguard, and they will definitely adopt the tactic of retreating in batches and covering each other. At the moment, Atron Oasis only has 200 mercenaries at most, so Song Heping will definitely not have many people with him when he retreats, otherwise he will not be able to withstand the attack of nearly a thousand people from two armed groups.”

The shepherd had clearly done his homework; he patted Brody on the shoulder.

"Besides, don't you have that Somali sniper under your command? They say he can hit a fly's testicles from 800 meters away."

Brody finally smiled: "Kadi is indeed a genius. But he's asking for a high price."

“Add another five hundred thousand,” Pence said without hesitation. “Remember, as long as you can take down Song Heping, your mission is complete! I’ll pay you as usual!”

A brief silence fell over the room, broken only by the hum of the air conditioner.

The three of them looked at each other, each with their own thoughts, but their goal was the same.

“Deal.” Brody folded the bank draft and stuffed it into his breast pocket. “But I have one condition—complete autonomy. No remote command.”

Pence nodded: "Of course, no problem, as long as the result is satisfactory."

The shepherd rose, the hem of his robe sweeping across the coffee table: "Well then, gentlemen, enjoy your hunt."

His gold teeth gleamed under the light.

"Remember, Song Heping is no ordinary prey. He's a beast, and the most dangerous kind at that."

Brody sneered, "Even the fiercest beast can't escape a well-designed trap. Rest assured, in Africa, apart from the 'Satan' Legion's Team A, no one dares to claim to be more professional than us."

When Pence heard the name "Satan's Legion," he paused for a moment, his hand holding the glass slightly still.

A sense of foreboding drifted by like a thick, dark cloud.

(End of this chapter)