Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 819 I Don't Have a Computer Here
An old clock in the corner of the room struck three.

Hakim suddenly got up and walked to the window, turning his back to everyone.

Klein caught a glimpse of Song Heping's finger subtly moving towards the stun grenade hidden at his waist—if negotiations broke down, he would take out Hakim right there.

If we don't kill him, he will remain a major concern.

Just now, in the open space outside, the terrain was unfavorable to me.

This is now inside the outpost, and the drone reconnaissance has been completed. There are about thirty armed men near the outpost, and about a hundred armed personnel five kilometers away. It is estimated that they are a unit stationed here.

Five kilometers. If I move fast enough, I can take out all the armed personnel here and escape.

Although the whole operation was very risky.

But fortune favors the bold.

In war-torn regions of Africa, nothing can be accomplished without taking risks.

"I need to see more sincerity."

Hakim finally turned around, his eyes gleaming with greed.

“Makul has an armory in El Fasher; if he has one, I want one too.”

Klein knew victory was in sight.

The worst thing about a person is that they are not greedy.

If he's greedy, then it's fine.

He feigned impatience: "Fine, at dawn in five days, one will be here to unload."

This was a bait that Song Heping had arranged beforehand—a batch of weapons belonging to the former Iligo government forces that were about to be transported to Ethiopian ports by smuggling groups and then to Darfur by the North Sudanese military through special channels.

"Enough to build your own small armory, and also enough to take over Markul's armory. But remember..."

He suddenly grabbed Hakim's wrist.

"I want Makur's head displayed in front of the gold mine, photographed as proof."

Hakim burst into thunderous laughter.

He clapped his hands to signal the waiter to bring coffee—this time without any drugs.

"For friendship!"

He raised his coffee cup high, the scars twisting and deforming in his smile, making them appear even more grotesque.

"cheers!"

After one hour.

When the convoy had driven more than ten kilometers away from the outpost, Klein finally let out a long breath, ripped off the one-eyed eye patch, then forcefully tore off the sweat-soaked fake beard and took a deep breath of the cold air from the air conditioner.

"Good heavens, I thought he was going to discover—"

"You did a good job."

Song Heping reached out and patted him on the shoulder, then handed him a bottle of mineral water.

"I'm looking forward to the show in five days, but now I'm off to Chad."

Klein immediately realized that Song Heping was going to Chad to see Pence.

However, he was still a little worried and couldn't help but ask while drinking water, "This guy is a former deputy director of the CIA, after all. Taking him down might cause a huge uproar."

Song Heping said, "There was no choice."

He didn't explain the reason clearly.

The reason is actually quite simple.

If Pence doesn't die, he'll haunt me like a ghost, using every means to get rid of me.

This was almost his obsession.

He probably wouldn't be able to sleep if he didn't die.

Besides, given the current situation, it doesn't make much difference whether I get rid of Pence or not.

Killing him would actually serve as a deterrent to the "Elders' Council".

I am currently stuck in Africa and haven't yet gained a foothold.

Once you've established yourself, you'll have to settle your scores with the "Elders' Council."

More importantly, it's Simon.

Pence's death will certainly cause a huge shock within the CIA.

They will definitely need to find someone to take over Pence's mess, and Simon is undoubtedly one of the best candidates.

At least from an outsider's perspective, he both hated himself and had a grudge against himself, and had dealt with himself for a long time.

Taking all factors into account, Pence had to die.

Song Heping was busy all night long.

After meeting with Hakim, the group got into their car and headed straight for the second meeting place.

The night was as dark as ink, and the jeep bumped along the rugged dirt road.

Song Heping glanced at his luminous watch—2:17 a.m.

The meeting with Makur is less than five kilometers away.

"Each squad should double-check their equipment."

Song Heping reminded everyone on the channel.

"Release the giant crow and activate reconnaissance mode."

Collins swiped his finger across the tablet, where an infrared scan showed two armed checkpoints three kilometers ahead.

"Two checkpoints, fifteen to twenty men, heavy machine guns," Song Heping said. "Mark them all on the electronic map. If we don't allow our entourage to go in, Klein and I will be enough. You guys wait outside. Remember, leave a team to ambush outside their defensive perimeter. If anything happens, break through and bring us out."

After saying that, he asked again, "Are all the items combined?"

"It has been prepared for a long time."

Collins nodded and pointed to the small black box next to his seat.

"The voice sample of Hakim that I just secretly recorded is clear enough that the synthesized dialogue is flawless. Even if this thing were taken to a CIA lab for testing, it would take at least three days to detect that it's a fake."

He was very confident in his skills.

Song Heping nodded in satisfaction, then checked the Glock 19 at his waist and the ceramic knife in his cuff.

During this meeting, Makul requested that no automatic weapons be brought.

In this respect, he was more cautious than Hakim.

Everything happened as Song Heping expected.

The convoy was intercepted outside the cordon.

"The boss has given orders that only two of you can go in; the rest of you stay here."

The leader of the "Jiezhen" armed group glanced at the long convoy, a wary glint in his eyes.

"We are bodyguards, responsible for the safety of VIPs."

Song Heping spread his hands, feigning ignorance, and explained, "The employer is here to discuss business, not to have a conflict with you."

"If I say no, then it's no!"

The foreman immediately warned menacingly, "If you keep arguing, the deal is off! That's the boss's exact words! Figure out whose territory this is! Who's in charge!"

Looking at the vicious gang leader in front of him, Song Heping really wanted to punch a hole in his forehead right now so he would know who was in charge.

Of course, that's just wishful thinking.

"Brody, you come inside with me, the rest of you stay here."

Klein, displaying the demeanor of an employer, magnanimously stopped Song Heping, who still wanted to argue.

“We’re here to discuss a deal. Since this is Mr. Markul’s territory, we’ll do as he says.”

After saying that, he opened the door and got out of the car.

Song Heping got out of the car, then turned around and said to Jiang Feng in English, "You stay here and keep watch."

"OK!"

Jiang Feng followed the script.

Everything is under control.

The petty thug, having succeeded, led the way as if he had won a battle, guiding Klein and Song Heping towards the camp.

After walking about 500 meters and passing several tents, the three arrived at the largest dark green command tent in the center of the camp.

Four fully armed guards stood at the entrance, with AKM assault rifles slung across their chests.

Klein straightened his collar and strode toward the guard.

He deliberately stepped on a dead branch on the ground, and four rifles were instantly pointed at him.

"take it easy."

Song Heping smiled and said, "I am your leader's guest."

The guards exchanged glances, and one of them lifted the tent flap to go inside and report.

A moment later, he came out and gestured for Song Heping to enter.

"The boss said you can go in."

Klein nodded slightly and stepped into the tent first.

The interior space is much larger than it appears from the outside, with expensive Persian carpets on the floor and even a small refrigerator powered by a generator in one corner.

Markul sat at a folding table with a map spread out in front of him.

He was younger than Hakim, around thirty-five years old, with a shaved head and part of his right ear missing—a memento from a tribal conflict.

Unlike Hakim before, Markul was clearly more arrogant, not even bothering to stand up to greet him, but instead glancing at Klein: "You're that intelligence broker and arms dealer?"

Klein nodded: "That's right, we spoke on the phone before, didn't you forget?"

“Your voice sounds a little different.” A cold glint appeared in Markul’s eyes as he tapped the Makarov pistol on the table with his fingers, seemingly unintentionally.

"That's because it was our first time talking, and we hadn't reached an agreement yet, so I had to use a voice changer. You know how it is in my line of work..."

Klein made a helpless expression.

Perhaps the excuse was reasonable. After a moment's thought, Markul seemed to believe it. He stood up, walked up to the two men, looked them over, and said, "You Americans came all night. I hope you have something good worth keeping me waiting here in the middle of the night. Otherwise, I hate it when people waste my time."

He still spoke in that arrogant and rude tone, acting like a local tyrant.

Klein snapped his fingers.

Song Heping took the miniature hard drive out of the inner bag and placed it on the table.

Klein pointed to the miniature hard drive and said, "This is a very interesting recording. If, Mr. Markul, you find it uninteresting after listening to it, I won't say another word and will just turn around and leave immediately. How about that?"

Markul stared at the hard drive for a long time without saying a word, his brows furrowed as if he were constipated.

Song Heping and Klein were secretly worried.

Has this guy heard something?
"You should have told me about this thing sooner!"

Makur seemed displeased, snorted, and glared at the two of them.

"I don't have a computer here!"

(End of this chapter)