Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 830 One Problem After Another
The setting sun cast a golden glow on Song Heping's profile as he stared at the number displayed on his phone, his brow furrowed.

This number is from Iligo, but it's not one of the numbers he knows.

Who is it?
"who?"

Song Heping pressed the answer button, his voice low and alert.

"it's me."

Yusuf's hoarse voice came from the other end of the phone, with the faint background noise of a radio station.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but there's an emergency."

Why did you call me directly?

In order to protect Yusuf, his mole within the Ilocos government, Song Heping instructed the Americans after their falling out that they should not contact him directly and that all discussions about arms deals should be conducted on the dark web.

But today he actually called me personally, which clearly means something happened.

"What happened?"

Song Heping gestured for Ferrari to remain silent and walked to a corner of the observation deck.

"explain."

"I don't know why, but the CIA has suddenly become very watchful lately, especially towards me and my friends in the government."

Yusuf lowered his voice even further.

"The shipment you requested last time was being monitored. In the past two weeks, we've had three shipments intercepted at the border."

Song Heping's fingers tightened unconsciously, and the metal phone case made a slight creaking sound in his palm.

Which specific route had the problem?

"All routes."

Yusuf sighed.

"From the highway from Basra to Mosul, from the railway from Erbil to Turkey, even our newly opened desert routes—they seem to suddenly know everything about our entire transport network."

Song Heping closed his eyes and quickly made a mental calculation.

Ten SAM-9 missile systems—that was a deal he had reached with the North Sudanese government, and they were to be delivered in a month.

If he breaks the contract, he will not only lose millions of dollars in profits, but also damage his reputation and standing in the region.

In particular, North Sudan is currently offering itself asylum.

It's not good to have a falling out.

I've just gotten myself settled here, and now I'm facing this damn problem.

He had an urge to swear.

That damned God never lets me have an easy time. I just settled down and he keeps throwing all sorts of trouble at me.

"Is it possible that there was an internal leak?"

Song Heping asked, his eyes sweeping across every corner of the mining area, as if the enemy were lurking in the shadows.

"I've checked, and the core team is fine."

Yusuf's voice sounded tired.

"But I suspect they've planted surveillance programs in our country's communication systems. Recently, American planes have been flying around every day; I've heard they're called RC-135 electronic warfare aircraft..."

A scene flashed through Song Heping's mind—under the pitch-black night sky, an RC-135 electronic reconnaissance aircraft circled over Baghdad, with technical officers and sergeants in the cockpit constantly listening to and filtering all signal sources on the ground through listening equipment, trying to crack sensitive communication channels...

This device can detect communication signals within a 600-kilometer radius of a target 100 kilometers away, and detect radar signals within a 300-kilometer range. Its internal equipment also has strong network-centric warfare capabilities. It is a major piece of equipment for the US military to reconnoiter enemy integrated air defense systems and networked information. It can be used to closely monitor a wide area and can quickly detect and identify targets that radiate electromagnetic waves.

The frequent troubles that have befallen Yusuf are probably really related to this thing.

"Understood. End the call quickly, or we'll be monitored."

After speaking briefly, Song Heping added, "Temporarily halt all transportation activities, cut off all contact with me, and wait for my message. I will come to you then."

After hanging up the phone, Song Heping stood there for a long time without moving, his gaze fixed on the distant desert horizon.

The sun had already sunk more than halfway down, and the sky had taken on a sickly orange-red hue.

"Something went wrong?"

Ferrari walked up to him and handed him a piece of chewing gum. Song Heping took the gum and popped it into his mouth. The cool minty flavor swirled in his mouth before finally hitting his head, calming his slightly chaotic mind.

He continued, "The CIA has their sights set on our supply lines. Yusuf can't get the goods out; those SAM-9 missile systems probably won't be able to get out, which is why he risked calling me."

Ferrari frowned: "What about the ten SAM-9s? The Sudanese won't accept an excuse like 'because of the CIA.'"

“I know,” Song Heping exhaled, gazing into the distance. “And it’s not just about this shipment. If the transportation network is disrupted, our business in Mexico will also be affected.”

Mexican drug lords and Colombian insurgent groups are very influential because of their arms deals.

Once the arms supply channel is lost, one's standing in their eyes will plummet.

The same applies to Venezuela.

If General Lamas loses his share of the profits from arms deals, he will probably have a problem with him.

My ability to thrive in South America is often the result of shared interests.

There are no such things as permanent friends, only permanent interests.

This statement is absolutely true in my line of work.

The two fell silent, with only the shouts of the gold miners and the roar of machinery coming from below.

Song Heping's gaze fell on the small gold nugget in his hand, and he suddenly realized that he was still holding it.

He opened his palm, and the irregular piece of gold still shimmered faintly in the twilight.

“Let’s solve the gold mine problem first,” Song Heping suddenly said. “I’ll contact Lao Hou.”

“That’s right, let’s get the profits we can get first.” Ferrari nodded and said, “Once the gold mine is secured, it will at least be able to cover our expenses here. Establishing a foothold here is the top priority.”

"That's right."

Song Heping dialed Lao Hou's number on the phone.

The call connected quickly, and Lao Hou's voice, thick with a Guangxi accent, came through the receiver: "Brother Song! I was just about to look for you!"

“Brother Hou.” Hearing the familiar Chinese and feeling Old Hou’s enthusiasm, Song Heping’s voice relaxed a bit: “I’ve recently acquired two gold mines in North Darfur, but I have some technical issues I’d like to ask you about.”

"Hahaha, just say it!" Old Hou laughed heartily. "If it weren't for you last time, these old bones of mine would have perished in that godforsaken place!"

Song Heping briefly explained the issues of gold mine output and purity. Old Hou immediately offered advice: "Your technology is too primitive! I have a complete set of equipment and a technical team here, all experienced workers I brought from my hometown of Shanglin. I'll send a few engineers over to take a look, and also transport some centrifuges and cyanidation equipment over."

"How much will it cost?" Song Heping asked directly.

"What are you talking about money for!" Old Hou feigned anger. "Consider it repaying your life-saving grace! But..."

His voice suddenly lowered.

“I’ve run into some trouble lately. The new mining policy introduced by the Ghanaian government is very unfavorable to us Chinese. If I can’t stay there anymore, I’ll have to come to you for a meal. Please don’t refuse!”

Song Heping's lips curled into a slight smile: "You're welcome anytime."

After hanging up with Lao Hou, Song Heping turned to the Ferrari: "The technical issues are resolved; Lao Hou will send someone over. But there's the problem of arms transportation..."

Ferrari sighed: "Without safe transportation routes, even if we have the goods, we can't deliver them to our customers."

Song Heping suddenly turned and walked to the edge of the observation deck, placing his hands on the rusty railing as he gazed at the desert that had completely darkened.

The night wind carried sand that lashed against his face, but he was completely unaware.

“There’s only one way,” Song Heping suddenly said, his voice low but firm.

Ferrari walked up to him: "What's the plan?"

“I’m going to Persia myself.” Song Heping turned his head, his eyes flashing dangerously in the darkness. “I’m going to see Afanti. I need to open up new smuggling routes. Only this guy can help me.”

"Are you crazy?" Ferrari grabbed his arm. "The CIA must have your picture plastered all over every border checkpoint by now! Do you know how many checkpoints you have to go through from North Africa to Persia?"

Song Heping gently pulled his hand away from Ferrari's: "So we can't take the conventional route."

Ferrari stared at him for a few seconds, then suddenly understood: "You want Afanti to help you smuggle arms using his Shia Crescent?"

"That's right. We urgently need new transportation channels."

Song Heping's voice was frighteningly calm: "Afanti has enough influence in Persia and Yemen. If he can help us open up a sea route from the Persian Gulf to the Red Sea, we can bypass the CIA's surveillance."

Before Ferrari could say anything more, Song Heping had already turned and headed towards the stairs to the observation deck: "Call the core team for a meeting. We'll formulate a plan tonight."

(End of this chapter)