Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 833 Surviving in Chaos

The cargo ship slowly turned southeast into the night of the Red Sea. Song Heping stood on the rusty deck, the sea breeze carrying a salty smell towards him.

He took out his satellite phone, paused for a moment on the buttons, and finally dialed an encrypted number.

"The old teahouse needs new tea leaves."

After the call was connected, Song Heping spoke the code in Persian.

A hoarse laugh, characteristic of Afanti, came through the receiver: "My friend, you're late. The teahouse is closed, and there are stray dogs barking in the street."

Song Heping squinted; the lights of the US destroyers on the distant sea flashed like the eyes of a wild beast.

"I set off a bit late, and there were too many stray dogs on the road. I need a quiet path."

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone, followed by the sound of papers turning over.

"The back door on the Yemen side is still open, but it's chaotic there. Do you dare to go?"

"It's better than dying at sea."

Song answered calmly.

"Go to the fish market in Aden, find the hunchbacked old man who sells shark fins. He'll arrange everything for you. I look forward to seeing you, my friend."

Afanti's voice suddenly became serious.

"The weather in Yemen has been unpredictable lately, remember to bring an umbrella."

"I will give you a new number."

call ended.

Song Heping turned and walked towards the bridge, where Captain Hassan was studying the nautical chart with a cigar in his mouth.

"Change course to Aden," Song Heping said. "Full speed ahead."

Hassan's eyebrows practically flew off his hairline: "Are you crazy? Then what are you doing now—"

“I know what’s there,” Song Heping interrupted him, “but I’d rather gamble on the chaos in Yemen than have U.S. Navy radar.”

Before we set off, the situation in North Africa and the Middle East had already changed somewhat.

The recent chaos known as the "Arab Spring" is sweeping across the Middle East and North Africa. Even in the oasis of North Darfur, Song Heping has heard about the situation.

This chaos, which started with a street vendor in Tunisia, has spread like a cold virus to the already turbulent Middle East. Apart from Persia, countries including Yemen, Syria, and Egypt have been ruthlessly drawn into it.

The themes are always "freedom" and "democracy".

Song Heping knew very well who was behind this banner.

However, his whereabouts have probably been leaked, and the longer he stays at sea, the less safe it becomes. Going through the Red Sea or directly crossing the Arabian Sea and the Gulf of Oman to enter Persia is simply not feasible.

The longer you stay at sea, the greater the chances of the CIA catching you become.

"All right……"

Captain Hassan made concessions.

He's not stupid.

The unusual and sudden action of the American Arleigh Burke-class destroyer to intercept and board another ship indicates that the area is no longer safe.

The port of Aden in Yemen is the closest port, making it the ideal choice for disembarking.

The cargo ship carved a new path in the night.

Song Heping convened a meeting with Nura and Antonov in the cramped crew cabin.

In the dim light, the shadows of the three men flickered on the bulkhead, resembling criminals plotting something.

“I’ve already had Hassan change course and head to Aden to dock earlier,” Song Heping said bluntly. “I reckon the CIA has roughly predicted our route.”

Nura asked, "Do you think this leak was caused by an inside job?"

“Not necessarily,” Song Heping shook his head. “It’s possible that our spies in Sudan have discovered our movements. The important thing is that the Red Sea route is no longer safe.”

Antonov took a swig of vodka: "So, we're changing our route to Yemen? But I've heard the situation there is worse than hell lately!"

"It is precisely because it is bad that it is easy to take advantage of the chaos and to conceal one's whereabouts."

Song Heping unfolded a hand-drawn map: "Afanti has a rendezvous in the port of Aden. We will stay in Yemen for a few days, change our identities, and then travel from there to the Arabian Sea. Once we enter Persian territorial waters, we will be safe."

Nura asked, "Can that Afanti be trusted?"

Song Heping stared at the Bedouin woman in front of him; the wariness in her eyes was as sharp as a knife.

Years of smuggling had made her extremely sensitive and vigilant.

This is a good thing, at least it allows one to survive longer in such a place.

“We can trust him,” Song Heping replied affirmatively. “Besides, we have no other choice right now.”

The third basement level of the U.S. Embassy in Cairo, Egypt.

The hum of the air circulation system masked the noise from the server array.

Jasper stood in front of the holographic projection table, sweat trickling down his temples and leaving dark marks on the collar of his dark blue shirt.

Seventy-two hours of relentless pursuit had left his eyes bloodshot, but at this moment, all that fatigue was replaced by the excitement of a hunter approaching his prey.

"This is it, zoom in on the left corner of the eye." He tapped the projection table, and a blurry image of the engine room froze.

Technician Carlson pushed up his glasses, his fingers flying across the virtual keyboard.

All of these images and videos came from the Navy.

The footage was captured three days ago by helmet cameras of the naval fleet's boarding team when they intercepted more than 100 suspicious civilian vessels in the Red Sea and Arabian Sea.

Jasper hasn't slept since yesterday, sitting in the intelligence analysis room with technicians, repeatedly watching the more than 80 hours of video footage.

This video is one of the videos deemed highly suspicious after being screened three times.

The Asian face covered in oil in the image was continuously sharpened, and the oil stains and shadows were peeled away layer by layer to reveal a simulated image of the underlying skeletal structure.

"Skeleton matching complete, with an 85% fit."

Carlson's voice carried the calm characteristic of a technical expert: "The angle of the cheekbones, the curve of the forehead, and the shape of the jawbone are almost identical; the blurring of the remaining facial features is likely due to oil stains."

Across the projection table, Captain Morris whistled: "That guy's a fucking ninja. He stays in the engine room, the worst place ever. You know, I've been on a ship before, and that place is no place for humans. He's cunning. The boarding teams rappel down to the ship fully equipped, and the engine room is unbearably hot. He deliberately shortens the time the search and rescue team spends on board."

"He's definitely a cunning old fox..."

Jasper's fingertips traced the holographic image, revealing Song Heping's facial bone structure alongside archival photographs.

"He knew about our facial recognition technology, so he altered the surface contours with ink. He just didn't expect we'd developed a new generation of skeletal perspective algorithms."

Simon emerged from the shadows, carrying two cups of coffee.

He handed one of the glasses to Jasper: "So, our target really is that cargo ship?"

Jasper took the coffee but didn't drink it, his eyes still fixed on the projector: "Not only that, he also gave us directions."

He pulled up a map of the Red Sea and pointed to the different colored red and blue routes, saying, "I estimate the cargo ship's original route was to take the Red Sea route into Jordan and then to Iriego, but after being intercepted, it suddenly turned southeast—towards Yemen."

Morris leaned closer to the map: "Yemen is in complete chaos right now; it's definitely a good place to hide."

"That's not all."

Jasper zoomed in on a satellite image of the port of Aden, where several yellow markers were flashing.

"The Houthi forces in Yemen have been rising steadily this year, and everyone knows who's behind them. It seems Song Heping really has connections with Afanti; otherwise, he wouldn't have risked landing in a country embroiled in chaos."

The room suddenly became quiet.

After a long silence, Simon took a sip of his coffee and said, "So Song Heping is going to Yemen and then transit through Persia? That's too risky. Yemen is full of our spies."

“It’s precisely because of the risk that he chose this path.” Jasper suddenly turned and walked towards the communications console: “Maurice, have your ‘Watchmen’ team ready to deploy within an hour. Carlson, I need all the crew information for this cargo ship, especially the identity information of that imposter engine room mechanic.”

While the others got busy, Jasper noticed that Simon was still standing there, staring thoughtfully at Song Heping's skeletal analysis diagram.

That chilling feeling, like being watched by a venomous snake, crept up his spine again.

He walked towards Simon and lowered his voice: "Is there a problem?"

Simon seemed to have just woken from a dream: "I'm just curious, why isn't the skeletal fit 100%? If it really is Song Heping..."

"People can change subtly over a decade, especially people like him. When you first got his information, he was still very young."

Jasper interrupted Simon, offering his assessment: "Tooth wear, minor fracture, and 85% change in muscle attachment points are sufficient for confirmation."

Simon nodded, a smile that made Jasper uncomfortable. "Of course, you're the expert."

Jasper turned and walked toward his encrypted communications room. After locking the door, he took an old-fashioned satellite phone from the safe.

The dial tone lasted for a long time before the call was connected.

“Confirmed, it’s the target,” Jasper said into the microphone, his voice eight octaves lower than usual. “He’s heading to Yemen.”

The voice on the other end of the phone, Campbell's distinctive old European Onsa accent, came through: "The president's authorization only extends to the Persian Gulf."

“So we need another solution.” Jasper’s thumb unconsciously rubbed the table. “Is Team A still on standby in Bahrain?”

“Nine team members, ready to deploy at any time.” Campbell paused. “But you must understand, once they are deployed, there is no turning back. This is not an ordinary black operation; there is no room for official denial.”

Jasper glanced at the surveillance camera in the corner of the communications room—theoretically, this room was absolutely private, but he always felt that Simon's eyes were everywhere.

“Song Heping knows too much, not just the data on the Raven drone, but also other things… including everything we’ve done in Mexico. He has information on all of that. Recent information from the military indicates that he helped the military deliver some sensitive weapons to Africa, which were then given to local extremist groups. We can currently suppress the spread of this online and in the media, but it’s not a long-term solution. The internet has caused us too much trouble, especially with Assange. If Song Heping gives him the information…”

There was silence on the other end of the phone for a few seconds.

Finally, Campbell gave his reply: "Team A will arrive in Aden before sunrise tomorrow. They need real-time intelligence support."

"It's all arranged. Leave this to me. I'll personally lead Team A on the trip."

"So risky?"

“If I don’t go, someone else will. I have a feeling that there’s a mole among us…”

"The mole?"

"Maybe it's just my imagination... That's all for now, I need to get to the arrangements."

"Good luck, Jasper."

Jasper hung up the phone and locked the satellite phone back in the safe.

He didn't notice that the grille of the ventilation duct in the communications room had loosened slightly.

(End of this chapter)