Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 839 Asking for help
Song Heping leaned against the rusty iron wall of the warehouse, his shoulder wound burning with pain.

Nura's fingers moved deftly across his skin, the suture needle and thread piercing through the torn flesh, each touch feeling like a burning sensation.

But he didn't even frown; he just stared at the spider spinning its web in the corner of the warehouse.

“You’re lucky,” Nura said in a low voice, biting through the stitches. “The bullet only grazed the bone; it didn’t hit the bone.”

Antonov emerged from the shadows and handed over a silver wine jug.

"For disinfection."

Song Heping knew what was inside without even looking.

"Vodka."

“That’s right.” The burly Russian man grinned, revealing a set of white teeth. “Or you can drink it; after all, being drunk has a numbing effect.”

Song Heping took the bottle and poured half of it directly onto the wound.

The burning pain from the alcohol made his temples throb, but he simply took a deep breath and handed the remaining half-bottle back to Antonov.

"Keep it; we might need it for courage."

Sporadic gunshots rang out outside the warehouse, and distant flames illuminated half the sky.

Yemen's capital, Aden, has been in chaos for two weeks, with the so-called "revolution" exacerbating the already impoverished country's plight.

“What should we do next?”

Nura tightly wrapped bandages around Song Heping's shoulders, her voice filled with suppressed anger.

"This time I was almost killed by a traitor among the Persians. I don't like the Persians; those guys are all heretics."

Song Heping was stunned for a moment, then he understood.

The history of the Middle East is too complex, especially its religious history.

Don't be fooled by the fact that they're all MSL; there are over a hundred internal branches and factions.

The hatred between them was no less than the hatred for Westerners who colonized them.

Antonov said, "I think we should rely on ourselves. Why don't we go to the dock, find a boat, and pay them to take us away?"

"In this situation, where can we find a ship? Any ship capable of sailing long distances has probably already been rented out. If we take one of those small boats, we'll probably be intercepted by pirates or spotted by American ships before we even reach Persia."

Song Heping shook his head and pulled a satellite phone out of his tactical vest.

"Leaving now is not a wise choice. Judging from what just happened, the CIA has already deployed an operations team here. They will activate all their intelligence networks here to search for us. The three of us are too conspicuous. If we go out, we will probably either be intercepted by local armed groups or discovered by them."

He pressed the power button, and the blue light from the screen reflected on his angular face.

"It's safer to let Afanti make the arrangements."

"You're going to contact that Persian again?" Antonov's eyes widened. "We almost lost our lives because of his men!"

“We had no choice,” Song Heping’s voice was as cold as a knife. “Yemen is in complete chaos right now. Without his network of connections, we wouldn’t even be able to find a single fishing boat.”

The satellite phone call went through, and the triple-encrypted signal traveled through the chaotic skies of the Middle East, reaching a military camp on the outskirts of Tehran.

“Song?” Afanti’s voice sounded tired and surprised. “You’re on the ship now? I just received news that Buddy is missing. Have you made contact with him?”

Buddy was the contact person.

But he's dead now.

“We were ambushed,” Song Heping said briefly. “Buddy is dead. The CIA’s ‘Watchmen’ team set up an ambush at the fish market.”

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

“Impossible!” Afanti’s voice suddenly became alert. “Only five people knew about this operation.”

"That means one of the five was a CIA or Mossad agent." Song Heping glanced at Nura, who was standing guard at the warehouse entrance. "We almost got wiped out."

Afanti's breathing became heavy.

Clearly, this not only shocked him, but also made him feel ashamed.

"I'll handle this. Where are you now?"

“A temporary safe point.” Song Heping did not disclose the specific location. “We need a new evacuation plan.”

“Give me 72 hours.” Afanti’s voice held suppressed anger. “I’m sorry things have turned out this way. Don’t worry, I will send Nassin to meet you personally. The new code word is ‘The camel in the desert does not cry.’”

Song Heping noted down the code and added, "Tell Nassin to be careful of the CIA operatives here, and tell him to bring some capable men with him." "Don't worry, this time I won't let you down."

After hanging up the phone, Song Heping removed the satellite phone's battery.

Antonov was wiping his VSS silenced sniper rifle with a dirty rag, while Nura was checking the remaining ammunition.

“Three days,” Song Heping said, looking around the dilapidated warehouse, “We can’t stay here indefinitely.”

The abandoned warehouse is located on the outskirts of Aden and was originally used to store fishing gear.

Although this place is abandoned, there's no guarantee that homeless people or armed men won't pass by. If someone does, we'll have to silence them for safety reasons.

Song Heping did not like killing innocent people.

Three foreigners are too conspicuous here, not to mention the risks of buying food and medicine, making everything inconvenient.

Nura pointed out the window: "When I was scouting just now, I saw a house about 300 meters away, a detached house with a yard, and the people there looked educated."

Song Heping walked to the window, took out a small telescope, and began to observe through the crack.

As dusk fell, a small white house stood quietly among the palm trees, its windows emitting a warm glow that contrasted sharply with the dilapidated surroundings.

A little girl was playing in the yard, and her mother was hanging clothes to dry.

"We can stay there for the night."

After looking at it for a while, Song Heping came up with a solution.

"I'll hide in their house for 72 hours, after which I'll be able to connect with my new contact."

"How can you guarantee that this operation won't be leaked by a mole within the Persian camp?"

Antonov shrugged and joked.

Song Heping said, "No, I've known the person who came to make contact for a long time. He's not a mole."

Nura asked, "On what grounds do we ask to be taken in?"

“I am a journalist.” Song Heping quickly made a decision. “We are an international team of journalists stranded here due to the unrest, covering the news, but we were shot by armed men. I was injured and need temporary shelter.”

Antonov frowned: "Will they believe that?"

“Trying is better than waiting to die here.” Song Heping removed the AKM assault rifle and began to disassemble it: “Disassemble the weapons and hide them well, only take the pistol.”

Ten minutes later, the three of them crossed the overgrown wasteland and arrived at the door of the house.

Looking through the window, Song Heping noticed a bookshelf inside, filled with books in various languages.

This is a good sign.

People who have received an education are usually easy to talk to.

Tuk-tuk-tuk——

He raised his hand and knocked on the door three times.

After knocking, a middle-aged man wearing glasses cautiously opened the door a crack.

Song Heping immediately raised his hands and said in English with an American accent, "Excuse me for bothering you, we are independent investigative journalists. We are unable to leave Yemen due to the unrest, and we were just attacked by armed men on the street. We don't know where we can go now. Could we stay here for three days? We can pay you."

The man behind the door was named Khalid, and his gaze swept back and forth between the three of them.

Song Heping could see the wariness and calculation in his eyes.

Finally, Khalid's gaze settled on Nura's bandaged arm, then on Song Heping's injured shoulder and the cameras and video recorders hanging on Antonov and Nura.

“Are you hurt?”

“Yes, they seemed to have ill intentions towards my female colleague, so we had no choice but to flee…” Song Heping smiled bitterly: “Now there’s no safe hospital in Aden.”

Khalid hesitated for a moment, then looked back into the room.

His wife stood at the end of the corridor, holding the four-year-old girl in her arms.

After a brief, silent exchange, the woman nodded to Khalid.

Khalid stepped aside: "Come in, but you can only stay for three days."

(End of this chapter)