Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 841 Enemy or friend?

At the same time, inside a CIA safe house on the outskirts of Aden.

Jasper kicked over the tactical table, and the electronic equipment on it crashed to the ground with a clatter.

The blue light from the shattered screen reflected on his contorted face, like a hideous mask: "He got away again! Seventeen men, three sniper positions, and we couldn't even catch a wounded target! And those of you in charge of surveillance, why haven't you found any trace of him yet! What's going on?! This isn't Africa! That guy surnamed Song has no support here!"

The technician's timid voice said, "Sir, the target clearly received prior intelligence; otherwise, it wouldn't have been possible."

"Shut up!"

Jasper ripped off his headphones and slammed them against the wall.

He turned to the "Watchmen" team members behind him and the technicians sitting in front of their computers: "I want every inch of this area turned upside down! Mobilize all the resources we have here!"

Two hours later, at a U.S. naval base in Bahrain, a satellite analysis system called "Sky Eye" was urgently activated.

Two KH-12 Keyhole satellites have adjusted their orbits, pointing their optical lenses, with a resolution of 0.1 meters, at Aden city and its surrounding areas.

"Retrieve all images from the past 48 hours."

Jasper gave orders to the CIA's technical team.

"Focus your search on any unusual heat sources and movement of people within a five-kilometer radius of the fish market. I need you to find him immediately!"

On the huge screen, thousands of satellite images scrolled like a waterfall.

The system began to flag every suspicious point: reflections on the roof, unusual vehicle tracks, and abnormal behavior patterns in the crowd.
"Sir, the data volume is huge, we need some time..."

The agent in charge of technology reported to Jasper with some difficulty.

Jasper wanted to get angry, but he quickly suppressed his surging emotions.

That's just how things are now; getting angry won't help.

I've also done intelligence analysis myself; it's a meticulous job and quite grueling.

The suspicious points need to be identified from the massive amount of satellite imagery data before being magnified and analyzed one by one.

For some blurry points, professional software should be used to filter them to obtain a clearer result.

These tasks are all very tedious, and even if the data is sent back to Langley headquarters and the analysis department is responsible for it, it is still a workload that cannot be completed in a short period of time.

"What's the minimum number of hours required?" he asked.

"It will take at least 72 hours."

The technical analyst answered truthfully.

"No!" Jasper's face darkened, and he forcefully waved his hand in the air. "We don't have that much time. Song Heping is a very decisive person. After being ambushed tonight, he must be a scaredy-cat. He might already be looking for a way to leave Yemen. Even if we find his trail in 72 hours, he won't be in Yemen anymore!"

He paused, then stretched out a palm, spreading out four fingers.

"Forty-eight hours at most! If you can't finish, resign now and I'll find someone to replace you immediately."

"I try my best."

The technician in charge of intelligence analysis clearly felt pressured by Jasper, and he believed his boss wasn't joking.

If I can't complete this task, I'll probably get fired when I get back.

"Not just try my best, I definitely will!"

"must……"

In Khalid's guest room, Song Heping was inspecting and wiping his weapons.

The smell of gun oil from the AKM assault rifle mingled with the scent of jasmine wafting in from outside the window, creating a strange and incongruous atmosphere.

He pulled back a corner of the curtain, and the city of Aden was pitch black under the moonlight—the power system had been paralyzed for days.

Nura appeared silently in the doorway: "The professor is in his study listening to the BBC on the radio."

Song Heping nodded. This former army medic's behavior was increasingly piquing his interest.

Do you think he's trustworthy?

Nura hesitated for a rare moment: "His daughter... is very innocent. I don't think they're bad people."

The implication behind those words made Song Heping raise an eyebrow.

Nura—the notoriously cold-blooded female leader of a smuggling ring—actually developed trust in an entire family because of a little girl?

Antonov walked in, chewing on an energy bar, and handed the satellite phone to Song Heping: "The satellite phone is fully charged. There's a power outage everywhere right now, but luckily Khalid has a spare battery in his garage."

Song Heping said, "Afanti said the new contact person will arrive at midnight the day after tomorrow."

Antonov moved closer and lowered his voice, saying, "Guess what I found in the garage just now?"

Nura and Song Heping turned to look at the Russian man and asked warily, "What did you find?"

Antonov whispered, "I found a hidden compartment in his tool drawer, where a Makarov pistol, a Soviet-made one, was concealed."

Song Heping frowned.

Why would a university teacher with a military medical background possess a Soviet-made pistol?

Western agents or spies wouldn't use such an old-fashioned pistol.

Moreover, considering Khalid's previous expressions of vehement hatred towards the West when discussing the current situation, it didn't seem like an act; it came from the heart.

He shouldn't be someone from Western intelligence agencies.

"Perhaps it's because things are so chaotic everywhere right now, so the professor bought it to protect his family?"

Nura looked at the two of them and gave an explanation that seemed quite reasonable.

A corner of the map from before flashed into Song Heping's mind.

Khalid's identity is becoming increasingly shrouded in mystery, and more and more doubts seem to be suggesting that his background is not simple.

"You guys be careful tonight. We'll take turns sleeping, and one of us will stay on duty."

“That’s a good idea,” Antonov shrugged. “After all, we only have three days.”

It seems he was unwilling to expose Khalid's identity, and even less interested in digging deeper. After all, a falling out would benefit no one.

At least for now, Khalid has not shown any hostility.

At three o'clock in the morning, Song Heping went to the toilet while keeping watch and noticed a faint light coming through the crack in the study door.

He approached silently and heard a BBC Arabic broadcast coming from the shortwave radio:
"Clashes broke out again in the port of Aden today, with foreign agents believed to be involved."

Khalid's voice suddenly rang out, as if he were talking to himself: "Time is running out."

Song Heping knocked gently on the door, and the sounds inside immediately ceased.

When the door opened, he saw the military map spread out on the table in front of Khalid, next to an old-fashioned telegraph machine.

"Can't sleep?"

Song Heping pretended not to see the equipment.

Khalid took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes: "I'm used to working late at night."

He hesitated for a moment, then asked, "When will your friends arrive?"

"The day after tomorrow at midnight." Song Heping decided to test the waters: "At the abandoned shipyard in the old port area."

Khalid tapped his finger lightly on the map—it was the location of the shipyard.

"It's not safe there now because there are some old ships, which are in high demand these days, so the government has sent soldiers to patrol the area. It seems your friend isn't familiar with the situation there."

Song Heping was slightly shocked.

indeed.

To prevent the news from leaking out, Afanti directly arranged for his trusted confidant Naxin to bring people to meet him.

But Nassin was a member of the Revolutionary Guard and a Persian; he was not a native Yemeni, so it was to be expected that he was unfamiliar with the situation in the port of Aden.

At that moment, Song Heping suddenly realized a very serious problem.

Although Nasreddin's appointment of Nassin as the new contact person prevented the news from leaking out, it also brought new troubles.

The situation in Yemen is currently chaotic, and a civil war is very likely to break out.

Nassin was a newcomer, and even though he brought several elite members of the Revolutionary Guard Special Operations Company, he could easily run into problems if he wasn't familiar with the situation.

Seeing Song Heping remain silent, Khalid seemed even more confident.

He looked up and stared directly into Song Heping's eyes: "I can help you arrange a safer route."

Song Heping did not respond immediately.

He noticed that the paper tape on the telegraph machine displayed a string of numbers—some kind of coded information.

This "professor" is clearly more than just a scholar or a former army medic.

"Why are you helping us?" Song Heping finally asked.

Khalid's eyes hardened: "There was a fierce firefight yesterday at Pier 3. I heard that foreign agents were supposedly targeting three foreigners, but I don't know their identities."

As he finished speaking, his gaze sharpened, as if he had already seen through Song Heping's identity.

Seeing this, Song Heping did not deny it: "That's right, those three people are me, Nura, and Anton. The team that was chasing us was an action team from the CIA. Their target was me."

"Who are you?" Khalid's eyes lit up with a hint of joy.

"Me... well..." Song Heping was momentarily at a loss for words when it came to introducing himself, but he eventually gave a brief summary: "I'm on their kill list. I heard the bounty is quite high, in the top five. If you're interested, you can report me. I estimate you could get twenty or thirty million US dollars."

Song Heping dared to say this because he was confident in Khalid's abilities and thus dared to reveal his identity.

The reason he openly admitted that he was being hunted by the CIA was because he was taking a gamble.

It is bet that Khalid is not a member of Western intelligence agencies.

What kind of person do you take me for?

Khalid's expression turned angry, as if he had been insulted.

Song Heping knew he had made the right bet.

"Sorry, I just said it offhand. After all, twenty or thirty million US dollars is enough for many people to live a life of luxury and wealth."

Khalid snorted and said, "Even if I'm poor, I wouldn't stoop to coveting the filthy money of those Western colonialists!"

These words impressed Song Heping.

There are still tough guys in the Middle East, aren't there?

Like Samir, he is probably an anti-Western nativist.

"You really dislike Westerners?" Song Heping asked with a smile. "Don't you wish they would bring you freedom and democracy?"

Khalid pointed angrily to the dark city outside the window and said, "Look at Aden now, this is the 'democracy' and 'freedom' they promised."

Song Heping suddenly understood.

Khalid is not an ordinary opposition figure; he belongs to an underground resistance network—possibly supported by Iran or a local patriotic organization.

In any case, he probably saw through my disguise the moment I knocked on the door, but still chose to offer help.

"Where do you think would be a good place for us to meet?" Song Heping decided to take a gamble: "Are you willing to offer your help?"

Khalid smiled genuinely for the first time that evening: "Of course, anyone who is an enemy of the Americans is my friend."

Just then, Nina's crying suddenly came from upstairs.

“This country is likely to descend into civil war; things will be very chaotic for some time to come.” Khalid glanced towards the door and then said, “I have a request. If you leave, could you take my wife and daughter with you and send them to Persia?”

"Persia?!"

Song Heping was stunned for a moment.

Why Persia?

(End of this chapter)