Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 889 Adventure
The group quickly returned to the car and gathered together to discuss their next move.

Ferrari stared at the government soldiers pouring into the radio station in the distance, fine beads of sweat forming on his forehead: "Song, are you crazy? Going in now is like walking into a trap!"

Song Heping's gaze was fixed on the radio station building: "Precisely because they've reinforced their troops, we need to go in even more."

"What do you mean?" Ferrari asked in a low voice, "Have you considered whether we can even get out of here?"

"Their troop increase indicates that the radio station is a key protected target."

Song Heping quickly analyzed, "But it also means—they're afraid the radio station will be attacked. If we can control the broadcasting studio, the chaos will be much greater than anticipated."

Jiang Feng leaned out from the back seat: "But we only have pistols, how are we going to deal with a whole company of soldiers?"

“We don’t need to deal with everyone.” Song Heping pointed to the small door on the side of the radio station. “Our firepower and manpower are insufficient to handle them. Right now, with our strength, if we just reach the broadcasting room and take control of the key personnel, we still have a chance of winning. Otherwise, the probability of successfully forcing our way in is probably less than 1%.”

After saying that, he took out his satellite phone and dialed Ms. M's number again: "I need the BBC Africa bureau to contact Radio Sena immediately to arrange an urgent interview."

There was a two-second silence on the other end of the phone: "What do you want?"

"Do as I say." Song Heping's voice was as cold as ice, giving M no room for further questioning: "I need a formal invitation from the radio station within twenty minutes."

After hanging up the phone, Song Heping turned to the group: "The new plan—we'll walk in openly and legitimately as BBC reporters."

“Collins.” He turned to the back seat. “I need the floor plan of the radio station.”

"The radio station's broadcasting studio is on the third floor, at the very back."

Collins turned on his computer and pulled up the floor plan provided by MI6.

"There are two entrances inside the building. There are guards in the main corridor, but you can go around to the equipment room on the side. Compared to downstairs and the main entrance, there are actually fewer guards in the broadcasting studio."

Jiang Feng added, "The guards change shifts at 10 PM. There's a five-minute gap in between."

Abdul wiped his sweat: "I heard that the radio will be broadcasting the president's national address live tonight, and all staff will be on duty."

Song Heping stared at the blueprints, then suddenly looked up: "Then let's act during the live broadcast. Take control of everyone within ten minutes, then immediately play Duer's speech."

Everyone was stunned.

Sweat dripped from Ferrari's forehead: "This is a death-defying tactic. Once Duer's speech is broadcast, everyone will know the radio station is in trouble. All the guards downstairs will swarm in..."

“As long as the broadcast goes on, we can retreat immediately!” Song Heping said, “The government troops here at the radio station will know that something happened upstairs and they will come up, but the government troops fighting on the front lines will have no idea what happened, and the citizens will not know either, which will cause panic.”

"How does the frontline commander contact the people here to communicate?" Ferrari asked.

"As long as we create chaos in the army and distract the frontline commanders, we will have successfully bought time for Lumar and his men. When we leave, we will blow up the broadcasting studio and equipment. Then they will be unable to resume broadcasting to clarify the situation. Once the radio station is shut down, who do you think the government troops and the people will choose to believe?"

Everyone was silent.

Everyone knows that Song Heping is very bold.

But to be so bold.

Jiang Feng and Ferrari exchanged glances, all swallowing their saliva with difficulty.

“During a live broadcast, all attention will be focused on the studio, and security will be less vigilant.”

Song Heping's voice was frighteningly calm. "We'll apply for temporary interviews under the guise of BBC reporters, infiltrate the area, and take direct control of the broadcasting studio. Abdul will simultaneously contact Lumar, instructing them to cooperate in creating momentum and launching a fierce attack on the government forces' defenses. We must break through their lines and create an opening."

“Okay…” Abdul looked at Song Heping as if he were looking at an alien.

This style of play.

Don't tell me you've never seen this before.

Never heard of it.

Ferrari frowned: "It's too risky. If we fail, we won't even have a chance to retreat."

“There’s no better option.” Song Heping’s gaze swept over everyone. “In two hours, Lumar’s troops will launch a general offensive. If the radio is still under government control after the war starts, the government forces won’t collapse.” He paused, his voice low. “Therefore, we must let everyone in Sena hear Dur’s voice, let them believe—the capital has fallen.”

A brief silence fell over the car.

Finally, Jiang Feng sneered, "Damn it, let's do it."

At 9:45 p.m., the five of them arrived at the radio station building again.

Song Heping straightened his suit and tie, and walked at the front with his briefcase in hand.

The security guard at the gate stopped them: "Identity."

"BBC News," Song Heping said, handing over his press pass, "we've scheduled a live broadcast for tonight."

The guards checked the list and sure enough, they saw the record of the "BBC Special Mission"—this was naturally Ms. M's doing.

The soldier who had just been "interviewed" came over to his colleague and said, "They're from the BBC. I just checked with them across the street."

"Go in." Hearing that his colleague had already checked, the guard didn't check further, waving him through and adding a reminder: "Don't wander off."

"no problem."

Song Heping readily agreed.

As the group walked past the security cordon at the gate, they still felt like they were in a dream.

"The world is a giant makeshift operation." Ferrari couldn't help but laugh: "They just let us pass by without even contacting the radio station."

The building was busier than expected, with staff running around, adjusting equipment and checking manuscripts.

Song Heping and his four companions mingled in the crowd and moved silently toward the third floor.

It seemed that no one noticed these strangers.

Two guards stood in front of the broadcasting studio, pistols tucked into their waistbands.

Song Heping gave Ferrari a wink, and the latter immediately stepped forward and loudly asked in an exaggerated London accent, "Where's the restroom? I can't hold it in any longer!"

The guard impatiently pointed in a direction, and the Ferrari thanked him repeatedly, then deliberately bumped into one of the men.

Taking advantage of the moment when their opponent was distracted, Song Heping and Jiang Feng attacked simultaneously—

“Crack.”

A slight cracking sound of a neck breaking was heard, and the two guards fell silently to the ground.

Collins quickly pried open the lock on the broadcasting studio door, and the five of them slipped inside, locking the door behind them.

Inside the broadcasting studio, three staff members were adjusting equipment when they saw the strangers suddenly barge in. Just as they were about to cry out, Jiang Feng and Ferrari had already pressed the muzzle of their guns against their foreheads.

"Don't move, don't shout," Song Heping said coldly. "We just need to borrow your equipment for a short while."

Collins quickly took control of the console and inserted a pre-prepared audio tape.

Jiang Feng stood guard at the door, his ear pressed against the door panel, listening to the sounds outside.

Abdul immediately took out a satellite phone to contact Lumar and inquire about launching an attack.

Song Heping glanced at his watch: "Ten minutes left. Lumar's agreed-upon time for the final assault is after ten o'clock."

Everyone held their breath, sweat dripping down, the sound of it hitting the ground almost audible.

At this time, the guards downstairs were still patrolling as usual, and no one knew that something had happened in the broadcasting studio upstairs.

The entire country was unaware.

(End of this chapter)