Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 904 The Cook is in Trouble

Standing on the steps in front of the Capitol Building, the hot evening wind whipped up sand and slapped against my face.

Song Heping took the satellite phone from Jiang Feng, and an unfamiliar number was displayed on the screen.

Logically speaking, my satellite phone number is confidential and should only be obtained by close friends or family. Moreover, I change my number regularly, so it shouldn't be accessible to strangers either.

The person who can call this phone must know me very well.

"Utkin?"

Song Heping searched his mind for a while but couldn't find a corresponding person.

However, he still called back as requested.

The call was answered quickly.

"Who are you? How do you know my number?"

Song Heping asked the other party about his identity with a hint of wariness.

"Mr. Song?"

A deep, husky Russian-accented English voice came from the other end of the phone, "Let me introduce myself. My name is Dmitry Utkin, co-founder of 'Wakner'."

"Wackner?"

Song Heping felt a slight tremor in his heart.

Isn't this the new defense group that the cook founded in Russia?
The cook had mentioned it to me when I was in Russia.

When he left Iligor and left the defense of the "Musician" to himself to return to Russia, it was actually the cook's pride that got in the way.

After returning to Russia, the cook appeared to be working in the catering industry, but in reality, he always wanted to establish his own mercenary group.

"Wackner" is the product of this idea being put into practice.

The restaurant business was merely a means for him to cultivate relationships with higher-ups and expand his network.

Previously, Song Heping would never ask the cook about his newly established defense company or its operations.

After all, this is a rather sensitive issue.

It's better not to ask about some things.

Song Heping's brows furrowed almost imperceptibly.

“I know ‘Wakner,’ but I don’t know anyone named Utkin.”

Song Heping spoke in a flat tone.

One must remain cautious until a person's true identity can be confirmed.

"The cook knew you'd say that."

A bitter laugh came from the other end of the phone.

"He told me to tell you that you owed him a favor back in Moscow; he gave you the car and the GRU's deployment map, allowing you to escape Moscow."

Song Heping's fingers froze.

It seems this guy's identity isn't an imposter.

That night, when he and Ferrari fled Moscow, only the cook truly knew what had happened between them.

"What happened to the cook?"

Song Heping asked in a cold voice.

"He's in trouble, in Celia."

Utkin lowered his voice even further: "But I can't go into the details over the phone; we need to meet in person to discuss it."

Song Heping's mind raced.

The cook—he's an old friend, and it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say they're friends who'd risk their lives for each other.

Moreover, the current "Musician" defense team was originally the chef's team.

The chef still owns a share in the company, and although he no longer cares about that income, the fact remains.

He's in trouble, so of course I should help him.

“How do I know this isn’t a trap?” Song Heping retorted.

He was very clear about his identity.

I also know how many people I have offended.

From the CIA to the recent coup attempt in Seine, the French probably wish they could shoot themselves in the head.

“I know we haven’t built trust yet, so I can give you time to investigate my background. I previously served in the GRU special forces, participated in two Chechen wars, and co-founded ‘Wakna’ with the cook.”

Utkin paused, then added, "The cook also said that he's still a shareholder in your company."

Right.

Only members of the company's founding team, such as Ferrari and others, knew about the retained shares.

Even those who joined later, like Henry, were unaware of this.

Utkin was able to reveal so many secrets about himself and the cook, so he's probably the real deal.

"Where shall we meet?" he asked.

“Cairo,” Utkin said. “The sooner the better. The cook doesn’t have much time left. Keep an eye on your secret email address—the one the cook used to use to secretly contact you. You’ll receive the meeting place and time.”

After hanging up the phone, Song Heping stood there, staring at the setting sun gradually sinking below the horizon.

The victory of the Republic of Seine suddenly became uninteresting.

The cook got into trouble.

Given the current chaotic situation in Israel, few people would survive if they were trapped in that hellhole.

It seems I must go to Cairo to see what exactly happened.

Where is Henry?

He turned to Jiang Feng. “At the new base in the north.” Jiang Feng replied, “Should we call him over?”

“No, we’re going back.” Song Heping strode down the steps. “Have Ferrari keep an eye on the mine; report any unusual activity immediately.”

On the way back to the camp, Song Heping's satellite phone rang again.

Upon checking the number, it turned out to be Ms. M.

“Song, the meeting was a great success.” Her voice carried a restrained elegance characteristic of English speakers. “London is very satisfied with how you handled the French.”

"Please thank London for me."

Song Heping answered absentmindedly.

“However,” Ms. M paused, “we noticed you received a call from a Russian number. Should I remind you that these are extraordinary times?”

Song Heping's pupils contracted slightly.

MI6 was indeed monitoring his communications.

That old woman M, as expected, didn't let him off the hook after she found out his number.

The British are always so cunning.

She probably called to test me.

After all, Senna already has two players.

She absolutely did not want a third player to get involved and compete for the benefits.

"This is a private matter, and I can assure you it has nothing to do with Sena."

He answered briefly.

“I hope so.” Ms. M’s voice turned cold. “Remember, Song, you are now an important piece on our chessboard. Don’t let yourself become a sacrifice.”

After hanging up the phone, Song Heping gave a cold laugh.

A chess piece? He's always just a player.

Even the most intelligent of these old Europeans, like M, still possess an excessive level of self-confidence.

In the command tent in the center of the camp, Henry sat down at his laptop, turned to Song Heping, and asked, "Speak, what intelligence do you need?"

"Investigate someone."

Song Heping cut straight to the point, "Dmitry Utkin, Russian, former GRU special forces member, co-founder of the 'Vakna' mercenary company."

Henry's glasses reflected the blue light from the screen: "Give me half an hour."

Song Heping nodded and turned to Jiang Feng: "What is our total troop strength now?"

"Currently, there are 2 personnel in the Sena region, most of whom are newly recruited. A special operations company previously transferred from South America suffered heavy losses, and only one platoon remains capable of deployment."

Jiang Feng quickly replied, "In the Darfur region, we currently have very few troops, only a little over eight hundred, composed of newly recruited mercenaries and remnants from other armed groups."

“Now that Colonel Gaddafi is dead, the pressure in Darfur isn’t too great.” Song Heping rubbed his temples. “It doesn’t matter if there are fewer people, but this is newly occupied territory, and Lumar and his men have some ulterior motives, so we must leave a large force to defend it…”

Jiang Feng asked, "Why are you suddenly asking these questions? Are you planning to get involved in the situation in Syria?"

Song Heping remained noncommittal.

Because he couldn't say for sure either.

From a profit perspective, as a defense group, we are supposed to be the employer, and we work for whoever offers the most benefits.

But this time it's different.

The cook was involved.

This money has to be paid by oneself, after all, the emperor doesn't need to starve his soldiers.

To mobilize the company's mercenaries, every penny must be paid, even if you are the boss.

However, getting involved in the situation in Syria was not something Song Heping wanted to see.

In any war-torn country, there's little benefit in actively getting involved, unless someone is willing to relinquish their interests.

“I don’t want to get involved in the situation in Syria right now, but Utkin said that the cook is trapped in Asara, a town in northeastern Syria, and the situation is probably quite critical. If necessary, I will personally fund and lead people there. I can’t ignore the cook’s situation.”

He paused, then continued, "The food in Darfur will be temporarily taken care of by the White Bear couple. Gray Wolf will continue to be in charge of the South American Special Forces Training School. The situation in Sena is currently unstable. Ferrari, Hunter, and Collins will stay to oversee things, since he knows better how to deal with the French and British. As for the current government, they won't dare to take action against us unless the British give their approval."

At this point, his gaze fell on Jiang Feng's face: "What I mean is that you and I should go to Celia. If necessary, we can send a South American special forces platoon there. Given the current situation in Celia, even if we send all our forces there, we'll just be cannon fodder. Having more people won't help..."

Half an hour later, Henry retrieved a detailed file and put it on his laptop screen.

"Dmitry Utkin, codename 'The Philosopher,' 46 years old, former GRU special forces major."

Henry pointed to the photo on the screen—a Slavic man with a stern face and hawk-like eyes.

"He participated in two Chechen wars and received the Order of Courage. In early 2012, he co-founded 'Vakna' with a cook. This company primarily undertakes business for the Russian Ministry of Defense and is responsible for protecting Russian interests in Africa and the Middle East, carrying out various clandestine operations."

Song Heping carefully examined Utkin's combat records—the Grozny street battle and the North Caucasus counter-terrorism operation.
This guy is a ruthless veteran.

"His relationship with the cook?"

"Very close."

Henry pulled up several photos of the two of them together in Celia.

"According to the information I have obtained, Utkin is the cook's most trusted deputy, in charge of all of 'Wakna's' operations in the Middle East."

Song Heping nodded: "Credibility assessment?"

“85%.” Henry adjusted his glasses. “But something’s strange—three days ago, Utkin suddenly flew from Syria to Cairo, and at the same time, the cook lost contact near northeastern Syria, where a fierce battle for oil fields had taken place a few days prior. I suspect the cook’s disappearance is related to that.”

Song Heping's pupils contracted slightly: "You mean, you're sure something happened to the cook?"

“Very likely.” Henry pulled up a satellite map: “This is a thermal image of Asara from 48 hours ago, showing intense fighting. But strangely, there are no records of Russian Aerospace Forces taking off in Seria that day, nor is there any evidence of Russian ground support.”

Song Heping stared at the town marked as a war zone on the map, and a sharp pain shot through his stomach.

The cook may be trapped there, and the Russian army seems to have abandoned him.

(End of this chapter)