The ancient clock in the corner of the room struck three.

Hakeem suddenly stood up and walked towards the window, turning his back to everyone.

Klein caught sight of Song Heping's fingers quietly moving towards the shock bomb hidden at his waist—if the negotiation failed, he would kill Hakeem right here.

Not killing him would inevitably remain a major threat.

Earlier, out on the open ground, the terrain was disadvantageous to him.

But now, here inside the outpost, and with the drone reconnaissance completed, there were about thirty armed personnel near the outpost, and over a hundred armed men about five kilometers away, likely a unit stationed here.

Five kilometers, as long as he moved fast enough, he could take out all the armed personnel here and then flee.

Although the whole action was very risky.

But fortune favors the brave.

In the war-torn regions of Africa, nothing succeeds without taking risks.

"I need to see more sincerity."

Hakeem finally turned around, a greedy glint in his eyes.

"Markuer has an arsenal in Fashir, if he has it, I want it too..."

Klein knew victory was in sight.

The most dangerous person is one who isn't greedy.

As long as he's greedy, things are easier to handle.

He feigned impatience: "Alright, five days from now at dawn, there will be a shipment arriving here."

This was the bait Song Heping had pre-planned—a batch of Illiguo's former government army weapons, soon to be smuggled through the group to arrive at Ethiopia's port and then delivered to Darfur by Northern Sudan's military via special channels.

"Enough for you to set up a small arsenal of your own and take over Markuer's arsenal. But remember..."

He suddenly grabbed Hakeem's wrist.

"I want Markuer's head placed in front of the gold mine, with a photo as proof."

Hakeem burst into thunderous laughter.

He clapped his hands to signal the attendant to bring coffee—this time, it wasn't drugged.

"To friendship!"

He raised his coffee cup high, the scars twisting and deforming in his smile, making it appear more menacing.

"Cheers!"

One hour later.

As the convoy drove more than ten kilometers away from the outpost, Klein finally breathed a sigh of relief, tore off the eyepatch covering his one eye, then forcefully pulled away the sweat-soaked fake beard, taking deep breaths of the air-conditioned air.

"Good heavens, I thought he was going to find out—"

"You did well."

Song Heping reached over and patted him on the shoulder, then handed him a bottle of mineral water.

"Five days from now, wait and see, for now, I have to make a trip to Chad."

Klein immediately realized that Song Heping was heading to Chad to find Pence.

However, he was still a bit worried, sipping the water and couldn't help asking, "This guy used to be a deputy director of the CIA, killing him might stir up a lot of trouble."

Song Heping said, "No choice."

He didn't clarify the reasons.

The rationale was actually quite simple.

If Pence isn't dead, he will follow him like a ghost, using all means to eliminate him.

This was almost his obsession.

As long as he's alive, Pence probably wouldn't sleep well.

Moreover, in the current situation, whether he eliminates Pence or not doesn't make much difference.

Killing him might actually deter the "Elder Council."

Currently, he was stuck in Africa and hadn't secured a foothold yet.

Once he stands firm, the feud with the "Elder Council" will have to be settled properly.

More importantly, there's Simon.

If Pence dies, there will definitely be a huge shock within the CIA.

They will certainly need to find someone to take over Pence's mess, and Simon would be one of the best candidates.

At least to outsiders, he hates him, holds a grudge, and has dealt with him for a long time.

Considering all factors, Pence must die.

Throughout the night, Song Heping was busy.

After meeting Hakeem, the group got into the car and hurried off to the next meeting location.

The night was as dark as ink, as the jeep bumped along the rugged dirt road.

Song Heping glanced at his luminous watch—it was 2:17 a.m.

Less than five kilometers remained to the meeting with Markuer.

"Each team, confirm your equipment once again."

Song Heping reminded everyone over the channel.

"Release Big Crow, initiate reconnaissance mode."

Collins swiped his fingers across the tablet, the infrared scan showed two armed checkpoints three kilometers ahead.

"Two checkpoints, fifteen to twenty men, heavy machine guns."

Song Heping said, "Mark them all on the electronic map. If they don't let the entourage go in later, Klein and I going in will be enough. You wait outside; remember, leave a team ambushed outside their defense perimeter. If something happens, break through and get us out."

After saying this, he asked again, "Is everything synthesized?"

"Everything's been ready for quite a while."

Collins nodded and pointed to the small black box beside the seat.

"The voice sample of Hakeem we just recorded is clear enough, the synthesized dialogue is flawless. Even if you take this to the CIA lab for testing, it'll take at least three days to find out it's fake."

He was very confident in his craftsmanship.

Song Heping nodded with satisfaction and then checked the Glock 19 at his waist and the ceramic knife at his cuff.

This meeting, Markuer had requested no automatic weapons.

In this regard, he was more cautious than Hakeem.

Everything was as Song Heping expected.

The convoy was stopped at the outer security line.

"The boss has ordered, only two of you can go in, the rest stay here."

The head of the "Decipher" armed group glanced at the long convoy, showing vigilant eyes.

"We are bodyguards, responsible for the VIP's safety."

Song Heping spread his hands, pretending not to understand, and explained, "The client is here to do business, not to clash with you all."

"No means no!"

The small leader immediately warned fiercely, "If you keep nagging, the deal will be canceled right away! That's the boss's word! Know whose territory this is! Who calls the shots!"

Song Heping looked at the vicious small leader in front of him, really wanting to put a hole in his forehead right now to show him who was calling the shots.

Of course, that was just a thought.

"Brody, you come with me, the rest stay here."

Klein, showing the demeanor of the employer, generously stopped Song Heping, who still wanted to argue.

"We are here to discuss a deal, and since this is Mr. Markuer's territory, then we follow his rules."

After saying that, he took the initiative to open the door and got out of the car.

Song Heping followed suit and then turned back to Jiang Feng in English, "You stay here to keep guard."

"OK!"

Jiang Feng followed the script.

Everything was under control.

The small leader, having his way, led the way, taking Klein and Song Heping towards the camp like he had won a battle.

After walking about more than five hundred meters and bypassing a few tents, the three arrived in front of the largest dark green command tent in the center of the camp.

At the entrance stood four fully armed guards, AKM assault rifles slung across their chests.

Klein adjusted his collar and strode towards the guards.

He intentionally snapped a dry twig underfoot, and four rifles instantly pointed at him.

"Don't be nervous."

Song Heping laughed, "I am your leader's guest."

The guards exchanged glances, and one of them lifted the tent curtain to report inside.

A moment later, he came out, motioning for Song Heping to enter.

"The boss says you can go in."

Klein nodded slightly and was the first to step into the tent.

The internal space was much larger than it appeared from outside. An expensive Persian carpet was spread on the ground, and in the corner, there was even a small fridge powered by a generator.

Markuer was sitting in front of a folding table, maps spread out before him.

He was younger than Hakeem, about thirty-five years old, with a shaved head, and part of his right ear missing—a memento from some tribal conflict.

Unlike Hakeem before, Markuer was obviously more arrogant, not even bothering to stand up in greeting. He glanced at Klein, "Are you the intelligence broker and arms dealer?"

Klein nodded, "That's right, we spoke on the phone before, remember?"

"Your voice seems a bit different." Markuer's eyes showed a cold gleam as his fingers casually tapped on the Makarov pistol on the table.

"That's because when I first talked to you, we hadn't reached a consensus yet, so I had to use a voice changer, you know, given my line of work..."

Klein made a helpless expression.

Maybe the excuse seemed reasonable, Markuer pondered for a moment, then seemed to believe it, stood up, and after scrutinizing the two of them, said, "You Americans came rushing in overnight; I hope there's something worthwhile for me staying here in the middle of the night. Otherwise, I hate when people waste my time."

Still that overbearing and rough tone, with an air of a local despot.

Klein snapped his fingers.

Song Heping took out the micro hard drive from his inner pocket and placed it on the table.

Klein pointed to the micro hard drive and said, "This is a very interesting recording. If Mr. Markuer finds no interest in collaborating with us after listening, I won't say an extra word, and we'll leave immediately, how about that?"

Markuer stared at the hard drive for a long time without saying a word, his brows furrowed with a constipated expression.

Song Heping and Klein were secretly worried.

Was this guy tipped off or something?

"You should have told me earlier you had this thing!"

Markuer seemed displeased, snorted, and glared at the two again.

"I don't have a computer here!"

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by lotustale.com