That evening, two off-road vehicles entered the outskirts of Butare at dusk.

The slums on the city's edge sprawled like a festering sore, with tin-roofed shacks and mud-brick houses haphazardly packed together, the air thick with the smell of rotting garbage and burning charcoal.

In the distance, government army armored vehicles patrolled the Main Street, their spotlights sweeping the streets and casting glaring patches of light on the dusty roads.

Song Heping slowed down, blending the vehicles in with the various donkey carts and small cars of the city-bound peddlers, making his cars appear less conspicuous.

He pulled out a satellite phone and dialed the encrypted line of Lady M.

"We've arrived," he said in a low voice. "Is the BBC arrangement sorted?"

On the other end came the sound of keyboard typing, and Lady M's voice remained as calm as ever: "It's all sorted; your identity materials have been updated on the BBC's intranet. If someone checks, the system will show that you are special correspondents of the Africa bureau."

"Will it withstand a military check?"

This was now Song Heping's biggest concern.

"As long as they don't send someone personally to investigate at the BBC, there won't be a problem," Lady M said. "Song, you must trust our capabilities."

Song Heping couldn't help but sneer: "It's precisely because I couldn't trust you, M, that this time you got me involved in this godforsaken place, Sena. I almost got wiped out."

Lady M sighed: "It was unexpected; although MI6 has professional intelligence analysis capabilities, there are things we aren't omnipotent about either."

Song Heping certainly didn't believe this old lady.

An intelligence agency of MI6's caliber has the expertise to estimate most possibilities accurately.

Therefore, if M didn't want to involve herself in Sena's coup, she would have certainly informed me of such dangerous possibilities.

The outcome could only be one thing—M wanted to use me to help her overthrow Sena's Noel regime and assist the opposition's Du Er to rise to power.

Now is not the time to concern oneself about such grievances.

Geopolitics works like this.

It's always about mutual exploitation.

I didn't anticipate this layer of danger, and that's my failure, not others' fault.

Song Heping was long accustomed to this line of work.

Whether in international defense circles or the mercenary circle, there's only one principle— survival of the fittest, accepting the risk when you gamble.

"Just get it done, make sure there's no mistake this time, or the outcome won't be what you want to see."

"Rest assured, Song." Lady M gave a very certain answer: "At least in this matter, you can be assured."

Song Heping hung up the phone and turned to the few people in the back seat: "Our identities are confirmed, but what's coming next is the real test."

Jiang Feng tightened his grip on the gun hidden in his camera bag: "Directly storm the radio station?"

"No, reconnaissance first."

Song Heping's gaze swept over the distant city skyline.

"We need to know the security layout of the radio station, the access routes, and—" he paused, "the exact location of the broadcasting room."

Night fell, and there were still a few pedestrians on Butare's 2nd Avenue.

Sena's national radio station was on the east side of 2nd Avenue.

Since the opposing forces and the government army were currently facing off on a front line more than a hundred kilometers away, although the capital Butare had entered a wartime state, the street atmosphere wasn't as tense as the towns near the front line.

Two jeeps parked at a corner not far from the national radio station's entrance, five people divided into two groups, Song Heping and Ferrari disguised as reporters taking photos outside the radio station, Jiang Feng and Collins responsible for noting patrol patterns, and Abdul gathered information in the area by using his local identity after getting off the car.

The national radio station building was a four-story concrete structure, surrounded by tall barbed wire, with four armed soldiers at the entrance, and a sniper observation post on the rooftop.

"More secure than expected."

Ferrari whispered, pretending to adjust the camera focus, but actually observing the sentries on the roof.

"At least ten armed guards, not counting the security personnel inside."

Song Heping nodded, his gaze falling on an inconspicuous small door on the side of the radio station building—that might be the logistics passage.

Just as he was about to approach to check, a soldier suddenly walked towards them.

"You! What are you doing here?" the soldier sternly questioned, finger on the trigger.

Song Heping immediately raised his journalist credentials with a professional smile: "BBC News, we're here for an interview."

The soldier suspiciously took the credentials, flipped through them, and scrutinized their faces.

Just as the atmosphere was about to freeze, Ferrari suddenly interjected in fluent English: "We've just come over from Central Africa, heard there's a coup here in Sena, so headquarters sent us here for an interview."

Song Heping also got out of the car and then feigned interest in the soldier, saying: "May we interview you?"

Ferrari immediately handed the microphone over to the soldier.

The soldier, seeing the microphone and camera, panicked a little.

Lifting his gun: "What are you doing! No filming!"

"No, no, don't be like that."

Song Heping put on a smiling face, gesturing to the soldier.

"There's a reward. Five hundred US Dollar."

Saying this, he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket.

"I'm getting the money, don't shoot."

The soldier's eyebrows twitched upon hearing there was five hundred US Dollar.

"Five hundred US Dollar?"

"Yes, yes."

Song Heping maintained his smile, looking eager to interview, said: "I can give you the money first."

Then, he took out several bills totaling five hundred US Dollar from his pocket—before setting out, Song Heping had loaded his pockets with 300-500 US Dollar cash, ready to bribe any blocking soldiers anytime.

In Africa, such small bribes are incredibly effective and often yield surprising results.

Sure enough, after hesitating for a moment, the soldier eyed the US Dollar and said: "No camera, only questions."

"Alright." Song Heping signaled Ferrari to put down the microphone and camera, then turned to the soldier: "How's the situation now?"

"The situation... no problem, we've entered a state of full alert..."

"Then may I ask if your president is still in the capital?"

"Of course!"

...

Song Heping asked a series of innocuous questions.

The soldier also answered them carelessly.

Finally, Song Heping announced the "interview" was over.

"Thank you very much for accepting our interview..."

Just as he finished speaking, two military vehicles suddenly drove up to the radio station entrance nearby.

Several pairs of eyes followed the military vehicles.

Each truck carried more than twenty fully-armed government soldiers.

Song Heping's face slightly changed.

It seemed the situation took a turn.

"Looks like you've increased the guards at the radio station..."

He said unintentionally.

The soldier looked back: "Of course, wartime status, fifty more men are coming in for tonight to implement security."

Song Heping had no mood to continuing acting with this guy.

If the government army increased guards at the station, it meant the chance of forcibly breaking in was nearly zero.

Originally, with only about twenty people, there was a thought of how to storm in.

Adding fifty men meant nearly a company-sized force.

There were only five people on their side.

Armed only with Glock pistols, some hand grenades, and explosives.

Not nearly enough to deal with so many government army soldiers.

"Thank you very much for accepting our interview; we may meet again later, since our headquarters is contacting your station here, intending to arrange some guests for interviews, and later—"

He pointed in the direction of the radio station.

"We might need to go inside, please take care of us then."

The soldier hesitated a bit, looked back once more in the radio station's direction, touched the pocket holding the warm five hundred US Dollar, and finally waved his hand: "Mm, as long as it's scheduled, go inside, but don't photograph in the restricted zone, or your equipment will be confiscated, I'm lenient, others might react with gunfire!"

"Thank you, thank you!"

Song Heping repeatedly expressed gratitude.

After the soldier left, the two retreated to a safe distance, Song Heping whispered: "We can't delay any longer."

He checked his watch: "Lumar's forces will launch their main attack in two hours, we must enter the broadcasting room before then."

Ferrari said: "You just said we need to go inside for an interview?"

Song Heping said: "Yes."

Ferrari said in surprise: "You said this wasn't part of the original plan..."

Song Heping said: "True, but I've changed the plan; the situation has changed."

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by lotustale.com