Chapter 1332
Negotiations on the Banks of the Tigris
Chapter 1332 Negotiations on the Banks of the Tigris
After leaving the U.S. Embassy, Song Heping's bulletproof car drove through the empty streets of the Green Zone.
The view outside the car window was like a meticulously constructed movie set—neat roads, neatly trimmed trees, and brand-new buildings, a stark contrast to the chaotic and dilapidated state of Baghdad's civilian district just a wall away.
The east of Iligo is slowly recovering, but the northwest remains a festering wound.
The people living in Baghdad are constantly under the shadow of infiltration and attacks by remnants of extremist forces from the Ozam direction.
He checked the intelligence updates on his phone again.
Two new messages appeared in the encrypted channel:
The first report comes from Abyu: "Barzani's advance force, numbering about 800 men and carrying light armor, has reached about 50 kilometers north of Kirkuk. The main force is still assembling."
The second message came from Yusuf: "Saif has come to my house, he is anxious and keeps checking his watch. He demands to see you tonight."
Song Heping replied with brief instructions: "Proceed as planned. Allow Barzani's advance force to advance another twenty kilometers, but once the main force enters the thirty-kilometer red line, immediately prepare for a counterattack. Be careful to distinguish between warning shots and actual engagements to avoid giving others a pretext."
The car drove out of the Green Zone, passed through three checkpoints, and entered Baghdad's Old City.
The scene here is completely different: the streets are narrow and crowded, neon signs flash Arabic script, and the aroma of roasted lamb mingles with the stench of rotting garbage in the sweltering air.
Motorcycles weave precariously through traffic, while pedestrians' faces pass by outside the car windows—tired, wary, numb—each face a testament to the years of trauma this land has endured.
In the past two years, Yusuf has risen to the position of deputy speaker of parliament, and his net worth has also increased accordingly.
Even their residence has been replaced; it's no longer the old house they lived in.
The new home is located in a relatively quiet upscale community.
But the so-called "relatively quiet" is only the standard in Baghdad.
The high walls were wrapped with barbed wire, the concrete base was studded with broken glass, and the heavy steel gate required an electric opening mechanism, with armed guards standing watch at the entrance.
The courtyard is planted with palm trees and jasmine, and a small fountain gurgles in the night.
This is a luxurious tranquility amidst war.
But Song Heping knew that this tranquility came at the cost of exorbitant monthly security fees; the world outside the walls had never truly been far away.
Samir was already waiting in the living room.
"Boss, how is it?" Samir rushed forward and asked anxiously.
"Proceed as planned."
Song Heping calmly sat down and accepted the black tea offered by the servant.
"Barzani has deployed troops, Massoud has sent people to negotiate, and the Americans have expressed 'serious concern.' Everything is on track."
Samir did not relax: "But Parliament will vote again next week, and if the Kolds continue to oppose..."
"They won't oppose it forever."
Song Heping interrupted him, his tone calm but unquestionable.
"Politics is essentially a transaction. The Kold's weakness is their need for the oil revenue from Kirkuk, which accounts for 70 percent of their budget. And now, that revenue is under threat. We have the leverage: control of the oil fields, stability in the northwest, and the avoidance of a civil war they cannot afford. They have what we need: votes in parliament and recognition of Abuyu's legitimacy. Now it's just a matter of price."
Just as the two were talking in hushed tones, Yusuf entered the living room.
Behind him was a man in his fifties, who, though dressed in civilian clothes, stood ramrod straight, revealing his military background.
"Mr. Song, please allow me to introduce Saif Abdullah, advisor and special representative of Chairman Masood."
After saying that, Yusuf turned to Saif and introduced him, saying, "This is Mr. Song Heping, whom you are to meet."
"I've long admired you, Mr. Song."
Saif greeted you in fluent English, his handshake firm but brief, his eyes filled with scrutiny and wariness. “The Chairman has asked me to convey to you his deep concern about the current situation in Kirkuk and his hope for a peaceful resolution.”
“I speak Arabic.” Song Heping gestured for the other party to sit down. “Please sit down, Advisor Saif. We can get straight to the point and not waste each other’s time. The situation in Kirkuk needs to be resolved as soon as possible. Every day of delay increases the risk of it getting out of control.”
Saif sat down upright with his hands on his knees.
"This is exactly what Chairman Massoud wants. We hope to avoid fratricide through negotiations. The Kolds have already shed too much blood; they cannot shed any more infighting."
“A peaceful resolution requires concessions from both sides.” Song Heping looked directly at the other party. “I have two conditions, which are clear and cannot be changed.”
He held up one finger: "First, you must support in parliament the formal incorporation of Samir's 'Liberation Forces' into the government's 10th Border Guard Division, and agree to support granting Samir the rank of Major General. You Kordes have eighteen seats in parliament, and I need at least fifteen votes in favor."
The second finger is raised: "Secondly, the Abuyu Brigade will be reintegrated into the Khord armed forces system, enjoying the same treatment and funding as other regular troops. Abuyu himself will assume a position in the Autonomous Region's Military Council. He and his soldiers should be granted legal status, and their past actions will be disregarded."
Saif's expression shifted from caution to shock, and then to a forced, stiff expression.
The process took only three seconds, but Song Heping saw it clearly.
“This…this is beyond my authorization!” Saif’s voice trembled slightly. “Abuyu’s previous actions have been classified as rebellion! And Samir’s incorporation involves a complex political balance, involving the government, other factions, and international perceptions…”
Song Heping raised his hand to stop him; a simple gesture that carried an unquestionable authority.
Let me tell you what reality is.
His voice remained calm, but every word carried immense weight.
“If my conditions are not met, within three days, the Abuyu Brigade will completely control all the major oil wells in Kirkuk. There will not be twenty-two now, but all thirty-seven. Within a week, the remnants of the 1515 extremist group in the Mosul direction will be unusually active, attacking the western part of the Kold'd controlled area, while General Barzani's troops will be tied down in Kirkuk and unable to come back to reinforce.”
He leaned forward slightly: "And General Barzani's troops... will be bogged down in a costly war of attrition. The Abuyu Brigade has built a deep defense and deployed a large amount of anti-tank firepower. A direct assault would result in at least 1,500 casualties, and there's no guarantee that the oil fields will be recaptured. At that point, you will lose both resources and elite troops, and there may even be a vacuum in your northern defenses."
"Is this considered a threat?"
Saif's voice was filled with suppressed anger and unease.
“This is a deduction based on the current situation. I’m very good at this, as you should know.” Song Heping leaned back on the sofa and shrugged. “You have a choice: peacefully give Abuyu and Samir their due status, maintain stability, and preserve oil revenue; or choose conflict, lose oil, soldiers, and possibly even more.”
He picked up his teacup: "By the way, I know General Barzani has mobilized troops toward Kirkuk. Six thousand men, planning to attack at dawn on the fourth day. Please tell him that if his soldiers fire the first shot, the consequences will not be limited to Kirkuk. I have prepared contingency plans in Mosul, Sinjar, and even Sulaymaniyah."
Saif's face began to turn pale.
He looked at Yusuf as if seeking support, but Yusuf simply lowered his head to sip his tea, avoiding his gaze.
The only sound in the room was the low hum of the air conditioner.
Samir held his breath, Yusuf remained silent, Song Heping waited, and Saif struggled internally.
"I need to consult with Chairman Masood."
When the time came, Saif did not give a definite answer, but seemed to be showing signs of compromise.
“Okay.” Song Heping glanced at the time on his wristwatch. “You have one day. By this time tomorrow, I need a clear answer. If the answer is negative, or if there is no answer, you will bear all the consequences.”
He stood up, a signal to see the guest off.
Saif left, his face pale.
After seeing off the guests and closing the door, Yusuf asked worriedly, "Song, won't this kind of pressure backfire? Barzani is very stubborn, and Massoud also has his bottom line."
Song Heping walked to the window and looked at the jasmine bushes in the courtyard illuminated by the lights.
“Barzani will yield when he finds himself with no other choice. Politics is like chess; sometimes you have to sacrifice smaller pieces to save the king. As for Massoud… he’s a realist. Realists know when to stand firm and when to back down.”
“But what if Barzani really attacks?” Samir pressed.
“Then let him attack.” Song Heping turned around, a strategist’s cold glint in his eyes: “Once a war begins, it is difficult to control. And an out-of-control war often forces all parties to rethink their positions. If Barzani attacks, it will only prove that the Kolde Autonomous Council has lost control and needs a new balance. At that time, not only will Massoud concede more quickly, but even the Americans will have to intervene. Because a full-scale Kolde civil war will completely disrupt their plans in Iligo.”
He patted Samir on the shoulder: "Get ready, Samir. You will soon become a major general in the Iligo Defense Forces."
Samir instinctively straightened his back, as if the rank of major general was already hanging on his shoulders.
Just then, Song Heping's phone vibrated again.
He glanced at the message and a genuine smile appeared on his face for the first time that evening.
“Our ‘gift’ has been delivered. Now, let’s see how everyone reacts tomorrow.”
The "gifts" that Song Heping mentioned are currently being delivered to several key locations in different ways.
The first "gift" was an encrypted intelligence document sent anonymously to the US Embassy's intelligence analysis office. The document was meticulously forged, yet flawlessly so: intercepted communications records, financial transfer records, meeting photos—all the evidence pointed to one conclusion: General Barzani had secret contact with Turkish intelligence and planned to sign a secret development agreement with Turkey's National Oil Company after gaining control of the Kirkuk oil field, bypassing the US-dominated energy distribution system.
The document was forged by a team of experts hired by Henry at high salaries by Song Heping. They had previously worked for intelligence agencies of certain countries and were well-versed in how to create "real lies".
The file even included a processed recording whose voice characteristics matched Barzani's by 95%.
In the world of intelligence, this is enough to cause an earthquake.
A copy of the second "gift" was delivered to the office of Massoud, chairman of the Koldeid Autonomous Council, through another channel.
The delivery method is very classic.
A package without sender information was placed at the reception desk of the committee building.
Security surveillance footage shows that the person who put down the package was a man wearing a courier company uniform, but the license plate was fake, and the face was in a blind spot of the surveillance camera.
The third "gift" was more direct.
At 2 a.m., General Barzani received an email in his private encrypted mailbox with a photo attached.
The scene of his youngest daughter boarding the school bus at the entrance of Erbil International School this afternoon.
The photo was taken at a very close distance and is so clear that you can see the cartoon stickers on the girl's backpack.
The email contained no text, only photos.
But the message couldn't be clearer: we know your family, we know your whereabouts, we know everything about you.
These three "gifts" will trigger a chain reaction in three different decision-making circles within the next twelve hours.
What Song Heping had to do was wait for these reactions to ferment according to the path he had designed.
At the same time, about 30 kilometers north of Kirkuk, in Barzani's command post.
Barzani himself was standing in front of a field map, making final calculations for the upcoming attack.
The command post was located in an abandoned pumping station with concrete walls half a meter thick, capable of withstanding artillery fire.
The generator hums as it powers communication equipment and lighting systems.
Outside, six thousand soldiers are making pre-battle preparations at three main assembly points.
Weapons are being checked, ammunition is being distributed, and the field cooks are preparing their last meal before dawn.
Most of these soldiers were young men, many of whom had fathers or brothers who had fought alongside Barzani.
They were told that this was a "just operation to quell the rebellion" to protect the resources and future of the Kolds.
Most people believe it, or are willing to believe it, because it is the faith they have been taught.
"General, Chairman Massoud is calling."
Chief of Staff Farook walked over with a satellite phone, looking troubled.
"He demanded that you immediately cease military operations and that troops return to their original positions. He said... the committee is resolving the crisis through diplomatic channels, and military action would undermine the negotiations."
Barzani did not answer the phone; his eyes remained fixed on the attack arrows on the map.
"Tell him that our people are on high alert."
His voice was eerily calm.
“Once we recapture Kirkuk and hand the oil fields back to the committee, I will personally explain it to him. History will prove who is on the right side.”
"But General..."
Farooq hesitated, as if he wanted to say something but then stopped.
As a long-time subordinate of Barzani, he rarely questioned the general's decisions, but this time was different.
He saw the intelligence report on the Abuyu Brigade's defensive fortifications, the projected casualties, the weaknesses in logistical support, and the fact that Song Heping's mercenary forces were being mobilized.
“No buts.” Barzani turned, his gaze as hard as a desert stone. “Attack as planned at dawn tomorrow. I want to drive Abuyu out of Kirkuk within three days. That’s an order.”
Farouk saluted and left.
Barzani stood alone in front of the map, his fingers tracing the topographical lines of Kirkuk.
He recalled that twenty years ago, when he was a young company commander, he participated in his first battle to capture an oil field.
At that time, they were poorly equipped with only rifles and rocket launchers, but they were facing the tanks of the Saddam Republican Guard.
Half his company of brothers died in that battle, but they ultimately won. From then on, he firmly believed in a truth: victory belongs to those who dare to fight, to those who are not afraid to sacrifice, and to those who pull the trigger at the crucial moment instead of raising the white flag.
As Barzani prepared to launch a counterattack, Song Heping was remotely directing all operations in the northwest from his hotel in the Green Zone.
“Tell Abuyu to be prepared, but not to fire first.”
Song Heping issued instructions to Abuyu, who was stationed in the direction of Kirkuk, via satellite phone.
"Let Barzani's troops get to the edge of the oil field and then launch a counterattack. The counterattack must be fierce and fast, and they must pay a heavy price in the first wave."
"No problem, Mr. Song!"
Abuyu's voice came through the phone confirming the call.
“Also,” Song Heping added, “deliver our prepared ‘special gifts’ to the designated locations. I want to see the results an hour after the attack begins.”
The "special gift" he referred to was several disguised American-made anti-tank mines.
These landmines were "accidentally" abandoned along the offensive route of Barzani's forces, bearing clear serial numbers that traced back to batches of US military aid.
When a landmine explodes and causes casualties, news will naturally spread that the Americans are secretly supporting Abu Yu.
The truth doesn't matter, nor does whether it is true or not; what matters is planting the seed of doubt.
On the chessboard of political maneuvering, Song Heping has made another crucial move.
This is not chess, nor Go, but a more complex multi-dimensional game—military, political, intelligence, psychological, and public opinion, with each dimension proceeding simultaneously and influencing the others.
After hanging up the phone, Song Heping went out onto the balcony.
The night sky over Bakta had no stars, only thick clouds.
The darkness tonight is particularly thick, like viscous ink that is difficult to dissolve.
On this ancient land, peace is always so fragile, requiring constant bargaining, weighing, trading, and even violence to maintain a temporary balance.
My phone suddenly vibrated in my pocket.
He glanced at it; it was a message from Major General Duke: "Mr. Song, I just received some 'interesting' intelligence. We need to discuss the details of the guarantee agreement. Tomorrow morning at ten o'clock, in my office."
Song Heping smiled slightly and replied, "I look forward to meeting you again. By the way, I will have my third round of negotiations with Advisor Saif at nine o'clock tomorrow morning. Perhaps we will have more to discuss then."
After sending the message, he gazed at the eastern horizon, which was gradually turning white.
A new day is about to begin, and this day will determine the fate of many people.
This includes Samir's military rank, Abuyu's status, the future of the Kolde Autonomous Community, and even the power structure of the entire northwestern Iligo region.
But he knew that this was only a victory in one battle, far from the end of the war.
The real test has just begun.
After all, on this land, today's allies may be tomorrow's enemies, and today's victory may be the prelude to tomorrow's disaster.
The only thing that remains unchanged is the black gold of the Kirkuk oil field, which still flows quietly deep underground, waiting for the next person to seize it.
First update, 5,000 words.
(End of this chapter)