Chapter 1359
The winner takes all
Chapter 1359 The winner takes all
The news of Barzani's suicide acted as the final catalyst, completely destroying the remaining will to resist among the rebels.
The first person to hear the news was a rebel communications soldier.
He stood guard in front of the dilapidated radio when suddenly, chaotic shouts from command center came through his earpiece:
"The general is dead. The general committed suicide!"
The news spread across the battlefield as quickly as a plague.
The deserters ran and shouted, while the government army's psychological warfare unit broadcast a message over the drone's loudspeaker:
"Barzani is dead. Lay down your weapons and stop this futile resistance!"
The already collapsing rebel forces began to disintegrate systematically.
"Barzani is dead!"
"The general committed suicide!"
"Surrender! We surrender! Don't shoot!"
Shouts echoed across the battlefield.
Some men threw their guns out of their bunkers and raised their hands; others tore off the lining of their white shirts, tied them to tree branches, and shook them frantically; experienced sergeants made makeshift white flags from first-aid bandages and carefully peered out from the edge of the trench.
Soon, some officers joined the ranks of those surrendering, while others attempted to escape with their confidants, but were quickly forced back by the encirclement.
The Abuyu Brigade's armed pickup trucks blocked all major roads, while Samir's main force completed an impenetrable encirclement on the flanks.
The gunfire on Nassul Fortress gradually subsided and eventually ceased completely.
An eerie silence enveloped the battlefield, with only the sound of the wind remaining.
Under the protection of the guard platoon, Ma Sude and Song Heping walked out of the fortress command post.
The scene before my eyes was shocking. The outer perimeter of the fortress had been almost completely ravaged by artillery fire. The fortifications were in ruins, riddled with shell craters, some of which were as deep as two meters and filled with murky blood.
Soldiers were cleaning up the battlefield, treating the wounded, and taking in prisoners.
Medics moved among the wounded, prioritizing the seriously wounded, but medical resources were clearly inadequate, and painful groans echoed everywhere.
Major Faisal limped over, his right thigh cut by shrapnel, still bleeding after a simple bandage.
He saluted Little Masood: "Reporting to the commander, the 'Storm' battalion has completed its blocking mission. Our battalion suffered 141 dead, 67 seriously wounded, and countless minor wounded. The estimated number of enemy killed or wounded exceeds 300, and we currently have about 150 prisoners. The rest of the enemy troops have mostly scattered."
Little Masood opened his mouth, but couldn't say anything.
In the end, he simply returned the greeting solemnly: "Thank you for your hard work, Major. You... are all heroes."
Thousands of rebel prisoners were gathered in several relatively flat, open areas.
They stood in a chaotic line, heads hanging low, some with wounds and bandages soaked with blood.
Government soldiers stood guard with guns at their sides, but Song Heping’s instructions were clear: prisoners must not be mistreated.
The containment process was orderly and efficient.
The prisoners were first required to hand over all their weapons and explosives, and then registered according to their rank as officers, sergeants, and soldiers.
Each person's name, original unit number, and rank were recorded.
The next step was preliminary medical screening. Seriously wounded soldiers were prioritized for transport to field hospitals, while lightly wounded soldiers were treated on-site.
Late that night, at a US military hospital in Baghdad's Green Zone.
Old Masoud lay in a special ward, connected to monitoring equipment.
The indicator light on the encrypted satellite phone by the bedside lit up; it was Torhan calling from the front lines. The old man laboriously reached out and picked up the receiver.
"Your Excellency, how are you feeling?"
Torhan's voice was full of concern.
"Not dead yet."
Old Masoud's voice was weak but clear.
"Let's get down to business."
"The battlefield cleanup is basically complete. A total of 10,423 prisoners were captured, including 347 officers. The list of captured items has been preliminarily compiled."
Thorhan paused, then continued, "The screening team has begun its work, and it appears that over 70% of the ordinary soldiers were coerced or blindly followed. They have indicated their willingness to accept the government's arrangements."
Old Masoud closed his eyes and took a deep breath: "Where is Song Heping?"
"He went back to Hurmatu and didn't stay here. He left everything to Lord Masood. Before he left, he said that this was an internal matter for Kold and he wouldn't interfere. But he reminded me to pass on his words to you when I reported to you, saying not to forget to keep his promise."
"As expected." Old Masoud smiled wryly: "After the victory, it's time to divide the cake."
After hanging up Torhan's call, old Massoud stared at the ceiling for a long time.
The monitor emitted a regular beeping sound, and the ward was filled with the smell of disinfectant.
Outside the window, searchlights from the Green Zone pierced the night sky, and armored vehicles patrolled the streets—this was the safest place in Iligo, and also the most unreal place.
He recalled the days twenty years ago when he fought alongside Barzani.
At that time, Barzani was young and full of ideals, believing that he could build a free and prosperous Koldestan.
When did it start to change?
Is it power?
Is it about interests?
Or is it the temptation of external forces?
However, none of that seems to matter anymore.
Because everything is in the past.
After closing his eyes and processing his emotions, Old Masoud picked up the phone and dialed Song Heping's number.
When the call connected, the background noise included the sounds of wind, vehicles, and people in the distance.
It is estimated that Song Heping has not yet returned to Hurmatu and is still on his way.
"Your Excellency, you should rest."
Song Heping's voice still carried his familiar calmness.
Some things can't wait.
Old Masood sat up straight: "Song, you did it. Thank you."
Song Heping's voice sounded calm: "I am the owner of a defense company. Taking on this business and helping you solve your problems is my job. However, I will not work for free; I expect a reward."
"It should."
Old Masood took a deep breath and continued, "Tomorrow, I will instruct our party group in the Iligo parliament to fully support the bill to formally incorporate Samir's 'Liberation Forces' into the National Defense Forces. Not just verbal support, but a full-scale effort, utilizing all political resources, to ensure the bill passes."
Both of them were well aware of the weight of this promise.
Although the Kolds have only a relatively limited number of seats in the Iligo Parliament, they often play a significant role on key issues.
Masood's move is tantamount to making his attitude and stance clear to everyone.
"No problem, I believe you are a person who keeps your promises."
Song Heping was not surprised.
That's the rule.
Industry rules.
If old Masoud dares to take the benefits and not do the work, I'll just flip the table.
In northwestern Iligo, Song Heping had the power to keep old Masoud from sleeping soundly at night.
Especially now, taking advantage of the current unrest in Kolde, Song Heping has ordered Afanti to send another 5,000 troops into Iligo.
In addition to the three thousand men that Nassin had previously deployed in Baiji.
Currently, the Quds Force has a potential force of 8,000 in northwestern Iligo.
In addition to the Abuyu Brigade's small force of about 5,000 men, Samir's militia of over 8,000 men, and his own two elite mercenary battalions.
If Old Massoud dared to play any tricks, Song Heping would dare to annex all the oil fields in the Kirkuk region, depriving the Kordes of their most important source of income.
If things really escalate to that point, even if Major General Duke and the U.S. military, who have always acted as mediators, are shameless and unscrupulous, they will probably find it difficult to speak up for Old Masoud.
"Mr. Song, please rest assured." Old Massoud promised again, "I, Massoud, am not a man of my word. What the Kolde people promise, I will definitely do for you. Wait for my good news."
He paused, then his voice became more serious: "There's one more thing. As for Abyu, I will reinstate him to the Military Council and appoint him as its deputy. His troops will also return to the management of the Kolde Military Council, enjoying the same funding and equipment as other troops. However, he can only serve as the deputy of the Military Council; that's the limit of what I can promise."
"I understand."
Song Heping understood, of course.
After this rebellion, for a long period of time, at least while the elder Massoud was in power, his son, the younger Massoud, would be the de facto leader of the Military Council, while Abuyu and Torhan, who made great contributions in suppressing the rebellion, would only be deputies.
This is politics.
"But I have a condition."
"Please speak, Mr. Song."
"The Abuyu garrison area remains in place."
in situ.
This means remaining in the Kirkuk oilfield area.
Song Heping's move also contained a brilliant idea.
Since Abyu's only position as deputy in the Military Council was due to the balance of power among factions within Kolde or the trust placed in him by old Massoud, Abyu must also have his own leverage.
Otherwise, holding a nominal position is of no use.
Financial power, authority, and responsibility must be balanced.
As long as Abyu is in charge of the defense of the Kirkuk oil field, his position is even more crucial than that of Torhan.
After all, that's where the Koldeid Autonomous Region's revenue comes from.
If anyone tries to harm Abyu in the future, he can simply overturn the table and use Kirkuk as a strategic location to oppose any faction within the Koldeid.
These are the chips.
Of course, old Masood knew.
After a full ten seconds of silence, he finally agreed: "Okay, I agree."
He had no choice but to agree.
The Koldeid Autonomous Region has just quelled a rebellion, but there are still many key figures from the old Barzani faction to be purged.
I no longer have the energy to create another enemy for myself.
Especially enemies like Song Heping.
We really can't afford to mess with them.
In particular, Old Masude was well aware of Song Heping's style of doing things.
He really dares to overturn the table.
Not to mention the Colder table.
He's flipped the tables of Americans.
Don't mess with this Northwest King, no matter who you are.
After the call ended, old Masoud leaned back wearily against his pillow.
The monitor showed his heart rate was a little fast, but he didn't care.
He has already seen the next step: to use this victory as a springboard to promote military reform and strengthen the authority of the central government.
He suddenly had a new idea.
Song Heping was appointed as an advisor to the autonomous region government to participate in these reform efforts.
After all, with a powerful Northwest King assisting him, the pro-Barzani military forces or groups within the country would have to think twice about whether they could compete with Song Heping. But Song Heping was the owner of a defense company.
Is it appropriate for someone to be a government advisor?
I racked my brains and thought about it for a while.
Old Masoud suddenly had a flash of inspiration.
He picked up the phone again, this time dialing his confidant Saif.
“Saif, there’s something I need to talk to you about… yes… now, right now…”
When Saif, who was in charge of liaison and negotiations in the Green Zone, received the call, he was in his hotel room in the Green Zone organizing documents related to the external publicity of the counterinsurgency operation.
He was the most trusted advisor to the elder Massoud, and his style was more like that of a scholar than a politician.
Although old Masoud's voice was weak on the phone, it conveyed an undeniable urgency.
"Now? Your Excellency, it's almost midnight, your health..."
"I'm worried," Saif said.
"Now."
Old Masoud repeated, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.
Twenty minutes later, Saif's car drove into the Green Zone Coalition General Hospital.
After passing through two security checks, he entered the special ward of old Masoud, accompanied by special agents.
The ward was dimly lit by only one bedside lamp.
Old Masoud leaned against the hospital bed, his face appearing exceptionally pale under the light, but his eyes remained as sharp as an eagle's.
"Your Excellency," Saif greeted softly, pulling up a chair to sit on the edge of the bed. "You should get some rest."
"Some things are more important than rest."
Old Masood gestured for the special agents to leave the room, and only continued speaking after the door was closed.
“Saif, I need you to draft a contract.”
Saif took his laptop out of his briefcase: "What type of contract? And with which party?"
“Defense advisory contract. Party A is the government of the Kolde Autonomous Region, and Party B…” Old Masood paused, then gritted his teeth and said, “Song Heping, or his defense company.”
Saif's finger stopped on the screen. He looked up, a hint of confusion flashing in his eyes behind his glasses:
"Defense Advisor? Song Heping? Your Excellency, he just helped us quell the rebellion. We do owe him a favor, but in the form of a government contract..."
“It’s not just about personal relationships.” Old Masood interrupted him, leaning forward slightly, though the movement made him frown. “Don’t you understand? This battle is over, but the real war has just begun.”
He gestured for Saif to come closer and lowered his voice: "Barzani is dead, but his network of influence is still there. How many of his men are in the army? How many are in the government? How many are in the intelligence services? Even our own people aren't clean. This time, I'm cleaning up these cancerous growths and also taking this opportunity to reform the armed forces, but I'm worried about causing new unrest, so I need a knife, a sharp and swift knife, to deter these ambitious guys."
Saif was silent for a moment, then slowly nodded: "You want Song Heping to be the knife."
“It’s not just about the knife,” old Masoud said. “I want to leverage his prestige. Think about it, if we start purging the remnants of Barzani’s influence from within, will those generals, those ministers, those members of parliament be convinced? They will resist, they will make trouble, and they might even rebel again.”
He paused, catching his breath:
"But what if Song Heping is involved in the purge? Who would dare to make a move? Who would dare to cause trouble under the nose of the Northwest King? He's the kind of person who dares to fight both the Americans and the 1515 armed forces together."
Saif understood.
He quickly jotted down the key points on his tablet:
"So this contract, on the surface, is a defense consulting contract, assisting us in training troops and strengthening defense..."
"It is actually a protection contract."
Old Massoud interjected, “I want him to be legitimately involved in Kold’s military affairs. The contract can state that the advisor has the right to attend military council meetings, the right to make recommendations on military reforms, and the right to…” He paused for a moment, “to establish a special advisor’s office, equipped with the necessary personnel and resources.”
Saif's fingers swiped rapidly across the screen as he began drafting an outline: "Contract deadline? Budget?"
"Sign a three-year contract first. Budget..."
Old Massoud closed his eyes and did some calculations: "Fifteen million dollars a year. No, twenty million dollars. This money comes from the special security fund. Tell the Treasury that this is a necessary expenditure for postwar reconstruction."
“Twenty million US dollars…” Saif hesitated for a moment, “The parliament might have some questions. After all, this is not a small amount.”
"Let them question it."
Old Masoud opened his eyes, his gaze sharp as a knife: "Just say that this money is to prevent a second rebellion by the remnants of Barzani's forces. Do you think those members of parliament would dare to oppose increased investment in security after experiencing this turmoil? Moreover, twenty million to buy an elite force that can be mobilized at any time to protect you for a year, and to buy an advisor that even the US military is wary of, is a great deal."
Saif nodded and continued taking notes: "What about the specific responsibilities? I need more detailed terms."
Old Ma Sude pondered for a moment and began to list them one by one:
"First, assist the Ministry of National Defense and the Military Commission in formulating military reform plans, including command system restructuring, equipment standardization, and training syllabus updates."
"Second, participate in the aftermath of the Barzani rebellion, including the identification of prisoners, military court trials, and security cleansing operations—this should be written more euphemistically as 'assisting in maintaining internal security and stability'."
"Third, it has the right to propose adjustments to existing military deployments, especially defense arrangements in key areas."
"Fourth..." he emphasized, "The advisor's office has the right to access non-classified military and intelligence documents in order to gain a comprehensive understanding of the security situation."
"Fifth, during the contract period, the advisor and his/her designated personnel shall enjoy the security and legal protections of diplomatic personnel level."
Saif took notes while pondering the legal wording.
This contract is indeed operating in a gray area.
Although he is called a defense advisor, his actual power is close to that of a national security advisor.
But he understood old Massoud's predicament; after this rebellion, the old president no longer dared to trust anyone on the inside.
Song Heping, an outsider, is actually more reliable precisely because he is an "outsider".
He had no local faction ties, and his interests were simple and direct.
“There’s another question,” Saif asked, looking up. “Will Song Heping accept this? Didn’t he just leave the front lines, saying it was an internal matter for Kolde and he wouldn’t interfere?”
Old Masood laughed, a laugh typical of politicians: "He doesn't get involved because he wants to avoid suspicion and wait for us to invite him. That's the rule. But if we formally invite him, with a contract, pay him money, and give him a title... he'll accept it. Because he needs that title."
"Does it need a formal title?" Saif asked, puzzled.
“Yes.” Old Masood nodded. “Song Heping has been operating in the Northwest for so many years. He has his own sphere of influence, oil field security contracts, and a network of militia connections. But he has always lacked a formal identity. The US military’s cooperative alliance? That’s just a temporary facade. But what about the regional government’s defense advisor? That’s a partner. With this identity, it will be easier for him to do things in the future, and his words will carry more weight.”
He paused to think for a moment, then added:
"And don't forget, we also need to push for the incorporation of Samir's forces at the Iligo Conference. That proposal requires negotiation among all parties. If Song Heping is our official advisor, his activities in Baghdad and his lobbying efforts will be much more legitimate."
Saif finally understood.
This is not a simple employment contract; it is a contract for a political alliance.
Old Masoud exchanged money and official status for Song Heping's military power and influence, with both sides getting what they wanted.
"When do we need the contract?" Saif asked.
"Before noon tomorrow," Old Masood said. "Draft it overnight and send it to me before nine o'clock in the morning. After I revise it, go directly to Hurmatu to find Song Heping. Go in person, don't use electronic transmission, use a paper contract, and discuss it face to face."
"So urgent?"
“We must act quickly.” Old Masoud lay back on his pillow, looking tired but determined. “The news of the victory has just spread, and everyone is realigning themselves. We must take advantage of this momentum to make it a fait accompli. By the time those old followers of Barzani realize what’s happening, by the time they start networking and trying to protect themselves, Song Heping will already be there. Then, who will dare to make a move?”
Saif closed the tablet and stood up: "I understand. I'll go back and draft it now."
“Wait a minute,” old Masoud called out to him. “There’s one more thing. Add another clause to the contract: the advisor’s office has the right to establish a permanent office in Erbil, equipped with the necessary communication and security facilities. The location… will be the old intelligence building next to the presidential palace. It’s empty there and can be used after some minor renovations.”
This is very meaningful.
Allowing Song Heping's people to set up offices next to the presidential palace is tantamount to announcing to everyone that this Easterner is now the president's most trusted security advisor.
Let's see who dares to risk touching the Masoud family's finger.
This is a typical case of using public funds to buy private soldiers.
Kill two birds with one stone!
“Okay.” Saif noted it down. “Anything else?”
Old Masood thought for a moment, then shook his head: "That's all for now. Remember, the contract terms must be professional, legal, and impeccable. But in actual execution..."
He looked at Saif.
"You know what to do."
Saif nodded.
Of course he knows what to do.
Within the legal framework, Song Heping's freedom of action was maximized, making this contract a powerful tool for Masoud to consolidate his power and clean up his internal affairs.
It was 1 a.m. when I left the ward.
As Saif walked down the quiet hospital corridor, he began to formulate contract terms in his mind.
As the elevator descended, he looked at himself in the mirror.
Overnight, he seemed to have a few more gray hairs.
But that's politics. In Ilya, in Kurdistan, to get things done, you have to know how to leverage resources, how to make deals, and how to dance on the edge of a knife.
Back in his car, Saif didn't go home, but drove straight to his office.
On the way, he called his legal advisor and asked him to come to the office to work overtime as well.
Then I contacted the head of the Budget Department of the Ministry of Finance.
Fortunately, the man was also a close confidant of old Masood and agreed to handle the approval process for the special funds overnight.
That night, lights were on in many offices in Erbil.
The celebration of victory belonged to the common people, while the realignment of power took place quietly in the still of the night.
At 3 a.m., Saif completed the first draft of the contract.
He immediately began reviewing each item:
Defense Consulting Services Contract between the Government of the Kordi Autonomous Region and the Northwest Defense Company
Article 1: Service Content
Party B will provide Party A with comprehensive defense consulting and advice services, including but not limited to: optimization of military organizational structure, reform of military training system, security risk assessment, defense planning for key areas, etc.
Article 2: Advisor's Authority
The consultant designated by Party B has the right to attend meetings of Party A's military committee and express opinions; the right to access non-classified military documents; and the right to conduct on-site inspections and assessments of Party A's security forces...
Article 3: Special Office
Party A will provide Party B's consultants with permanent office space and necessary support in Erbil, and Party B may send no more than one hundred staff members...
Article 4: Service Period
This contract shall come into effect on the date of signing and shall be valid for three years...
Article 5: Service Fees
Party A will pay Party B an annual consulting fee of US$20 million, payable quarterly...
Article 6: Security Guarantee
The consultants and staff of Party B enjoy diplomatic-level personal safety and legal immunity within the jurisdiction of Party A…
……
Saif carefully considered the wording to ensure that every point was legal and compliant, while leaving ample room for practical implementation.
For example, the clause on "attending meetings and expressing opinions" sounds mild, but given Song Heping's prestige and power, everyone knows how much weight his "opinions" carry.
At six o'clock in the morning, Saif sent the draft contract to Masood's encrypted email address.
At 7 o'clock, Masood called and offered several suggestions for revision, mainly adding to the "Special Office" section that "the office may be equipped with necessary secure communication equipment and be directly connected to the President's Security Office."
This is a crucial addition.
This means that Song Heping's intelligence channels will be directly connected to the president.
At 8:30, the final version of the contract was completed.
Saif had his secretary print three copies, stamp them with wax, put them in an tamper-proof document bag, then called the secretary over, handed him the document, and ordered him to send it immediately to Erbil and deliver it to Masoud.
After doing all this, Saif felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him, and he couldn't help but walk to the window and pull back the curtains.
It was already broad daylight outside.
The new game has begun.
Second update! 10,000 words completed! It's the last day of the month. Looking at the month, there were only three days without reaching 10,000 words, but the monthly votes...
They've dropped to 10th place...
(End of this chapter)