Chapter 1361
The Art of Dealing
Chapter 1361 The Art of Dealing
"boss."
Suddenly, a voice came from behind him.
Song Heping turned around and saw Abuyu standing not far away.
"This is my preliminary reorganization plan."
Abuyu walked over, handed over the documents, and said:
"They agreed to follow your suggestion and form a new mechanized brigade based on my original three main regiments, supplemented with some reliable prisoners. The total strength is tentatively set at eight thousand men, consisting of three mechanized infantry battalions, one armored battalion, one artillery battalion, one engineer battalion, and one logistics support battalion."
Song Heping took the document and quickly browsed through it.
The plan, which is more than 20 pages long, details the location of each company, equipment list, and training plan.
It's clear that Abuyu is serious; he's been waiting for this opportunity for a long time.
“The selection of officers is crucial.” Song Heping turned to the personnel arrangement section. “They must have political acumen and be loyal enough. Of course, they can’t just be your old subordinates. You have to appoint people based on merit, and sometimes you even need representatives from other factions. Balance, Abuyu. You’ve suffered from this before. You didn’t know how to balance the relationships between the various forces, which is why you became a thorn in the side of others.”
As he spoke, he handed the proposal back to Abuyu.
"Although you have a military background, once you enter the Military Commission, it will be more than just a military department. You will inevitably be involved in Erbil's political circles. Take care of yourself."
Abuyu nodded and said, "I understand. I've learned a lot from you these past few days. Don't worry, boss, I won't let you down."
"Then do your job well."
Song Heping handed the document back to him.
Abuyu solemnly accepted the document, saluted, and then turned to leave.
After Abuyu left, Song Heping remained standing in the shadows for a while longer.
Order has been fully restored in the prisoner-of-war camp. The prisoners are squatting on the ground eating simple lunches, and few of them are talking.
Medics patrolled the camp, checking on the condition of the wounded.
In the distance, several military trucks were unloading drinking water and medicine.
order.
This is the most important thing after the war ends.
Establish order, maintain order, and make everyone aware of the rules and the consequences of violating them.
My phone vibrated again.
This time it's Samir.
He was already in Bakhta at this point.
After all, the parliamentary bill was passed in just a few days, and now that the rebellion in Erbil had been quelled, there was no need for him to stay there any longer.
Immediately after leaving Erbil, he took a helicopter from the "Musician" defense company and rushed back to Bakhta.
"Boss, Saif is here with Old Masood's contract. He's waiting for you in Hurmatu. Also, we've received over a dozen invitations from Bakhta, including a luncheon from the US Embassy, a tea party from the British Embassy, a dinner invitation from Prime Minister Maliki's office, and invitations from several large local companies."
“Tell Saif I’ll be there later,” Song Heping interrupted him. “As for those invitations, put them all on hold for now. Tell him I’m busy with military affairs and we’ll arrange them when I have time. Also, send me a list of the people and companies that invited me, along with their backgrounds.”
After hanging up the phone, he looked at the prisoner-of-war camp one last time.
Order, rules, balance.
These three things are the scarcest resources in the chaotic land, and they are the foundation for his ability to establish himself here.
That evening, when Masood's video conference request came in, Song Heping was on a helicopter returning to Baghdad.
He looked at the encryption icon flashing on the screen and hesitated for a moment.
In his own opinion, he did not want to get too involved in the internal affairs of the Kolds.
But thinking of the consulting contract he was about to sign, which would pay him an annual salary of twenty million dollars, he still pressed the answer button.
On the encrypted tablet screen, four segments lit up one after another.
Old Masood lay in his hospital bed, pale but with sharp eyes; Torkhan was in his Ministry of Defense office, with a huge map of Iligo's military deployment behind him; Abuyu was still in the temporary command post of the Nasul POW camp, with the sounds of truck engines and soldiers audible in the background; Song Heping was in the helicopter cabin, wearing noise-canceling headphones.
"We have won a battle, but the war is far from over."
Old Masoud got straight to the point, his voice filled with deep weariness and worry.
"Barzani is dead, but his network of connections and his remaining supporters remain. The resettlement and screening of more than 10,000 prisoners is a huge challenge. Control over places like Kirkuk needs to be consolidated."
He paused, and the image on the screen flickered due to a signal problem:
"Moreover, this civil war has exposed too many problems within our Koldeid Autonomous Council: the loyalty of the army, the loopholes in the command system, and the risks to intelligence security. Barzani is not the first person to be corrupted by power, and he will certainly not be the last."
"The most urgent task is to reorganize the army and establish a more reliable command and control system."
At this point, he glanced at the video frame where Song Heping was located and added:
"Furthermore, I have some good news. The Sunni parliamentary group has changed its stance and expressed its support for the proposal to reorganize the Samir forces into the 10th Border Defense Division. This is largely thanks to the strength and influence that Mr. Song demonstrated in this suppression of the rebellion."
Abuyu snorted on the other end of the screen: "That old fox Hashimi, he's quick to change his tune. He was cursing us on TV just a few days ago, but now that we've won, he's changed his tune immediately."
“That’s how politics is,” Tolhan said calmly. “They’ve seen the winds of change. The Ten Aye were already in favor, and with the support of us Kolds, it would be pointless for the Sunnis to continue opposing; they would only be marginalized. So it’s better to take the initiative to change their stance and gain some benefits, such as arranging a few officer positions in the new unit.”
Old Masoud nodded, his tone clearly ingratiating as he said:
“Mr. Song, you deserve much credit for the smooth progress of Samir’s reorganization. Our friends in Parliament know very well that without your victory on the battlefield, these political changes would have been impossible.”
He paused, observing Song Heping's reaction, before continuing to ask:
"Since we're on the topic, what are your thoughts and suggestions regarding the upcoming reforms of our Kold's Army? I know you'll soon be officially appointed as our Special Security Advisor, and I'd like to hear your insights."
Song Heping sighed inwardly.
He understood old Massoud's intention.
This top leader of the Kolds was simply trying to use this opportunity to have his incoming advisor publicly endorse the reforms of the Kolds army, and incidentally test how deeply he was willing to get involved.
The $20 million annual consulting fee buys not only his personal expertise, but also the military credibility guaranteed by the prestigious "Musician" defense company.
He took off one of his noise-canceling headphones, and the roar of the helicopter engine immediately became clear.
Before speaking, he deliberately waited longer than usual, so that everyone could clearly hear the noisy background noise, and to make his answer seem more cautious.
“You flatter me.” Song Heping’s voice was calm and his words were cautious. “The reorganization of General Samir’s troops was the result of negotiations between the Bakda government and the Kolde Autonomous Region. As an outsider, I only provided necessary security assistance.”
Looking at the expectant look in old Masood's eyes on the screen, he knew he had to give something in return.
After all, the other party had just demonstrated their prowess with Samir's adaptation and was about to pay $20 million in consulting fees annually.
You can't just take someone's favor for nothing, can you?
"As for the reform of Kold's army," Song Heping carefully chose his words, "I think there are several principles worth considering."
He didn't say "suggestion," but rather "worth considering," deliberately maintaining a distance.
"First, the handling of prisoners of war needs to be swift and transparent. This is key to stabilizing morale among the military and the people. Clearly distinguish between ringleaders, key figures, and those who have been coerced, and ensure that the process is open and the results are convincing."
"Second, the reorganization of troops should focus on balance and should not be a simple reorganization. We can consider using existing reliable troops as the backbone, and absorbing vetted prisoners and new members to form a new core force."
"Third, the purge must be targeted, with the goal of eradicating Barzani's political legacy, rather than broadening the scope of the crackdown. At the same time, proactive communication with external parties is essential to avoid miscalculations by various forces."
He spoke very concisely, each point being merely a statement of principle, without any specific operational plan.
This fulfilled the advisor's obligation to "provide advice" while avoiding excessive intervention in the specific affairs of the Kolders.
Old Masoud nodded slowly, a satisfied expression on his face.
What he wanted was for Song Heping to say those words in public.
With the principled endorsement of this senior advisor who had just quelled the rebellion, he had more confidence to push forward with military reforms and internal purges.
“Mr. Song is right,” said old Masoud, then turned to Torhan, “Torhan, formulate a detailed implementation plan as soon as possible, in accordance with the principles proposed by Mr. Song.”
He looked at Song Heping one last time, his eyes sincere yet complex:
“Mr. Song, you deserve immense credit for this victory. I have already sent Saif to Bakda with the contract to await you. I hope you will accept my invitation to serve as the special security advisor to the government of the Koldist Autonomous Region. The stability and future of Koldistan need your support and guidance.”
Looking at the old man's expectant eyes on the screen, Song Heping knew very well that what Masoud needed was not for him to personally reorganize the army or purge officials, but the fact that "Song Heping serves as the special security advisor to the Kolding Autonomous Region" itself.
This is tantamount to announcing to everyone that the security affairs of the Kolds are backed by the "Musician" company's military and supported by the Easterner who defeated Barzani in two days.
As for the $20 million annual consulting fee, it only buys the right to use his name and the card that can be played when necessary.
“I accept the invitation,” Song Heping finally said, “but the position of advisor is enough for me; I don’t need a military rank or official position.”
“This is against the rules,” Torhan couldn’t help but say. “Based on your contributions and influence on the military, you should at least be awarded the rank of Honorary Lieutenant General. Furthermore, the position of Special Security Advisor would be inconvenient in many situations without the corresponding rank.”
“Rules are made by people,” Song Heping said calmly. “I don’t need that title to do what I’m supposed to do. As for whether it’s convenient or not, Deputy Minister Torhan, in Iligo, what’s truly convenient isn’t the stars on your epaulets, but rather that others know who’s behind you.”
This statement was made calmly, but it carries great weight.
A brief silence fell over the video conference.
Old Masood broke the silence: "Then let's do it Mr. Song's way. Advisor it is. But I will clearly define the relevant authority and safeguards in the contract. Saif will discuss it with you in detail."
The meeting lasted another twenty minutes, during which the timing of the prisoner transfer and the handover of defenses in Kirkuk was briefly discussed.
Song Heping mostly listened, only giving brief responses when asked directly.
It was already 8 p.m. when we finished, and it was completely dark.
After the video call was completely cut off, the tablet screen went dark, revealing Song Heping's own face.
Outside the cabin was a pitch-black night sky, with only the instrument panel emitting a faint blue light.
He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.
$20 million annually.
The number flashed through my mind.
The price is very reasonable, considering the influence of his reputation and the "musician" company.
Masood was a shrewd politician who knew what money should be spent on and on whom it would be most worthwhile.
As for the Kold's military reforms, internal purges, and factional balancing.
That's their own business.
He will provide "advice" as required by the contract, but he will never get too involved.
That was not his battlefield, nor was it the role he should play.
The helicopter began its descent, and the lights of Baghdad spread out in front of it.
In that city, even more meetings, more negotiations, and more deals awaited him.
But at least in this game against the Kolds, he found his place—
An expensive but distant advisor, an endorser who provides deterrence but does not intervene in domestic affairs.
He can play this role well.
This is the taste of victory.
Complex, multi-layered, and even somewhat bitter.
On the battlefield, victory is clear: the enemy surrenders, the flag falls, and the gunfire ceases.
But outside the battlefield, victory is a never-ending negotiation: the distribution of benefits, the balance of power, the test of loyalty, and the appeasement of ambition.
The Kolds sided with him because old Massoud saw an opportunity to use him to purge his own forces and consolidate his power. The Sunnis sided with him because Hashimi saw both political realities and future benefits.
Samir obeyed the reorganization because he had obtained the coveted status and legitimacy of a regular army soldier.
Abuyu was willing to cooperate because he believed that following Song Heping would bring tangible benefits, the most important of which was the defense of Kirkuk, which meant millions of dollars in oil field security fees every month.
Everyone got what they wanted from this victory, or at least saw the possibility of getting it.
And this, perhaps, is the essence of politics: it is not about who is right or wrong, or who is morally superior or inferior, but about who can create a win-win situation for as many people as possible in a complex network of relationships, and then occupy the most advantageous position in that situation.
My phone vibrated; it was an encrypted message from Masood.
“Mr. Song, my father asked me to tell you that the Kolde parliamentary group will formally propose a motion in parliament tomorrow to support the reorganization of the 10th Border Division. Also, thank you. For all of this, I have learned more in Nasur than in the past twenty years.”
He simply replied with two words: "Take care."
Ten minutes later, the helicopter landed at the temporary helicopter landing pad in the green zone.
Several armored vehicles were parked next to the tarmac.
Jiang Feng was already waiting by the car.
"Old squad leader, Saif has been waiting in the conference room for an hour."
Jiang Feng took Song Heping's backpack.
"I've skimmed through the contract; the terms are very generous, but the scope of authority is also vast. I'll be the Special Security Advisor to the Government of the Kold'd Autonomous Region, with an advisory fee of twenty million US dollars per year. I'll have the right to attend Military Council meetings, access non-classified military documents, and establish a permanent office in Erbil equipped with secure communication equipment directly connected to the Presidential Palace."
The two walked toward the command center building, their footsteps sounding particularly clear in the empty airport.
"What do you think?" Song Heping asked.
Jiang Feng hesitated for a moment: "The conditions are good, but the responsibility is also great. Special security advisor. This is almost equivalent to getting deeply involved in the internal affairs of the Kold. Military reform, security purges, factional balancing. These are all hot potatoes. Moreover, once we take it, it is equivalent to publicly taking sides. If there are any problems within the Kold in the future, we will be dragged into it."
Song Heping smiled and shook his head without saying anything.
Jiang Feng still hadn't grasped the essence of the matter.
Upon entering the building of the Khord Autonomous Region's office in Baghdad, one finds landscape paintings of the Khord region and portraits of its leaders hanging on both sides of the corridor.
The deep red carpet absorbed the sound of footsteps, creating a solemn and formal atmosphere.
The office was unusually quiet at that moment.
Most of the staff had already left work, and only a few offices still had their lights on.
The door to the largest conference room at the end of the corridor was ajar, letting in warm light.
In the conference room, Saif stood up.
This veteran staff member, in his fifties with graying hair, looked exhausted with heavy eye bags, but his suit was still impeccably tailored and his tie was perfectly tied.
The walls of the conference room were adorned with the flags of the Kolde Autonomous Okrug and Iligor, and the long conference table was set with an exquisite copper kettle and glasses.
“Mr. Song, congratulations on your victory.” Saif extended his hand. “Chairman Masood instructed me to personally deliver this contract to you.”
The two shook hands and sat down at the conference table.
Jiang Feng took out teacups from the tea cabinet next to him, poured three cups of steaming black tea, and then sat down next to Song Heping.
Saif took out three thick copies of the contract from his briefcase, each dozens of pages long, and placed them neatly on the dark mahogany conference table:
"This is the final version, which has been reviewed by legal counsel. Chairman Masood specifically instructed that if you have any objections to any terms, we can make changes on the spot."
Song Heping nodded and finally picked up a contract to look through.
As Jiang Feng said, the terms were indeed generous, but the responsibilities were heavy.
The Special Security Advisor's authority covers almost all security matters in the Koldeid Autonomous Region, from military reform to intelligence system reconstruction, from border control to internal security purges.
"Three years, $20 million a year, paid quarterly."
Song Heping read out the key clauses.
"The advisor's office is located in Erbil and is equipped with its own communications system and security. It has the authority to attend military council meetings and express its opinions, to access non-classified military and intelligence documents, and to make recommendations on security matters and request responses from relevant departments within a specified timeframe."
He turned to the last page and saw that old Masood had already signed and stamped it.
"Chairman Masood is very sincere."
He put the contract aside.
“This internal cleanup and reform effort needs your help,” Saif said directly. “Barzani’s network of influence, built up over twenty years, is still intact. His people, or those with vested interests, are everywhere in the military, government, and intelligence. The Chairman needs a swift and decisive action to remove these cancerous growths.”
Song Heping picked up his teacup and took a sip of warm black tea: "I understand your predicament. But I have a question: If I really follow the contract and get deeply involved in the internal affairs of the Kold, purge the army, and cleanse the remnants of Barzani's faction, will it trigger a new backlash? After all, I am a foreigner."
Saif was prepared: "That's why the contract says 'advisor.' You make the suggestions, and our people implement them. This way, we leverage your prestige and ability while maintaining the legitimacy of the Kold's handling of internal affairs. As for the backlash..."
He smiled, a smile that held the cunning of a politician:
"With you here, who would dare to rebel? Barzani's 20,000-strong army was crushed in less than two days. Now, throughout Iligo, who doesn't know the name Song Heping?"
The meeting room fell silent for a moment.
The sound of a patrol car engine came from outside the window, approaching from afar and then gradually fading away.
Jiang Feng looked at Song Heping, waiting for his decision.
Song Heping finally spoke: "I can sign the contract. But there are two conditions."
"Please say."
"First, I will not be stationed in Erbil. I will send my deputy, Jiang Feng, as my plenipotentiary representative to lead a team to Erbil to set up an office. Jiang Feng has my full authorization, and his opinion is my opinion."
Saif glanced at Jiang Feng.
The latter was somewhat surprised, but tried to remain calm.
“Second,” Song Heping continued, tapping lightly on the contract cover, “my focus is not on internal reforms in Koldestan. Those things should be done by your own people. My value lies in balancing external forces and ensuring that Koldestan is not taken advantage of by Turkey, Persia, or any other power because of this internal turmoil.”
Saif pondered for a few seconds and then said, "May I ask why?"
"Because the military and political reforms of the Kolde people ultimately have to be carried out by the Kolde themselves."
Song Heping put it bluntly, “My involvement as a foreigner would only backfire. What you need me to do is not to personally reorganize the army or purge officials, but to let everyone know—the Kolds have my support. That’s enough.”
He leaned forward slightly, staring into Saif's eyes, and said:
"What the president really needs is not for me, as an advisor, to meddle in Erbil, but for me to be a card, a card that can deter both domestic and foreign forces. He spends twenty million dollars a year not to buy my labor, but my name and influence. Am I right?"
Saif fell silent.
Song Heping's words went straight to the heart of the matter.
Old Masoud didn't need Song Heping to handle specific matters personally; what he needed was Song Heping's "brand," to use his prestige to intimidate internal and external enemies and consolidate his power.
“You’re right,” Saif finally admitted, his tone respectful. “Then Mr. Jiang Feng will go to Erbil.”
“Jiang Feng will handle routine communication and coordination,” Song Heping said. “For truly important matters, I will communicate directly with Chairman Masood through encrypted lines. This satisfies the contractual requirements while avoiding potential problems arising from my excessive involvement in internal affairs. It’s a win-win situation.”
Saif thought for a moment and nodded: "I need to ask him for permission."
"Please."
Saif took his phone and walked out of the meeting room, gently closing the door behind him.
Jiang Feng then turned to Song Heping and lowered his voice:
"Old Sergeant, I'm afraid I won't be able to handle the situation in Erbil. The Kold'd people have complicated internal relationships, with various factions vying for power. I'm not you, after all."
Song Heping looked at him calmly: "Do you think old Massoud really needs us to help him with reforms? No, what he's paying for is protection and deterrence. It doesn't matter who goes to Erbil, as long as they represent me, Song Heping. Your presence there is enough to tell the Kolds that I've got their back, so they can go ahead and do it."
He paused, then continued, “They’ll handle the specifics themselves. What you need to do is attend the Military Committee meetings every week, sit there and listen, and if necessary say something like ‘Mr. Song agrees in principle’ or ‘Mr. Song suggests we consider it.’ The rest is eating, drinking, building connections, and figuring out the relationships in Erbil from top to bottom. Understand?”
Jiang Feng suddenly realized: "I understand. I am a symbol."
“Yes, a symbol worth twenty million dollars a year,” Song Heping said. “Tomorrow you will go to Erbil with Saif. I will stay in Baghdad with Samir and wait for Parliament to pass the bill. That’s where the real battlefield is now.”
Saif returned with a relaxed expression: "The chairman agreed to your terms. He said you understand his needs better than he does himself."
"Then let's sign it."
Song Heping signed each of the three contracts.
Saif also signed as a witness.
The contract takes effect immediately.
It was 11 p.m. when I left the meeting room.
Saif needed to return to Erbil overnight to prepare for Jiang Feng's reception, while Jiang Feng began contacting his team members.
Song Heping finally found some time to himself. After returning to the hotel, he took a hot shower, brewed a pot of Arabic black tea, and went out to the open-air balcony alone.
The Green Zone is relatively quiet at night, but you can still hear the traffic from downtown Baghdad in the distance.
Searchlight beams swept across the night sky in a crisscross pattern, and armored vehicles patrolled the streets regularly.
This place is said to be the safest in Iligo, but Song Heping knows that the real danger is never on the streets, but in the conference room, at the negotiating table, and behind those smiles and handshakes.
The phone kept vibrating.
The message from my assistant showed that more than a dozen new invitations had been sent.
The dinner hosted by the Turkish ambassador, the meeting request from the business representatives of Camel Country, the cooperation intentions of several major oil companies in Iraq, and even interview invitations from several international media outlets.
Everyone is looking for Song Heping; everyone wants to establish a relationship with this Easterner who has just changed the power structure in northwestern Iligo.
This is how victors are treated.
Instead of flowers and applause, there were endless dinners, meetings, deals, and calculations.
Song Heping stood on the balcony, the night breeze ruffling his bathrobe.
Tomorrow, he will officially enter the power arena in Baghdad.
There, he had to accompany Samir through the final leg of the parliamentary process, deal with the attempts of various factions to win him over, and continue walking a tightrope between the Ten Aye, Sunnis, Kolds, and Americans.
Fortunately, at least tonight, he can rest in peace for the time being.
In the distance, the Tigris River shimmered under the moonlight, and the city lights on both banks stretched endlessly.
This land has witnessed too many wars, too many betrayals, and too many changes of power.
Barzani is not the first person to rise and fall here, and he will certainly not be the last.
But at least this time, he was the victor.
Song Heping stood quietly for a while, then turned and left the balcony.
The game continues tomorrow.
I am ready.
come on!
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(End of this chapter)