Chapter 1377
The $25 Billion Deal
Chapter 1377 The $2.5 Billion Deal
The civilian evacuation point was set up on a piece of wasteland 15 kilometers north of Titrick, like a makeshift patch on the scars of war.
Within the area enclosed by barbed wire, thousands of civilians huddled like a flock of frightened sheep between thin tents, the air thick with dust, sweat, and the faint smell of chemicals—the stench of death wafting from Titrick in the south.
The U.S. military checkpoints are heavily fortified at the camp entrance.
When Song Heping's convoy arrived, five fully armed American soldiers immediately spread out in a fan shape, their fingers lightly resting on the trigger guards.
A captain stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over the license plates and logos of Song Heping's convoy, and nodded slightly.
“Mr. Song, General Duke is waiting for you in the command vehicle.” The captain’s tone was like a memorized line. “Please come with me. Your guards can remain outside the cordon.”
Song Heping glanced at the back of the checkpoint.
There were four mine-resistant ambush protected vehicles parked there, with M2 heavy machine guns on their roofs pointing in various directions.
Further away, some U.S. soldiers wearing desert digital camouflage were conducting searches of civilians one by one, their actions professional and indifferent.
It seems Duke has added quite a few more people to this area.
"My deputy, come inside with me," Song Heping said to the guard captain. "The rest of you wait here."
They were led to a stretched M1078 command vehicle at the edge of the camp.
On the car body, the black lettering of "JSOC" looks like some kind of hidden totem in the sunset.
The car door slid open, and Major General Duke appeared in the shadows inside.
“Song.” Duke extended his hand.
The handshake was brief and firm, like a silent test.
Thank you for coming at this time.
“General Duke,” Song Heping released his hand, “your troops have taken over my partner’s checkpoint, and I need an explanation.”
Duke gestured for Song Heping to get into the car, a barely perceptible smile appearing on his face: "Let's go inside and talk. There are some things that are not suitable to discuss in an open space."
The interior of the command vehicle has been transformed into a mobile command center; the space is cramped but fully equipped.
Data streams, monitoring footage, and map information flashed across the three screen walls.
Song Heping's gaze lingered on one of the screens.
That was Titrick’s real-time gas diffusion model, with a resolution at least two generations higher than the system used by Musician.
“Sit down.” Duke gestured to a folding chair, then leaned back against the edge of the main control panel. “First, I apologize for what happened here. But the situation is special, and we need to make sure the evacuation point is completely under control.”
"Under control?" Song Heping sat down. "For what reason?"
"You know, it's for him."
Duke typed on the keyboard and brought up a blurry photo.
An Arab man wearing glasses, with a thin face and wary eyes.
“Bakdadi’s messenger was actually a key figure in the 1515 chemical weapons program. We knew he was in Titrick, and we also knew that chemical weapons had been planted in that city.”
Song Heping stared at the photo, then looked up at Duke: "You knew about the chemical weapons. But why didn't you warn us sooner?"
"The intelligence only indicates a possibility, not a certainty..." Duke's expression remained unchanged.
“Possibility.” Song Heping repeated the word, sneering, “General Duke, my troops have lost at least eight hundred soldiers in Tetrick, and more than three hundred have been poisoned, and that number is still rising. If you knew the ‘possibility,’ why didn’t you issue a warning?”
Duke was silent for three seconds.
“Intelligence work has its rules, Song,” Duke finally spoke. “We do have information that 1515 may have deployed chemical weapons in Titrick, but we don’t know the exact location, yield, or triggering conditions. Prematurely warning them could alert them and allow the target to escape.”
"So you're willing to trade soldiers' lives for your 'high-value target'?" Song Heping asked.
His tone remained calm.
Duke walked to the screen and pulled up an official document: "This is a statement released by the State Department three days ago. The President has approved increasing the bounty on Bakdadi to $2.5 million."
The numbers flashed on the screen.
$2.5 million is enough to buy the army of a small country, or to expand a medium-sized private military company tenfold.
The statement specifically noted that 1515 was "directly responsible for the chemical weapons attacks in the Iligo and Seria regions."
Duke turned to Song Heping and said, “We know who orchestrated the gas attack on Titrick. His name is Maisul al-Jabri, a former professor of chemical engineering at the University of Mosul, who became their chemical weapons expert after being kidnapped by 1515 in 2014.”
He pulled up another file and continued, “A week ago, the CIA, in conjunction with Delta Force, captured Masour’s aide in a raid. Interrogation confirmed that Masour himself had been sent to Titrick to oversee the ‘final deployment’ of chemical weapons.”
Song Heping leaned forward slightly: "Since you know all this, why do you only say 'possibility'?"
“That was just a possibility,” Duke corrected. “There was no concrete evidence. It wasn’t until 2:17 p.m. today, when the first wave of gas rose from downtown Tetrick, that the possibility became a fact.”
“Then your troops appeared at the evacuation point at 2:30.” Song Heping glanced at his watch: “Thirteen minutes apart. The journey from Buck to here takes at least half a day, unless you set off earlier.”
Duke's eyes narrowed.
This was the first time he had adopted a defensive stance since the negotiations began.
Clearly, he's hiding something.
“We have air transport capabilities,” he said.
"It takes Black Hawk helicopters forty minutes to fly here from the nearest U.S. military base."
Song Heping stood up and walked to another screen.
It shows a topographical map of the area surrounding the evacuation point.
“Unless you are already on your way before the Titrick gas is released. For example, deployed at a rally point five kilometers away before the attack begins, waiting for the signal.”
Duke did not speak.
His fingers tapped lightly on the edge of the console, as if he were calculating something.
“Let me tell you about my situation, General.” Song Heping turned around, his back to the screen: “My technical team analyzed the distribution of the gas release points. Seventeen release points form a precise grid, with three main release points forming an equilateral triangle, covering the city’s core. This arrangement requires fluid dynamics calculations, chemical engineering knowledge, and precise explosives techniques—not something a terrorist could easily do.”
He paused for a moment: "But if there's professional guidance, like from a former university chemistry professor, then it makes sense. And if the U.S. military already knew this professor was in Titrick, knew he was in charge of chemical weapons deployment, and even knew the approximate activation timeline..."
"What are you implying, Mr. Song?" Duke's voice deepened.
"I am stating the facts."
Song Heping reached out his hand, and Jiang Feng handed him a tablet computer, unlocking the screen as he did so.
"This is the evidence my men collected within forty minutes of the gas attack. Drone footage of the release point location, ground troops' reports of the explosion timeline, and this—"
He pulled up a video.
The footage is shaky, clearly taken by a helmet camera.
Several mercenaries from the "Musician" company, dressed in high-level protective suits, were working at the entrance to a basement. They were wearing rudimentary protective suits and using tools to pry open a metal door.
Behind the door was a simple laboratory with beakers, tubing, and a laptop on the table.
The video zoomed in, focusing on a piece of paper next to the laptop.
It was a handwritten list in Arabic, outlining the chemical ingredients and quantities.
In the bottom right corner of the paper, there was a hastily written signature and date: "Massour, March 10".
"November 3."
Song Heping said, "That was just four days ago. This list was found in the basement of the Titrick Central Police Station, one of the main command posts for 1515. The raw materials on the list were enough to produce at least 500 kilograms of mustard gas mixture. And what's interesting is—"
He switched the screen to display a satellite image analysis report:
"On March 11, just three days ago, a U.S. military MQ-9 Reaper drone circled over Teterrick for six hours and seventeen minutes. At an altitude of only three thousand meters, it was clearly conducting high-precision reconnaissance. Later that same day, the drone transmitted more than two hundred gigabytes of image data back to headquarters."
Duke's expression finally changed.
His jawline was taut, and his face was more rigid than a stone sculpture.
"This is just the beginning." Song Heping continued scrolling the screen: "At dawn on March 12, thirty-six hours before the attack began, the U.S. Defense Intelligence Agency (DIA) submitted a 'Titrick Potential Chemical Weapons Threat Assessment' to Central Command, classified as 'Secret/Not to Foreign Countries.' A summary version of this assessment circulated to the coalition intelligence-sharing system at 3 p.m. that day, but the key part, which was the analysis of possible chemical weapons deployment locations and triggering mechanisms, was deleted."
He looked up and stared directly at Duke: "Who deleted it, General?"
The command vehicle was deathly silent.
Jiang Feng's hand was already gripping the gun handle, but he didn't move.
The two U.S. military officers behind Duke exchanged glances, one of them discreetly moving his hand toward the radio at his waist.
"I'm very curious, where did you get this information from?" Duke took a deep breath, clearly shocked.
Song Heping said, "My intelligence network may not be as powerful as yours, but that doesn't mean I don't have any intelligence network at all. Your question is pointless. Do you think I would tell you my intelligence sources? Tell me, why are you doing this?"
“You know I can’t answer that question,” Duke finally said, his expression as stiff as his tone.
"I don't need your answer."
Song Heping put away the tablet computer and handed it back to Jiang Feng.
“All I need to know is that I have evidence, including drone flight logs, timestamps on intelligence reports, lists of chemical materials found by ground troops, and testimonies from intelligence officers in my command who said they asked U.S. liaison officers about rumors of chemical weapons before the attack and were told that they were ‘unconfirmed and can proceed as planned.’”
He leaned forward slightly, adopting an aggressive stance, and said:
"The Kold's forces and government troops lost so many men this time because of 'unconfirmed' intelligence. Civilian casualties may also exceed five hundred. And you—you knew all along. Perhaps you didn't know the exact coordinates of each release point, but you knew that chemical weapons existed, that they could be activated when the city fell, and that Masour was in the city."
"So what are you asking for?" Duke asked.
His tone returned to calm, but Song Heping could see the undercurrent beneath that calm.
That was a danger signal after the bottom line was crossed.
“I need three things.” Song Heping held up three fingers: “First, a complete set of chemical weapons decontamination equipment: at least thirty chemical decontamination vehicles, one thousand sets of Class A protective suits, five mobile laboratories, and corresponding disinfectants. I’ve already sent the equipment list to your encrypted email address. I need them in place within forty-eight hours.” Duke did not respond.
"Second, medical assistance. All poisoned soldiers must receive professional treatment. The U.S. military must provide antidotes, respiratory support equipment, and at least twenty chemical medical experts. Seriously wounded soldiers will need to be transported by your helicopters to the Green Zone in Baghdad for treatment at U.S. field hospitals or government hospitals in Iligo, at your expense."
Duke's lips twitched.
“Third,” Song Heping put down his hand, “I want full access to information and partial command of the operation to capture Maisul. Not ‘assistance,’ but a joint operation. All intelligence will be shared in real time, the operation plan will be jointly formulated by both sides, and my commanders on the battlefield will have the authority to make independent decisions. If Maisul is captured, our personnel must be present during the interrogation.”
Do you know what you're asking for?
Duke's voice was as cold as the Siberian winter wind.
"You are asking the U.S. military to provide tens of millions of dollars worth of equipment to a private military company, to cover the medical expenses of potentially hundreds of wounded, and to share command in classified operations."
“I know.” Song Heping nodded, his expression contemptuous. “I also know what tomorrow’s headlines will be if I hand over the evidence I have to CNN, BBC, or The New York Times: ‘US military knowingly allowed allies to die’? Or to put it more bluntly: ‘Thousands of soldiers inhaled poison gas to arrest one person’? Or, ‘US military condoned terrorist organizations’ use of chemical weapons in Iligo’?”
He paused, letting his words settle in the air:
"I remember a few years ago, The Washington Post revealed that the U.S. military's 'selective intelligence sharing' during the Battle of Mosul led to significant losses for Kold's forces. That report required the Pentagon to spend three months on public relations. How long do you think it would take to mitigate the impact if the Titrick affair were exposed?"
Duke's rock-hard expression finally cracked.
It wasn't a dramatic change, but rather a subtle disintegration.
The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened, his lower lip tucked in slightly, and his fingers clenched and unclenched at his sides.
That was anger, frustration, and the struggle of weighing the pros and cons.
“You are threatening the U.S. military,” he said, each word seemingly squeezed out from between his teeth.
“I am stating a choice,” Song Heping corrected. “Choice one: You provide assistance, we cooperate in the hunt for Masour, the tragedy of Titrick is defined as an ‘unfortunate event in war,’ and everyone looks forward. Option two: I release the evidence, the international media begins an investigation, Congress holds hearings, your ‘high-value target’ operation falls through, and the 1515 chemical weapons network continues to operate.”
He walked to the car door and placed his hand on the handle:
“I’ll give you an hour to think it over. If my people don’t receive confirmation of equipment allocation after an hour, I will assume you’ve chosen the second option.”
“Wait a minute,” Duke said.
Song Heping stopped, but did not turn around.
"You're asking for too much."
Duke walked to the control panel and pulled up a list of supplies.
"Thirty decontamination vehicles are impossible; I can only provide fifteen at most. We can provide eight hundred sets of protective suits and three mobile laboratories. For medical assistance... we can provide antidotes and ten experts, but we can use our helicopters to transport the wounded."
"Twenty-five disinfection vehicles, nine hundred sets of protective suits, four mobile temporary laboratories, fifteen medical experts, and priority for transporting the wounded." Song Heping turned around: "This is my bottom line."
Duke stared at him.
Their gazes clashed in the air, like two silent blades colliding.
“Joint operations are possible, but command must be clearly defined,” Duke concluded. “JSOC will develop the overall plan, your personnel will assist Delta Force in ground reconnaissance and guidance, and the capture operation will be led by Delta. Intelligence sharing… can be real-time, but there will be a four-hour delay for intelligence from sensitive sources.”
“A two-hour delay,” Song Heping said. “Our side must be present during the interrogation.”
Duke remained silent.
His fingers tapped on the console, typing commands and bringing up the authorization page.
The light from the screen shone on his face, making his expression look like a mummy's mask.
"What if these conditions are leaked to the media—"
He spoke.
"Then I would lose the cooperation of the U.S. military, lose the possibility of the $2.5 million bounty, and may also be placed on some 'unwanted list'."
Song Heping immediately interrupted him: "I'm not a fool, General. This deal is beneficial to both sides, but it also has its costs. I choose a win-win situation rather than mutual destruction."
Duke took a deep breath and then slowly exhaled.
That was a signal to give up resistance.
"The equipment will arrive within 24 hours and will be transported directly from the warehouse in Kuwait."
He pressed the confirm button on the console.
"The medical team will arrive tomorrow morning. As for joint operations... I need authorization from Washington within 24 hours. But in principle, I agree."
He stretched out his hand.
This handshake was firmer and shorter than the first, like the sealing of some kind of contract.
"Pleasant to work with."
Duke said, but there was no trace of pleasure in his eyes.
"Pleasant to work with."
Song Heping responded, and then got out of the car with Jiang Feng.
As the car door closed behind me, the wind from the wasteland rushed in, carrying sand and the scent of death from afar.
The sky had completely darkened, and the lights at the evacuation point looked forlorn in the darkness, like the last outpost of the civilized world in this barbaric land.
"He agreed."
After getting into the car, Jiang Feng said in a low voice, his tone filled with disbelief.
“He had no choice but to agree.” Song Heping leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. “The evidence I have is enough to trigger a political earthquake. 2016 is their election year, and any scandal will be amplified. Both the Democratic and Republican parties and the Pentagon cannot afford another accusation of ‘intelligence failure,’ especially on the issue of chemical weapons.”
The convoy started and drove away from the evacuation point.
In the rearview mirror, the US military command vehicle gradually shrank until it was swallowed by the night.
"But will we really release the evidence?" Jiang Feng asked. "If things really fall apart, all of our company's operations in Iligo could be frozen. The US military has plenty of ways to make things difficult for us."
“No.” Song Heping opened his eyes: “Releasing evidence is a last resort, something we only do when we’re at our wits’ end, like pressing the nuclear button. But as long as the button is there, it has a deterrent effect. Duke knows this, and so do I. So it’s a tacit game: I have the ability to embarrass him, and he has the resources to allow me to survive. We exchange, and then we continue.”
He looked out the window.
In the darkness, Titrick's silhouette was no longer visible, but the horizon in that direction still had an unnatural dark yellow hue.
That was the afterglow of the poisonous cloud in the night light.
“Once the equipment arrives, you will be in charge of the cleanup,” Song Heping said. “This is an opportunity to test your abilities. If the company can not only fight wars, but also handle chemical pollution and conduct humanitarian aid, our value in the international market will double. The future of private military companies is not just about mercenaries, but also about becoming ‘comprehensive security solutions providers.’”
Jiang Feng nodded: "What about the pursuit of Maisul?"
“I will send a battalion to cooperate with their operation. This operation is also a good training opportunity, not to be cannon fodder for the US military, but to learn. Learn how they track high-value targets, how they use their technological advantages, and how they operate in the gray area. Every piece of intelligence and every tactical choice must be recorded and analyzed. We need to use the resources of the US military to train our own special operations capabilities.”
"If we catch Maisur—"
“If we catch Masour, we need to make sure that one of our own people is present during the interrogation.”
Song Heping interrupted him: "I feel that Duke is hiding something from me, and Maisour is not as simple as he seems. There must be something interesting going on behind the scenes. The Americans seem to be in a great hurry to find him, and it's probably not just about dealing with Bakdadi..."
He didn't finish speaking, but Jiang Feng understood.
With such heavy losses suffered by the attacking force, including Abuyu's serious injuries and hospitalization, Song Heping will certainly not let this go.
If Masour is the culprit, then according to Song Heping's past practices, he should be sent to meet his God.
The Americans are eager to cooperate with Song Heping not only because if the 1515 chemical weapons network really exists and has the potential to spread to Europe or the United States.
Moreover, resolving this matter would be the ticket to entering the core security circle of the West, the highest level of "trust capital" that private military companies can obtain.
“There’s one more thing,” Song Heping said. “Use all our resources, as well as Samir’s local intelligence network, to contact our informants in all the towns along the Iraqi-Syrian border, send out photos, and let the authorities keep an eye on Maisul.”
He paused, then added, "Also, have someone go to Mosul and find out everything about Masul al-Jabri. Not just official records, but also private information—his family, his students, his research habits. Duke has only shown us the tip of the iceberg; I need to know what's beneath the surface."
"clear."
"In addition, have the public relations team prepare a press release about the 'humanitarian operation' in Teterrick, without mentioning chemical weapons. Emphasize our 'close cooperation' with the U.S. military and our efforts to protect civilians and the environment. The tone should be humble, but the content should be substantial. The release date... should be when the first batch of U.S. military equipment arrives."
Jiang Feng recorded the instructions.
When he looked up, he saw Song Heping looking out the window, his profile appearing particularly cold and hard in the dim light of the dashboard.
Just half an hour ago, he had threatened a U.S. Army major general, forcing him to provide tens of millions of dollars in aid and winning a position for joint operations.
Now, we must start planning the next step, and the step after that, like a chess player who has already seen ten moves ahead before making a move.
"Old squad leader," Jiang Feng suddenly asked, "What if Duke changes his mind?"
“Then he’s taking a risk,” Song Heping said, his voice devoid of emotion. “Taking a risk means I have to release the evidence; taking a risk means this deal will become an open war. Duke isn’t just a soldier; he’s also a politician. Politicians know how to calculate costs, and he can’t afford the costs now.”
He turned to look at Jiang Feng: "Remember, in this game, the most powerful weapon isn't guns or evidence, but the opponent's assessment of their own losses. Duke's estimated losses were greater than mine, so he conceded. If the situation reverses one day, I will also concede. That's the rule."
The convoy drove into the command center gate.
When Song Heping got off the bus, the cold wind in the early morning made him wake up for a moment.
He looked up to the sky.
There were no stars, only thick clouds, as if it were about to rain.
Rain is good for Titrick; it washes away the toxins in the air.
However, it could hinder the pursuit, erase traces, and make it easier for fugitives to hide.
Everything has two sides, and every choice has a price.
This is war, this is business, this is survival.
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(End of this chapter)