Chapter 34: That Will Cost Extra

As the convoy carrying Song Heping changed course, bypassing Ramadi and heading south toward Amiji Fort, an MQ-1 drone swept across the sky like an eagle more than seven thousand meters overhead, coldly surveying the convoy below.

More than ten thousand kilometers away, inside a mysterious Air Force command center somewhere in the Nevada desert of the United States, two Air Force officers sat before the control screens of an MQ-1 Predator drone.

Several screens were arrayed before them. One displayed a GPS navigation track; another showed the live feed from the camera mounted on the nose of the MQ-1 Predator.

From the flight operator’s position, the entire escort team was under the ISA’s flawless surveillance. Nothing could escape their notice.

This system and drone were among the newest unmanned weapons systems recently purchased and deployed on a large scale by the Air Force. By the standards of the world, they were state of the art.

The two officers looked as relaxed as though they were playing a real-time combat game on a computer. They stared at the screens, gripping their controls, while reporting the convoy’s movements by radio to the Special Operations Joint Command in the Green Zone of Iraq.

At the Green Zone command center, the overall commander of the operation, ISA Colonel Dawn Brown, received the report from Nevada. He stroked his two golden mustaches and turned his gaze toward the computer beside him.

Another tracking pattern appeared on the screen.

It seemed to be the trace of some tracking device. Two green dots blinked as they moved across the display.

Thomas, sitting nearby, gave a cold snort. “Colonel, relax. Even if they detour into the Syrian Desert, they won’t get away.”

Song Heping Arrives with the Convoy

Amiji Fort belonged to Anbar Province. It was an obscure little town.

From Ramadi, one could reach Amiji Fort by traveling roughly eighty kilometers southwest along the highway. If one continued west along the road, crossed the Syrian Desert, and passed through Rubait, one would enter Syrian territory.

After Operation Iraq Freedom, most coalition engagements had taken place in northwestern Iraq, near the borders with Syria and Turkey. Saudi Arabia and Jordan lay to the south, and the resistance there was comparatively less active than in the northwest.

Thus, the convoy encountered no trouble along the way. Once they left the main highway, however, the road conditions deteriorated sharply, slowing their progress.

The stretch through Amiji Fort was especially nerve-racking. Pedestrians began appearing along the roadside, particularly women carrying gas cylinders on their heads.

Although such things were common in Iraq—women shouldering the burdens of domestic labor while men idled away their time was practically a local hallmark—the explosive force of a gas cylinder was considerable. Every time Song Heping saw one of those women, he could not help imagining that, in the next second, she might throw the cylinder into the convoy and detonate it.

Apart from the section through Amiji Fort, the road was almost deserted. After all, they were already at the edge of the Syrian Desert, surrounded by endless stretches of yellow sand. Even the buildings were yellow, as though they had been piled up from sand.

As the monotonous scenery slid past outside the vehicle, Song Heping’s heart filled with a complicated mixture of desolation and sorrow.

This was the Mesopotamian Plain, one of the cradles of ancient civilization on Earth—the land between the two rivers.

Once, this region had been fertile and rich in produce. Situated along the principal east-west trade routes, it had been a battleground for countless peoples since antiquity.

This was where the famous Old Babylonian Kingdom, Assyrian Empire, and Neo-Babylonian Kingdom had arisen. They had created a splendid culture, achieved remarkable heights in mathematics and astronomy, and influenced the culture of ancient Greece.

This had once been a nation made rich by oil, where every household had a small car and a small villa, and life was comfortable enough to inspire envy.

Yet everything Song Heping saw now seemed to have nothing to do with that former glory.

Rotting corpses, wrecked tanks, cars burned down to their frames, and buildings riddled with bullet holes.

When the gaunt, sallow locals passed beside the convoy, Song Heping could even see a peculiar calm in their eyes—

The calm that came after despair.

They had no strength to resist and could only allow themselves to be butchered.

This country was finished, Song Heping thought.

It was six in the evening. Darkness had not yet fallen, and the last glow of sunset still lingered along the horizon.

The convoy finally reached its destination, the town of Krasa.

About five kilometers outside the town, the Cook ordered the convoy over the communications channel to halt. They parked beside a hill ahead.

Unlike Amiji Fort, which lay in the desert, Krasa was completely surrounded by an oasis.

It was close to Haditha and also near Iraq’s famous freshwater lake, Lake Salsar. Unlike the endless yellow sands they had seen earlier, this place had trees—quite a lot of them, in fact.

“Damn!”

The Cook came over and told Song Heping to get out. He ordered the convoy into a grove beneath the hill, then assembled the five members of the mercenary team along with Angel.

“Krasa is just ahead,” he told Angel. “As I said before, according to the plan, we won’t enter the town. We’ll wait outside for your informant to contact you. Once the final meeting point is confirmed, we’ll take you there.”

“There’s a problem,” Angel said suddenly. “When I meet him, only you five can come with me.”

She turned and glanced at the ISF security personnel.

“They can’t come.”

“Why?” The Cook was stunned. “You never made that requirement before.”

“Not mentioning it doesn’t mean I agreed to it,” Angel said. “My informant is very sensitive about troops under the Interim Administration. I contacted him in the vehicle just now, and he emphasized it again. If the ISF appears, he won’t show himself.”

“Fuck!”

White Bear began cursing in Russian again nearby.

Song Heping also felt that this foreign woman, Angel, was being outrageously unreasonable.

Who changed the requirements of a mission at the last minute like this?

Wasn’t she simply playing with their lives?

The Cook looked furious, but there was nothing he could do.

The VIP was the boss.

Even if your employer was a boss who constantly made things difficult for you, you could not exactly do anything to her.

After a brief effort to regain his composure, the Cook finally suppressed his anger and said to Angel, “Fine. Only the five of us will go to the meeting. But the ISF must stand by nearby—preferably concealed around the meeting site. If something goes wrong, they can at least provide support.”

“No,” Angel said. “If they’re discovered, the entire operation will be ruined. I can’t take that risk.”

“You can’t take that risk?” White Bear finally lost his temper. He unfastened his seat belt, moved up beside Angel, and shouted, “Do you know you could get us killed? Don’t think that paying us a lot makes you invincible. I may be earning your money, but I still need to stay alive long enough to spend it!”

He then turned to the Cook. “Boss, this woman’s crazy! Leave her here and let’s go back!”

White Bear had never possessed a good temper.

Angel’s behavior was simply too outrageous for him to tolerate.

The VIP might be the employer and the boss, but she could not completely disregard the feelings of those working for her.

After all, this was a war zone. One mistake could cost every one of them their lives.

Even fifteen thousand dollars a day could not buy a person’s life.

“All right!”

The Cook displayed extraordinary calm.

“Andrei, stand over there.”

White Bear stormed off to one side.

The Cook said, “Miss Angel, what you’re doing violates the contract. Our agreement states that I am responsible for making all arrangements.”

Angel replied, “The contract also states that I set the requirements and that they must be followed. Mr. Yevgeny, I graduated from Yale Law School. Are you sure you want to discuss the spirit of the contract with me here?”

The Cook’s face flushed crimson. At last, he said, “But you can’t change the requirements at the last minute and expect us to simply—”

“Twenty thousand dollars,” Angel said. “I’ll pay extra.”

The Cook fell silent.

Song Heping fell silent as well.

Everyone exchanged glances.

This American woman really was obscenely wealthy.

“Thirty thousand!”

The Cook said nothing.

Neither did Song Heping.

Even White Bear fell silent.

“If the mission goes smoothly and I’m satisfied, I’ll give you an additional one hundred thousand dollars.”

Angel’s utterly unconcerned expression made it clear that money meant nothing to her, and Song Heping was completely stunned.

Damn…

With enough money, one really could be this willful.

“Deal!”

The Cook ground his teeth and forced the words out.

“Only the five of us. No ISF. Tell your informant to arrange the meeting!”

“It’s already arranged,” Angel said.

She took out a GPS device and pointed out the location to them.

“Here?”

Song Heping glanced at it and immediately drew in a sharp breath.