Chapter 1862 - 1397: Why Don't You Just Rob Them?! (Part 2)

This means he knows he might call for air support and is prepared to respond.

All signs point to the same fact.

This isn't deterrence, not an exercise; it's genuine war preparation.

The convoy traversed the position for about ten minutes and finally entered a natural depression.

This was clearly a temporary command post, with a dozen military tents scattered in a ring, and two BTR-80 armored vehicles equipped with communication antennas parked in the center, the antennas rotating at high frequency.

The pickup truck stopped, and the lieutenant jumped out and walked over to the window of the Hummer.

"Mr. Lemont, please follow me. Your soldiers can stay in the car, or they may follow, but no long weapons."

Lemont pushed open the car door, planting his feet firmly on the solid ground of Iraq.

The night wind was colder, and he instinctively tightened the collar of his combat uniform.

"Rodriguez with me, Jackson stay, keep the engine running." He ordered succinctly, then looked at the lieutenant: "Lead the way."

The group headed towards the largest tent in the center of the depression.

The Illiguo soldiers they passed by cast complex glances at them.

Not hatred, not hostility, but a scrutiny mixed with curiosity and wariness.

Lemont noticed that the soldiers' equipment was varied.

American M4 rifles, Russian AK-74s, and even German G36s, but all were in good maintenance condition.

Four guards stood outside the tent, and seeing Lemont, one lifted the tent flap.

The lieutenant stopped: "Mr. Song is waiting for you inside."

Lemont took a deep breath and bent down to enter the tent.

The interior space was larger than it appeared from outside, about forty square meters.

A folding table was set in the center, with a satellite map of the Mosul Region spread across it, marked with red and blue lines denoting attack routes and defensive deployments.

Several military laptop screens were lit, displaying drone footage and communication statuses.

There was only one person inside the tent.

Song Heping was facing away from the entrance, bent over marking something on the map.

Hearing footsteps, he straightened up and turned around.

"Mr. Lemont." Song Heping greeted first, with even a slight smile on his face: "The weather's nice tonight, good for a walk. Just a bit too much sand in the wind."

Lemont's face was steely, ignoring the deliberate jest.

He stopped five meters away from Song Heping.

This distance was enough for conversation and for the Delta Force soldier behind him to react if necessary.

Though he knew, the four guards outside the tent and hundreds of rifles nearby were aimed at their heads at the moment.

"Song Heping!" Lemont's voice was suppressed with rage: "Are you fucking crazy? Daring to surround a US Military Base? Do you know what this means?"

"What does it mean?"

Song Heping tilted his head as if seriously contemplating an interesting question.

"Means your hundred-plus men are surrounded by four thousand? Means your high-tech equipment worth millions of US Dollars is like paper mache before a 152mm howitzer? Or does it mean..."

He took a step forward, lowering his voice:

"You want my life, I'll take yours first?"

The air inside the tent seemed to freeze instantly.

Lemont could hear his heart pounding against his chest, could sense the muscles of Rodriguez, the Delta Force soldier behind, tensing instantly.

"We didn't—"

Lemont instinctively denied, but the words were abruptly cut off.

"Don't lie." Song Heping's voice suddenly turned cold: "The 'Witness' department issued an arrest order for me, ordered the detention of Milosh and his 247 men, interrogated me under duress; do I need to storm into your base now to confront Milosh?"

Lemont felt his throat dry.

He knew some facts couldn't be denied by words.

"We can negotiate."

Lemont forced his voice to remain steady.

"If you withdraw your troops now, everything can be negotiated. What do you want? Money? Safe passage? I can arrange it. Even... I can ensure the 'Witness' department no longer pursues all your previous actions."

Song Heping laughed.

It wasn't a cold laugh, but a genuine ridicule from his heart.

The laughter echoed in the quiet tent.

"Hahaha! Lemont, do you really take yourself for an idiot, or do you take me for one?"

He raised a finger, waving it gently from side to side as if casually declining a drink in a bar.

"If you keep acting dumb in front of me like this, then today there are only two outcomes." Song Heping kept his smile away, his gaze turning cold: "Either you die, or I die. There is no third path. You've pushed me to this point, you should have known this day would come."

"Then let's fight!" Lemont raised his voice, trying to regain control of the conversation. "You think you can win? Even if you take this base, kill all of us, and then what? The US Army will come in droves, the Tenth Division will be erased from the organization's list, Samir will face a military tribunal, your 'Musician' defense will be uprooted, you'll become a global fugitive, spending the rest of your life hiding in the sewers!"

He stepped forward, staring into Song Heping's eyes: "Withdraw now, and I can still offer you a lifeline. This is my final goodwill."

Song Heping gazed at him quietly, for a full five seconds.

Then, he spread his hands open, his expression almost provocative.

"Bring it on then." He said: "Let's see whose actions are faster, mine or those bureaucrats in Washington. Let's see whether your reinforcements arrive first, or my shells hit your base first."