Chapter 840 - 779 Intelligence Exchange

Sajia turned his head to look at his extremely loyal but rather brainless subordinate, feeling a bit of disappointment and anger: "Haal, where's your brain?! Have the mosquitoes here sucked it dry?!"

He poked his temple with his finger and scolded: "Just think about it, capturing them and sending them to Abdul might get us some reward, but what about the arms?! Do you think Abdul will give them to us? Do you know how hard it is to get weapons now? Most of our brothers have only one magazine of bullets left. Even if we get a new territory to defend, what's the use?!"

"Ah..."

Haal's mouth gaped wide open, unable to close.

"I didn't think that far..."

"That's why you can't be the boss! Haal!" Sajia continued scolding, but his tone softened.

After all, he quite liked Haal.

The guy might be a bit dumb, but he was absolutely loyal.

"Why can't we grab his weapons first, then sell him to Abdul for a handsome price?! That way we have the territory and weapons, isn't it the best of both worlds?!"

"Boss, how brilliant!"

Haal immediately raised his thumb, nodding several times.

"My IQ can't even catch up to you."

"Hmm..."

Sajia, hearing this, felt quite pleased and finally showed a smile.

"Don't worry, didn't they say they were going to Mogadishu on the 15th? Let's take them there, get the weapons on the 10th, then inform Abdul's side, set a trap for them in Mogadishu, and then... Hehe!"

At this point, he couldn't help but laugh sinisterly.

While Sajia was enjoying the flattery from his subordinates, daydreaming of having the best of both worlds, on the way back to Ethiopia, Nura couldn't wait to question Song Heping: "Why did you agree to give him weapons on the 10th? And equipment for 500 people at once, don't you find it problematic?"

"What's the problem?"

Song Heping, holding the steering wheel, asked nonchalantly: "Could these weapons possibly bankrupt me?"

Indeed, Song Heping wasn't short of money now.

Nor was he short of weapons.

He had spent years navigating the mercenary circles and the arms world.

Connections, routes, sources, he had them all.

The arms for 500 people was just a drop in the ocean for Song Heping now.

"What problem? He's tricking you! Didn't you notice any abnormality? I think earlier, when he went out to discuss with his subordinates, he wasn't convincing them to cooperate with us; he was brewing some sinister plot!"

"You're saying he'll sell us out?" Song Heping asked.

"Absolutely!" Nura answered very firmly: "I believe now he wants to sell us to Abdulla. We shouldn't go to Mogadishu, or there will be trouble!"

Song Heping said: "Wasn't this person introduced by you? You assured me he was reliable, that's why I got on this pirate ship with you."

"You—"

Nura wanted to get angry but had no ground to do so.

After all, she indeed set up this connection.

"Okay, I admit I was eager for revenge, but now I want to ask you to cancel the plan, don't go to Mogadishu on the 15th."

"We've spent so much effort and money to bring the weapons to Africa, and now you're telling me to cancel?"

Song Heping sneered: "It's like going to a hotel with a girl, taking off my clothes, and you tell me suddenly she's on her period and can't do it. What am I supposed to think?"

Nura's pretty face blushed suddenly.

To be honest, she was very conservative.

Song Heping making raunchy jokes with her made her somewhat at a loss, not knowing how to respond.

Especially since Song Heping made a valid point.

Now the arrow was on the string, and it had to be released.

This night destined not to be quiet.

As Song Heping left Somalia, Sajia stood on the balcony of an abandoned hospital, dreaming his expansion dream, far away in a seaside cafe in Morocco, North Africa, Captain Coleman sat quietly smoking, with two cups of black coffee in front of him.

He was reading the newspaper, with the cigarette butt resting on the ashtray edge, a thin thread of white smoke curling up.

Ding-a-ling—

The bell at the door rang.

Someone came in.

A white man wearing casual shorts and a bright, gaudy top looking like a tourist walked in.

He glanced around the secluded cafe; only two old men were drinking coffee in the corner, at the counter, the Boss, who was also a waiter, was dozing off, drooling onto the table.

He saw Coleman.

Coleman's gaze also went past the top of the newspaper to see him.

The man dressed as a tourist showed a meaningful smile, then walked straight over to sit across from the Captain.

"I've ordered coffee for you."

Coleman pushed the cup of black coffee over.

This messy-haired blond man didn't hesitate, lifted it and drank, pausing after a sip, then said softly: "Tell me, what urgent orders were issued so late? Are your people over there always so diligent? How much fieldwork overtime pay do you get for working at night?"

"I don't know about the overtime pay, but..."

Captain Coleman folded the newspaper with precision, aligning every crease like someone with OCD.

When the newspaper was placed back on the table, Coleman's gaze turned piercing, like a spotlight, fixedly stared at the man in front of him, and said with smug confidence: "Tonight we got a lead on the whereabouts of the person second only to Laden on your bureau's bounty list."

This statement hit the messy-haired blond guy like a bullet.

He stopped his coffee like being struck at a power spot, his mind racing to guess the final answer, wondering if Coleman was talking about the person he had in mind.

"Song?"

His slightly drowsy small eyes suddenly shone with brilliance, making him alert.

"Are you talking about him?"

"BINGO! You guessed it! There's a prize!"

Coleman pointed to the coffee smugly.

"This time, I'm buying, consider it a reward."

The messy-haired blond man immediately lost interest in the coffee, putting the cup back on the table, his face serious: "Are you sure there isn't a mistake?"

The implication insinuated that what the CIA couldn't obtain, how was the MI6 able to?!

"Absolutely certain, do you remember who the head of their intelligence department is?" Coleman dangled the bait.

"Henry! He's someone from your intelligence department!"

The blond man's eyes flared.

"Is he in your custody? Logically, it's impossible; he should be in Ethiopia!"

"No, he's indeed in our custody."

Coleman clasped his hands, fingers interlaced.

"Bridge, don't doubt my professionalism."

With that, he spread his hands.

"Come on, name a price that interests me."