《The Contractor》


 Last day in Baghdad

    Taking advantage of the financial crisis and the presidential election that left the U.S. government preoccupied, various armed factions in Iraq launched a new wave of attacks. It was a near replica of the "Bloody October" two years prior, with Baghdad suffering dozens of terrorist incidents in just two weeks, resulting in the deaths of numerous U.S. soldiers and thousands of civilians. The oil pipelines on the outskirts of the city were, of course, not spared, and the thick smoke from burning oil made this once-beautiful ancient city appear all the more desolate.


    Shi Yang Deng put on a tactical vest filled with magazines, slung a Romanian AIMS assault rifle with a folded stock over his shoulder, and then picked up a duffel bag packed with drum magazines before stepping outside. He was in a good mood, despite the fact that he was about to leave the "Green Zone" for a perilous journey. At that moment, the beautiful scenery of the Aegean Sea flashed through his mind.


    Today was his last mission as a "security contractor" in Iraq.


    In the parking lot, more than a dozen people had already gathered, dressed in similar outfits: tactical vests over T-shirts or shirts, jeans, hiking boots, and different-colored Arab keffiyehs around their necks. They were armed with various AKMs or PKMs that had been modified in all sorts of ways, and some wore Kevlar helmets and goggles.


    Once everyone had arrived, a tall and sturdy Afrikaner with Dutch ancestry stepped forward. He was Paul van Riebeeck, the supervisor of this project.


    "Guys, although the project is almost finished, we still have one last mission to complete."


    The contractors, who had been enthusiastically discussing their vacation plans, quieted down.


    "You have work to do, so get your act together and get it done. Although ''Harji'' has lousy shooting skills, I don''t want to see any of you end up on iCasualties because of some stupid mistake."


    Laughter erupted from the crowd.


    "Remember what you''re here to do, let''s move out!"


    The group then climbed into the vehicles.


    Ten minutes later, a convoy departed the "Green Zone," heading toward Baghdad International Airport.


    Leading the way was a Mitsubishi Pajero SUV, fully armored with welded steel plates, followed by an escort convoy of four Toyota Land Cruisers. Each of these had a large hole cut into the roof, with a makeshift circular shield welded around it, inside of which was a PKM machine gun and a gunner equipped with a bulletproof vest and helmet. In the middle of the convoy were two GMC SUVs modified for bulletproofing, the primary protection targets of this mission. At the rear of each vehicle hung warning signs in both English and Arabic: "Do not approach, or you will be shot!"


    The warning signs were actually redundant. Because the contractors had immunity from prosecution, they were feared even more than the U.S. military; civilians would scatter the moment they saw the convoy approaching, not daring to linger.


    The convoy passed through filthy streets littered with garbage, entering the highway leading to Baghdad International Airport.


    "Attention, we have entered the ''Red Zone.'' Repeat, we have entered the ''Red Zone,''" Paul''s voice came through the radio.


    Deng Shiyang, sitting in the front passenger seat, tapped the roof a few times, and the gunner standing in the back immediately switched off the safety.


    The "Red Zone" referred to high-risk areas along the mission route, also known as the "Irish Route." It was a military code name for the highway connecting the "Green Zone" and Baghdad International Airport. Because it was the main road in and out of Baghdad, the buildings on both sides of the highway were prime locations for insurgents to ambush passing vehicles.


    The highway was straight, and vehicles could easily reach speeds over fifty miles per hour. If not for the occasional car wreckage along the road, this so-called "world''s most dangerous highway" would be no different from any highway in the U.S.


    Not long after, a wreck outside caught Deng Shiyang''s attention. The once-mighty Humvee was now just a charred shell, its twisted frame looking especially grim under the dim sky. He found his heart pounding, his shirt sticking to his back with sweat, the clammy feeling adding to his irritation and unease. He wiped his hand on his pants and instinctively glanced at the lead vehicle ahead.


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    Suddenly, a sharp "whoosh" sounded from outside, as several orange-red streaks of light flew from the abandoned buildings by the roadside, accompanied by whistling noises as they zipped past the vehicles.


    "It''s starting," Deng Shiyang gritted his teeth, then flipped off the safety.


    The lead vehicle accelerated, smoke grenades were tossed out one after another from the windows, and the rising white smoke quickly shrouded one side of the highway. The gunners on the rooftops began to return fire, and the sound of rapid gunfire filled the air, tracer rounds weaving through the smoke, creating a dazzling display.


    Such battles, where both sides couldn''t see each other and greeted each other with bullets, were commonplace in Iraq. As long as the convoy maintained a high enough speed and used the smoke for cover, the enemy couldn¡¯t expect to hit much from a few hundred meters away. Moreover, the escort vehicles were all modified for protection; from the tires to the windows, they were bulletproof, and medium-caliber bullets would leave only shallow dents at most.


    Deng Shiyang awkwardly twisted his body and extended his AIMS rifle, equipped with a stick-type flash suppressor, out of the shooting port, firing into the smoke. The sound of gunfire echoed inside the vehicle, causing his ears to buzz. Hot shell casings scattered on the floor, the acrid smell of burnt smokeless powder filled the air, and the blend of sounds and scents formed a sensory stimulus that triggered his adrenaline, continually pounding his brain.


    He felt like he was in a state of strange excitement; his heart seemed ready to leap out of his chest, his pores expanded with the blood flow, and an indescribable pleasure spread throughout his body...


    The seventy-five-round drum emptied in less than a minute.


    Deng Shiyang shook off the shell casings on his body, discarded the empty drum, and reached into his bag for a spare, reloading and continuing to shoot. He didn¡¯t expect to hit anything but seemed to be firing simply to enjoy the thrill of the bullets leaving the barrel.


    "All units, full speed ahead. Repeat, full speed ahead," Paul''s voice came over the radio, and he specifically emphasized, "No matter what happens, don¡¯t stop!"


    The convoy accelerated, intending to quickly get out of the enemy¡¯s firing range. With fewer bullets flying nearby, Deng Shiyang stopped shooting to let the hot barrel cool down.


    As his tension eased, new thoughts began to emerge. He looked at the lead vehicle and pondered the same question he thought about every time they went out: would they encounter an IED?


    For insurgents lacking heavy weapons, the so-called "roadside bombs" or IEDs were among the few anti-armor tactics available. These makeshift devices, made from old mines or artillery shells and detonated by cell phone, were crude yet highly feared by contractors and the U.S. military alike. Although the convoy was equipped with cellphone signal jammers, the IED detonators had evolved to include wired connections and infrared sensors, making them even harder to guard against. This was why the lead vehicle was privately nicknamed the "suicide car," with its occupants chosen by drawing lots.


    Like flipping a coin, people always calculated the odds of heads or tails before gambling, even if it was futile, as it offered a small sense of comfort.


    But luck was not on their side today.


    With a thunderous explosion, a massive plume of dust formed a giant gray-black blossom by the roadside, instantly engulfing the convoy.


    Deng Shiyang felt as if he had been hit with a heavy blow, an invisible force instantly shutting down his sensory nerves, leaving everything white and silent.


    Then something hard hit him on the head.


    The driver instinctively jerked the steering wheel in response to the sudden explosion, causing the Land Cruiser to swerve in a large "S" on the highway. The centrifugal force slammed Deng Shiyang''s head against the bulletproof window, and as stars danced before his eyes, he finally snapped back to reality.


    "Damn! Step on it and get out of here! Damn it..." Paul''s angry voice shouted over the radio.


    At the same time, the driver yelled in heavily-accented English, "Shoot back!"


    The blast had blown away much of the smoke, and with the loss of cover, the convoy, emerging from the dust, immediately came under concentrated fire.


    Ignoring the huge bump on his forehead, Deng Shiyang pulled the trigger...


    Under the cover of their return fire, the convoy finally escaped the enemy''s range.


    After leaving the battlefield, Deng Shiyang was nearly burned by the hot shell casings. Most of the drum magazines in his bag were used up, and the barrel of his AIMS had turned dark red, almost setting the handguard on fire.


    He quickly grabbed a bottle of water from the storage compartment, poured it over the barrel, then wrapped it in a scarf and soaked it again. He didn¡¯t want the hot barrel to ignite anything inside the vehicle, and he needed it to cool down fast for the next possible fight.


    Through the windshield, now dotted with white marks, he noticed that the lead vehicle was nowhere in sight.


    ---


    Notes:


    Green Zone: A safe area established by the U.S. military in Baghdad, where the U.S. headquarters, embassy, and the Iraqi interim government are located.


    Harji: Originally referred to pilgrims traveling to Mecca, it is used in English as a derogatory term for Muslims.


    iCasualties: iCasualties.org, a website dedicated to tracking casualty statistics in Afghanistan and Iraq.


    IED (Improvised Explosive Device): A makeshift bomb, commonly known as a roadside bomb, frequently used by insurgents for attacks.

 A Shoot Job

    A blue-and-white United Airlines Boeing 767-300 broke through the clouds and began its descent. The sun had already dipped below the horizon, and the fading light of dusk cast a faint golden outline around the aircraft.


    Deng Shiyang rubbed his eyes and turned to look out the window.


    In the west, the lead-gray sky still had a hint of orange, while the airport lights had already come on. On the grayish-brown outer wall of the terminal building, a row of large neon signs displayed the words: "Viru-Viru Santa Cruz de la Sierra" in pale blue light, standing out prominently against the night.


    The landing was smooth. After the seatbelt sign turned off, Deng Shiyang unbuckled and stretched in his seat, muttering to himself in a voice only he could hear, "Hope it''s a good job..."


    Although there had been an attack midway, resulting in casualties among the team, the mission was finally completed safely. After leaving Iraq, Deng Shiyang spent two leisurely weeks at a hotel on the Aegean Sea in Cyprus.


    Three mornings ago, he habitually logged into his work email and found a new message in the inbox. The sender was a familiar name: Harrowby.


    James Harrowby was the one who had introduced Deng Shiyang to the industry. He used to be a manager at the North American branch of ArmorGroup but started his own business two years ago, founding a security consulting firm called A.F.S. in the Cayman Islands.


    Deng Shiyang knew the true nature of the company. Although A.F.S. appeared to offer security consultancy services, it actually functioned as a mercenary agency dealing in "freelance" jobs. Given that Harrowby had reached out, it was highly likely there was a new assignment.


    The email was simple, containing just a phone number and two words: "Shoot_job."


    While contractors earned substantial income, their work was far from stable. To cut costs, private military companies employed most staff as contractors, except for a few senior managers. As a result, contractors often took positions with several different firms, allowing them to pick jobs they liked.


    To distinguish between different types of work, the industry used specialized terminology. "Protect_job" referred to bodyguard-type tasks, whereas "Shoot_job" required direct involvement in combat. Though both might seem similar to outsiders, the latter was far more dangerous and paid several times more.


    Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, Deng Shiyang picked up the phone and dialed the number from the email.


    The call was answered after just two rings. Before he could speak, Harrowby asked, "Is that JD?"


    "How did you know it was me?"


    "Not many people have this number, and I can estimate the local time in Cyprus based on the time difference."


    Deng Shiyang frowned but didn¡¯t ask how Harrowby knew his whereabouts. Instead, he simply said, "Is there a job?"


    "Yes, a ''Shoot job,'' urgent."


    "What kind?"


    "It''s complicated. We need to discuss it in person."


    "Where?"


    "South America, Bolivia."


    Glancing at the beach outside the window, Deng Shiyang noncommittally replied, "Hmm."


    Sensing his interest, Harrowby quickly added, "Don¡¯t worry, I''ll cover your round-trip airfare and accommodation expenses. Even if you decide not to take the job, you''ll still get $2,000 as compensation for disturbing your vacation. If you decide to proceed, we¡¯ll discuss the payment."


    Propping his head on his hand, Deng Shiyang considered for about a minute before replying, "Alright, when should I go?"


    "Tomorrow afternoon. Send me your address and passport number by email, and I''ll arrange the tickets. My people will be waiting for you at the airport."


    "Got it." Deng Shiyang responded and then hung up the phone.


    Harrowby was highly efficient. In less than half a day, the plane ticket arrived at his room. The following evening, having packed, Deng Shiyang headed to Larnaca International Airport and boarded a flight to Miami, eventually reaching Santa Cruz after several connections.


    After completing immigration procedures, Deng Shiyang carried a small travel bag out of the airport, scanning the crowd for someone waiting. His eyes quickly found a young man holding a cardboard sign with "Mr. Jose B. Daish" written on it.


    He approached, took out his passport, and handed it to the young man.


    The tan-skinned youth examined the name and photo carefully, then introduced himself in heavily accented English, "I am Mario Taran, sent by Mr. Harrowby to pick you up."


    "Where is he?"


    Taran respectfully replied, "Mr. Harrowby is not in Santa Cruz at the moment. But don''t worry, you will meet him tomorrow." He paused before continuing, "Your accommodations have already been arranged. I will take you to the hotel now." With that, he took the luggage and led the way to a Ford Focus parked by the roadside.


    As Bolivia''s largest city, Santa Cruz remained bustling at night. But Deng Shiyang, exhausted from over twenty hours of flights, had no energy to appreciate the scenery. He dozed off almost immediately after getting into the car, the motion of the vehicle acting like a giant cradle, making his eyelids grow heavier...


    It was unclear how much time had passed, but the bumping suddenly stopped. Groggily, Deng Shiyang felt something bump into his right shoulder.


    His body instinctively reacted. He twisted his upper body, pushed away with his left hand, while his right hand reached for his lower back¡ªwhere his handgun would usually be.


    But he came up empty; there was nothing on his belt.


    "Sir, we have arrived."


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    At that moment, Taran''s voice reached Deng Shiyang''s ears.


    The Focus had stopped in front of a building with a strong Spanish colonial style. Spotlights on the ground illuminated the red bricks of the walls, making the four-story structure appear majestic. The car door was already open, and a bellboy in a brown uniform with pale yellow trim stood outside, staring at him in bewilderment.


    Deng Shiyang glanced at Taran in the front seat and awkwardly explained, "Sorry, I was a bit disoriented from sleep."


    Taran replied with a strange expression, "Mr. Harrowby has already booked a room for you. I will pick you up tomorrow at nine in the morning."


    Feeling uneasy under the bellboy''s suspicious gaze, Deng Shiyang instinctively wiped his forehead, only to realize it was covered in sweat, with his hair sticking to his damp skin. Sweating profusely in an air-conditioned car could indeed seem odd.


    Without saying much, he nodded at Taran and followed the bellboy carrying his luggage into the hotel lobby.


    Although he would only be staying one night in Santa Cruz, the luxurious Camino Real Hotel showed that Harrowby had spared no expense. However, jet-lagged and exhausted, Deng Shiyang had no energy to enjoy the opulence. He quickly ate a simple dinner in the restaurant, took a brief shower in his room, and then collapsed onto the bed, falling into a deep sleep.


    When the sky was a pale white, Deng Shiyang woke up.


    He found himself breathing heavily, drenched in sweat, with the back of his pajamas soaked and sticking uncomfortably to his skin.


    He threw off the covers, sat up, and glanced at the clock on the nightstand.


    It was a quarter past six. The morning sunlight streamed through the gap in the curtains, casting a thin streak of light that stretched from the carpet up the wall to the ceiling, resembling a slender question mark.


    He sat for a while, waiting for his breathing to steady, then got out of bed and walked to the corner of the room. He opened the fridge, took out a bottle of mineral water, drank deeply, and exhaled a long breath.


    Post-traumatic stress disorder was an occupational hazard in their line of work. Staying in high-risk areas like Iraq, filled with violence and death, brought stress beyond what most people could imagine. Over the years, he had seen many colleagues who couldn¡¯t cope with the pressure and quit.


    These were mostly former soldiers who had undergone good military training but had never been in actual combat. When they first arrived in Iraq, they were full of energy, shouting excitedly even over trivial matters, and eager to join missions.


    But with each day¡¯s exposure to death, the atmosphere gradually changed, and the initial excitement of leaving the "Green Zone" for what felt like a hiking trip slowly wore off.


    Gradually, some people became withdrawn, adopting an ostrich mentality of "what you don''t see doesn¡¯t exist" when it came to the casualty numbers on iCasualties. Others distracted themselves with trivial things like "how graceful the arc of ejected shell casings looked." Some even turned to marijuana and alcohol to numb themselves or vented their stress by shooting at abandoned buildings in the wilderness.


    To avoid prolonged exposure to high-stress environments, contractor contracts rarely lasted more than a year. But there were plenty who chose to terminate their contracts early, even if it meant forfeiting the pay.


    Seeing that it was still early, he went into the bathroom and soaked in the hot water-filled bathtub for half an hour, washing away the sweat. Then he called room service to bring a hearty breakfast.


    He ate breakfast at the small round table in the room, then sat by the window, sipping coffee as he gazed down at the pool. More guests were coming for their morning swim, including several Latin beauties in sexy bikinis, frolicking and showing off their alluring figures. He took a sip of coffee and fell into thought.


    Since leaving Iraq, he had found himself becoming a bit neurotic, always unconsciously overly alert, and often waking up from dreams without being able to remember their content.


    He knew this was a lingering effect of the ambush in Baghdad. His current state was not suitable for dangerous "Shootjob" tasks, but the high pay was a significant temptation. He wasn''t willing to, nor had he ever thought about, giving up the comfortable life he was accustomed to, and maintaining that lifestyle required a lot of money.


    Soon it was nine o''clock. Taran showed up punctually, and after settling the bill and checking out, he drove Deng Shiyang to El Trompillo Airport in the city center. At the corner of the tarmac near the hangar, a DC-3 transport plane sat, looking old enough to belong in a museum.


    Taran engaged in a ten-minute-long conversation in Spanish with a dark-skinned middle-aged pilot, and Deng Shiyang was then allowed to board. Half an hour later, the plane took off, carrying him and a load of Chinese-made home appliances toward the city of Camiri in southwestern Santa Cruz.


    Although it wasn¡¯t his first time on a transport plane, this hour-long flight was truly torturous. The "Dakota" was over fifty years old and poorly maintained. The paint on the fuselage had long since peeled off, and the skin had been patched multiple times, looking like a tattered cloth covered in patches. The cargo hold, of course, had no seats, so he had to sit on the floor next to a pile of DVD players, enduring the mixed air of noise and engine exhaust while anxiously waiting for the landing.


    Around noon, the plane landed at Camiri Airport, on the outskirts of the city. As soon as the plane stopped, he couldn¡¯t wait to jump out and take deep breaths of the fresh air at the airport.


    At that moment, a local man in his early thirties ran over and greeted him in heavily accented English, then led him to a Nissan Patrol parked by the runway.


    Ten minutes later, the Patrol left the airport, driving south along a dirt road toward the Parapet¨ª River. It then turned onto a forked road hidden in the woods and continued along a narrow path through the fields to a farm.


    The SUV moved forward along the path, passing a harvested wheat field. The tan ground was covered with wheat stubble, resembling a vast piece of burlap spread across the fields. At the end of the road stood a white gabled house with an English countryside style, accompanied by two red-brown wooden sheds nearby, likely used for storing tools and grain.


    Looking around, there were no other buildings within a 400-yard radius except for the main structures. To the southeast was the fast-flowing river, and to the north was an orchard. Two tree lines extended from the east and west sides of the orchard to the riverbank, where they merged with the riverside thickets, enclosing the farm like a tall fence.


    The Patrol stopped in front of the house, and the driver led Deng Shiyang to the front door, where he rang the bell. It was just noon.


    Soon, the door opened, and a slightly overweight British man in his early forties with light blond hair appeared at the entrance.


    Before Deng Shiyang could speak, Harrowby reached out his hand and said, "Thank you for coming all this way."


    Deng Shiyang shook his hand and asked, "What''s the job?"


    "You must be tired from the journey; we¡¯ll discuss the details tonight." Harrowby didn¡¯t answer his question. After a pause, he added, "There¡¯s food prepared in the kitchen. Your room is on the second floor; feel free to choose any with an open door. I have some matters to attend to, so excuse me."


    Watching Harrowby leave, Deng Shiyang climbed the stairs from the living room to the second floor and walked down the hallway along the balcony to the end. He finally chose a room with a window facing the river.


    The room couldn¡¯t compare to a hotel, but despite the old furniture, it was clean, and the bedding was new, giving it a simple yet comfortable feel.


    He put down his luggage and then headed to the kitchen on the first floor.


    The kitchen was spacious, at least 300 square feet. On the stove by the wall, a large iron pot was steaming, giving off the aroma of stewed meat. A stout woman in an apron stood with her back to the door, chopping something on the counter.


    In the center of the kitchen was a long dining table, large enough to accommodate more than ten people. In the middle of the red-and-white checkered tablecloth sat a silver platter piled with sandwiches, next to a large ceramic bowl of salad, a coffee pot, and various utensils. At the table, a tall, thin man with light brown hair was hunched over, devouring his meal.


    Hearing footsteps, the man looked up, revealing a rather ordinary face. His gray-blue eyes sized up Deng Shiyang, and after swallowing the sandwich in his mouth, he asked in an Irish-accented English, "Just arrived?"


    Deng Shiyang glanced at him and replied, "Just arrived."


    The Irishman wiped his hands with a napkin, then extended his hand, "I''m Keith. And you?"


    "JD." Deng Shiyang shook his hand out of courtesy.


    As if he already knew, Keith¡¯s expression remained unchanged.


    Deng Shiyang took note of it all but said nothing. He walked over to the table, picked up a small plate of salad and a sandwich, and sat down to eat on his own.

 Mission

    It wasn¡¯t until dinner that Deng Shiyang met the other members.


    Since it was a welcome dinner, the meal was quite lavish. The kitchen table was filled with food: pumpkin soup, South American-style roast chicken, stews with plenty of spices and chili peppers, garlic mashed potatoes, toasted bread, and a fruit platter with blueberry sauce. The hearty South American cuisine emitted a strong aroma that whetted the appetites of Harrowby and the six contractors sitting around the table.


    The person closest to Deng Shiyang was Keith, the Northern Irishman he had met at lunchtime. His full name was Keith Brown, though he preferred to be addressed by his first name. Keith was a former reservist officer from the 21st SAS Regiment and was therefore jokingly called the "armed artist." As expected, he was the supervisor for this mission, responsible for assembling the team and acting as the on-site commander, which explained his "I knew it was you" demeanor when they met earlier.


    To his right was a solidly built Belgian with short, sandy blond hair and a high forehead, who was eating the stew heartily. His name was Mark Vlaeminck, but everyone called him "Little Mark." Despite the nickname, he was over six feet tall and weighed at least two hundred pounds. Keith didn¡¯t elaborate on Mark¡¯s background, simply mentioning that he was an excellent automatic weapon specialist.


    Across from them were three other men. One was nearly forty, with a lean face and a prominent hooked nose. He was called Johnny Du Preez, a large South African man with British heritage who had served in the South African Defense Force¡¯s Special Operations Brigade before joining Executive Outcomes. He had combat experience in Angola and Sierra Leone and was a seasoned mercenary.


    Johnny was a quiet person who spoke softly and with a nasal tone. A black skull tattoo decorated his left forearm, and a thick brown belt with a leather sheath carrying a dagger hung around his waist. The dagger''s guard, treated with phosphating, was polished to a shine, and its walnut handle had darkened from long-term use, showing it to be a well-worn weapon.


    To Du Preez¡¯s left was a tall, skinny American who looked like a beanpole. His name was Per Jansen, and he had short, wavy chestnut hair and a youthful face that made him appear to be in his early twenties. He wore semi-transparent, brown-rimmed glasses on his straight nose. If not for Keith''s introduction, anyone would likely have mistaken him for a college student visiting Bolivia rather than a former Green Beret radio operator.


    The last person was Marc Rodin, a Corsican. Stocky and lean, he had a weathered face with narrow triangular eyes, prominent cheekbones, and thick eyebrows. His bald head made him look like Captain Jean-Luc Picard stepping out of a TV screen.


    Because Rodin had served in the French Foreign Legion, Keith referred to him as "the Frenchman," though Deng Shiyang felt that the nickname mocked Corsican arrogance.


    Upon their first meeting, Rodin¡¯s initial comment was, "Oh, there¡¯s even an ¡®Asian.¡¯" And when Keith introduced Deng Shiyang to the others as an "excellent marksman," Rodin responded with a disdainful snort.


    By the time dinner ended, it was already past eight, and the well-fed group was led to a small living room.


    The living room had been set up as a temporary meeting room; the original furniture was removed, and two folding tables were placed together in the center, surrounded by a haphazard array of chairs. Opposite the tables hung a projection screen on the wall, and next to it was a whiteboard covered with photos.


    Besides Harrowby, all six contractors gathered around the folding tables. Although they sat close together, there was a noticeable distance between Rodin and the people next to him, indicating that Deng Shiyang wasn¡¯t the only one who found "the Frenchman" difficult to get along with.


    After everyone settled down, Harrowby stood up and began speaking in a standard English accent, "Gentlemen, before we start the meeting, I first want to thank you all for coming."


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    After the brief opening, he got straight to the point, "I¡¯m sure you¡¯re aware that this is a difficult and dangerous mission. But I assure you, if we succeed, the rewards will more than compensate for the risks."


    These words immediately piqued everyone¡¯s curiosity.


    Harrowby glanced around the room, then walked over to the whiteboard and pointed to a photograph, saying, "This is a rescue mission. The target is him."


    The photo showed a rough-looking white man in front of a crude wooden house made of planks and corrugated metal. Since only his upper body was visible, it was unclear whether he was standing or sitting. His face was haggard, and his shirt was dirty and torn, making it hard to discern its original color. He was holding a Spanish-language newspaper in his hands, which were raised to his chest.


    "This man is Peter Bowman, the Vice President for South America at a British oil company. Two months ago, he was kidnapped while inspecting a natural gas field project near the Cochabamba province border. His convoy was ambushed; the driver and assistant were killed, and two bodyguards died while three others were injured. This photo was received by his company three weeks later..."


    At this point, Rodin interrupted, "Who did it?"


    Harrowby frowned and replied, "According to intelligence, it''s the ELN."


    The room was filled with a low murmur, though Keith and Jansen wore expressions that said, "I already knew."


    "What a No. 10 job," Deng Shiyang thought.


    The ELN, or National Liberation Army of Bolivia, was an anti-government militant group active in Santa Cruz. Its members were originally proletarian revolutionaries dedicated to fighting corruption and land reform. However, after the Cold War ended and foreign aid ceased, these communists degenerated into drug traffickers and bandits. They cultivated and processed cocaine in the mountains for profit and kidnapped foreigners for ransom. Although Interpol had launched joint operations with the military to eradicate them, little success was achieved against the ELN, who were skilled in guerrilla warfare and hid in the rugged terrain.


    Due to the uneven economic development across Bolivia''s provinces, the central government''s policies favored heavier taxes on the wealthier eastern provinces to subsidize poorer regions. Combined with the unpopularity of the corrupt Morales administration, many in Santa Cruz, the country''s wealthiest province, either supported or sympathized with the ELN. It was no wonder Harrowby had chosen this secluded farm as a hideout.


    Clearing his throat, Harrowby waited for the room to quiet down before continuing, "The kidnappers initially demanded a ransom of two million pounds, but later shifted to political demands, asking the Bolivian government to release a captured leader of the militant group..."


    Rodin again interjected, "Who is this ¡®Brit¡¯ anyway?"


    "Please don¡¯t interrupt me! There will be a Q&A session afterward." Harrowby¡¯s annoyance at being interrupted was evident, but he still answered, "Peter Bowman comes from a prominent British family that is a major supporter of the Labour Party. This information was known only to a few senior company officials, but somehow it leaked, and the ELN immediately switched to using him as a political bargaining chip, pressuring the Bolivian government to free their imprisoned comrade. Since Bolivia severed ties with the U.S., its oil and natural gas extraction has relied heavily on British technology and equipment, which is why the ELN views him as a ''political asset.''"


    "Now, let¡¯s talk about the topic that interests you most¡ªcompensation. The pay for this mission is fifty thousand pounds per person, with a ten-thousand-pound advance for those participating. The balance will be paid upon successful completion. I can guarantee that the mission will not last longer than a month, and I will cover all expenses during that time."


    The payment amount surprised Deng Shiyang. Contractors doing "Protect_job" work typically earned no more than one hundred twenty thousand pounds per year. While "Shoot_job" offered higher pay, the difference was usually no more than threefold, and they often had to cover their weapon and equipment costs. Now, to earn fifty thousand pounds for just a month¡¯s work with expenses covered was generous even by "Shoot_job" standards. Considering the risks, however, the amount seemed fair.


    "That concludes the mission briefing. Now it''s time for questions."


    Mark was the first to speak, though his question was a bit of a mood-killer, "What happens if we fail?"


    "If the mission fails, those who return alive will receive a ten-thousand-pound compensation. In the event of death or disabling injury, the payout will be twenty thousand pounds. However, due to the lack of insurance coverage, the contract does not include medical insurance," Harrowby answered without hesitation.


    Surprisingly, after Mark¡¯s question, no one else raised any.


    Seeing this, Harrowby said, "If there are no more questions, please let me know whether you¡¯re participating by ten o¡¯clock tonight. I¡¯ll prepare the contracts. Those who choose not to participate may leave tomorrow morning. The meeting is adjourned."

 Details

    The next morning, Deng Shiyang was awakened by a knocking sound that served as a substitute for the "Morning Call." He rubbed his eyes and glanced at the clock on the nightstand.


    It was exactly 8 a.m.


    He sat up, stretched, threw off the covers, and got out of bed. He then took a toiletries bag and a towel from the wardrobe and left the room.


    The hallway outside the bathroom was already lined up with people. There were only two bathrooms with showers on the second floor, and since one was in Harrowby''s room, it was inconvenient for the other six people, who were staying on the first floor, to share just one.


    As he reached the end of the line, Jansen greeted him, "Good morning."


    "Good morning," Deng Shiyang answered with a yawn.


    Per Jansen was an unusual character among the contractors. Born into a German immigrant family with Saxon roots, he had joined the U.S. Army after university because he couldn''t afford the high tuition fees to continue his studies. He served with the 82nd Airborne Division and the 3rd Special Operations Group at Fort Bragg, North Carolina.


    Unlike most of his peers who only knew how to fight, Jansen had earned a master''s degree in radio engineering during his service, thanks to the military¡¯s sponsorship. After leaving the military, he joined the communications giant L-3. Half a year later, on a bright sunny morning, he left a resignation letter and drove his Volvo from New York to Columbia, Maryland, to become a contractor for MPRI.


    Due to the nature of their work, contractors spent their days surrounded by danger, making it difficult to form relationships beyond the job. Brotherhood was rare. However, Jansen was different; he was kind, friendly, rarely used profanity, and lacked the arrogance and indifference that Europeans often showed toward Asians. As a result, Deng Shiyang had a good impression of him.


    By the time everyone had finished freshening up and sat down in the kitchen for breakfast, it was already 8:30.


    Today''s breakfast was lighter: white bread with butter or jam, cereal with fruit and milk, along with coffee and tea. It was a well-balanced combination of nutrition and calories, perfect for removing the heaviness from last night''s dinner.


    However, Deng Shiyang¡¯s mind was not on breakfast. He glanced at the briefcase beside Harrowby¡¯s chair, absentmindedly stuffing food into his mouth and swallowing after barely chewing. He managed to fill himself halfway.


    After the servants cleared the table, Harrowby took out four stacks of documents from his briefcase, each accompanied by a pen, and placed them in front of Deng Shiyang, Mark, Du Preez, and Rodin.


    "Gentlemen, the contracts have been modified as agreed last night. If you have no issues after reviewing them, please sign." As if to bolster their confidence, he pulled four checks from his briefcase and laid them on the table, "Here are your advance payments."


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    Deng Shiyang opened the contract and pretended to read it, though he couldn¡¯t process a single word. Even though he had made his decision last night, he hesitated at the final moment before signing. A sudden urge to "withdraw" sprang up, and various chaotic thoughts flashed through his mind.


    At that moment, a faint rustling sound reached his ears. Looking up, he saw Mark quickly scribbling his name on the contract, then tossing the clipped A4 paper like a bat, which landed squarely in front of Harrowby.


    Deng Shiyang clenched his teeth as if trying to crush some intangible hesitation. He picked up the pen, signed the contract, took his check, and left the kitchen.


    The signing didn¡¯t take long, and once Harrowby collected the signed contracts, he immediately gathered everyone in the meeting room to brief them on the mission.


    The folding table in the middle of the meeting room had been moved to the wall, with a projector connected to a laptop placed on top of it. The chairs previously around the table were now arranged in two rows in front of the projection screen, each with a small notebook and pen on the seat.


    Once everyone was seated, Harrowby activated the projector and displayed a color photograph.


    The image on the screen showed a balding Latino man who appeared to be in his early fifties. He had a sharp, gaunt face, sparse eyebrows over narrow triangular eyes, and a neatly trimmed mustache under a prominent hooked nose.


    Harrowby¡¯s voice filled the room, "This man is Ernesto Serna, a local businessman with considerable influence. He knows something we very much want to know, so you¡¯ll need to bring him here."


    "Are we going in hard?" Rodin asked.


    Harrowby didn¡¯t respond directly and continued, "We have no clues about Peter Bowman¡¯s whereabouts yet, but Jansen''s radio surveillance equipment picked up that this guy is acting as an intermediary in the negotiations. So, we plan to get the information out of him directly. Of course, I doubt he''ll come here willingly."


    The people in the room chuckled.


    Keith stood up, walked over to the screen, and gestured to Harrowby. The photo on the screen disappeared, replaced by a Google Earth satellite image of Camiri.


    He pointed to a clearing in the forest on the outskirts of the city, "This guy goes to his villa in the suburbs every Tuesday and Friday evening to negotiate via radio with Bowman¡¯s company, using them to pressure the Bolivian government. We¡¯ll act tonight." He paused, then pointed to the forest road connecting the villa to Camiri, "The plan is an ambush. The four of you will hide in the forest and strike on his way home. Jansen and I will stay here for communications support."


    "Now it''s time for questions."


    Rodin was the first to speak, "Why not hit him on the way to the villa?"


    "Because we¡¯re understaffed and can¡¯t track his precise movements. Also, moving around Camiri during daylight makes you too conspicuous."


    Rodin fell silent. Mark followed up with another question, "Why not go into the villa and grab him? That would have a higher success rate."


    "I considered that, but there are several other vacation houses near the villa. Today is Friday, so there could be other people around for the weekend."


    Mark nodded and said no more.


    Keith waited a moment to ensure there were no more questions before saying, "If no one has objections, we¡¯ll proceed as planned. Be ready to move as soon as we get the notification from Santa Cruz that negotiations have started."


    He gestured to Harrowby again, and the image on the screen changed to a dark blue Mercedes G-Class SUV.


    "Memorize this vehicle; it belongs to the target."


    Everyone immediately noted the license plate number in their notebooks.

 Kidnapping

    The eastern outskirts of Camiri consist of rolling hills. A dirt road runs from a small town near the airport, winding through the gaps between the hills and passing through the forest toward a vacation villa in the mountains.


    At the end of a stretch of straight road, hidden in the bushes, lay a Nissan Patrol SUV. The moonlight was blocked by the tall trees, blending the brownish vehicle with the shadows. To increase concealment, a thick layer of leafy branches was piled on the roof and hood, altering the vehicle¡¯s outline so that the angular SUV looked like a low shrub.


    November in Santa Cruz was sweltering, with the air filled with the scent of sunbaked soil and plants. The forest was quiet at night; there was no sound outside the vehicle, and inside, only a faint scraping could be heard from the back seat.


    It was Du Preez sharpening his knife. He liked to pass the time by unfastening the thick leather belt from his waist, tying it around his thigh, and pulling it tight with his left hand to use it like a barber''s strop to hone his ever-present dagger. The South African¡¯s expression was solemn while sharpening the blade, and each movement was precise, as if performing a sacred ritual. This calmed him, but it irritated the others.


    Deng Shiyang took a water bottle and gulped a mouthful.


    Suddenly, there was a "click," and a dim orange flame appeared beside Du Preez.


    "Hey, ¡®Frenchman,¡¯ no smoking," came Mark''s voice from the driver''s seat.


    Rodin grunted, stubbed out the freshly lit Gauloises cigarette, and threw it out the window before angrily demanding, "I''m roasting in here. How much longer do we have to wait for that bastard?"


    No one answered him.


    Seeing that no one responded, he started grumbling again, "This damn car is like an oven. We''re wasting our time..." (in French)


    Although Deng Shiyang didn¡¯t understand French, he could roughly guess the meaning. Despite having dealt with such people before, the heat and constant complaining were getting to him.


    "...this damn forest, this damn weather, this damn country..." (in French)


    "Enough! Shut up!"


    Mark finally snapped, turning to Rodin and growling, "Quiet down, or I¡¯ll kick your ass!"


    Rodin was not one to back down, glaring fiercely at Mark.


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    Just as tensions reached a boiling point, Jansen''s voice came through the radio placed on the dashboard, "HQ calling Raven, HQ calling Raven. Over."


    Deng Shiyang gestured for the two to stop, then picked up the radio and replied, "This is Raven. Over."


    "Meeting¡¯s over. Repeat, meeting¡¯s over. Over." This was the prearranged code, meaning the negotiations had ended, and the target would soon leave the villa.


    "Raven received. Out."


    Deng Shiyang put down the radio and turned to the others in the vehicle, "Cut it out and get ready."


    The car filled with the sound of people rummaging for their gear. Du Preez and Rodin each grabbed a short-barreled M4 carbine and got out of the SUV, hiding in the bushes on either side of the road.


    Soon, the faint sound of an engine could be heard in the distance, and the road began to brighten.


    "Here it comes."


    As soon as the words were spoken, a light appeared on the road.


    Deng Shiyang picked up a pair of binoculars and looked out the window. The approaching light belonged to a Mercedes G-Class SUV. He turned to Mark, "Target confirmed."


    Mark started the engine and drove the SUV onto the road, positioning it diagonally across the center. He activated the hazard lights, got out, and lifted the hood.


    Deng Shiyang put the binoculars aside, grabbed a Pelican flashlight and a TEC-DC9 submachine gun from the storage compartment, and racked the gun¡¯s slide before lying sideways on the seat.


    As the vehicle approached, its headlights shone onto the car window, casting shifting light patterns inside. The engine noise grew louder and clearer; Deng Shiyang could even distinguish the sound of tires crunching over the dirt.


    When the lights stopped moving, the crunching sounds also faded, and the high-pitched engine noise softened as the Mercedes came to a halt a short distance away.


    "Go," came Mark¡¯s voice from outside.


    Deng Shiyang sat up and aimed the flashlight at the Mercedes¡¯ driver''s seat. At the same time, he extended his right hand holding the gun out the window and fired at the SUV''s front end. The bullets tore through the radiator and punctured the water tank. Coolant leaked from the holes and, due to the engine''s heat, turned into steam that poured out of the engine bay.


    Taking advantage of the moment when the driver was blinded by the flashlight, Rodin and Du Preez rose from the roadside bushes and opened fire with their M4 carbines. In just a few seconds, the two automatic weapons shredded the Mercedes¡¯ engine and tires, reducing the expensive SUV to an immobile wreck.


    Rodin sprinted to the driver''s side and aimed his gun at the occupants, shouting, "Get out! Get out of the car!"


    But the people inside were frozen in shock and failed to respond.


    Du Preez fired another burst, shattering the vehicle¡¯s windows. Rodin then smashed the driver''s window with the butt of his M4 and yelled, "Hands on your head!"


    Ernesto finally came to his senses, raising his hands in terror.


    Rodin pulled open the door, dragged him out, and threw him to the ground, then kicked him in the abdomen.


    Ernesto''s face turned pale as he clutched his stomach in pain, writhing on the ground and begging for mercy in Spanish.


    Rodin kicked him a few more times, then flipped him over and tied his hands behind his back with nylon cuffs. He ripped a strip of tape from his pants to seal Ernesto''s mouth and pulled a black cloth bag over his head.


    Du Preez came over, and together with Rodin, they hauled Ernesto into the SUV like "dragging a dead dog."


    With their target in hand, the Nissan Patrol quickly vanished from the road.

 Intelligence

    After Ernesto was captured, the following days were relaxed for Deng Shiyang, as he was not involved in the interrogation of the prisoner. This allowed him time to do some light exercises to get himself back in shape. For security reasons, he abandoned the idea of jogging around the farm and opted for indoor physical training, such as push-ups and sit-ups in the barn.


    Three days passed quickly.


    At breakfast, Keith solemnly announced that all contractors involved in the operation should gather in the meeting room at 10 a.m. with pen and paper. Deng Shiyang sensed that the rescue plan was about to be officially set in motion.


    Sure enough, when everyone was seated in the meeting room, Harrowby entered with a middle-aged Caucasian man.


    The man looked about fifty and was in good shape. He was lean, with a straight posture and a somewhat formal demeanor. He wore an immaculately pressed white shirt, a neatly tailored dark gray suit, and a tie, making him stand out in stark contrast to the casually dressed crowd in the meeting room.


    Harrowby glanced at everyone and introduced, "This is Mr. Anthony Manlinson, from the Crisis Management Team of S&M Company, responsible for K&R services."


    S&M, officially known as "Shulberger & Marchem International Consultants," is headquartered in London. The company primarily provides security consulting and risk assessment services for the insurance giant MMC. The "Crisis Management Team" is a special department that handles various emergencies. "K&R," as Harrowby mentioned, stands for "Kidnap and Ransom," and Manlinson is a negotiation expert for kidnapping cases, assigned to Bolivia to rescue Peter Bowman. In short, he is the employer for this mission, and Harrowby''s plan would ultimately need his approval.


    Manlinson greeted everyone, "Please, don''t be formal. We all share the same goal here; we want this to succeed." He then took a seat against the wall and remained silent.


    After the meeting began, Harrowby spoke first, "Gentlemen, thanks to the outstanding actions during the last operation, we obtained a lot of valuable information."


    "On the surface, Ernesto appears to be an import-export trader, but secretly, he is a drug dealer. He uses his connections to smuggle weapons into the country and trades them with the ELN for cocaine, which he then ships to North America for sale. In addition to this, he is a middleman in ransom negotiations, taking a commission from the ransom money."


    "Based on the information we extracted from him, we''ve located the hostage." Harrowby said while pulling up Google Earth and entering a set of coordinates.


    The projection screen displayed a satellite image of a mountainous area.


    "The kidnappers belong to a faction of the ELN called the ''Santa Cruz Liberation Front.'' Their base is located in the mountains near the border of Santa Cruz and Chuquisaca provinces, approximately seventy miles from Camiri, where Peter Bowman is being held."


    As the image was zoomed in, the screen revealed a mountain hollow. It lay at the end of a canyon, shaped like a funnel, with the wider end slanting into the hills and the narrow end extending southwest, leading to a small trail out of the valley.


    "We believe the hostage is being kept in one of the barracks, right here."


    The cursor pointed to the "funnel mouth" of the hollow, where there was a clearing surrounded by about a dozen wooden huts arranged haphazardly, resembling a partially bitten bread ring. To the northeast of the huts, a small vegetable garden had been cleared at the foot of the slope, enclosed by a fence, with a shed that could be a pigsty or stable.


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    Harrowby gave Manlinson a questioning look, and the latter nodded slightly. Harrowby then gestured to Keith.


    Keith stood up, walked to the wall, and wheeled the map-covered whiteboard in front of the group, saying, "Here''s the plan: We depart in the evening, taking a helicopter east along the Parapet¨ª River. Once we reach the provincial border, we''ll descend to 500 feet, then turn north to avoid detection."


    He pointed to a red circle labeled "1st LZ" on the map, "This is about seven miles from the guerrilla camp. We¡¯ll land here before midnight and then enter the forest, trekking toward the camp." He moved his finger to another red circle labeled "2nd LZ," "After landing, the helicopter will circle the area. If anything goes wrong, we abort the mission and extract here."


    Next, his finger traced through the forest to a red circle marked "Target Zone," "Upon arrival, we¡¯ll spend a day surveilling the camp to gather as much intelligence as possible, and then launch the assault at noon the following day."


    He pointed to a nearby hillside with a red circle labeled "1st Ext," saying, "This steep terrain is well-suited for defense. We¡¯ll set directional mines around the camp and establish a firing position on the slope. Once we rescue the hostage, we¡¯ll leave from here by helicopter."


    He then pointed to another red circle not far away, labeled "2nd Ext," "If the situation changes, we¡¯ll shift to the backup extraction point."


    "That¡¯s the plan."


    Manlinson frowned and asked, "How do you plan to attack the camp?"


    Keith glanced at Harrowby and asked for confirmation, "According to the intel, the camp has around a hundred people. Am I correct?"


    "Yes, and most of them are combatants."


    Manlinson looked astonished, "You¡¯re going to rescue Peter Bowman from over a hundred men with just six people?"


    "That''s a suicide mission," someone murmured.


    "Of course, six men alone wouldn''t be enough, which is why I need you to do two things."


    "What are they?"


    "First, we know there is a coca plantation two miles from the camp. I need you to use your connections to have the government forces launch a small-scale raid there, drawing the main force of the guerrillas away."


    Manlinson replied with a frown, "That might be tricky, but it should be doable. What''s the other thing?"


    "Second, I need armed helicopters from the government forces to provide air support."


    Manlinson was taken aback, "How many?"


    "At least two. One to hover and suppress, the other to destroy high-threat targets with rockets."


    Manlinson¡¯s frown deepened as he replied, "That can be arranged, but it involves many complications..." He paused and glanced at Harrowby, then asked, "How confident are you in this operation?"


    As if reading his mind, Keith replied sternly, "You need to understand that this is the guerrilla''s stronghold! I don¡¯t intend to lead the team on a suicide mission. Without adequate air support to ensure a safe retreat, you''ll not only lose six men but also waste your entire investment."


    Manlinson pondered for a while before finally saying, "Alright, I agree to the plan."


    "There are a few more things I need your help with."


    "What are they?"


    "First, find some experts in geography and biology who are familiar with the area. I need to know the vegetation conditions and any insects or diseases we need to be aware of."


    "I can arrange that by the day after tomorrow."


    "Second, I need detailed intelligence on the ELN¡ªpersonnel, training, equipment, tactics, the more detailed, the better."


    "No problem."


    "Finally, I want the ELN to find out about the raid at the last possible moment, so they don¡¯t have time to move the hostage."


    "That can be arranged too."


    "Thank you," Keith said, extending his hand.


    Manlinson shook his hand, bid farewell to everyone, and left the meeting room with Harrowby.


    After they departed, Keith began assigning tasks, "Jansen is responsible for communications, Du Preez and Rodin will infiltrate, Mark will establish the firing position, and JD will handle surveillance and fire support. List the equipment you need and submit it to me before nightfall."


    Deng Shiyang stared at the camp photo on the screen and suddenly asked, "How far will I be from the camp?"


    Keith thought for a moment, "The exact distance will need to be measured on-site, but it shouldn¡¯t exceed 450 yards."


    "Okay, that¡¯ll do." Deng Shiyang picked up his pen and wrote a string of words and numbers in his notebook.

 wenpon

    "Brits are masters of planning."


    Deng Shiyang felt he had truly experienced the truth of this statement.


    As an American sergeant once said about the British during World War II, "I may not need them to help me flank a target, but I''ll certainly let them do the planning because they¡¯re exceptionally good at it."


    Indeed, Harrowby and Keith excelled at making plans.


    To further understand their adversary, Harrowby used Manlinson''s connections to consult a military advisor who had helped the Bolivian government forces with counter-guerrilla operations in the 1990s, assessing the guerrillas'' combat capabilities. He also bribed several guards at Santa Cruz prison, enabling him to gather information from captured ELN members about the guerrillas'' equipment.


    Every evening for a week, there were meetings to report the latest intelligence and refine the details of the operation.


    Keith was responsible for organizing the equipment. He consulted geographical and botanical experts to understand the local vegetation, then selected suitable camouflage and gear. The barn had become a temporary base, with trucks disguised as pesticide or fertilizer deliveries regularly arriving at night to bring various supplies.


    In terms of weapons, the team opted for .223 caliber firearms for ammunition compatibility. Keith, Jansen, Du Preez, and Rodin all used M4 carbines produced by Bushmaster, each outfitted with full-auto lower receivers and modified according to the user¡¯s role.


    For close-quarters combat, Du Preez and Rodin¡¯s rifles were equipped with EoTech holographic sights and Gemtech G5 Suppressor,the shorter 10.5-inch barrels to reduce weight and overall length when suppressors were attached.


    Keith and Jansen chose standard 14.5-inch barrels. As the team leader, Keith had a 4x ACOG scope mounted on his rifle, allowing him to observe enemy movements and, if necessary, engage distant targets. Since Jansen was a communications specialist and not expected to actively engage in combat, he fitted an M203 grenade launcher under his rifle''s handguard to provide fire support with high-explosive grenades, deploy smoke grenades for cover, and mark targets for airstrikes.


    Mark''s weapon was an FN Minimi Para light machine gun from FNH USA, equipped with a Canadian-made Elcan scope. As the team''s primary source of suppressive fire, the other members would carry extra ammunition and a spare barrel for him in their packs.


    Deng Shiyang selected a KAC SR-16 M5 modified into a precision rifle. It featured a 20-inch stainless steel match barrel, KAC NT4 suppressor, a bipod, and a Leupold Ultra M3A scope, ensuring that match-grade ammunition could hit an orange at 300 yards.


    For sidearms, the team used 9mm Parabellum rounds, with each member choosing their preferred pistol.


    Although Deng Shiyang was fond of the classic 1911 pistol, its seven-round magazine capacity limited sustained fire, so he ultimately chose a P226. The gun had a moderate size, a 15-round double-stack magazine, and was similar enough to the M11 that he was already familiar with its operation.


    In addition to firearms, the team prepared numerous Claymore mines and smoke grenades for covering their retreat, as well as non-combat essentials such as night vision devices, binoculars, radios, medical supplies, and military rations. To keep weight down, they planned to go light, without wearing heavy body armor or helmets.


    The days passed quickly, and the pile of gear in the corner of the barn grew steadily as the equipment was gathered. However, Deng Shiyang encountered a challenge.


    Each firearm had its own unique characteristics, so the new guns needed to be zeroed for accuracy. While the others had lower precision requirements and could zero their weapons inside the barn, Deng Shiyang needed to calibrate his rifle for targets hundreds of yards away, requiring a more open area.


    So, he asked one of Harrowby¡¯s local contacts, "Is there a secluded place near Camiri suitable for test shooting? I need a space about 100 to 150 yards long."


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    The local thought for a moment and replied, "Head east out of town. Near the provincial border, there¡¯s a forest that¡¯s very quiet. You can make a round trip in a day, but I suggest going in the next couple of days since people will start picnicking there on the weekend."


    "Oh, thanks." Deng Shiyang nodded in satisfaction.


    He found a laser boresighter to roughly align the scope, matched ammunition batches by checking the box labels, and prepared some target sheets. Using a compass, he drew concentric circles with diameters of one and two inches on the paper, then marked a clear black dot at the center with a marker. Once the targets were ready, he gathered a field pack, a thick blanket, and some tacks, pens, and rulers from around the farm.


    By the time he finished preparing, it was already afternoon. He went to the kitchen and asked the cook to prepare a packed lunch for him the next morning, as he planned to have a picnic while zeroing the rifle.


    The next morning at nine o''clock, Deng Shiyang drove out of Camiri and onto Highway 6, heading north toward Chuquisaca province.


    The sunlit road signaled another scorching day. He glanced at the empty highway, pressed down on the accelerator, and sped toward the provincial border.


    Before noon, the Nissan Patrol left the highway and followed a dirt road southward into the mountains. As the road twisted and grew rougher, the forest became denser, with the trees lining the path motionless and drooping under a layer of dust, as though their vitality had been dried out along with the moisture.


    Around midday, he parked the vehicle beside a sparse grove of trees. As soon as he opened the door, the heat hit him like a wall, nearly taking his breath away. He removed his sunglasses and wiped the moisture from the lenses. Then, he took a plastic lunchbox containing a smoked ham sandwich and a thermos of coffee from the storage compartment.


    He sat in the driver''s seat a little longer, finishing his lunch in the cool air conditioning before lazily getting out of the car. At the back, he retrieved a long gun bag, a military green backpack, and a rolled-up blanket. He took the rifle from the bag, slung the backpack over his shoulder, and carried the rifle and blanket into the forest.


    Ten minutes later, he found an open clearing. He set down the rifle and blanket, pulled a Leupold RXB-IV laser rangefinder from his backpack, and measured the distances to various trees, ultimately choosing a tall, broken tree about 100 yards away.


    He dropped the pack, walked to the tree, and pinned one of the target sheets at about five feet above the ground. He then returned to the pack, positioning it exactly 100 yards from the target using the rangefinder. He spread the blanket on the ground behind the pack.


    After checking the rifle¡¯s scope to ensure that the elevation and windage knobs were set to "1" and "0," respectively, he loaded the magazine, lay down on the blanket, rested the rifle on the pack, and adjusted the focus of the scope until the white target sheet on the brown tree trunk came into sharp view.


    A faint smile formed on his lips. He disengaged the safety, bent his right leg slightly, adjusted his posture, and, once his breathing steadied, squeezed the trigger, aiming at the black dot in the center.


    "Thwip¡ª" the suppressor emitted a sharp sound as a 77-grain match-grade hollow point punched through the upper right corner of the target and embedded itself in the tree.


    He fired two more rounds, then walked over to inspect the tree.


    The three bullet holes clustered in the upper right corner, with two close together about an inch from the center and the third a bit farther away.


    He marked the bullet holes with a pen, measured with a ruler, and confirmed that the impact points were one inch high and about half an inch right of the aim point.


    Returning to the shooting position, he adjusted the scope¡¯s elevation and windage knobs carefully, then fired three more shots and went to check the results.


    This time, the impact points aligned with the center but were slightly to the left, forming a small triangle along the edge of the inner circle.


    He replaced the target sheet, adjusted the scope again, and continued firing.


    He kept adjusting and shooting, using two magazines and five target sheets, until every shot hit within the small circle.


    Now satisfied with the rifle, Deng Shiyang took a hex wrench, loosened the screws on the adjustment knobs, carefully set the dials to "1" for elevation and "0" for windage, then tightened the screws.


    After completing the zeroing process, he burned the used target sheets and collected the spent casings into a paper bag. Once he confirmed that there was no other trace left besides the bullet holes in the tree, he packed up and left the forest.


    Time passed quickly, and soon it was the last week of November. After more than two weeks of preparation, the departure day finally arrived.


    Having spent the previous day organizing gear, the group had a relaxing time today. They slept in until noon, enjoyed a hearty lunch, and then sat around the living room with beers, chatting aimlessly while waiting for sunset.


    As darkness fell and people in town returned home for dinner, the team loaded their bags into an inconspicuous light truck and headed to the airport. In a remote hangar, they changed into their gear and quickly ate dinner.


    At dusk, the helicopter carrying the six desperados took off, flying under the cover of night downstream along the Parapet¨ª River.

 Set Off

    In the pitch-dark forest sky, a helicopter flew low at high speed.


    It was a black-painted Bell 205 with no markings or identification numbers on its body. There were no navigation lights, and the interior was completely dark, blending the helicopter into the night sky. The rapidly spinning rotor formed a blurred outline, resembling a giant ghost flying in the darkness.


    The helicopter belonged to an aviation service company called SkyLink, and both pilots were former members of the U.S. Army''s 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment, a unit known for its expertise in flying under harsh conditions and at night, earning them the nickname "Night Stalkers." Their mission tonight was to use the cover of night to deliver six heavily armed desperados to a landing zone in the mountains near the provincial border.


    Deng Shiyang sat on the floor with his gun, leaning against his field pack. He stretched his legs slightly and shifted his numb bottom. The seats had been removed from the cabin, and the hard floor combined with the deafening noise made him uncomfortable. Compared to this, the thin cushion of a Humvee felt like heaven.


    Suddenly, a hand pressed down on his shoulder, and Mark''s voice came to his ear, mixed with the warmth of his breath, "Three minutes. Get ready."


    Deng Shiyang nodded firmly, then put on his ELITE II single-sided radio headset and flipped down the AN/PVS-14 monocular night vision device mounted on his head. He turned on the switch.


    The pitch-black cabin instantly turned green, revealing two contractors in U.S. four-color jungle camouflage. Both were wearing similar night vision devices and headsets, with faces covered in camo paint as they handled their M4 carbines equipped with suppressors.


    Deng Shiyang braced the gun''s butt against the floor, pulled the charging handle on the back of the receiver, activated the DBAL-A2 infrared laser pointer mounted on the handguard, and checked the safety, ensuring the selector was set to "safe."


    Meanwhile, the helicopter suddenly tilted forward and descended rapidly.


    To reduce the risk of being detected by engine noise, the pilots began the landing without circling the landing zone for reconnaissance. Soon, the vibrations from the landing skids hitting the ground traveled up through Deng Shiyang¡¯s spine.


    "Disembark." Keith''s voice came through the headset.


    Everyone quickly tossed their packs out of the cabin and jumped off the helicopter in single file. Deng Shiyang stepped over the gear on the ground, dropped to one knee in the strong wind from the rotor, switched off the safety, shouldered his rifle, and aimed the bright green beam of the laser pointer at the woods bordering the clearing, scanning the surroundings for threats.


    As soon as the passengers disembarked, the helicopter rose into the air and quickly disappeared into the night.


    The team waited on the clearing for a while, confirming the safety of the area before notifying the helicopter via radio to return. They then grabbed their gear and ran into the forest.


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    Knowing that the guerrillas lacked night vision equipment, Keith decided to adopt a "rest by day, move by night" approach. He ordered the team to march through the night to reach the target zone before dawn.


    The six-man team formed a loose column as they moved through the forest. Their movements were very quiet, and after entering the woods, they didn¡¯t speak, communicating only through hand signals to avoid making any noise.


    In night operations, sound is the biggest enemy of concealment. In the stillness of the night, the sound of chambering a round can be heard from a quarter mile away. Any unnecessary noise could reveal their presence and lead to the team¡¯s annihilation. Thus, everyone was meticulous when organizing their gear, using tape to secure anything that could make noise when moving and wrapping metal objects in cloth inside their packs to prevent them from clinking together.


    The point man played a crucial role in determining the mission''s success. Not only did he have to find the correct and safe path, but he also bore the responsibility for the safety of the entire team.


    In the jungle, traps were often more dangerous than enemies: pits filled with sharpened stakes, "bear traps" made from boards studded with spikes, and booby traps with tripwires that triggered explosives or other mechanisms¡ªall of these could inflict serious injury or death if triggered.


    Thus, the point man was Du preez, the most experienced combat veteran. Using his night vision device, he carefully scanned the ground and the surrounding jungle, avoiding traps as he slowly advanced. In addition, he had tied a piece of fishing line to his rifle''s barrel, with a lead sinker on the other end, creating a makeshift "tripwire detector." By holding the rifle parallel to the ground with the sinker dangling ahead, any irregular movement of the sinker could reveal tripwires in the path.


    The rest of the team followed Du preez, keeping about ten yards behind him and stepping in his footprints to avoid traps. Each member kept their rifle at the ready, covering different directions and prepared to engage at any moment.


    Deng Shiyang walked in the middle of the column, following Keith closely and covering the "nine o''clock" direction. The night vision turned the forest into an array of green shapes of varying sizes and shades, creating a surreal landscape that resembled a sci-fi movie scene. The sight gave him a sense of unreality.


    But the buzzing mosquitoes circling nearby quickly brought him back to reality.


    Insects in the jungle posed a serious threat, especially mosquitoes that could carry malaria. These local mosquitoes were like flying venomous pests, larger than flies and capable of biting through clothing to leave swollen welts that could take at least a week to heal. Although the insect repellent provided by Harrowby was effective, it was easily washed away by sweat, and in the humid jungle, sweating profusely was inevitable. As a result, the repellent was consumed quickly.


    For this reason, the team took a ten-minute break every hour.


    This time, the resting spot was under a tall Brazil nut tree. The six men divided into two groups, taking turns resting and keeping watch.


    During the break, Deng Shiyang took out a bottle of insect repellent and sprayed it on his face and the backs of his hands. Then he pulled a pack of gum from his shirt pocket and popped two pieces into his mouth.


    Salt tablets and candies were essential for field operations. Since cigarette smoke could be detected from hundreds of yards away in clear weather, smoking was prohibited during infiltration missions, and salt tablets helped alleviate nicotine cravings. The sweetness of candy could reduce fatigue, stimulate saliva production, and relieve thirst. Different candies served various purposes: sour fruit candies accelerated saliva production, coffee candies provided a pick-me-up, chocolate added energy, and chewing gum helped ease mental tension through the rhythmic movement of the jaw.


    The night infiltration proceeded smoothly. Although the hot, humid South American environment was difficult to endure, the jungle was not as dense as expected, and there were no traps or booby traps encountered, which reduced many potential problems. After a night of intermittent marching, the team arrived near the guerrilla camp just before dawn.

 Investigation

    After a brief rest, Keith decided to split the team into three groups: one to monitor the camp, one to survey the terrain at the extraction point, and the remaining members to guard the gear and search for a suitable campsite nearby.


    Although they had reviewed the area beforehand, satellite images and the real environment inevitably differed. Now, it was Deng Shiyang¡¯s task to correct these discrepancies.


    Taking advantage of the remaining darkness, he and Mark made their way to a hillside near the camp, where they used natural terrain features and camouflage netting to build an observation post capable of accommodating two people.


    By dawn, they had just begun working, but the observation post was situated in a shaded area in the morning light, with the shadow of the trees on the hilltop providing good cover, so the guerrillas were unaware that there were people right under their noses.


    After spending more than four hours, Deng Shiyang and Mark completed the observation post. Although it was only a temporary shelter for short-term use, they had taken special care in choosing the location and camouflaging it.


    The observation post was located half a mile from the camp, on the northeastern hillside, set up next to a rock just below the ridgeline. From here, they could overlook the entire camp while using the shadow of the rock and nearby bushes for cover.


    The observation post was essentially a shallow pit that allowed two people to lie side by side. The bottom was leveled and compacted using an entrenching tool, then covered with a layer of grass stems and a military rain poncho to block ground temperature differences and moisture, increasing comfort and preventing fatigue.


    Thick tree branches were laid across the top of the shallow pit and covered with a camouflage net. To avoid altering the original terrain, Deng Shiyang carefully cut the grass from the surface when digging the pit and laid it in patches over the camouflage net, creating a natural cover. After the detailed camouflage work, the observation post was indistinguishable from a small grassy mound, and even from ten yards away, it was difficult to distinguish from the surrounding bushes.


    A dense patch of wild grass obstructed the view on the side facing the camp, so Deng Shiyang used a knife to cut the grass and create two observation slots for binoculars. He also attached a KillFlash anti-reflection cover to the objective lens of the scope to prevent sun glare from revealing their position when the sun was low in the sky.


    At nine in the morning, after setting everything up, the two settled into the observation post and began watching the guerrilla camp. They alternated roles as observer and assistant observer, with the observer watching while the assistant observer verified and recorded the findings on maps and in notebooks, resting during idle moments. The task was monotonous, requiring the observer to keep their eyes glued to the scope and focus intently on the target, which could cause mental fatigue. So, they switched roles every half hour.


    The afternoon soon arrived.


    When it was Deng Shiyang¡¯s turn to rest, he handed over the observation duties to Mark, put down the binoculars, took the map and notebook, then drank a small sip of water from his hydration bladder. He swirled the water around in his mouth before swallowing it slowly. Then, he took out an MRE, cut open the packaging with a knife, and started eating lunch.


    During infiltration and reconnaissance missions, water and food intake were minimized to reduce the need for elimination. Any waste had to be carried away in plastic bags and buried at designated locations to avoid leaving traces. Therefore, Deng Shiyang had not eaten anything since the night before, relying only on small amounts of candy and water to maintain his energy. But now, despite his hunger, he found it difficult to eat the MRE because they had not yet discovered where the hostage was being held after spending the whole morning.


    Originally, they had estimated that since kidnapping and ransom were the guerrillas¡¯ "secondary business," there should be a specific place in the camp for holding captives. But after carefully observing the entire camp, they found no sign of a dungeon or cages, and no place was under particularly tight guard. Additionally, no one delivered food to any remote cabin during lunchtime.


    However, the observation post did yield some useful intelligence.


    The camp''s facilities were more developed than anticipated. There were diesel generators, electric water pumps, and ample lighting, and even a satellite TV dish mounted on the roof of one cabin.


    They also noticed that the guerrillas were less vigilant than reported. Possibly due to a lack of government raids in the area, the guerrillas showed almost no alertness, and security was lax. There were no sentry posts around the perimeter, no patrols in the vicinity, and even the fortifications within the camp were unmanned.


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    The so-called fortifications were just rudimentary sandbag bunkers scattered around the camp. These bunkers covered the surrounding slopes, but no weapons were placed inside. This was likely because the guerrillas had insufficient heavy weapons, so the bunkers'' main purpose was for the guerrillas to fire light weapons from them.


    The only proper fortification was near the entrance along the path leading down the mountain. There, two low walls made of stacked stones were reinforced with sandbags and rocks, forming a bunker equipped with an NSV heavy machine gun in a flat-firing position. It was sheltered by a roof made of wooden planks covered with tin sheets, perhaps to prevent the "big gun" from getting wet in the rain. It seemed the guerrillas had not considered an aerial attack.


    The surveillance continued until dusk, when Keith ordered Deng Shiyang and Mark to withdraw from the observation post and report back to the camp.


    The two quickly dismantled the observation post and followed Du Preez, who had come to rendezvous with them, through the forest, taking a winding path to avoid tripwires and reach the team''s campsite.


    Given their proximity to the enemy camp, they put extra effort into defensive measures when setting up camp.


    The campsite was carefully selected, situated in a circular depression surrounded by bushes on the edge of a cliff, about 500 yards from the backup extraction point. It was not only easy to defend and well-hidden but also provided a convenient escape route.


    A perimeter of 200 yards around the camp was designated as a security zone. Directional mines were placed along infiltration-prone routes, and nearly 4,000 feet of night alarm wire was set up in the surrounding area. This fine steel wire was anchored at about seven inches above the ground using branches or grass stalks and then camouflaged with surrounding vegetation. Each end of the wire was connected to a small detector, which emitted an alarm if the wire was disturbed.


    In the center of the campsite, others had already set up a small tent using a few military rain ponchos, where they were finalizing the next day''s action plan.


    Deng Shiyang entered the tent, spread out the guerrilla camp''s map and satellite images on the ground, and used a flashlight to report the gathered intelligence.


    When asked about the hostage''s location, he pointed to three cabins circled in red on the photos and said, "Based on the analysis from our observations, I believe the hostage is most likely being held here."


    "Are you sure? The safest time to strike is in the first three minutes of the assault. If we can''t resolve the situation within that window, it will be very dangerous to assault other buildings once the enemy recovers from the chaos..." Keith was clearly dissatisfied with the surveillance results.


    Deng Shiyang felt annoyed and interrupted before Keith could finish, "We don''t have a Predator drone monitoring the area, nor the resources for long-term surveillance. We only had one day. If they didn''t parade ''Brit'' out in the open, I can''t be certain where he''s being held."


    Realizing his previous comment was a bit inappropriate, Keith asked awkwardly, "What led you to conclude that the hostage is there?"


    "I used a process of elimination," Deng Shiyang replied simply, then pointed at the satellite photo of the camp to explain, "The cabin with the satellite dish must be the guerrilla leader''s residence, so we can rule that out. The windowless structures on the east side are likely storage for weapons or drugs. They''re locked, and there¡¯s little foot traffic. Unless the hostage doesn''t need to eat or drink all day, he wouldn¡¯t be there."


    "The large, well-ventilated cabins to the west are barracks. The leader wouldn''t keep a Spanish-speaking hostage like Peter Bowman with a bunch of subordinates, where he could overhear information, so we can rule that out too."


    "That leaves the small cabins between the barracks and the storage. The two near the well are bathrooms and kitchens, not suitable for holding someone. So, that leaves these three."


    There was a moment of silence in the tent as the others contemplated the information. Deng Shiyang glanced at them and said, "Those are my reasons. If anyone has any objections, now''s the time to speak."


    His keen analysis showed sharp insight, and Keith''s displeased expression had long vanished. Instead, he asked in a consultative tone, "Which of these three cabins do you think is most likely to be used for holding the hostage?"


    Deng Shiyang pointed to one of the cabins and said, "If it were me, I''d hold him here. The entrance faces the barracks directly, so any movement in or out would be immediately noticeable. It''s also the farthest from the exit of the hollow. Even if he managed to escape, he¡¯d have to traverse half the camp to reach the path. If he tried to climb the hillside, he¡¯d have to cross the open ground between the barracks and the vegetable field, where he could easily be spotted."


    The others silently stared at the map, contemplating for a while before expressing agreement.


    Seeing this, Keith unfolded the map and began assigning tasks, "We¡¯ve confirmed through the scheduled communication that the government forces will launch a feint tomorrow at noon, and two ''Firebirds'' will provide support from Santa Cruz."


    He paused, pointing to a hill near the extraction point, "Here¡¯s the plan: before dawn tomorrow, the ''Frenchman'' and Du Preez will set up vertical mines at the edge of the camp. When the main force of the guerrillas moves away, we¡¯ll strike. You¡¯ll infiltrate between the pigsty and the latrines. Once the helicopter begins its airstrike, Du Preez will rescue the hostage, with the ''Frenchman'' providing cover. After securing the hostage, you¡¯ll proceed along the hillside path to the extraction point."


    "Mark will serve as the rear guard. If there''s an engagement, he''ll detonate the vertical mines and retreat to the hillside''s firing position. Jansen will handle communications and coordinate air support. JD will choose a location with a clear line of sight to provide surveillance and fire support. I¡¯ll act as your spotter."


    After assigning tasks, the group continued to discuss and refine the details of the action plan before taking turns to rest.

 Battle Preparation

    Deng Shiyang felt a strong hand on his shoulder, followed by a shake that woke him from his sleep.


    He opened his eyes and, aided by the faint starlight filtering through the trees, could vaguely see a blurred figure standing in front of him.


    "Get up, time to break camp," Mark''s voice came through.


    He noticed his breathing was irregular, so he took a deep breath to calm himself, then removed the mosquito net from his head, wiped the sweat from his face with his sleeve, and put on his night vision goggles.


    But Mark still noticed something was off and asked, "Do you have any medication allergies?"


    Deng Shiyang was somewhat surprised and paused before replying, "No."


    Mark reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a small medicine bottle. He unscrewed the cap and took out a pink oblong pill.


    "This is paroxetine; it can help calm your nerves," he said, handing the pill to Deng Shiyang.


    "Thanks."


    Deng Shiyang placed the pill in his mouth, took a sip from his hydration bladder, and swallowed it with the water.


    Mark didn''t say anything, just gave a slight nod.


    At three in the morning, a time when most people are sound asleep, the enemy would be at their most relaxed. Keith ordered Du Preez and Rodin to retrieve the directional mines from around the campsite and redeploy them near the guerrilla camp. The remaining team members were tasked with eliminating traces of their camp.


    Breaking camp took longer than expected, and the work continued until dawn. The team carefully buried their trash and any equipment they were leaving behind, then moved to their assigned positions.


    Deng Shiyang''s chosen shooting position was on the northern hillside overlooking the camp. From there, he had a clear view of the entire area, with nearby vegetation providing good concealment. He donned a ghillie suit made from camouflage netting woven with grass and leaves, lay down under a large tree, and rested his rifle on a sturdy tree root beside him.


    First, he drew a map of the camp, dividing it into several sectors based on different angles. He then selected various landmarks within each sector for reference and measured the distances to them. The data was recorded on the map, creating a simple range card, allowing him to quickly locate targets using the sectors and estimate the distance to them based on the reference points.


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    Not far from him was an observation post that Keith and Jansen had set up using camouflage netting.


    To facilitate communication, Keith designated several prominent landmarks in the camp using baseball terms: "outfield" referred to the area furthest from the extraction point, while the camp was divided into "infield" sections. The "pitcher''s mound" indicated the central open space, "home plate" represented the small cabins where the hostage was believed to be held, and other "bases" corresponded to the sandbag bunkers around the perimeter. Team members could easily understand enemy positions by referring to these landmarks.


    Jansen was marking the distances to targets on a satellite image and had a short-range tactical radio and a pile of 40mm smoke grenades of various colors next to him.


    A hundred yards ahead was Mark''s machine gun position. He had dug a shallow pit beside a bush with an entrenching tool and used the dirt to build a low crescent-shaped wall facing the camp, creating a prone firing position.


    To avoid being detected by getting too close, he didn''t construct an advanced machine gun nest but instead chose a fallen dead tree about 150 yards from the camp''s edge as a temporary combat position. The detonators for the directional mines that Rodin and Du Preez had set up were also hidden there.


    Noon arrived quickly.


    Suddenly, a man wearing only underwear and holding a satellite phone burst out of the cabin with the satellite dish. He was shouting angrily while running. Nearby, a guerrilla quickly grabbed a hammer and began banging furiously on a metal plate hanging from a wooden frame next to the clearing.


    The camp erupted into chaos, with previously idle people scrambling back to their cabins. Soon, small groups of disheveled and disorganized guerrillas appeared around the clearing.


    The group consisted of both men and women, mostly young adults. Their clothing was inconsistent, with a mix of military uniforms from various countries and casual attire like T-shirts and dress shirts. They were disorderly, with many yawning and sluggishly forming ranks.


    The guerrillas'' weaponry resembled a small light arms exhibition. In addition to several RPD light machine guns and RPG-7 rocket launchers for support, there were at least six or seven different types of rifles, including AK-47s and AKMs from various countries, as well as the widely-used FALs in South America, and small-caliber firearms like the M16A1 and SG540. Among them, even a few antique SKS carbines could be seen.


    After almost five minutes, five crooked lines of troops formed in the center of the clearing. Deng Shiyang counted over ninety people.


    By then, the half-naked man who had sounded the alarm had changed into a set of British DPM camouflage and was standing in front of the group, wildly gesticulating during his speech. Though Deng Shiyang couldn¡¯t hear what the man was saying, his near-frantic gestures and expression made it clear that the government forces'' actions had caught him completely off guard.


    Before long, the main force of the guerrillas left the camp, heading down the mountainside along the path at the mouth of the hollow. Once they had gone, Keith ordered Jansen to notify headquarters in Camiri via satellite phone, telling Harrowby to send the helicopters.


    The countdown for the rescue operation had begun.

 Action

    Gray cumulonimbus clouds hung motionless in the sky, blocking the scorching sun, yet the weather remained unbearably hot and humid. The air felt stagnant, suffocating. The cicadas in the woods chirped tirelessly, their calls uninterrupted since morning. The tree leaves swayed slightly, creating a faint rustling sound.


    A hot wind blew across Deng Shiyang''s face, bringing with it the bitter scent of vegetation mixed with the stench of rotting earth. He felt the temperature rise further, his body beginning to falter as a wave of dizziness surged from within, spreading quickly throughout.


    The wait before a battle felt especially long. After what seemed like an eternity, Keith''s voice finally came through his earpiece: "Pitcher, report."


    Deng Shiyang picked up his binoculars and looked toward the camp.


    After the main force of the guerrillas had left, the camp''s security had noticeably strengthened. Additional sentries were posted around the perimeter, and each of the sandbag fortifications was now manned. In the middle of the clearing stood a group of fully armed guerrillas, likely serving as the reserve.


    Holding the binoculars in his right hand, Deng Shiyang pressed the transmit button on his radio with his left hand and began to report: "''Pitcher''s mound'' twenty, ''first base'' and ''third base'' each one, ''outfield'' two, ''home plate'' one. Moving patrols two, one each near ''first'' and ''third base,'' heading toward ''home plate.''"


    "''Pitcher''s mound'' twenty, ''first base'' and ''third base'' each one, ''outfield'' two, ''home plate'' one. Moving patrols two, one each near ''first'' and ''third base,'' heading toward ''home plate,''" Keith repeated briefly, then replied, "Fourth batter received."


    "Catcher, advance."


    "Catcher received," Mark responded, then crawled out of his cover. He placed the Minimi light machine gun across his chest, hugging it with both arms as he crawled forward toward the forward machine gun position, using the vegetation on the hillside as cover.


    The fallen log serving as the temporary machine gun position wasn''t far, but Mark slowed his pace for concealment purposes, taking almost ten minutes to cover the short fifty yards. He slipped into the space between the log and the ground, hiding in the shadows of the dead tree. He then deployed the bipod and set up the machine gun.


    Once ready, he reported over the radio, "Catcher in position."


    "Fourth batter received," Keith replied, binoculars in hand, then ordered, "First and second batter, advance."


    The designated point men, Du Preez and Rodin, began crawling toward the camp. Since they were closer to the camp than Mark, they were especially cautious while moving. Deng Shiyang and Keith monitored the sentries within the camp, directing Du Preez and Rodin to avoid being seen.


    Things went smoothly at first, but when they reached a spot about twenty yards from the pigsty, the patrol moving between "third base" and "home plate" suddenly changed course and headed toward the pigsty.


    "First batter, halt and hold position."


    The two men immediately stopped, lying on their sides in the grass.


    "First batter, moving sentry one, green uniform, ten o''clock direction, thirty yards away."


    "Moving sentry one, green uniform, ten o''clock direction, thirty yards away. First batter received."


    Keith glanced down at the map covered in markings, then spoke into the radio, "Target, Charlie sector, pigsty."


    Deng Shiyang put down his binoculars and picked up the rifle beside him. He estimated the target distance using the range card, then adjusted for wind direction and speed based on the camp''s visible smoke. After setting the elevation and windage knobs, he rested the rifle on a tree root and aimed toward the pigsty. In the scope, he saw a fat man wearing a tattered green uniform, with a camo beanie hat on his head, holding an FAL rifle.


    "Charlie sector, pigsty. Target confirmed."


    "Prepare," Keith replied.


    Deng Shiyang used his right thumb to set the fire selector to "semi-auto," then estimated the target''s walking speed, slowly rotating the rifle to align the crosshairs ahead of him.


    Unaware of the danger he was in, the fat man sneaked around the pigsty and sat on a small, isolated mound nearby. He laid the rifle beside him, pulled out a cigarette from his shirt pocket, and began smoking.


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    "Just a slacker on duty," Keith cursed silently, then gave the order over the radio: "First batter, take him down. Target at your eleven o''clock, fifteen yards away."


    Du Preez didn''t respond verbally; instead, he pressed the transmit button once and then again a second later¡ªsignaling that he received the order.


    "Catcher, keep an eye on ''pitcher''s mound.''"


    "Catcher received," Mark replied, then aimed the machine gun at the central clearing of the camp.


    Du Preez signaled to Rodin, then pulled out his knife, slowly crawling forward through the grass. Rodin raised himself on his elbows, aiming his rifle at the back of the fat man''s head, ready to shoot at any moment.


    To avoid flattening the grass, Du Preez moved sideways, pushing himself along with his left hand and legs. His movements were slow and cautious, making it difficult to determine his exact position from the slight rustling of the grass.


    "Easy... take it easy..." Deng Shiyang murmured to himself as the shifting grass neared the target. He was already drenched in sweat from the midday heat, and the soaked shirt clinging to his back felt like countless tiny insects crawling over his skin. Salty sweat trickled down his forehead, sliding across his cheek and into his mouth. He licked his dry lips, maintaining his aim.


    As the distance closed, Du Preez''s movements slowed to a crawl until he stopped at the edge of the grass. Propping himself up with his left hand, he crouched slightly, then inched forward.


    Suddenly, the fat man threw away his cigarette and sprang to his feet.


    The team was startled, and Deng Shiyang instinctively placed his finger on the trigger.


    The fat man, narrowly escaping death, yawned and stretched his arms over his head.


    Unsure whether they had been discovered, Du Preez sprang up like a coiled spring, leaping behind the fat man. His left hand swiftly covered the man''s mouth while his right hand plunged the knife into the man''s lower back.


    The sudden attack left the fat man stunned, and before he could react, the excruciating pain from the stab to his kidney rendered him powerless and voiceless, leaving him helpless as Du Preez pinned him down.


    With the job done, Du Preez immediately dropped to the ground to reduce his chances of being detected. The others scanned the surroundings to check if anyone had noticed.


    After confirming all was clear, Keith reported over the radio, "This is the fourth batter, all quiet."


    Du Preez retrieved his knife, grabbed the discarded FAL, and dragged the body into a shallow pit nearby, covering it with grass and leaves.


    Rodin reported via radio, "This is second batter, pigsty clear."


    "Fourth batter received, first and second batter, proceed to ''home plate.''"


    "First (second) batter received," the two responded quietly.


    They crouched and moved around the pigsty, using a row of small wooden huts that served as toilets along the hillside for cover until they reached the edge of the camp near some shrubs. Here, they were about twenty yards from "home plate," separated by a stretch of open ground. A nearby sentry armed with an AKM fitted with an orange plastic magazine patrolled beside the huts.


    "Target, Bravo sector, ''home plate,'' holding AK."


    "Bravo sector, ''home plate,'' holding AK," Deng Shiyang confirmed the target and aligned the mil-dot reticle over the figure. "Target confirmed."


    Keith scanned the area with binoculars, verifying that the target was in a blind spot relative to other guards, then said over the radio, "This is fourth batter, green light."


    Deng Shiyang gripped his right arm with his left hand, using his cheekbone to brace the stock, then slid his finger into the trigger guard, gently squeezing the trigger. His sensitive finger felt a slight resistance as he engaged the first stage of the two-stage trigger.


    As the sentry paused to turn, Deng Shiyang held his breath, timing his shot between heartbeats, and squeezed through the second stage.


    "Pop-swish"¡ªthe sound suppressor produced a sharp noise, the recoil traveling through the stock into his shoulder as the view through the scope jumped slightly.


    A 77-grain match-grade hollow-point .223 round exited the muzzle, tracing an invisible arc before plunging into the guerrilla''s left chest.


    "Hit," Keith''s voice came through the earpiece.


    Deng Shiyang reacquired the target in his scope, seeing the guerrilla lying flat on the ground.


    Du Preez raised his rifle and fired two more shots at the downed man, then ran with Rodin to "home plate." Rodin hid the body under the hut, while Du Preez quickly pressed the transmit button twice, then again after a one-second pause, signaling "area clear."


    The rescue operation had gone smoothly so far, but as the Battlefield Murphy''s Law states, "No plan survives first contact." As Du Preez and Rodin were about to confirm the hostage''s exact location, a disturbance erupted in the camp.


    Several guerrillas gathered on the east side of the clearing, looking up at the sky. Others began to tense up, grabbing their weapons, while the rest relayed the alert, and more armed guerrillas emerged from the huts.


    Deng Shiyang frowned and listened intently. From above, he heard a faint "thud-thud-thud," like the sound of helicopter engines.


    "What the hell is that?" Keith almost cursed out loud at the chaotic scene in the camp. But before he could utter a swear word, an even bigger problem emerged.


    A sentry patrolling the camp''s perimeter had noticed that the sentry near "home plate" was missing, prompting him to approach, SKS rifle in hand.


    Keith urgently alerted over the radio, "Enemy approaching from ''first base.'' First batter, hide!"


    But Du Preez and Rodin were in an awkward position; retreating across the open ground back to the hillside shrubs was no longer an option. With nowhere else to go, they squeezed under the hut where the body was hidden.


    The sentry arrived near "home plate," scanning the area. He noticed a three-inch-wide depression in the dirt, with loose soil scattered around and a small finger-sized hole slanting into the ground as if something had penetrated the surface at high speed.


    Sensing that something was amiss, he waved to his nearby comrades, who were emerging from the barracks. A group of guerrillas noticed the disturbance and began converging on the area.


    "Damn it!" Keith cursed quietly, then gritted his teeth and ordered, "Prepare for combat!"

 Combat

    Several guerrillas dispersed to search, and one of them found some flattened grass. The direction of the crushed stalks was uniform, as if something heavy had been dragged across the ground.


    "Home plate, four enemies approaching," Keith quickly informed Du Preez and Rodin via radio.


    The two hiding under the cabin slowly retreated further into the shadows, letting the darkness cover them completely. They then raised their guns, aiming at the approaching legs.


    The guerrillas followed the tracks on the ground to the side of the cabin. One of them lay down to peer into the darkness beneath the cabin, but it was pitch-black, and he couldn¡¯t see anything. He turned and signaled to his companions to fetch a flashlight.


    However, Rodin, who didn¡¯t understand the language, mistakenly thought they had been discovered. In his panic, he pulled the trigger.


    "Pfft pfft pfft¡ª" A faint sound came from the shadows.


    The guerrilla lying beside the cabin didn''t have time to react before a burst of .223 subsonic rounds hit his forehead.


    Seeing Rodin open fire, Du Preez also shot at the legs gathered around the cabin. Bullets shattered their shinbones, causing them to fall to the ground, screaming in agony, before being finished off by shots from under the cabin. But whether from pain or hitting something, one of them fired his AKM as he fell.


    "Bang¡ª" The gunshot echoed through the ravine.


    Unlike the suppressed M4 with subsonic rounds, the AK''s gunfire was loud and distinct. The camp immediately erupted into chaos.


    "Open fire!" Keith''s order was almost a shout from his throat.


    Before the words had finished, Mark opened up first. His Minimi light machine gun roared, with puffs of white smoke appearing in the middle of the clearing. Two guerrillas who were too close were struck down on the spot. He released the trigger and aimed another burst at some of those still trying to react...


    The guerrillas'' reaction was quicker than expected. Most of them scattered for cover near the cabins at the first sound of gunfire, so after Mark''s three bursts, only five unlucky ones lay dead in the clearing.


    Deng Shiyang didn¡¯t hesitate. As soon as he received Keith¡¯s order, he aimed at the "third base" fortification and pulled the trigger, hitting a head that was peeking out from behind the sandbags. The match-grade hollow-point bullet easily penetrated the skull, its deformed lead core shredding the brain matter into pulp before exiting through the back of the head, carrying blood and brain tissue with it. The guerrilla twitched violently, as if struck by lightning, and then collapsed backward, throwing the RPD machine gun off the sandbags.


    After confirming the hit through his scope, Deng Shiyang began searching for the next target. At that moment, Keith''s voice came through the earpiece: "Target, Delta sector, ''first base.''"


    He quickly shifted his aim toward the "first base" direction, spotting an RPK light machine gun on top of the sandbags, spitting fire toward the hillside.


    He noticed that the gunner was quite clever, staying low behind the semicircular sandbag wall while firing, using the cover effectively.


    He reported to Keith, "This is Pitcher, target visibility is poor, unable to engage."


    "Damn it!" Keith muttered quietly, then ordered, "Pitcher, suppress the target." He then tapped Jansen on the shoulder, saying, "Target ''first base,'' use grenades."


    Deng Shiyang tightened the sling with his left hand and started firing rapidly toward "second base." Although he didn''t hit anyone, the bullets whistling past and striking the sandbags created significant psychological pressure, causing the machine gunner to keep his head down and fire blindly toward the hillside.


    Jansen loaded a "Hellhound" multi-purpose grenade into the M203 grenade launcher mounted under his M4. He unfolded the launcher¡¯s sight, propped the buttstock vertically on the ground, adjusted the angle based on the previously set distance, and pulled the trigger.


    "Thump"¡ªwith a sound like a champagne cork popping, a 40mm low-velocity grenade arced through the air. It descended with gravity toward the camp, landing precisely behind the sandbag fortification known as "first base."


    A gray burst erupted behind the sandbags, with the grenade''s explosive force instantly transforming its pre-fragmented casing into numerous sharp fragments that radiated outward in a circular pattern.


    Although the grenade didn''t inflict fatal injuries on the machine gunner, the shrapnel embedded in his back and arm rendered him unable to continue fighting. He dropped the light machine gun and clutched his wounded right arm, limping toward a nearby cabin.


    Seizing the opportunity as he left cover, Deng Shiyang shot him down.


    The battle had lasted less than three minutes, and Mark had already emptied a 200-round drum. Not expecting the situation to escalate this quickly, he hadn''t brought a spare barrel to the forward position. After switching to a fresh drum, he had to slow his rate of fire due to the overheating barrel.


    The guerrillas quickly realized that the attackers'' firepower was limited and concentrated in just a few locations. They assessed that the assault was being carried out by a small infiltration team, and as the suppressing fire diminished, they began organizing a counterattack. Using RPGs to blanket the hillside, some guerrillas dashed to the machine gun position near the camp entrance. Braving the bullets, they moved the NSV heavy machine gun from its emplacement, preparing to fire on the hillside.


    Just as Keith was about to abort the mission and order a retreat, a South American-accented voice came over Jansen''s tactical radio: "Hitman calling Eagle One, Hitman calling Eagle One, over."


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    "Hitman" was the callsign for the air support provided by the Bolivian military, consisting of two UH-1H "Iroquois" helicopters. One was designated "Hitman 21," armed with M23 weapon systems at the cabin doors, while the other, "Hitman 22," carried M260 rocket pods and M16 weapon systems on its external hardpoints.


    Before the operation began, the pilots of both helicopters were already aware of the distribution of the guerrilla camp. They knew that the mission was to drive out/suppress the guerrilla forces and cover the ground team in rescuing a person, codenamed "Package," who was being held in the guerrilla camp.


    These gunships were stationed at Santa Cruz''s El Trompillo Airport. Due to the Bolivian military''s low training level and lack of combat experience, coupled with the thick morning fog in the mountains that had not fully cleared by noon, the pilots hesitated to fly low into the combat zone. The noise of their engines had alerted the guerrillas, causing the battle to start prematurely.


    Learning that their own air support was responsible for this, Keith was both frustrated and amused. Realizing this was his chance to turn the tide, he instructed Jansen to coordinate the helicopters to suppress the camp''s firepower and give Du Preez and Rodin a chance to rescue the hostage.


    Jansen called over the radio, "Eagle One to Hitman, over."


    "Hitman to Eagle One, identify yourself, Hotel, Kilo, over."


    Jansen glanced at the code chart and found the number at the intersection of row H and column K, then replied, "This is Eagle One, code 97, over."


    "Hitman received, mark target location with smoke, over."


    "This is Eagle One, mark with red smoke." Jansen then fired an M713 smoke grenade toward the camp, and a pink cloud rose from the clearing. He radioed, "Hitman, engage west of the smoke marker, over."


    "This is Hitman, confirming red smoke, engaging westward."


    "Hitman 21" descended to 300 feet, circling counterclockwise at low speed over the camp, with the door gunners firing M60D machine guns. Meanwhile, "Hitman 22" flew at 200 feet, repeatedly passing over the camp at very low altitude, strafing with the quad-mounted M60C machine guns on both sides.


    Although the machine gun fire didn''t cause much damage, it had a tremendous psychological impact on the guerrillas. It didn¡¯t take long for the helicopters to drive everyone outside back into the barracks, giving Du Preez and Rodin, who had been pinned down behind "home plate," a breather.


    Seeing the opportunity, Keith decided to initiate the rescue.


    "Hitman 22, destroy the western cabins with rockets, over."


    "22 received, western cabins confirmed."


    "Hitman 22" climbed to nearly 800 feet, then dived down, unleashing fourteen 2.75-inch high-explosive rockets from its rocket pods.


    The "Hydra" rockets, trailing smoke, pierced the cabins and exploded, sending debris skyward in a series of blasts. Gray clouds billowed over the camp, with wooden splinters, debris, and human remains scattered in the aftermath. The western barracks were reduced to charred, leaning wooden posts, mixed with mangled corpses, emitting a nauseating burnt stench.


    The airstrike shattered the guerrillas'' will to fight. Following the terrifying rocket barrage, most of the fighters and the barracks had been blown to pieces, leaving the survivors to flee in panic toward the ravine''s exit.


    "Hitman 21, Hitman 22, ground forces preparing to move out for rescue. Temporarily leave the camp and drive away the enemy to the west. Over."


    Due to the mercenary squad''s lack of effective friend-or-foe identification with aerial support, Keith decided to have Jensen temporarily divert the aerial support away from above the camp, to avoid friendly fire during the rescue.


    "Hitman 21/22 received, driving away enemy skirmishers."


    Keith saw the helicopters fly west, then called on his radio, "First batter, second batter, ''home base'' has been cleared. Action!"


    Dupree and Rodin emerged from under the cabin and moved to the front of the cabin door. Dupree pushed on the door and found it was locked. He made a breach signal to Rodin, then took a flashbang from his combat vest, moved to the side of the door, and pulled the safety pin.


    Rodin followed closely, pulling out a Remington M870 loaded with a breaching round, blasting the door hinges. He kicked the door open and stepped aside while Du Preez tossed the flashbang inside.


    Rodin set aside the shotgun and raised his M4 carbine. As the flashbang detonated, they stormed in from both sides.


    After quickly taking positions in the corners near the entrance, Du Preez and Rodin pointed their guns toward the inside of the cabin. A tall man in a light gray T-shirt sat on the floor, covering his eyes. In his right hand, he was wielding a CZ75 pistol erratically. Both Du Preez and Rodin opened fire with their M4s, hitting the man.


    "Clear."


    "Room search."


    Du Preez and Rodin reported the situation to each other, then started searching the cabin. They reached a small door next to the foyer, where Rodin removed the latch and pushed the door open. Du Preez entered with his gun raised.


    Behind the door was a dark, cramped room. As they stepped in, a stench of feces and decay hit their noses, making them feel nauseous. Through the dim light entering from a small high window on the wall, they could see a disheveled man sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, staring blankly at the doorway.


    Rodin took out a small flashlight and shined it on the man''s face, saying loudly, "Lift your head and tell me your name."


    The man was frail and seemed to summon all his strength just to raise his head, revealing a gaunt face. He struggled to utter a few indistinct syllables: "...Pe...Pe...Pe...Peter..."


    Rodin held his nose and approached the man, asking, "What did you say? What did you just say?" He then leaned closer, despite the man''s strong odor of sweat and rot, putting his ear near the man''s mouth.


    The man took a deep breath and weakly said, "Pe...Peter...I...I am...Peter...Bowman..."


    Rodin shined the flashlight on his face for a closer look, confirming that the person before them was indeed their rescue target. He briefly explained the situation to Bowman, reassuring him with a few comforting words, then reported over the radio: "This is Second Base. We have the package. I repeat, we have the package." He repeated the message, unable to hide the excitement in his voice.


    "Fourth Base received. Begin extraction."


    Du Preez reached the cabin door and asked over the radio, "This is First Base, proceeding to the extraction point. Report status."


    "First Base, route is clear. You may proceed." Keith, who was holding a pair of binoculars, responded, then turned to Jansen and said, "Call in Big Bird to the extraction point."


    "Second Base received."


    Rodin helped the weeping Peter Bowman to his feet and supported him out of the cabin.


    The retreat went smoothly. The guerrillas were preoccupied with escaping, leaving them no time to hinder the team. Throughout Du Preez and Rodin''s withdrawal, Mark and Deng Shiyang didn¡¯t fire a single shot, and the claymore mines set up on the perimeter of the camp remained unused.


    More than ten minutes later, the team of six, along with Peter Bowman, reached the mountaintop designated as the extraction point. Jansen threw a green smoke grenade onto the clearing to mark the location for the incoming helicopter.


    Soon, a black Bell 205 descended onto the mountaintop, and the group boarded, leaving the mountainous region.


    Annotations:


    - M23 Armament Subsystem: A weapon system fitted to UH-1 helicopters, consisting of an M60D "door gun" mounted on a cabin door support with a 500-round ammunition box.


    - M16 Armament Subsystem: A weapon system for UH-1 helicopters, comprising twin M60C machine guns mounted on electrically driven supports at the ends of the aircraft''s external hardpoints.


    - 40mm Smoke Grenades: The U.S. military''s smoke (grenade) series includes the M713 (red), M715 (green), and M716 (yellow).


    - Gun Run: When engaging targets, gunships choose different attack angles, including shallow (5¨C10 degrees), medium (10¨C20 degrees), and steep (20¨C30 degrees) dive angles. Shallow angles are used for suppressing large areas, while steep angles are suitable for hitting precise targets.

 Postscript

    As the helicopter''s engine roared, the guerrilla camp in the mountain pass quickly receded into the distance, soon vanishing into a sea of dark green forest.


    "We did it! We really did it!" Rodin shouted excitedly, "We¡¯re famous now! Look at those damn guys, we turned them into pulp. Haha..."


    Inside the cabin, Keith was leaning in close to Jensen, loudly discussing how they would spend their earnings from this operation. Mark, with one hand over his ear and the other holding a satellite phone, sat near the cabin door, speaking proudly about something. Du Preez, as usual, passed the time by sharpening his knife, but his typically cold, poker-faced expression now had a hint of joy.


    Peter Bowman, disheveled and tearful, was overwhelmed with emotion, repeatedly trying to embrace his rescuers. But the others seemed to be bothered by his odor, politely shaking hands with him instead, creating a slightly comical scene.


    Deng Shiyang remained quiet. He removed the magazine from his weapon, cycled the bolt to clear the chamber, then stretched out his legs while sitting at the cabin door, letting the wind blow against his face. As the tension lifted, a drowsy fatigue crept over him. He picked up the bullet that had ejected from the chamber and held it in his hand, using his thumb to press against the tip to fight off the sleepiness, quietly gazing at the gray sky.


    Seeing this, Keith approached and patted his shoulder, leaning in to ask, "What''s wrong? You don''t seem very happy."


    Deng Shiyang glanced at him and replied loudly, "It''s nothing, just feeling a little tired."


    "The mission was a success, and none of us got hurt. You did great."


    "Thank you."


    "Don''t get me wrong, I¡¯m not just flattering you."


    Deng Shiyang gave a faint smile and replied, "I know."


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    Keith grinned and patted him twice on the shoulder before returning to continue his conversation with Jensen.


    Deng Shiyang took a deep breath, then tossed the bullet out of the helicopter. The yellow cartridge traced an arc through the air before disappearing into the rolling green hills below.


    The Bell 205 carrying them did not return to Camiri but instead flew north under escort from two armed helicopters. About half an hour later, they landed at Viru Viru Airport in Santa Cruz.


    The tarmac was crowded with people, and a nearby ambulance was on standby. Even before they disembarked, a doctor in a white coat, accompanied by two paramedics carrying a stretcher, rushed over. Behind them followed Manlinson, Harrowby, and a group of men in suits.


    The paramedics, braving the strong downdraft from the rotor blades, lifted Peter Bowman onto the stretcher and into the ambulance. With sirens wailing, the ambulance, escorted by two black Chevrolet SUVs, left the airport. Manlinson said a few polite words, then got into a Mercedes S500 parked nearby, following the convoy out of the airport gate.


    As the crowd dispersed, Harrowby jogged over and led the group into a hangar beside the tarmac. Near the entrance was a dark green Cherokee SUV with its rear hatch open, filled with travel bags.


    "These are your belongings. Get changed quickly, and hand your weapons over to my men for disposal," Harrowby said as he waved to two locals standing next to the vehicle. The two men approached to collect the weapons handed over by the team.


    It didn''t take long for everyone to change into civilian clothes and wipe off the face paint. Harrowby then took a stack of brown paper envelopes with names written on them from his briefcase and handed them out, saying, "The remaining payment has been deposited into your bank accounts. Here are your passports; the visas have been arranged. I''ve prepared a plane to take you to Buenos Aires, where you''ll disband." He pointed inside the hangar as he finished speaking.


    Following his gesture, they saw a Learjet 35 business jet parked there, painted white with maroon stripes.


    This mission had dealt a severe blow to the guerrillas, humiliating them and inflicting heavy losses. The ELN would undoubtedly seek revenge afterward, and as the participants in the raid, they were sure to be targeted. Harrowby had arranged the private jet to get them out of the country as quickly as possible.


    After brief goodbyes, the six men boarded the plane with their luggage. About twenty minutes later, the Learjet 35 took off from the airport runway, carrying them south toward Argentina.


    ### Annotations:


    - **Learjet 35:** A small jet business aircraft manufactured by Bombardier Aerospace, Canada.

 New Job

    The dawn sky resembled a giant celadon bowl turned upside down, perfectly sealing the world beneath it. Chek Lap Kok was covered with countless golden lights of various sizes, and the runway lights, like two golden edges embedded in the riverbank, made Hong Kong International Airport stand out distinctly against the pitch-black sea.


    A Boeing 747-400 with deep green stripes roared as it landed on the runway, the massive wheels making a screeching sound as they touched the ground.


    Deng Shiyang, carrying a small travel bag, followed the crowd through the jet bridge into the terminal. Just a week ago, he had left Cyprus, ending his interrupted vacation. The Aegean sun had tanned his skin to a wheat color, and two months of leisurely and comfortable living had left him feeling rejuvenated.


    Shortly after his vacation ended, an email from Harrowby arrived in his inbox, mentioning a special job opportunity and inviting Deng Shiyang to Hong Kong for a briefing. The email also included a first-class electronic ticket to Hong Kong.


    He arrived at Los Angeles International Airport last night and boarded Cathay Pacific flight CX883, reaching Hong Kong after a flight of more than ten hours.


    The clock in the lobby showed 6:45 a.m. He yawned, shook his head to chase away the sleepiness creeping in, and walked toward the immigration area.


    As the morning light turned the eastern horizon golden, he stepped out of the airport and took a taxi to the SkyCity Marriott Hotel on the eastern coast of Chek Lap Kok, checking into the room booked by Harrowby. He took a shower, then soaked in a hot bath until his entire body felt relaxed, and finally fell asleep, not waking until sunset.


    On his first day in Hong Kong, he spent the entire day adjusting to the time difference and didn''t wake up until the evening. He called room service for a simple dinner, then sent a text message to Harrowby.


    It wasn¡¯t long before his phone rang with a new message notification. The content was typical of Harrowby¡¯s style, a simple sentence composed of just a few words: "Tomorrow at noon, Four Seasons Hotel, Lung King Heen."


    He pursed his lips, tossed the phone aside, and began thinking about how to pass the remaining time that evening¡­


    The next morning, he didn¡¯t wake up until almost eleven. He lay in bed staring at the ceiling for a while before getting up.


    The bedding was disheveled, and clothes were scattered on the nearby floor, giving the scene a faintly sensual atmosphere. On the nightstand was a note with "Daisy" and a phone number written in neat handwriting, with a wine-red lipstick mark in the lower corner.


    He chuckled, put the note in the drawer, and went into the bathroom to wash away the sweat. After a quick shower, he changed into a casual-style suit jacket and left the room, hanging the "clean room" sign on the door as he closed it behind him.


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    He walked to AsiaWorld-Expo, took the Airport Express to Central, and then strolled to the International Finance Centre. At 11:50 a.m., he arrived at the entrance of the Lung King Heen restaurant on the fourth floor of the Four Seasons Hotel, where a beautiful hostess led him to a table by the window.


    Harrowby, already waiting, stood up with a smile and stepped forward to greet him. He extended his right hand, adorned with a diamond pinky ring, and said, "I¡¯m glad you could make the time. I¡¯ll need your help again for this one."


    Compared to their last meeting in Bolivia, he appeared much leaner, but his face was beaming with energy. He wore polished brown leather shoes, a traditional British-style dove-gray three-piece suit, a white checkered shirt, and a dark gray Burberry plaid scarf around his neck. Although the suit bore no label, the fine material and tailored fit clearly indicated it came from a prestigious Savile Row shop. In addition to the pinky ring, he wore a diamond-studded Vacheron Constantin platinum watch on his left wrist, looking every bit the part of a British aristocrat on holiday.


    "Thanks for arranging the flight and hotel room," Deng Shiyang said as he shook Harrowby''s hand. After a brief pause, he added with a touch of admiration, "Nice suit."


    Harrowby smiled, inviting Deng Shiyang to sit. Though he didn¡¯t respond verbally, a hint of pride in his expression showed that the compliment had pleased him.


    Since the operation in Bolivia, A.F.S., a previously unknown small company, had gained significant fame within the industry, enjoying a surge of attention. Harrowby had also established good personal connections with the Bowman family, securing numerous security contracts for their businesses. In just two months, A.F.S.''s operations had expanded to cover South America, the Middle East, and Africa, shifting from an intermediary agency to a private security firm.


    Recently, he had also secured an investment from the Bowman family to establish a subsidiary called "United Training Center" on the Isle of Man. The new company purchased over five thousand acres of land in Minnesota, where a training facility was being built to enter the training market.


    The two enjoyed a lavish lunch at a window overlooking Victoria Harbour. After their meal, they took the elevator to the forty-first floor and entered Harrowby¡¯s suite.


    The seaview suite, costing two thousand dollars per night, was spacious at one thousand square feet, more than twice the size of Deng Shiyang''s room. It had separate living and sleeping areas, with a north-facing floor-to-ceiling window that offered a panoramic view of Victoria Harbour. The living room had a mini-bar in the corner, next to a round wooden dining table for four. Near the window, there was a small but fully equipped work area.


    Harrowby invited Deng Shiyang to sit on the sofa by the window, then walked over to the bar to make a pot of Darjeeling tea, which he brought over to the coffee table along with some refreshments.


    "Now, let''s discuss the job," he said, pouring tea for himself and Deng Shiyang before asking, "How much do you know about the country of Swaziland?"


    Deng Shiyang took a small sip from his cup and responded with a question, "Isn''t that the country with the highest HIV infection rate in the world?"


    "That''s right."


    Harrowby lowered his head to add milk and a cube of sugar to his tea, stirring gently with a spoon. After mixing it thoroughly, he looked up and answered, "Swaziland is a landlocked country located between South Africa and Mozambique. It was formerly known as the Kingdom of Swaziland, one of the last absolute monarchies on Earth. At the end of last year, Colonel Antoine Ndofa, the former commander of the army, launched a coup that overthrew the monarchy and established the Republic of Swaziland. The deposed King Mswati III and most of the royal family have since fled abroad."


    A glint of approval flashed in Harrowby''s eyes. He elegantly sipped his tea, cleared his throat, and said candidly, "Our task this time is to take over that country."


    Notes:


    - Savile Row: A famous street in London known for traditional bespoke tailoring.

 Spy Job

    Deng Shiyang''s reaction was calmer than expected. He raised an eyebrow, took a sip of tea, and asked, "Another ''Dogs of War'' scenario? Like what Simon Mann tried to pull off in Equatorial Guinea?"


    In the 1990s, Equatorial Guinea discovered abundant oil and natural gas resources, leading a U.S. official to dub it the "New Kuwait."


    To exploit these resources, the British planned to stage a coup to overthrow the government led by President Teodoro Obiang and install the exiled opposition leader Severo Moto, in exchange for oil extraction rights.


    The coup was financed and orchestrated by British magnates, with former SAS officer Simon Mann in charge of execution. Mann recruited three crew members and sixty-four mercenaries in South Africa, planning to fly a Boeing 727 to Harare, Zimbabwe, where they would load weapons purchased locally and then proceed to Equatorial Guinea. Once the advance team took control of the airport tower, the plane would land.


    However, the plane was detained at Harare airport, with the mercenaries, Mann, and two other accomplices near the runway all arrested. Two days later, the advance team led by Nick du Toit was also captured in Equatorial Guinea, thwarting the coup before it even began.


    Harrowby''s expression turned a bit awkward, and he replied with a forced smile, "No two real-world operations are ever the same."


    The corners of Deng Shiyang''s mouth curled up slightly, showing a faint hint of amusement, but he remained silent.


    "Now, let''s get to the point," Harrowby broke the silence.


    "Our client is none other than the former King Mswati III. He approached me in London, seeking our help in staging a coup to overthrow the Ndofa regime and restore the monarchy."


    "We initially intended to gather information about Swaziland through the former king and his entourage. However, we encountered two problems when formulating the plan: first, since Ndofa''s rise to power, the country has adopted an isolationist policy, severing almost all external communication. We have no access to first-hand information from within the country. Second, the former king and his associates lack military knowledge and cannot provide the intelligence we need."


    "Therefore, we need someone to go to Swaziland to conduct reconnaissance on the military and security conditions at the presidential palace and key locations, as well as provide an assessment report on the Ndofa government''s military capabilities. I believe you are the best candidate for this task."


    Deng Shiyang frowned and asked, "Why do you think I''m suitable for this kind of work? Wouldn''t it be better to hire someone from ''The Farm'' for HUMINT?"


    Since the end of the Cold War, intelligence agencies from both the East and West had been downsized to varying degrees. Some former spies, now unemployed, started their own detective agencies or consultancy firms. A few well-connected intelligence brokers even operated under the guise of commercial entities, engaging in espionage activities behind the scenes.


    In reality, intelligence work was far less thrilling than in James Bond films. These professionals mainly gathered business intelligence, acted as "paparazzi" to dig up celebrity scandals, or took on mundane tasks such as photographing new cars during road tests. However, a few companies did serve as subcontractors for the CIA, collecting intelligence in sensitive regions where the U.S. government found direct involvement "inconvenient."


    Harrowby smiled and replied, "The new Swaziland government has recently soured relations with the West, and Ndofa is actively pursuing diplomatic relations with China. They''ve recently issued invitations for Chinese and Hong Kong companies to send representatives for an inspection. Of course, that''s only one reason. The main reason for choosing you is¡ª" as if to create suspense, he smacked his lips and, with a playful tone, said, "¡ªbecause you''re reliable."


    Deng Shiyang''s expression turned to one of slight disdain as he retorted, "I hate being reliable." He then added, "Now, let''s talk about the money."


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    Harrowby chuckled, "So, you''re willing to take the job?"


    "Yes, if the price is right."


    Harrowby replied earnestly, "I''ll prepare the equipment, passport, visa, and documents and deliver them to your hotel room within a week."


    Deng Shiyang gave a slight nod, indicating he understood.


    "As for payment, I''ll give you $20,000 in cash as an advance, with another ¡ê30,000 upon receiving the report."


    "I want ¡ê50,000, with the other conditions unchanged."


    Harrowby was taken aback and argued, "You''ll only be there for a week..."


    But before he could finish, Deng Shiyang interrupted with an uncompromising tone, "Going to a foreign country as an illegal spy is like dancing on a knife''s edge. If I get caught, it''s over¡ªI''ll die, and it won''t be a pleasant death. And if I fail, you''ll certainly distance yourself from this affair completely. The payment doesn''t match the risks I''m taking."


    Harrowby fell silent for a moment, eventually making a resolute decision. "Fine, ¡ê50,000 it is." He then extended his hand.


    "A pleasure working with you." Deng Shiyang reached out and shook his hand.


    With the terms settled, Harrowby walked into the bedroom and returned with a well-crafted Hermes waist pouch. He unzipped it and laid its contents on the coffee table.


    "Here''s your operational fund." He pushed a bulging manila envelope toward him.


    Deng Shiyang opened the envelope to find two bundles of U.S. dollars, each secured with rubber bands, all in $100 bills. He didn¡¯t even bother to count them, setting the envelope aside.


    "This is the information on Swaziland, and the decryption code is the company¡¯s address in London." Harrowby placed a silver-colored USB stick on the table.


    Deng Shiyang nodded without saying a word.


    "The next items will certainly pique your interest." With the expression of a child showing off a new toy, Harrowby smiled as he took out two boxes¡ªone square and one rectangular.


    He opened the square box first, revealing a black second-generation iPod Shuffle. "This MP3 player is actually a miniature digital camera," he said, pointing to the area next to the control buttons, "There''s a five-megapixel lens right here."


    Deng Shiyang examined the indicated spot closely but saw no lens.


    "To use it, turn off the power, then switch the playback mode to ''shuffle.'' Press the play button twice in quick succession, and the status indicator will turn green, showing the camera is activated. The power button then acts as the shutter. Switching it back to ''sequential'' will enable regular MP3 playback. The memory card has 8GB of storage, and photos can be transferred to a computer using a USB cable."


    As Deng Shiyang curiously fiddled with the iPod Shuffle, Harrowby opened the rectangular box and took out a fountain pen. "This pen is also a camera."


    Deng Shiyang put down the MP3 player and carefully examined the fountain pen.


    It was a finely crafted Montblanc ballpoint pen. The polished black resin barrel reflected light, and the platinum clip and rings featured intricate engravings, while the iconic six-pointed star logo embedded in a crystal on the cap gave it an air of elegance and sophistication.


    "The pen has an 8GB capacity as well, and a full charge can take up to 200 photos." Harrowby demonstrated, "To take a photo, push down on the cap, then twist it clockwise to activate the camera."


    He turned the cap one notch and pointed at the end of the barrel. "The lens is located here. To take a picture, simply aim and press down on the clip." He then held the pen in his hand, allowing the end of the barrel to protrude below his pinky, and used his thumb to gently press the clip.


    Deng Shiyang nodded, indicating he understood.


    Harrowby twisted the cap counterclockwise to turn off the power. He unscrewed the cap, then the barrel, revealing a shortened ink cartridge, about half the usual length. He pointed to the USB port inside the back half of the barrel, "This is the USB port, which also serves as the charging port." He then reassembled the pen and handed it to Deng Shiyang.


    Deng Shiyang played with the pen camera for a moment before asking, "You can''t buy something like this on eBay, can you? Where did you get it?"


    Harrowby gave a cryptic smile, replying, "Don''t ask."


    Deng Shiyang pouted slightly, refraining from further questions. Suddenly, he grabbed the waist pouch from the coffee table, stuffed everything back inside, and grinned. "You''re not really expecting me to carry all this stuff in my pockets, are you?"


    Harrowby parted his lips slightly, then sighed and nodded reluctantly.


    Notes:


    - The Dogs of War: A novel by British author Frederick Forsyth. The story, set in the fictional African country of Zangaro (modeled after Equatorial Guinea), depicts a British mining company''s plan to hire mercenaries to stage a coup for control over the country''s platinum resources.


    - Simon Francis Mann: Mercenary and former British SAS officer. He was involved with private military companies Executive Outcomes and Sandline International. In 2004, following a failed coup, he was arrested and later extradited to Equatorial Guinea, where he was sentenced to 34 years in prison.


    - Nick du Toit: Mercenary, arms dealer, and former South African 32 Battalion officer. He was arrested during the 2004 coup attempt in Equatorial Guinea and sentenced to 34 years in prison.


    HUMINT: Short for "HUMan INTelligence," referring to espionage conducted by individuals.


    The Farm: A nickname for Camp Peary, a CIA training facility located in York County, Virginia.

 Swaziland

    Back in his hotel room, Deng Shiyang inserted the USB drive into his laptop and entered the password. The screen immediately displayed a pile of information.


    Swaziland is located in Southern Africa, covering an area of 17,000 square kilometers. It borders Mozambique to the east and is surrounded by South Africa on the other three sides, making it a typical landlocked country.


    This country has a population of 1.13 million, but according to World Health Organization statistics, over 40% of the population is infected with HIV, making it the country with the highest HIV infection rate in the world. The average life expectancy is less than 32 years, and only one in four people lives past 40.


    Before the coup, the Kingdom of Swaziland was one of the last remaining absolute monarchies on Earth. It was the only country in Southern Africa where political parties were banned. The parliament was elected through traditional African tribal elections and was merely advisory, with no legislative power. All power was concentrated in the hands of the king.


    Although Swazi citizens and unions had long pursued democracy, organizing many large-scale protests and strikes, they never achieved success and were instead met with violent suppression by the government. After the "9/11 attacks," the king used "anti-terrorism" as an excuse to begin a large-scale crackdown on civil organizations. In May 2002, the parliament passed the "Domestic Security Act," which banned all activities opposing the royal family and the government.


    The autocratic system led to a single-sector economy. Swaziland''s economy mainly relied on manufacturing, with the largest revenue coming from agricultural products and textile exports. In the late 1980s, the economy developed rapidly but began to decline in the 1990s. In the 21st century, the economy deteriorated further due to the impact of AIDS and the international environment. By 2007, the unemployment rate had soared to 40%, with over 70% of the population living below the poverty line.


    To earn foreign exchange, the government forced farmers to grow cash crops such as sugarcane and cotton. As a result, despite having 80% of the population engaged in agriculture, one-fourth of the Swazi people faced famine and had to rely on foreign food aid to survive.


    Meanwhile, King Mswati III ranked as the 15th wealthiest monarch globally, with assets of $200 million. He lived a lavish life in the royal palace with his 14 wives. Last year, he spent millions of dollars from the treasury to hold an extravagant party to celebrate his 40th birthday, including purchasing 20 luxury cars for guests.


    The king''s extravagance sparked public outrage and serious social security issues. Swaziland began implementing martial law nationwide and deployed troops to major cities to maintain order. At the end of last year, while King Mswati III was away on vacation, Colonel Antoine Ndofa, the commander of the army, launched a coup and overthrew the royal family. The "Revolutionary Command Committee" led by Ndofa quickly took over, and the new government renamed the country the Republic of Swaziland, with Ndofa elected as the first president.


    Like most military governments, the coup was merely a prelude to another dictator coming to power. Coming from a family related to the royal family and rising to the position of army commander through connections, Ndofa was clearly not a competent ruler. Upon taking power, he immediately declared an indefinite state of emergency, violently suppressed the democratic movement, and began a regime of high-pressure control. The promises made at the founding of the country were not fulfilled at all.


    The new government''s policies displeased Western countries, and nations such as the U.S. and the U.K. suspended economic aid citing human rights issues. The Ndofa regime then severed diplomatic ties with over 30 Western countries led by the United States and strictly limited all foreign exchanges. The newly established Republic of Swaziland was soon isolated by the international community.


    After meeting with Harrowby, Deng Shiyang spent the following days reading and organizing the documents at the hotel. In his spare time, he enjoyed the nearby restaurants and leisure facilities like a tourist visiting Hong Kong.


    Five days passed quickly. On the sixth day at noon, the front desk called, saying there was a package for him.


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    He briefly responded, instructing the package to be sent to his room. Shortly afterward, there was a knock on the door, and a hotel staff member accompanied a courier dressed in a "FedEx" uniform to the door.


    The signing process was quick. After tipping the two people, he opened the parcel, taking out a British National (Overseas) passport, a credit card, and a manila envelope.


    Opening the passport, a familiar face appeared. The passport holder''s name was Jason Du, 28 years old, a Hong Kong resident. The person in the photo bore an 80% resemblance to him, but the expression was slightly dull. His black short hair was neatly combed back with hair wax, and he wore black-framed glasses on his nose, giving him a stereotypical look, fitting the image of an ordinary office worker.


    The credit card was a VISA international card issued by HSBC Hong Kong, with a small adhesive sticker on the back indicating the card''s password.


    He opened the envelope and placed the contents on the table. Inside was an invitation from the Swazi government and several documents issued by a company called "Ruoyuan International," confirming that Jason Du was an employee of the company, invited to conduct a business inspection.


    After carefully reviewing all the documents, he opened his laptop and entered "Hong Kong" and "Ruoyuan International" into Google. It didn''t take long for information about the company to appear on the screen.


    "Ruoyuan International" is a company engaged in the trading of metals and minerals, with a market value of less than HKD 400 million. The company initially made its name in the copper mining industry in Chile, experiencing a period of prosperity in the 1970s and 1980s before being listed in 1996. However, due to poor management in recent years, the company''s financial situation deteriorated rapidly, with bad performance and massive debts leading to frequent stock price lows. Last year, it was once suspended by the Securities and Futures Commission.


    He frowned slightly, then logged onto the United States Geological Survey website, entered the keywords "mineral" and "Swaziland," and found a report titled "The Mineral Industry of Swaziland." He read the entire report and discovered that this small country surprisingly had abundant mineral resources, including asbestos, clay, coal, tin, as well as small amounts of gold, diamonds, and mica. However, due to the previous government''s lack of open mining rights and the country''s shortage of technology and equipment, mining was minimal.


    After reading the report, he rested his chin on his hand, deep in thought.


    Although Harrowby claimed that the employer was the deposed former king, he was not naive enough to fully believe that story.


    In the 1990s, several private military companies like EO and SI intervened in the civil wars in Sierra Leone and Angola. Although their official employers were the governments of those countries, the real paymasters were multinational corporations exploiting natural resources.


    For example, in the 1995 Sierra Leone civil war, a company named "Branch Energy" provided credit guarantees to cover the economically struggling Sierra Leone government''s payroll. Whenever mercenaries recaptured a diamond mine from the RUF, Branch Energy would receive 60% of the mining rights. During the Angolan civil war, the financial backers of "MPLA" employing EO to fight against "UNITA" were the Canadian "Heritage Oil" company and the South African De Beers Group.


    Looking back at history, Western involvement in African power struggles has mainly been driven by the desire to increase political influence and seize resources. If commercial entities are involved, their motives are even more self-evident.


    Thus, he made a bold assumption: If a resource-rich country falls into turmoil and the ousted former dictator is eager to restore his regime but finds himself lacking the funds to launch a coup, the simplest and most effective solution would be to trade mining rights for financial support.


    As his thoughts became clearer, the mastermind behind the scenes gradually emerged. If his hypothesis was correct, he could almost be certain that the Bowman family had something to do with this. In addition to their involvement in oil and gas extraction, the companies controlled by this family also included the well-known mining company Rio Tinto Group.


    Annotations:


    British National (Overseas): Abbreviated as BN(O), a type of British nationality. Holders of this nationality are Commonwealth citizens but not British citizens.


    RUF (Revolutionary United Front): A rebel group in Sierra Leone, founded in 1991. It became a political party after the civil war ended in 2002 and was disbanded in 2007. In February 2009, three of its leaders were convicted of war crimes and crimes against humanity.


    MPLA: Popular Movement for the Liberation of Angola, the largest political party in Angola, which has been in power since the country''s independence from Portugal.


    UNITA: National Union for the Total Independence of Angola, the second-largest political party in Angola. During the Angolan War of Independence, it fought alongside MPLA, but after independence, the two parties fell out, leading to the civil war.


    De Beers Group: The world''s largest diamond company, headquartered in Johannesburg, South Africa. The company controls over 40% of global diamond mining and trade.


    Rio Tinto Group: A multinational mining and resources group founded in 1873, headquartered in London, UK, and Melbourne, Australia. The company operates in coal, iron, copper, gold, diamonds, aluminum, energy, and other businesses.

 Prepare

    After obtaining the documents, Deng Shiyang first carefully studied the passport photo in his hotel room and then spent a day shopping.


    He took the Airport Express to Central, where he exchanged $3,000 for Hong Kong dollars at a currency exchange store. He then took a taxi to Causeway Bay, where he bought a pair of FILA travel shoes and a light blue tracksuit from a sportswear store. He also visited several brand stores, purchasing various clothing items labeled "Made in China," including two pairs of cotton casual pants, a few short-sleeve T-shirts, and polo shirts.


    In addition, he bought a pair of black leather shoes, a dark gray suit, several white shirts, and two ties¡ªone maroon and the other silver-gray. He also bought a pair of black-framed eyeglasses and black contact lenses based on the passport photo.


    By the time he finished shopping, it was already evening. He visited a travel goods store and bought a large polycarbonate suitcase to pack everything in before heading back to the hotel.


    Near the hotel, he had his hair cut at a salon and bought a box of hair wax from a convenience store. He then stayed in his hotel room, packing his luggage. However, he soon realized that he was missing an essential identification document. So, he took out his phone and called Harrowby.


    As soon as the call connected, Harrowby was the first to ask, "Is there a problem?"


    "Yes, when I was packing today, I realized you didn¡¯t give me any business cards."


    A slight "uh" came from the phone, and after a moment, Harrowby spoke with a slightly embarrassed tone, "It is indeed strange to attend a business inspection without a business card. My apologies, I overlooked that."


    "There¡¯s still a week left. Should be enough time, right?"


    "No problem, I can get them to you the day after tomorrow."


    Deng Shiyang smacked his lips and asked, "Are the business card details genuine? If someone calls to verify, will it hold up?"


    Harrowby answered confidently, "Don¡¯t worry about that. I¡¯ll have your profile added to the company¡¯s records. Not just phone calls, even in-person checks won¡¯t reveal any flaws."


    Though Harrowby spoke casually, Deng Shiyang frowned slightly at his words.


    "Anything else?" Harrowby asked.


    "Not for now."


    "Good, contact me if you need anything."


    "Alright, goodbye."


    After hanging up, he opened his laptop and began researching information on "Ruoyuan International."


    After a thorough study, he discovered that "Ruoyuan International" was in worse condition than he had expected. The company had been losing money every year since 2004 and hadn''t paid dividends for three years. According to the financial report published in May last year, the previous fiscal year''s losses had widened to HKD 23.7 million. In September of the same year, the company''s second-largest shareholder, "Asset Management," significantly reduced its holdings, causing the stock to hit a trading halt. Earlier this year, the company began internal restructuring, with two rounds of large-scale layoffs, but the situation had not improved.


    He rested his chin on his left hand, gazing at the computer screen in thought for a while, then opened the "Ruoyuan International" website and wrote down the company address in his notebook.


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    The next morning, he put on the new suit and took the Airport Express to Central, then transferred to the Island Line to Wan Chai. He exited at A1 and walked west along Lockhart Road to the China Online Centre.


    He had lunch at a tea restaurant across from the building, observing the entrance through the window. It wasn¡¯t until groups of white-collar workers began to emerge from the building that he paid the bill and left.


    He bought a disposable lighter and a pack of Marlboro cigarettes at a convenience store, then made his way through the lunch crowd into the lobby, taking the elevator to the 37th floor.


    As the elevator doors opened, he first saw a row of floor-to-ceiling glass partitions that divided the office area, resembling several large connected fish tanks. He smirked and walked to the corner of the elevator lobby to look at the floor plan, identifying his destination before heading down the corridor to the entrance of "Ruoyuan International."


    The electronic lock showed a red light, indicating that the glass door was locked. He glanced around to ensure no one was nearby, then walked to the door and peered inside.


    Directly opposite the entrance stood a frosted glass partition with the company logo in sky blue, dividing the office into a reception area and an office space. In front of the partition was an unattended front desk, with two black leather sofas and a small round glass coffee table by the entrance. To the right of the partition was a passageway leading to the back office area. Through the passageway, he could see desks and a photocopier in the corner.


    He walked to the end of the hallway and pushed open the fire escape''s smoke-proof door, entering the stairwell. After closing the door, he used the wired glass panel to monitor the entrance to "Ruoyuan International." To avoid drawing attention, he moved a trash can nearby, took out a cigarette, and lit it. Anyone who saw him would probably think he was just a small office worker hiding in the stairwell to smoke but afraid of being caught.


    He stayed in the stairwell for more than an hour until lunchtime ended. During this time, three people entered "Ruoyuan International"¡ªtwo female clerks in business attire and a young white-collar worker in a cheap suit.


    He remained until 1:30 p.m., then took the stairs down to the 36th floor, caught the elevator down, and returned to the hotel.


    That evening, he called the familiar "Thomas Investigation Consulting Company."


    Brian Thomas was a former CIA senior official with the Berlin Division''s Operations Department and had been stationed in the Luxembourg office, responsible for funding overseas operations. After resigning three years ago, he founded a business investigation company in New York, using his network to provide investment evaluation services for financial institutions.


    The negotiation went smoothly, and the two quickly reached an agreement. Deng Shiyang commissioned the company to investigate "Ruoyuan International," specifically instructing them to focus on the period after last year''s end, seeking to understand the major shareholders'' holdings during the asset restructuring earlier this year.


    After the call, he logged into online banking and transferred $2,000 as a down payment for the investigation to the account provided by Thomas.


    The next day, the business cards were delivered as scheduled. Deng Shiyang took one out and examined it closely. The address and phone number on the card matched the contact details on the official website. Next to Jason Du''s name, his position was printed as "Overseas Development Manager."


    Seeing this, Deng Shiyang chuckled and murmured to himself, "Looks like he''s smarter than he looks."


    Over the following days, he continued to review the materials and pack his luggage. Soon, the departure day arrived.


    That afternoon, he checked out of the hotel, packed his luggage, and left. He first stored his luggage in a locker at the airport, then went into the restroom, put on contact lenses and the black-framed glasses, and styled his hair with wax to match the passport photo. He then went to HSBC''s main branch in Central, where he opened an account under the name Jason Du and deposited $10,000. He also rented a safety deposit box, where he locked away his credit card and passport.


    By the time he finished, it was near dusk. He had a simple dinner, returned to the airport to retrieve his luggage, and passed through security. He headed to the South African Airways lounge to meet the other members of the inspection group.


    At 11:50 p.m., South African Airways flight SA287, carrying more than 20 members of the inspection group, took off from the runway, bound for Johannesburg.


    Annotations:


    Asset Management (DnB NOR Asset Management): The largest financial services institution in Norway, founded in 1822, headquartered in Oslo, with total assets of NOK 1.8 trillion (about $300 billion).

 On the way

    Deng Shiyang spoke very little on the plane, deliberately using halting Chinese with a strong Cantonese accent to introduce his company when engaging in conversation. He politely exchanged business cards with the other members of the delegation, maintaining a humble and gentle demeanor to avoid drawing attention to himself.


    The next morning at 7 a.m., the flight landed at Oliver Tambo International Airport in Johannesburg.


    Originally, Swaziland''s national airline operated 26 aircraft and had two routes, but after the coup, the country''s unstable situation, along with conflicts with the West, led the British and Brazilians to withdraw their technical personnel and suspend parts supply. All jet aircraft in Swaziland were grounded, leaving only a few old propeller planes to maintain international air traffic. The route to Dar es Salaam was also suspended due to the aircraft''s limited range.


    South Africa is now the only country with air connections to Swaziland. Two weekly flights between Johannesburg and Matsapha maintain air traffic between the two nations, requiring travelers to Swaziland to transfer in Johannesburg.


    As soon as the delegation entered the terminal, two men approached them. Leading the way was a Black man who appeared to be under 30, sporting a buzz cut. Behind him was a dark-skinned Asian-looking young man.


    Upon meeting, the Asian youth with a Malay face pointed to the Black man and introduced him in Chinese: "This is Mr. Deba Musabai from Swaziland''s Department of Economic Development."


    The Black man nodded and greeted them in broken English, "I¡­represent¡­the¡­Swaziland¡­government¡­welcome¡­you¡­all¡­"


    His English was extremely clumsy, with an accent that seemed to blend English syllables with an African dialect, and his speech was so halting that it was almost as if he were reciting vocabulary words. It left listeners feeling uneasy.


    The Asian youth said in Chinese, "Mr. Musabai represents the Swaziland government and welcomes you all."


    After the greetings, the two men led the delegation to Swaziland Airlines'' lounge. Inside, there was a rectangular table covered with a white cloth, laden with food and drinks, which served as breakfast for the group.


    At 10 a.m., the delegation was taken to the tarmac by minibus and boarded a "Jetstream-41" regional aircraft.


    Deng Shiyang was at the back of the line as he walked up the boarding stairs into the cabin. A faint smell of rotten eggs hit his nose, and he instinctively rubbed it while glancing around the cabin. The plane''s interior looked very worn, with a sloppy cleaning job. The carpets and seat cushions hadn''t been washed properly, leaving dark stains that were quite off-putting.


    He walked down the narrow aisle to the back of the plane to find an empty seat. The 29-seat regional aircraft was full, with the inspection group on board and four additional Western passengers seated at the back.


    These four passengers were all White, ranging in age from 30 to 50. They wore T-shirts bearing the red ribbon logo and the letters "NATICC" and were chatting together.


    Deng Shiyang had seen the name "NATICC" on the show *60 Minutes*. It stands for the "Nhlangano AIDS Training, Information, and Counselling Centre," a church-affiliated non-profit organization founded in 2002. Headquartered in Nhlangano, the capital of the Shiselweni region, it provides free HIV testing and conducts training and counseling to prevent the spread of the virus.


    He placed his laptop bag in the luggage compartment, then politely nodded to the woman in her 30s sitting beside him before taking the seat next to her.


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Soon, the plane took off with a cough-like engine noise.


    Once airborne, Deng Shiyang started a conversation with the woman, who had short, light blonde hair.


    Western women usually don''t refuse to engage in conversation with polite men, and this woman, who exuded an intellectual aura, was no exception. Especially after he complimented her organization and expressed concern about the AIDS problem in Africa, they quickly found common ground.


    Her name was Clareen Whitney, an Australian doctor and a volunteer with a medical organization funded by the Catholic Church. She was responsible for training local medical staff in Swaziland. She and her three colleagues had just attended a meeting of the United Nations Programme on HIV/AIDS in Geneva and were preparing to return to Swaziland.


    After discussing the AIDS issue in Africa for a while, Deng Shiyang inquired about the situation in Swaziland.


    "Investment? You must be joking," Whitney''s expression turned incredulous upon learning that the people on the plane were there for a business inspection.


    "The place is a total mess."


    Deng Shiyang shrugged and replied helplessly, "Unfortunately, that''s the reality."


    "Swaziland is now like one of those newly independent African countries in the 50s and 60s. They overthrew the monarchy and hastily set up a power group, only to end up handing the country over to another dictator."


    "After Ndofa took power, a large number of officials from the previous government were dismissed, and their successors were all his cronies. The new government implemented nationalization reforms, seizing a lot of assets that originally belonged to the royal family and the former government, but all the wealth went straight into the president''s pocket."


    "Corruption and embezzlement have worsened an already struggling economy. To consolidate his power, unions and civil groups have all been banned, and many educated intellectuals have been imprisoned. Schools have completely shut down. Since the state of emergency was declared, the country has been regressing towards the Middle Ages at full speed. It won¡¯t be long before you start seeing people with bones through their noses running around in the streets."


    "Oh my gosh! It can''t be that bad, can it?"


    "Why not? Ndofa''s followers have formed several ''revolutionary organizations,'' bands of thugs wearing red armbands and presidential badges who go around looting. They''ve smashed schools, set fire to libraries, and arbitrarily detained and tortured anyone suspected of being a ''counter-revolutionary.''"


    "What about the police? Don¡¯t they do anything?"


    "The military government stripped the police of their law enforcement powers, sending them all home and imposing martial law in the cities. But the army turns a blind eye to the hooligans, adopting a hands-off approach."


    "That is indeed terrible." Deng Shiyang nodded in agreement, then sighed.


    "It gets worse! Because the president is a fervent anti-Western follower of traditional religion, the new government views Christianity and Catholicism as symbols of ''separatist forces.'' They''ve demolished churches and hospitals, expelled missionaries and church-trained medical workers, and even banned prayer and worship. Can you imagine? After the fall of the Taliban, another government on Earth has emerged that bans prayer."


    Deng Shiyang glanced at the agitated Whitney and asked with concern, "In that case, isn''t it dangerous for you to return to Swaziland?"


    "There¡¯s no choice. The AIDS problem in Swaziland is already at a critical level. Moreover, Ndofa is planning to take extreme measures to curb the virus''s spread by designating Shiselweni as a quarantine zone, forcibly sending all diagnosed patients there. Ostensibly, this is for centralized treatment, but in reality, it''s an exile to the wilderness, leaving them to die. It''s practically murder¡­"


    Her tone was filled with indignation and dissatisfaction, causing her voice to unconsciously rise. This drew the attention of Musabai, who angrily walked over to their seats, using a rude gesture to silence them.


    Deng Shiyang gave Musabai a displeased look and returned a fierce glare. He then quietly apologized to Whitney and stopped talking.


    **Annotations:**


    Oliver Reginald Tambo International Airport (OR Tambo International Airport): Formerly known as "Johannesburg International Airport," it was renamed in 2006 in honor of the late "ANC" President Oliver Reginald Tambo.


    Dar es Salaam: The largest city in Tanzania.


    Jetstream-41: A turboprop regional airliner manufactured by British Aerospace.


    *60 Minutes*: A television news magazine produced by CBS in the United States.


    Nhlangano AIDS Training, Information, and Counselling Centre (NATICC): An organization providing AIDS-related services in Swaziland.


    Shiselweni: An administrative region in southern Swaziland.


    Joint United Nations Programme on HIV/AIDS (UNAIDS): An organization promoting and coordinating global efforts to combat AIDS.

 Take away

    After more than an hour of flying, the "Jetstream-41" regional aircraft landed on the runway at Matsapha Airport.


    Deng Shiyang gazed out the plane window, surveying the land he was about to set foot on.


    Near the hangars were seven aircraft with Swaziland Airlines'' logo on the tail fins, including three ERJ-135s and four BAe-146s. These expensive jet planes were covered in dust, with streaks of gray and black from rainwater running down the white fuselages, clearly abandoned for some time.


    In the distant corner of the tarmac were three dismantled "Jetstream-41" aircraft. Their propellers, engines, radar noses, and even window glass were all missing, leaving behind hollow shells that resembled corpses abandoned to decay in the wilderness.


    The plane taxied down the runway and rolled onto the northwest corner of the tarmac, eventually coming to a stop in front of the terminal building.


    He retrieved his carry-on luggage from the overhead bin and followed the crowd off the plane. As soon as he stepped onto the concrete tarmac, he saw a white Toyota T100 pickup truck approaching. The truck stopped near the rear of the aircraft, and the ground crew riding in the bed scrambled up with folding ladders, opening the cargo hold to unload the luggage.


    Although he had heard about the rough behavior of African airport ground staff, seeing it firsthand still made him frown. There were no elevators or conveyor belts at this airport; porters climbed up the ladder and crawled into the cargo hold to drag the luggage out and toss it onto the ground, where others then loaded it into the truck bed. Seeing the expressions of "distress" on his fellow travelers'' faces, Deng Shiyang felt a small sense of satisfaction; his expensive Rimowa suitcase had proven useful after all.


    As soon as he entered the terminal building, a wave of heat hit him. The building had no air conditioning, and the midday sun beat down on the thin fiberglass roof, making the lobby unbearably hot. The air was filled with the mixed odor of spoiled food and sweat, making one not want to stay even a second longer.


    The lobby was clean but eerily quiet. The walls and columns were covered with slogans and posters bearing the president''s photo. Ndofa, a fat Black man in his fifties, was striking an exaggerated pose, left hand on his waist and right hand raised high to display his nonexistent "leader''s charisma."


    The ruler of Swaziland wore a peaked cap and black aviator sunglasses. He was dressed in a gray-blue military dress uniform with a chest full of medals, and his epaulets were embroidered with general''s rank in golden thread, while a sapphire blue sash was slung diagonally across his chest. Due to his body shape, the stiff military uniform looked anything but heroic, appearing rather comical. The addition of the sash made things even worse, resembling a bundle of fabric tied around a ball of meat.


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Nearby, a dozen or so soldiers were seen. They wore wrinkled yellow-green uniforms and gray-green berets, with Uzis or Sterling submachine guns slung at their waists, lazily leaning against the walls inside the lobby.


    The entry procedures were extremely simple; large luggage was directly loaded onto vehicles, carry-on bags weren''t checked, and all that was required was to show a passport for a stamp at the border control.


    However, Whitney''s group was stopped at the immigration counter.


    Three soldiers in olive-green uniforms and red berets approached from one side of the airport. Leading them was an officer with a pistol holster on his belt, while the two soldiers following behind carried rusty SG543 assault rifles slung across their chests. Their demeanor was arrogant, exuding an air of authority over life and death.


    Musabai stepped forward, whispered a few words to the officer, and then pointed at Whitney. The officer turned and waved, and the two soldiers immediately rushed forward, snatching her luggage without explanation and grabbing her by the arm to pull her aside.


    Her companions began to protest, with one gray-haired man stepping forward, spreading his arms to block the officer, and voicing his dissatisfaction, "You can''t do this, we are commissioned by the United Nations..."


    The officer suddenly reached out and forcefully shoved him, pushing him onto his back, then shouted angrily. Even though the language was Swazi and incomprehensible, the body language and expressions made it clear that the words were crude and vulgar.


    This behavior was quite brutal, and when Whitney''s two other companions saw someone being hit, they also stepped forward to loudly protest.


    Unexpectedly, the officer suddenly drew a "Browning" pistol from his belt, waving it around and shouting. The two soldiers holding Whitney immediately released her and raised their guns towards the crowd.


    The argument quickly escalated into a commotion, with exclamations echoing throughout the lobby, and the two White men crouching down, holding their heads in fear. The reaction among the members of the inspection group was similar, as they all bent over and scattered in different directions to avoid trouble.


    However, the three "Red Berets" who had caused the disturbance showed no intention of backing down. Instead, they became even more aggressive, pointing their weapons at several of the White people and intimidating them. The officer arrogantly brandished his pistol, his dark face contorted with excitement, displaying a cruel smile.


    Deng Shiyang had watched a documentary on the Rwandan genocide, where Hutu soldiers often showed the same expression¡ªan inherent trait of a semi-civilized people. To them, weapons symbolized power, and they acted without any logic or reason, like bombs that could go off at any moment.


    Seeing the situation spiraling out of control, Musabai hurriedly stepped in to stop the officer. After a round of loud scolding, the officer holstered his pistol and instructed the two soldiers to lift the frightened female doctor and take her away, leaving her companions cowering on the ground, trembling.


    Annotations:


    ERJ-135: A regional jet airliner manufactured by Embraer.


    BAe-146: A four-engine short-haul jet aircraft produced by British Aerospace.

 To the Hotel

    After the commotion subsided, Musabai offered no explanation, merely having the interpreter give a few symbolic words of reassurance before urging everyone to head to the hotel.


    A moment ago, people had been frantically seeking cover all over the lobby, but they quickly gathered together again. They picked up their luggage from the floor with blank expressions, deliberately avoiding looking at the terrified White passengers, as if the incident had never happened.


    Deng Shiyang cast a look of disgust at them, took a deep breath through his nose, and followed the crowd out of the airport.


    In the parking lot, there was a white bus with dark green stripes painted on the body. The pickup truck that had carried the luggage was parked next to it, with several ground crew members stuffing the luggage into the bus¡¯s luggage compartment.


    The Hino Blue Ribbon tour bus, marked "Swazi Sun Hotel," had an old-fashioned appearance, looking like a model from the mid-1980s. The words "×Ô„Óìé" ("automatic door" in Japanese) were stuck to the glass of the bus door, indicating that it was a used import from Japan. Despite its age, the bus was well-maintained; the body was spotless, and even the chrome-plated silver wheels were gleaming without a speck of dust.


    As he boarded with the others, Deng Shiyang noticed that the interior was as clean as the exterior. The floor was well-swept, and the seatbacks were covered with crisp white slipcovers, a stark contrast to the regional aircraft of Swaziland Airlines, making one feel like they were not in Africa.


    He walked toward the back of the bus, choosing a window seat, and placed his shoulder bag on the seat beside him.


    After everyone had settled in, the interpreter handed out an English travel guide and a Manila folder to each person before announcing loudly, "Mobile phones are considered contraband in our country, and we will keep them safe for you. Please place your phones in the folder, write your name on it, seal it, and hand it over. Your phones will be returned when you leave."


    Due to a lack of maintenance, Swaziland¡¯s mobile communication network had collapsed after the coup. Now, there was no mobile signal in the country except near the borders with South Africa and Mozambique. Deng Shiyang could not see the necessity of confiscating phones, but he still cooperated, turning off his phone, sealing it in the folder with the adhesive tape, writing his name on the seal, and handing it over.


    Musabai placed the collected folders in a cardboard box, taped it shut, and affixed a seal.


    Next, the interpreter opened the travel guide and began to explain the regulations for visiting Swaziland:


    1. Photography is only allowed in designated areas, and photos must be taken with permission from the interpreter or guide. Military personnel and facilities are strictly prohibited from being photographed.


    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.2. Leaving the hotel without permission is not allowed, and outings must be accompanied by the interpreter or guide.


    3. Under no circumstances should anyone act independently. Always consult the interpreter or guide.


    4. Never, in any form, joke about the "Honorable President."


    5. Do not deface or damage posters of the president or any other propaganda materials.


    Looking at the travel guide, which seemed more like a parole sheet, Deng Shiyang pursed his lips in dissatisfaction and glanced around the bus. The other members of the group looked calm, as if this was nothing unusual.


    Once preparations were complete, the tour bus, carrying the inspection group, left the airport and headed for the Swazi Sun Hotel near Ezulwini.


    At that moment, the interpreter suddenly announced loudly, "Attention everyone: from the airport to the hotel, photography is strictly prohibited."


    Deng Shiyang frowned, stuffed his Leica M8 digital camera into his shoulder bag, and clipped his iPod Shuffle to his lapel. He switched the MP3 player to recording mode, put on the earphones, and leaned slightly against the window, pretending to admire the scenery along the way.


    The tour bus did not enter Matsapha but instead followed a small road next to the airport heading east, bypassing the town and turning onto Highway 103 towards Ezulwini.


    There were no other vehicles on the road, and the bus crawled along at less than 40 mph. The roadside was lined with large fields of crops he could not name. Occasionally, he saw dirt paths made from compacted soil, piled at the entrance with giant concrete blocks typically used for seawalls, with the paths winding away into the fields. Many houses made of mud bricks and asbestos tiles that used to stand along the dirt roads had been reduced to rubble by bulldozers.


    In the fields away from the highway, clusters of communal farms made up of simple houses could be seen. The houses, uniformly blue-roofed with white walls, were neatly arranged but appeared dull and lifeless. Surrounded by fields, there was no visible access to the outside, like isolated islands in a sea of green.


    The monotonous scenery quickly drained one''s curiosity and patience. The road to the hotel seemed endless, and as some people began to nod off, the tour bus stopped at a checkpoint near Lobamba.


    Deng Shiyang examined the checkpoint closely through the window.


    The checkpoint was essentially a simple wooden hut built beside the road. It was about ten feet wide and twenty-five feet long, with freshly painted cream-colored exterior walls and a corrugated iron roof glinting in the sunlight, clearly indicating it was newly constructed.


    In the open area in front of the hut were an army-green Iveco light truck and a white Nissan pickup. The pickup did not have military plates, and its doors were marked with a black-painted emblem of a five-pointed star and two crossed spears, the insignia of the "Swaziland People''s Liberation Army."


    Next to the road was a sandbag bunker about half a person''s height, with an SS-77 general-purpose machine gun mounted inside. A firing slit had been cut into the sandbag wall facing southwest, with the gun barrel sticking out, aimed diagonally towards the other end of the road. Nearby on the ground lay a tangled coil of spike strips.


    There were only four soldiers manning the checkpoint, dressed in wrinkled, dirty British DPM camouflage uniforms, armed with R1 or SG540 rifles, and standing lazily near the sandbag bunker.


    Deng Shiyang pressed the shutter, capturing the scene of the checkpoint.


    Annotations:


    SS-77: A 7.62mm general-purpose machine gun manufactured by South African company Vektor.


    R1: The South African version of the FAL rifle.

 At the Hotel

    The inspection process was very casual, not even meeting the standard of mere formality. They didn''t check the vehicle at all or ask the driver for a pass. The soldier holding the stop sign walked over to the tour bus, glanced briefly into the cabin through the glass, and then waved the bus through.


    After passing the checkpoint, the scenery along the highway became more varied. In the distance, a series of rolling hills appeared, with patches of light gray rooftops scattered across the slopes, interspersed with flickering white points of light, likely sunlight reflecting off glass.


    Lobamba is a town located in western Swaziland, on the border between the Hhohho and Manzini regions. It used to be the legislative capital of the country and the location of the parliament and the Queen Mother''s palace. There was also a national stadium near the highway that could accommodate 2,000 people, making it a bustling large town.


    But now, as seen firsthand, Lobamba was in a similar state to Matsapha. Villages near the highway were abandoned, with large concrete blocks piled up on the roads and the houses demolished. Within a quarter-mile of the highway, there were no buildings other than the checkpoint.


    The main road leading into the town was a straight dirt path that stretched southwest across the bare open land for about half a mile, ending in a cluster of low, rudimentary houses. The town was teardrop-shaped, with its narrow end connected to the dirt road and surrounded by a circle of barbed wire fencing, enclosing a dense cluster of light gray rooftops.


    At the junction of the dirt road and the highway was a military camp covering about an acre, surrounded by barbed wire in a rectangular shape. Inside the camp were three large barracks and one smaller one, arranged in a "pin" (Æ·)formation.


    It was already lunchtime, and smoke was rising from the chimney of one of the barracks. Apart from the guards at the camp entrance, no other soldiers could be seen, and even the watchtowers at the four corners of the camp were unmanned.


    Four vehicles were parked in the open area in front of the camp: two Mitsubishi Pajero light utility vehicles painted in yellow-green camouflage, a Bedford 4-ton military truck, and a Land Rover 101 one-ton truck with an FN MAG  Medium machine gun mounted on the roof.


    As the bus passed the military camp, Deng Shiyang continuously pressed the shutter button on his camera.


    After leaving Lobamba, the tour bus drove along the highway for about ten minutes before arriving at the Swazi Sun Hotel near Ezulwini.


    As soon as the bus stopped, sixteen hostesses in apricot-colored cheongsams stood in two rows at the entrance, bowing in unison. A young woman, dressed in a neat navy-blue business suit over a white shirt with brown stripes and wearing a gold name badge on her left chest, stepped forward and greeted the passengers in Mandarin with a Beijing accent, "On behalf of the Swazi Sun Hotel, I welcome you all. I hope you have a pleasant stay, and I wish you success in your inspection."


    The lobby manager looked to be in her twenties, with a delicate face lightly made up, her hair neatly tied into a bun at the back and held in place by an amber hairpin, giving her a sharp and professional appearance. Her expressions and movements were impeccable, showing that she had received specialized training.


    Everyone followed her into the lobby. Several bellboys in dark brown uniforms approached the bus to open the luggage compartment and load the suitcases onto handcarts.


    The luxurious hotel lobby was devoid of other guests, giving it a somewhat deserted feel. It had the same atmosphere as most Chinese hotels¡ªbright, clean, and upscale, but also slightly impersonal and lacking in character.


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    The hotel was originally named the "Royal Swazi Sun Hotel" and belonged to the royal family¡¯s "Sun International Group." After the coup, it was nationalized. Currently, only two hotels in Swaziland allow foreign guests to stay: this one and the "Ezulwini Sun Hotel" in the capital, Mbabane.


    As Swaziland''s only five-star hotel, the facilities were quite complete, including a casino, gym, swimming pool, a large spa center, and an international-standard 72-par golf course.


    However, Deng Shiyang didn¡¯t have time to enjoy any of it. After lunch, he declined invitations from other group members and spent over half an hour exploring the hotel, hoping to find a local who could share information about the country.


    The outcome was disappointing. There were no other guests in the hotel, and all the staff were Chinese, not a single local in sight. So, he went to the bar, ordered a beer, and sat at the counter, striking up a conversation with the handsome bartender.


    The young bartender was very friendly, and there was a sense of "finding a familiar face in a foreign land."


    The young man¡¯s surname was Zhong, and he was originally from Hubei, China. He had graduated from the Beijing Union University¡¯s School of Tourism last year with a diploma in hospitality management. However, he graduated just as the Olympic boom subsided, and the domestic hotel industry was struggling. Earlier this year, he came across information about the African expansion program by the China National Tourism Administration and signed up for the exam to become an overseas staff member in Swaziland. With his fluent English and certified advanced bartender skills, he stood out among many competitors and left China to work at the hotel at the beginning of the year.


    In some environments, having the same eye and hair color or speaking the same language can quickly make people feel familiar with one another. That was the case here, and by the time Deng Shiyang started his second beer, it was as if the two had known each other for years, and they began to chat casually.


    ¡°How long have you been here?¡± Deng Shiyang asked, starting with the same question he often used when meeting colleagues in Baghdad.


    ¡°One month and twenty-one days,¡± Zhong replied without a second thought.


    ¡°Is the work busy?¡± But as soon as he asked, Deng Shiyang realized it was a rather silly question.


    ¡°Bored to death. You¡¯re the first group of guests we¡¯ve hosted.¡±


    Feigning a slightly surprised expression, Deng Shiyang asked, ¡°Does no one usually come here?¡±


    ¡°Not at all. To save energy, the hotel is usually in a semi-closed state. We received the notification that you were coming a week ago and started preparing then.¡±


    ¡°Getting paid to do nothing isn¡¯t a bad deal.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I thought at first, but it took less than a week for me to change my mind.¡±


    Zhong paused and then explained to the puzzled Deng Shiyang, ¡°There¡¯s no internet here, no satellite TV, not even a bar or caf¨¦¡ªabsolutely nothing to do. Plus, we can¡¯t leave the hotel, so apart from the dormitory, the only place we can go is the cafeteria.¡±


    ¡°What about TV and radio?¡±


    ¡°The TV and radio here only broadcast for four hours a day, and they¡¯re not in English. As for newspapers, I haven¡¯t seen one in over a month.¡±


    ¡°If you can¡¯t leave the hotel, how do you get daily necessities? How do you stay in contact with the outside world?¡±


    ¡°We make a list of items, and they bring them in by truck once a week. For outside contact, there are international calls and mail, but the phone lines here are often down, and disconnections are common. So, writing letters is the main way to keep in touch with home. We¡¯ve been asking our families to send more books and magazines, which we exchange among ourselves. I heard that the embassy is planning to install a satellite phone, so things should get easier once that¡¯s done.¡±


    Deng Shiyang sipped his beer, putting on a thoughtful expression while keeping the useful information in mind. After finishing two beers, he stood up to leave.


    At the checkout, he placed his credit card and a $50 bill in the bill folder, using a slightly pleading tone, ¡°Do you know where I can get information about this country? My boss asked me to write a feasibility report on investing in Swaziland, and he wants to know as much as possible about the place. Of course, I¡¯m not talking about things set up for ¡®public display.¡¯¡±


    The young bartender looked a bit hesitant at the cash, then, after thinking for a moment, awkwardly replied, ¡°I¡¯m not sure about that, but I heard from someone at the embassy that there¡¯s a Chinese restaurant in Mbabane called ¡®Huali,¡¯ owned by a Taiwanese man who has lived in Swaziland for ten years. He might know something you¡¯d be interested in.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s good enough. Thank you.¡± Deng Shiyang thanked him with a satisfied smile, tapping the table twice in front of the bill folder.


    The bartender, seeing this, happily took the bill folder and walked towards the cash register in the corner of the bar.

 Manzini

    The next morning, the inspection group boarded a pale yellow Toyota Coaster minibus bound for Manzini.


    Deng Shiyang wore headphones, lazily leaning his shoulder against the window. He rested his left hand on his cheek while occasionally fiddling with the iPod Shuffle clipped to his lapel, capturing images of the checkpoints they passed.


    In the mesh pocket on the back of the seat in front of him was a brochure the size of a magazine, containing promotional materials from the Swaziland Ministry of Economic Development.


    This brochure had been a "souvenir" from the previous night''s welcome banquet, and its quality could only be described as "shoddy." The text was rife with poor wording and spelling errors on nearly every page. The accompanying images were even worse, with obvious Photoshop edits apparent even to someone like Deng Shiyang, who knew little about image editing software.


    As for last night''s banquet, the memory still brought a smile to Deng Shiyang''s face.


    The event was hosted by Major General Revende Ashalon Dunier, the Minister of Economic Development. He was a plump Black man with a round face, squinty eyes, a flat nose, thick lips, and a double chin, looking comically like a cartoon character.


    Before the banquet began, the minister gave a toast. Since he didn''t speak English, and there was no interpreter who spoke both Swazi and Chinese present, the speech had to be translated from Swazi to English by one interpreter, then from English to Chinese by another. This made the already lengthy toast even more cumbersome.


    Based on the minister''s performance, it was clear that even if he wasn''t illiterate, he was not much better than a semi-literate person. Though he was reading from a script, he repeatedly stumbled over his words, often interrupting himself to correct mistakes, leaving the two interpreters quite embarrassed.


    At 10:15 in the morning, the Coaster minibus turned onto Highway 3 near Matsapha, entering the outskirts of Manzini.


    Manzini looked much like it did in the satellite images on Google Earth. The city was built on a vast hilly area, with the urban center located on a flat plateau where government offices and upscale residences were concentrated. The industrial zone lay in the southwestern corner, consisting of large blue-roofed, white-walled factory buildings. Beyond the city limits, the rolling hills stretched out, with terraced fields on the southeastern slopes and makeshift slums scattered across other areas.


    To enter the city center, one had to pass through a series of checkpoints. The district, sealed off with barbed wire and concrete barricades, resembled a separate town, with a starkly different appearance from the suburbs. The roadsides were lined with lush trees, and the houses were two-story villas with private gardens. Occasionally, luxurious mansions with tennis courts and swimming pools could be seen. Even after passing just one intersection, there were already more cars than seen the previous day.


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    The Coaster left Highway 3, taking a side road onto Ngwane Street, and continued until reaching the junction with Dudu Street, where it finally stopped in front of the Tums George Hotel, the only hotel in Manzini. Two staff members from the "China-Swaziland Trade and Economic Cooperation Office" under the Ministry of Commerce greeted the group and led them to a spacious conference room.


    The content of the meeting was nothing new¡ªit was all about vigorously promoting the Swaziland government''s incentives for foreign investment and boasting about the country''s investment environment, as if they were not merely seeking investments but trying to ensure the visiting companies would make a fortune.


    Deng Shiyang was unimpressed by these statements. While still in Hong Kong, he had already learned about Swaziland''s economic situation from the information provided by Harrowby.


    Before the coup, Swaziland had diplomatic relations with the Republic of China (Taiwan), which had made numerous investments in the country. In Manzini alone, there were more than a dozen Taiwanese factories engaged in textiles, garment production, and small electronics manufacturing.


    After the coup, the new government became hostile toward the West, and Ndofa pushed for diplomatic relations with the People''s Republic of China, making it impossible to maintain ties with Taiwan. Without diplomatic protection, many Taiwanese businessmen, fearing their assets would be "nationalized," withdrew en masse, resulting in a significant loss of capital and technical personnel. Combined with Swaziland''s current political instability, the country''s industrial system had effectively collapsed.


    To address the increasingly severe economic and employment problems, the new government actively sought to develop trade and economic cooperation with China, hoping to bring in funds and technology to restore factory operations. However, they only intended to offer revenue sharing in exchange and had no plans to grant management or operational rights. In short, the Chinese side would not only provide funds and technology but also bear most of the risks.


    Deng Shiyang realized from the day he set out that most members of the inspection group represented Chinese state-owned enterprises. After witnessing the situation in Swaziland over the past two days, he began to suspect that the investment was just a cover, and in reality, it was a way for the Chinese government to disguise its financial aid to Swaziland.


    The meeting lasted until noon. The group had lunch in a restaurant where the tablecloths were still damp, and afterward, they visited a state-owned garment factory in the company of local officials from Manzini.


    The factory compound consisted of four workshops and a warehouse, making it relatively large by Manzini''s standards. One workshop was operational, while the doors of the other three were shut tight. Deng Shiyang glanced at the rooftops of the buildings and noticed that none of the passive ventilators were running.


    Inside the workshop was a sewing room where a group of young girls, around fifteen or sixteen years old, dressed in white uniforms, sat at sewing machines, stitching a batch of white T-shirts with red lettering.


    The tour continued until 4 p.m. When the group was leaving Manzini, the local officials presented each member with a white T-shirt bearing the slogan "I Love General Endofa" printed on the front. This was a product from the garment factory, intended as a gift for the public on the president''s birthday two months later.

 Mbabane

    On the third day, the inspection group set off for Mbabane, where they would stay for two days. During this time, they planned to visit government offices and meet with officials from the Chinese Ministry of Foreign Affairs stationed there.


    The mode of transportation was once again the Hino Blue Ribbon tour bus. The bus turned onto Highway 3 at the junction near Ezulwini and then headed north along the main road that runs through Swaziland, towards the end of the Ezulwini Valley.


    There was a prominent landmark at the entrance to the capital: a wide mural. The mural¡¯s background depicted a clear blue sky and rolling dark green hills, with a foreground of golden fields. President Ndofa stood on the left, dressed in military uniform, standing tall and gazing into the distance with a heroic posture. In front of him was a jubilant crowd of Black people wearing traditional Swazi attire, raising their hands in celebration.


    Mbabane''s layout was similar to Manzini''s, but two construction sites caught Deng Shiyang''s attention.


    The first was the tall wall surrounding the city center. The wall stood about sixteen feet high, made of large prefabricated reinforced concrete sections. The completed sections were topped with barbed wire, and CCTV cameras were installed. The construction fence displayed the words "China Railway 14th Bureau Group Co., Ltd." in Chinese.


    The tour guide''s voice came through the bus''s internal speaker: "What you are now seeing is the capital zone wall under construction. The wall will be ten kilometers long, encircling the city center and the Kenlow and Sandral districts, covering a total area of six square kilometers. Government offices, foreign embassies, and the commercial district of Mbabane are located within this protected zone."


    The second site was located three-quarters of a mile east of the city center on a cliff. Two rows of scaffolding led up to an observation platform at the top of the cliff. At the top, a structure of more than ten stories of scaffolding surrounded a large brown-gray base, atop which were two massive bronze-colored "legs."


    The guide''s voice came through the speakers again: "On the eastern hilltop is the unfinished statue of President Ndofa. The statue was a gift from the Chinese government, weighing over 250 tons and standing 30.5 meters tall. The granite base is eight meters high, built on a mountaintop at an altitude of 1,380 meters. To facilitate visits, two escalators have been installed on the nearby cliff. The project is being carried out by China Railway 14th Bureau..."


    Deng Shiyang smirked and muttered softly, "How convenient, it''s half a meter taller than the one atop Corcovado."


    The inspection group stayed at the Ezulwini Sun Hotel, located in Coronation Park on the west side of Arnett Miller Street. Like the Swazi Sun Hotel where they had previously stayed, this hotel, which only permitted foreign guests, was also managed by Chinese staff, with no locals employed.


    After settling in, Deng Shiyang approached one of the interpreters accompanying the group and requested to eat out, using the excuse that he could get used to Chinese food.


    The interpreter, a man in his thirties, looked troubled and objected, "That would be against the rules. If you insist, it will put me in a difficult position..."


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    Sensing the implication, Deng Shiyang discreetly slipped a twenty-dollar bill into the interpreter''s hand and whispered, "I''d really like to try some Chinese food in this country. Please make an exception."


    After pocketing the cash, the interpreter''s attitude immediately became more accommodating. He quickly took care of the necessary reporting procedures and even called for a taxi. Before they left, he reminded him, "Don''t bring a camera when you go out, or you''ll get into big trouble."


    Deng Shiyang readily agreed. He returned to his room, locked the door, and took a notebook and a white pill bottle labeled "Valium" from his travel bag. He tore a blank page from the notebook and placed it on the coffee table. He then poured two Valium tablets onto the paper and used a wide-mouthed glass to crush them into a fine powder, wrapping it up in the paper and placing it in his jacket pocket.


    He washed his hands and cleaned the glass in the bathroom, then clipped the iPod Shuffle to his lapel and left the hotel with the interpreter in the taxi.


    Mbabane¡¯s commercial district looked desolate. There were few cars and pedestrians on the streets, and soldiers armed with guns could often be seen by the roadside. They stood in groups of four, holding or carrying mismatched weapons in various odd positions, and lounged around modified Mitsubishi or Nissan SUVs used as military vehicles.


    "Huali" Chinese restaurant was tucked away in a quiet corner of the commercial district, about a ten-minute drive from the hotel. The restaurant was small, with no other customers inside. Seeing the two men walk in, the owner enthusiastically guided them to a table near the drink bar, handed them the menu, and stood by to take their order.


    Deng Shiyang skimmed through the menu and then ordered a meal worth over a hundred dollars, specifically requesting a bottle of the most expensive Hennessy Cognac. He knew that in this resource-scarce country, foreign liquor was a luxury that ordinary people could hardly afford, so he kept toasting the interpreter.


    At first, the interpreter tried to put on an act of polite refusal, but under Deng Shiyang''s encouragement, he soon started downing glasses one after another.


    The gourd-shaped bottle was half-empty in no time. Deng Shiyang excused himself to the restroom, where he carefully retrieved the paper packet of powder from his jacket pocket, placing it against the inside of his left wrist and securing it with the watch strap.


    When he returned to the table, he picked up the cognac bottle with both hands, poured the drink into his glass, and subtly slipped the paper packet out from under his watch strap, releasing the powder into his own glass as he poured.


    He then "accidentally" knocked over a dish, spilling the sauce onto the interpreter¡¯s napkin-covered lap. While the interpreter was distracted cleaning his clothes, Deng Shiyang switched their glasses.


    The interpreter suspected nothing and, after drinking the brandy mixed with the sedative, soon collapsed onto the table. Deng Shiyang called his name a couple of times and gently shook his shoulder to confirm that he was asleep. He then approached the drink bar and whispered to the restaurant owner, "My interpreter is drunk and won¡¯t be getting up anytime soon. Would you be interested in talking before he wakes up?"


    The gray-haired owner scrutinized Deng Shiyang from head to toe before cautiously asking, "What would you like to talk about, sir?"


    Deng Shiyang replied casually, "It¡¯s like this: I need to write an evaluation report on Swaziland¡¯s investment environment, so I¡¯d like to learn more about this country. I heard you¡¯ve lived in Mbabane for over ten years, so you probably know some things they don¡¯t want outsiders to know." He paused, then added with a tempting tone, "I promise to keep the source strictly confidential. And, of course, I wouldn¡¯t expect you to share this information for free."


    The owner glanced at the interpreter slumped over the table, then frowned in thought for a moment before leaning in and whispering, "It''s not convenient to talk here. Please follow me."


    Annotations:


    Corcovado reference: Refers to the famous Christ the Redeemer statue in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, which stands 30 meters tall, with a total height of 38 meters including the base.


    Valium: Also known as diazepam, a benzodiazepine used as an anti-anxiety and sleep-inducing medication.

 Local situation

    Deng Shiyang nodded and followed the restaurant owner down a short corridor adjacent to the lobby until they reached the end, where a heavy metal door painted with a dark brown wood grain stood.


    The owner took out a key to unlock the door, stepped inside, reached for the light switch on the doorframe to turn on the fluorescent light, and then beckoned for Deng to follow.


    Deng stepped through the door, observing the space illuminated by the bright white light. It was a narrow office, less than sixty square feet in area. The white wallpaper on the walls had begun to yellow, giving it a dirty and outdated look, while the beige mineral fiber acoustic ceiling panels were low, making the already small office feel even more cramped.


    Near the door were two gray stainless steel filing cabinets, and in the center was a small dark brown desk with a gray-black "Lenovo" laptop on top. The polished enamel surface of the laptop reflected two bright white strips of light from the fluorescent fixture.


    The owner locked the door, walked over to the wall opposite the entrance, and pulled open the blinds. He pointed to the gray-blue upholstered chair in front of the desk and then walked around to sit in the black leather swivel chair against the wall.


    Behind the blinds was a one-meter-wide one-way mirror, with the other side being the drink bar''s liquor shelf, where a row of different-colored bottles was arranged, offering a view of the restaurant lobby.


    Deng glanced through the glass at the interpreter slumped motionless over the table and then slowly took a seat.


    The owner turned on the air conditioner with a remote control, leaned back in his chair, and calmly asked, "What exactly do you want to know, sir?"


    Deng responded slowly, "We¡¯re all businesspeople, so you should understand that tax reductions or labor costs aren''t our biggest concerns." He paused, then clarified, "What worries us the most is the situation here. No one knows if this troubled place will erupt again and cause our investments to go down the drain."


    The owner nodded, letting out a slight "Hmm," and then nervously replied, "I understand what you''re saying, but selling information about the government and military could get me killed..."


    "That''s why the reward will be worth the risk," Deng interrupted quickly, glancing at the one-way mirror on the wall.


    The owner smirked slyly and asked, "So how much are you willing to pay for me to take this risk?"


    Deng reached into his jacket and pulled out a bundle of one-hundred-dollar bills folded in half and held together with a rubber band, placing it lightly on the desk.


    "There''s two thousand dollars here."


    The owner''s eyebrows twitched at the sight of the money, but he remained silent.


    "Old fox!" Deng thought to himself. He pretended to consider for a moment, then reluctantly pulled out another bundle of cash and placed it on the desk, saying begrudgingly, "That makes three thousand dollars total. That''s my final offer. If it''s not enough, I¡¯ll have to look elsewhere."


    The owner still didn''t speak.


    "Seems like we can¡¯t reach a deal."


    After a few more minutes, Deng stood up with a look of disappointment, muttering as he reached for the cash on the desk.


    "I accept your offer," the owner said, stopping him and swiftly grabbing both bundles of cash and stashing them in a drawer.


    That afternoon, Deng got acquainted with Xu Zhaoxiong, the owner of "Huali" Chinese restaurant.


    Xu was in his fifties, originally from Zhou Ning in Fujian Province, but born in Kaohsiung, Taiwan. In 1977, influenced by the "Zhongli Incident," he joined the pro-democracy group "Summer Tide." Thirty years ago, during Taiwan''s "Kaohsiung Incident," he led protesters in clashing with riot police and fled afterward, eventually making his way to South Africa. He spent six years working his way up from a dishwasher to head chef at a Chinese restaurant in Durban.


    In 1987, after President Chiang Ching-kuo lifted the 38-year martial law, Xu returned to Taiwan, but within a year, he realized he couldn¡¯t adapt to the changes in his homeland. In late 1988, he traveled via South Africa to Swaziland, using his savings to open a Chinese restaurant in Mbabane.


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    He spent ten years building a good reputation and earning substantial income from the restaurant. Before the end of last year, he had even planned to open his first branch in Manzini.


    But everything changed after the coup. The military government abolished the old currency, the Swaziland lilangeni, and began issuing a new currency that depreciated almost daily. This rendered his life savings worthless, yet he chose to stay and hold onto his restaurant, his only remaining asset in the world.


    The two talked for about two hours, and Deng slowly got a grasp of the situation. Xu confirmed much of what the Australian doctor Whitney had mentioned on the plane, adding many strange and even hair-raising stories of his own.


    To cope with domestic shortages, the military government implemented a rationing system for essentials like food, classifying citizens based on their loyalty and contributions to the country to determine ration quantities. Dissidents, political prisoners, their families, and HIV carriers were categorized as "useless people" who received no rations and were exiled to quarantine zones, left to fend for themselves.


    Due to rampant corruption among government officials, much of the foreign aid in food and supplies was embezzled and sold on the black market, drawing the ire of the aid organizations involved. Because their assistance wasn''t reaching the intended recipients, "Oxfam" and "Virgin Unite" announced their withdrawal from Swaziland last month.


    To consolidate its rule, the military government practiced "collective punishment," sending criminals and their families to labor camps or exile in quarantine zones. It also formed secret police in civilian clothing and encouraged citizens to report anyone "disloyal to the president and the country." People in Swaziland lived under constant surveillance, every word and action observed.


    Even though there were only the two of them in the office, Xu lowered his voice and unconsciously leaned forward while speaking. This gave Deng the impression that, except for those who benefited under the military regime, every person in this country harbored an unusual fear.


    After learning about the people''s living conditions and society, Deng sighed and began inquiring about the military.


    At the mention of "military," Xu''s face immediately showed disgust. He gritted his teeth and replied, "Those uniformed thugs are nothing but a scourge!"


    Swaziland''s armed forces, collectively known as the "Swaziland People''s Liberation Army," consisted of three main components: the National Defense Force, the National Gendarmerie, and the Presidential Guard.


    The president, who had risen to power through a coup, had a deep fear of rebellion. After taking office, he dissolved the police force and purged the "Revolutionary Command Council," imprisoning or executing anyone he deemed a potential threat. To tighten his grip on the military, he replaced all senior officers with loyalists. This cronyism led to rampant corruption in the military, with soldiers receiving only meager pay after deductions by various layers of the hierarchy.


    With little money in their pockets but wielding law enforcement power, lower-ranking soldiers began finding ways to supplement their income, often targeting civilians'' wallets. Soon, it became customary for soldiers to collect "tributes" from local businesses. They then discovered an even easier way to make money¡ªcolluding with the "People''s Party" followers, who wore badges bearing the president''s image and looted openly, sharing the spoils.


    If the National Defense Force attracted public resentment, the National Gendarmerie, distinguished by their red berets, instilled fear. This unit reported directly to the "Ministry of National Security," specializing in suppressing and purging domestic anti-government forces. They could arrest and interrogate anyone at will, without court approval or regard for nationality.


    Xu confirmed with certainty that a Taiwanese businessman who ran a garment factory in Manzini had been arrested and tortured by the Gendarmerie. His wife had to return to Taiwan with a handwritten letter from her husband to raise ransom money. After paying a substantial bribe to the "Ministry of National Security," she was able to secure his release, though he was left badly beaten. His crime? Failing to display posters and slogans of the president in his factory.


    Hearing this, Deng recalled the incident at the airport and couldn''t help but worry about the Australian doctor who had been arrested.


    The elite Presidential Guard was the smallest and most mysterious of the three military units. Its members were all from the same tribe as President Ndofa, with absolute loyalty to him. The Guard was his direct unit, responsible for the defense of the presidential palace and surrounding areas. He wouldn¡¯t step outside the palace without at least a platoon of guards.


    By the time the conversation ended, it was 3:30 p.m. Deng woke the groggy interpreter and together they took the waiting taxi back to the hotel. The interpreter wasn¡¯t suspicious about suddenly falling asleep during lunch; instead, he advised Deng to keep it a secret, as he didn''t want to be held accountable for "failing in his surveillance duties."


    Deng readily agreed to this request, as it saved him further trouble. Upon returning to the hotel, he even generously tipped the interpreter fifty dollars as hush money.


    Annotations:


    Zhongli Incident: Refers to the 1977 election in Taoyuan County, Taiwan, where allegations of election fraud led to an angry mob surrounding and setting fire to the Zhongli police station.


    Summer Tide: Short for "Summer Tide United Association," a pro-democracy organization founded in Taiwan in 1976. Its members are mostly progressive individuals aiming for "democracy" and "peaceful reunification.


    Kaohsiung Incident (Meilidao Incident): A major conflict between the government and civilians that occurred in Kaohsiung, Taiwan, on December 10, 1979. The incident was led by members of the "Formosa Magazine" and other non-Kuomintang activists who organized demonstrations demanding democracy and freedom. It was the largest conflict between the government and civilians in Taiwan since the "228 Incident."


    Oxfam: An international non-governmental organization that provides development aid and relief.


    Virgin Unite: The working name for the Virgin Foundation, a charitable branch of the Virgin Group.

 The Memorial

    That evening, a banquet was held at the hotel.


    The event was a Western-style cocktail party combined with a buffet, hosted by the "Economic Cooperation Office" in Mbabane. Besides the inspection group, other personnel from Chinese institutions stationed in Swaziland also attended.


    Since China and Swaziland had not yet formally established diplomatic relations, the number of Chinese personnel present caught Deng Shiyang''s attention. Curious, he abandoned his usual low-profile approach and moved around the banquet hall with a drink in hand, distributing business cards and probing the backgrounds of the Chinese representatives present.


    After half an hour, he had collected over a dozen business cards in his suit pocket, with the cardholders representing various government agencies and state-owned enterprises. Among them were the "China-Africa Investment and Development Trade Promotion Center" and the "China-Swaziland Economic and Trade Cooperation Office" under the Ministry of Commerce, the Asia-Africa Department of the Ministry of Agriculture''s International Cooperation Division, as well as China Exim Bank, which provided interest-free loans, China Railway 14th Bureau, which had undertaken many infrastructure projects, China Telecom, which was helping the military government rebuild the communications network, and Shanghai High Definition Digital Technology Industry Co., which was setting up digital broadcasting.


    After identifying which agencies and companies were present, Deng approached a group of representatives from the "Economic Cooperation Office." He waited for a long time, until the crowd around them dispersed, before politely striking up a conversation with one of the young officials in his early thirties.


    He praised their work and discussed China''s diplomatic policy towards Africa, then talked about Swaziland and the personnel stationed there. Curiously, he asked, "Isn''t it a bit too many Chinese staff for a country with no official diplomatic relations?"


    The young deputy director had already grown impatient with the conversation and replied coldly, "Signing a diplomatic agreement is just a formality. The ''Economic Cooperation Office'' already functions like a formal diplomatic mission and can be upgraded to an embassy at any time."


    Deng responded with a thoughtful "Hmm," then cautiously added, "But I still have doubts about the military government''s competence."


    The official''s face showed a hint of disdain as he spoke in a boastful tone, "China is now Swaziland''s top aid provider. This country''s livelihood, economy, and infrastructure all rely on us. We have the largest diplomatic mission in Mbabane, and several of the president''s advisors have studied in Beijing. The central government can easily influence this government''s policies."


    "I see," Deng said, feigning sudden understanding and nodding compliantly.


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    The morning after their arrival in the capital, the inspection group met with representatives from the "Economic Cooperation Office" and the "China-Africa Investment and Development Trade Promotion Center" to learn about China''s economic policies towards Swaziland and the incentives available for Chinese companies investing locally.


    In the afternoon, the Swazi government arranged a tour.


    Since entering Swaziland, the group''s freedom had been strictly limited, and even during their outings, they were only shown carefully selected "model" projects, which had little to do with the actual inspection.


    This tour was a typical example.


    The group visited a light gray government building in the city center, which had once served as Mbabane''s City Hall but had been converted into the Swaziland Revolutionary Memorial Hall.


    Upon entering, they discovered that the memorial was actually a museum documenting the atrocities committed by the overthrown royal regime against the Swazi people, portraying the former government as brutal and inhumane.


    The exhibits included numerous gruesome color illustrations depicting torture methods used by entities ranging from the Inquisition to the Third Reich. Display cases contained horrifying instruments of torture, such as a blood-stained flogging whip, iron pincers for pulling nails, bizarrely shaped flaying knives, wooden stocks for finger squeezing, and devices for branding and other punishments.


    Against one wall of the exhibition hall stood a wooden water torture bed, several half-height wooden stocks, an X-shaped torture rack with shackles at each corner, and a triangular wooden horse that looked like something from a sadistic film.


    The 5,000-square-foot exhibition space was filled with such items, while the guide, with a pained expression, passionately recounted the "darkness of the old society."


    Deng couldn''t help but mock internally, "This is great! The coup was only three months ago, and the ''development'' here is almost catching up to North Korea¡¯s half-century progress."


    The second floor, known as the "International Friendship Hall," displayed gifts from various countries to President Ndofa. The items ranged from national gifts from allied countries to donations from companies and individuals. There were ivory carvings from Sudan, jade from Myanmar, porcelain from Jiangxi, China, gold-inlaid lacquerware from North Korea, Cohiba cigars from Cuba, a silver scimitar from Syria, a cloisonn¨¦ decorative pistol from Norinco, a gold-plated MP5 submachine gun from Iran''s Defense Industries Organization, as well as various household appliances and handicrafts crammed into display cases.


    In the center of the exhibition, a black "Hongqi" sedan was surrounded by railings, a gift from Chinese President . The guide proudly explained, "To bring the car into the exhibition hall, a section of the outer wall was specially removed, and the car was lifted in with a crane before the wall was rebuilt."


    In the southeast corner, there was a display case dedicated to media coverage of President Ndofa from various countries. It contained numerous clippings from newspapers such as *The New York Times*, *Le Figaro*, and *Bild*, as well as many obscure publications. At the very center was an issue of *Time* magazine with Ndofa on the cover, as if the whole world were closely following the "Great Leader''s" every move.


    Deng approached and glanced at the red border of the *Time* magazine cover. In the upper-right corner, the publication date "26 January 2009" was printed in black. He frowned and wondered to himself, "Why was Obama on the cover of the issue I had?"


    Annotations:


    Defense Industries Organization (D.I.O.): A state-owned military industrial enterprise in Iran.

 Presidential Palace

    After two tedious but informative days in the capital, the business inspection trip was nearing its end. The inspection group returned to the Swazi Sun Hotel and enjoyed a day of leisure. The following morning, they were scheduled to visit the presidential palace and be received by President Ndofa.


    The Toyota Coaster minibus headed southeast along Highway 3 for half an hour before turning onto a western interchange, eventually stopping in front of a six-foot-high wire fence. Deng Shiyang deliberately sat on the left side of the bus to observe the terrain around the presidential palace.


    Formerly known as Lozitha Palace, the presidential palace had been a royal residence before the coup but had since been converted into a fortress with a 1.5-mile-long perimeter of wire fencing. Through the fence, one could see a large expanse of bare ground, with a tall iron-gray wall in the center. The tops of trees were visible above the wall, and the white roofs of several buildings could be glimpsed through the gaps in the foliage.


    Near the fence''s entrance was a small checkpoint manned by six soldiers from the Presidential Guard. This elite unit, directly under the president''s command, appeared more disciplined and better equipped than the soldiers seen previously. They wore dark blue berets and charcoal-black uniforms with jungle camouflage tactical vests and were armed with Chinese-made QBZ-97 automatic rifles.


    The soldiers carefully verified the driver''s entry documents before opening the electric gate and retracting the tire spikes on the speed bump, allowing the Coaster to proceed.


    Between the wire fence and the main wall was a clear zone at least 300 yards wide. This flat area of yellow dirt showed tracks indicating it had been leveled by bulldozers.


    As they approached, the details of the presidential palace''s walls became clearer. The iron-gray wall stood at least twenty feet high, with guard towers every fifty yards equipped with spotlights and machine guns.


    Deng Shiyang pressed the shutter button on his iPod Shuffle, which was clipped to his lapel, capturing the scene outside the window while imagining a large group of anti-government fighters advancing across the open ground under heavy fire from the guards atop the wall.


    At the end of the road was a small parking lot with over a dozen vehicles. The Presidential Guard''s vehicles were mostly British-made, with older-model Bedford and Leyland trucks as the heavy-duty options, and various Land Rover models. In one corner, four silver-gray Toyota Land Cruisers stood out sharply against the olive-green military trucks.


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    The presidential palace was rectangular, with the only entrance located in the southeast corner. The black iron gate was open, but the retractable barriers in front had not been lowered. Each barrier was approximately eight feet wide and four feet high when raised, with sharp steel spikes facing outward, making them quite intimidating.


    The Coaster stopped at the barriers. Soldiers emerged from a guardhouse on the left side of the road to verify the driver''s documents again and used an under-vehicle inspection mirror to check the minibus. Through the window, Deng saw a black officer wearing a peaked cap in the guardhouse pick up a phone and speak briefly. The barriers then slowly lowered.


    Upon entering the palace grounds, a wide road, large enough for two trucks to drive side by side, led to the gardens along the wall. To the left, a tall gray-white wall separated the palace into the "Outer Court" and the "Inner Court," with the Outer Court occupying about a third of the total area. Formerly the royal gardens and servants'' quarters, it had been converted into barracks for the Presidential Guard.


    To the left of the road, adjacent to the wall, stood a three-story white building with a microwave antenna on the roof pointing north towards a transmission station on Mount Madimayaba. What had once been an open lawn in front of the building now had three two-story plastic prefabricated houses serving as barracks for the guard.


    Deng Shiyang had heard from Xu Zhaoxiong that the coup-born president understood the importance of the national radio station, so he had moved it to the presidential palace, allowing him to broadcast directly to the nation from the radio room while preventing others from seizing control of the airwaves.


    The minibus turned left at a T-junction, entering a straight road leading to the gate of the "Inner Court."


    The passage connecting the Outer and Inner Courts had double layers of heavy iron gates, with about thirty feet between them, forming a small barbican. The entrance was less than eight feet wide, barely allowing a medium-sized vehicle to pass, making it appear narrow compared to the broad road.


    The presidential residence was a three-story white flat-roofed building with strong colonial architectural influences. In front of the mansion lay a meticulously manicured lawn that resembled a golf course.


    Upon entering the Inner Court, the Coaster deftly turned left, driving onto a circular road lined with palm trees, then proceeded clockwise around the roundabout before parking under the canopy at the entrance.


    ---


    Annotations:


    Bedford Vehicles: A British manufacturer known for producing commercial vehicles.


    Leyland Motors: A British manufacturer recognized for producing trucks and buses.


    Barbican: A defensive feature, typically a semicircular or square structure, built outside or inside a main gate to strengthen the defense of a castle or fortress.

 Interview

    As soon as the door of the minibus opened, an officer in navy trousers and a dark red double-breasted uniform with a gold sash on his left shoulder stepped forward to lead the inspection group toward the entrance of the presidential residence.


    When Deng Shiyang stepped onto the red carpet, he noticed two guards standing by the door, heads held high and feet together. They lifted their R1 rifles, which had been resting on the ground, and executed a standard present arms salute. The heels of their polished black leather shoes clicked sharply together with a crisp "snap."


    The guards in the Inner Court of the presidential palace came in two types: soldiers dressed in ceremonial military uniforms equipped with R1 rifles fitted with silver bayonets, and officers wearing white belts with holstered pistols at their waists. Then there were the plainclothes security personnel in black suits and white shirts, all wearing dark red ties and earpieces. Although their weapons were not visible, a noticeable rectangular bulge under the right armpit of their unbuttoned jackets suggested they were armed.


    Deng knew that the well-dressed guards mainly handled ceremonial duties such as greeting guests, while the real security and protective work was carried out by the "black suits." He removed his iPod Shuffle from his collar, making an exaggerated show of winding up the earphone cord and slipping it into his pocket, using the opportunity to take photos of the security personnel around him.


    Walking through the thick glass-paneled white door, the first thing visible was a large oil painting hanging on the wall opposite the entrance. It was a portrait of the president inspecting the troops. Ndofa wore an ivory-colored military dress uniform adorned with numerous medals on his chest and a navy blue peaked cap embroidered with gold patterns. He stood upright with his head held high, giving a military salute with his right hand while gripping the hilt of a ceremonial sword at his waist with his left.


    The square foyer was divided in half by L-shaped railings, with a security gate in the center and an X-ray machine beside it.


    At the security gate, Deng Shiyang placed his watch, wallet, keys, notebook, and other personal items into a rectangular plastic tray. A guard in a light gray uniform carefully inspected each item, opening the wallet and key case, and even twisting the cap off the pen camera to draw a few lines on a blank sheet of paper.


    After passing through the security check, a black-clad attendant led the group through a side door in the foyer, down a corridor, and into a reception room decorated in a British palace style.


    The reception room had a floor covered in beige carpet with intricate floral patterns, and in front of the east-facing floor-to-ceiling glass windows were two rows of European-style armchairs arranged in a fan shape. Each chair had a small square side table next to it, holding a white cardboard name tag, a transparent wide-mouth glass, and a small bottle of VOSS water set on a napkin.


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    Following the interpreter''s instructions, the inspection group formed a line near the door. Soon, a tall, thin black usher entered the room. He wore a crisp white shirt with a white bow tie under a black three-piece tailcoat, and a thick gold chain adorned his chest. The chain hung loosely across his vest, with both ends attached to a clasp holding a round medallion, giving him the appearance of a penguin tethered by a chain.


    The "penguin" clapped his white-gloved hands twice and announced in a stiff voice, "His Excellency, President Ndofa of the Republic of Swaziland."


    Everyone quickly adjusted their clothing and stood up straight.


    The usher stepped back to the side of the door and gestured towards the entrance. A black man in a khaki military uniform walked in slowly.


    President Ndofa''s physique was far less imposing than depicted in the portraits, and he looked almost dwarfish compared to the upright usher by the door. The high, imposing furniture in the reception room accentuated the disparity, making him seem out of place.


    The president walked slowly to the front of the group and shook hands with each member of the inspection group.


    Up close, his face was not as smooth as it appeared in photos; deep wrinkles were visible around his nose and forehead, and his mouth drooped as if expressing a perpetual displeasure. However, his eyes were striking, displaying the glazed look commonly associated with religious fanatics.


    Deng Shiyang bowed slightly and greeted the shorter Ndofa in English, "Your Excellency, it''s a pleasure to meet you," extending his right hand for a handshake. The president''s rough, strong hand gripped his firmly, with fingers like iron clamps.


    After the handshakes, everyone took their seats. Deng walked along the aisle in front of the armchairs until he found his name tag. He unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat down.


    Ndofa hunched over as he settled into a large armchair. He gestured to a nearby attendant, who stepped forward with a silver tray and set a goblet containing ice water and a slice of lime on the side table, resting it on a napkin. The president took a sip from the glass before beginning a conversation with the head of the inspection group.


    He spoke in Swazi, his voice soft and slow, yet calm and steady. Despite the language barrier, his tone and demeanor had an effect on the attendees, leading them to unconsciously recognize this military strongman as the absolute ruler of Swaziland.


    The reception lasted over an hour, ending just before noon. The group was then escorted to the banquet hall, where they had lunch with the president, followed by a group photo on the lawn in front of the residence.


    As they prepared to leave, Ndofa presented each member with a gift. It was a gray-blue textured paper box containing a personal photo album signed by the president, along with a small inlaid teakwood box, about the size of a ring case, which held a gold presidential badge edged with embedded diamonds.


    That evening, a farewell banquet was held at the Swazi Sun Hotel to celebrate the successful completion of the inspection. The next morning, the group departed for the airport and boarded a Jetstream 41 regional aircraft bound for Johannesburg.


    Twenty hours later, they flew back to Hong Kong on Cathay Pacific Flight CX748.

 Report

    At 7:25 a.m., the members of the inspection group shuffled into the terminal from the jet bridge, looking exhausted. They bid each other farewell in the lobby, wishing each other well before heading to the airline counters to arrange their connecting flights.


    Yawning, Deng Shiyang went to the baggage claim to collect his luggage and then found a caf¨¦ in the terminal to sit down. He ordered a black coffee and a French sandwich with smoked ham and grilled cheese. After sending a text message to Haloby, he began his breakfast.


    About half an hour later, his phone buzzed with a reply. The message instructed him to head to the Four Seasons Hotel in Central, where a room had been booked under the name Jason Du.


    After reading the message, Deng lingered at the caf¨¦ for a bit before leaving the airport. He took the Airport Express to Central and checked into the Four Seasons Hotel, located next to the International Finance Centre.


    The room arranged by Haloby was on the 38th floor, a luxury executive suite with a view of Victoria Harbour. The suite was not only elegantly furnished but also had a multifunctional desk in the sitting area, fully equipped with office supplies. Documents could be printed directly using the printer in the room, eliminating the need to visit the business center.


    Once settled, Deng slept until the afternoon, finally overcoming the jet lag. When he woke up, he discovered his phone had fallen onto the carpet, displaying three missed calls from Haloby. He rubbed his eyes and glanced at the bedside clock, which showed 4:12 p.m., with the last missed call over an hour ago. He quickly hit "redial."


    The call was answered after just two rings, and Haloby''s voice came through, sounding annoyed. "Finally found time to call me back, huh?"


    Feeling a bit embarrassed, Deng replied, "Sorry, I had my phone on ''vibrate.'' I was sleeping so soundly that I didn''t notice."


    Although Haloby still sounded a little displeased, he accepted the explanation. After a brief pause, he said, "The client wants me to tell you they expect the report by noon the day after tomorrow."


    "No problem, I''ll start organizing the materials tonight and should have it ready by tomorrow night."


    There was a faint "hmm" on the other end, followed by a minute of silence before Haloby said, "How about we meet tonight? I''d like to hear about the situation over there. There are also a few points in the report that need attention; I''ll explain them when we meet."


    "Sure. When and where?"


    "7 p.m., at a French restaurant called Caprice on the sixth floor of the hotel. I''ll make a reservation."


    "7 p.m., sixth floor, Caprice. Got it," Deng repeated, then hung up.


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    That evening, the two met at the restaurant. Having only eaten a sandwich in the morning, Deng indulged in the chef''s recommended luxury French set menu. After the meal, he began recounting his experiences in Swaziland.


    Haloby listened carefully, not wanting to miss any details. Although he didn''t say a word throughout, he sighed seven times when Deng relayed the information he had gathered from Dr. Wittney and Xu Zhaoxiong.


    The briefing lasted over an hour. When it was over, Haloby frowned and let out another sigh, summing up his impression in a single sentence: "To wreck a country this thoroughly in three months¡ªNdofa really is a ''genius.''"


    He lowered his head in thought, slowly digesting the information. After a while, he suddenly asked, "From your personal interactions, what kind of person do you think Ndofa is?"


    Deng pondered for a moment, then took a sip of his coffee. The cold Blue Mountain brew left a bitter taste in his mouth. He set the cup down and took a large gulp of water before slowly replying, "The guy''s a lunatic, ruthless like Pol Pot of the Khmer Rouge. At the same time, he''s a neurotic narcissist. He indulges in fantasies, sees himself as a liberator breaking free from royal servitude, believes isolationism is a great achievement against white colonialism, and tries hard to portray himself as a savior of the people..."


    "I know you don''t like the guy, but that''s not what I''m asking," Haloby interrupted.


    Deng straightened up and responded seriously, "Ndofa has a pathological obsession with power. He''s extremely paranoid, with a delusional fear of rebellion. So, he moved the functioning parts of the government into a fortress-like presidential palace, surrounding himself with wire fences and high walls to protect his wealth and authority."


    Haloby sneered and said with disdain, "The guy''s a blend of Saddam and Kim Jong-il, with political skills akin to Bashir. His idol must be Uganda''s Amin." He paused and then asked, "Based on what you''ve seen, how would you rate the military strength of the government forces?"


    "I didn¡¯t see any tanks, armored vehicles, or heavy artillery there. My informants confirmed that those things don''t exist. Aside from the Presidential Guard, the other government troops were shabby; both soldiers and officers were unkempt, to the point of being repulsive. They may have had some basic training, but it definitely wasn''t extensive, and their morale was low. I suspect their loyalty to the regime isn''t any stronger than their paycheck."


    "The National Gendarmerie are rough, undisciplined thugs who only know how to intimidate unarmed civilians. Their weapons are dirty and old, clearly neglected, and they probably rarely fire them. The gendarmes are meant for riot control, but if faced with real combat, they''d likely flee at the first sign of gunfire."


    "I agree with your assessment," Haloby nodded slightly, then asked, "So, you''re saying that the most capable fighting force in Swaziland right now is the Presidential Guard?"


    "From what I''ve seen, that''s the case. The Presidential Guard members are all from the same tribe as Ndofa, with high loyalty and little chance of betrayal. They''re equipped with Chinese weapons, have higher morale than the other units, and have likely received training from Chinese military advisors."


    Haloby''s expression darkened slightly. Clicking his tongue, he muttered under his breath, "I suspected as much..."


    Annotations:


    - Pol Pot: Former General Secretary of the Communist Party of Kampuchea, serving as Prime Minister of Democratic Kampuchea from 1976 to 1979. His rule resulted in the deaths of approximately three million people.


    - Omar al-Bashir: Leader of Sudan, he served as President of Sudan from 1989 to 2019.


    - Idi Amin Dada: Former president of Uganda, whose regime from 1971 to 1979 resulted in the deaths of hundreds of thousands of Ugandans.

 Cooperate

    Deng Shiyang was curious. "What''s the matter?" he asked.


    "Three days after you left, news came from the China that,the China Metallurgical Geology Bureau is negotiating with the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the military government, hoping to obtain entry permits for an exploration team from the First Geological Survey Institute. The Chinese are clearly eyeing the mineral resources there," Haloby explained casually.


    This comment piqued Deng''s interest. Feigning a look of surprise, he probed casually, "Are there any other parties interested in the place?"


    "Of course not!" Haloby responded reflexively, raising his voice slightly, whether intentionally or not.


    Realizing his slip, he quickly explained, "What I mean is, like in Myanmar and Sudan, China''s military assistance is also aimed at securing resources from the country. If they were just after a UN Security Council vote, periodic interest-free and non-repayable ''loans'' would suffice. But to obtain mining rights in Swaziland, they need to ensure the military government''s long-term rule. Especially for Ndofa, who''s isolated from the West, allying with China offers great advantages."


    "Indeed, buying off a dictator is much cheaper than bribing a parliament and avoids the hassle of open bidding," Deng said, picking up the thread. "Once economic cooperation begins, those factories will rely on Chinese funding and technology to remain operational. At that point, simply cutting off support could paralyze most of Swaziland''s industrial facilities, creating leverage for negotiations."


    Haloby''s face grew darker. He lowered his head, interlocking his fingers and remaining motionless in deep thought for over ten minutes before looking up decisively and pleading, "I need you to downplay the sections about the Chinese government in the report."


    Although Deng had a sense of what Haloby was planning, he feigned ignorance and asked, "Are you asking me to falsify the report?"


    "Of course not," Haloby immediately replied. "I absolutely respect your expertise and objective analysis. I just don''t want the client to be influenced by the Chinese government and make a wrong judgment. You have to understand, this project could bring a substantial reward for ''us.''" He deliberately emphasized "us."


    "This won¡¯t be easy..." Deng said, resting his chin on his hand and appearing troubled. "You know intelligence is the key to success or failure. Setting aside the potential rewards, if we misjudge the situation, the operation could turn into a disaster, and it won''t just be you who bears the consequences."


    "You make a good point. That''s why I¡¯ve decided that if we get the contract, I¡¯ll appoint you as the head of this operation," Haloby said, picking up on the suggestion and immediately offering a lure.


    Deng lightly hummed in response and said, "I''m not good at management; I might not be suited for the position."


    Haloby''s expression grew more complicated. He gritted his teeth and said, "That''s okay, I''ll find experienced people to assist you. You just need to make recommendations, and we''ll handle the rest. I guarantee you''ll have the maximum decision-making power."


    This was already the biggest concession Haloby could make. Knowing he had struck a favorable deal, Deng pretended to mull it over before extending his hand. "Alright, I agree to your request."


    "Pleasure doing business," Haloby said, shaking his hand.


    At 9 p.m., Deng returned to his room. He took a shower in the bathroom and then soaked in the hot bathtub for over an hour until his body felt relaxed.


    Just after 10:30 p.m., he took his digital camera and laptop into the living room and began organizing the photos and notes he had brought back from Swaziland.


    His laptop contained several hidden text files that he wrote nightly, summarizing his daily observations. There were also captions and annotations for some pictures, as well as a draft of the report he had casually written on the plane to pass the time.


    He started by copying the photos from the camera to the computer, then connected the laptop to the room''s plasma TV, using the 42-inch screen to review the pictures one by one, selecting the useful ones and adding annotations. He also downloaded satellite images of Mbabane and the presidential palace from Google Earth, marking relevant buildings and providing explanations.


    Sorting through the materials took longer than expected, and it wasn''t until the early hours of the next day that he finished. Rubbing his stiff neck, he stood up and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face, then took a short nap.


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    The next morning, after a quick wash, he ordered room service and enjoyed a Chinese breakfast of lobster porridge, Cantonese dim sum, and soy milk. He then spent the morning writing the report.


    The report was divided into three main sections: an overview of the inspection, detailed descriptions of the capital and presidential palace, and an assessment of the country''s military situation.


    In the final summary, he wrote:


    > "The basic issue with overthrowing the military government has been simplified by the president himself. In every aspect, the current government''s political and economic policies are unpopular. Once the military''s support is lost, they won''t be able to control the country.


    > Ndofa clearly understands this, which is why he has placed loyalists in high-ranking positions to tighten control over the military. However, the majority of the military''s rank-and-file are ''fence-sitters,'' with low morale and loyalty. If they believe a coup would succeed, they would no longer support the government.


    > Lastly, due to Ndofa''s paranoia and obsession with the threat of rebellion, the target has been further reduced to one location¡ªthe presidential palace. Not only is it the symbol of Swaziland''s power, but it also contains the government''s core, the radio station, and Ndofa himself¡ªall things needed for a takeover."


    After working on the report for over six hours, Deng Shiyang finally finished it. He exited Word and glanced at the clock on the computer screen: 2:13 p.m. Feeling parched and hungry again, he noticed the leftover breakfast dishes cluttering the coffee table. He called Room Service to order a Chinese lunch with two dishes, a soup, and some fruit.


    After placing the order, he grabbed a bottle of mineral water from the fridge and sat back down at the desk to review the report while waiting for the meal. Following lunch, he inserted the maps and photos into the document, printed the twenty-page report using the room''s printer, and clipped it together in a Manila folder. Then he sent a text message to Haloby at 4:20 p.m. to notify him.


    Shortly after receiving the message, Haloby called and asked him to bring the report to his room.


    Deng went to the bathroom for a quick freshen-up and changed clothes. Hanging the "Make Up Room" sign on the door, he left the room carrying the folder.


    Haloby carefully read the report for over two hours before finally setting it down with a satisfied expression. He turned to Deng, who had been dozing off on the sofa from boredom, and said with a smile, "This report is very well done¡ªconcise and insightful. I¡¯m impressed."


    Deng just smiled in response, as if the praise was expected, then asked, "In that case, can the payment be settled now?"


    "No problem. The fifty thousand pounds will be transferred to your account tonight."


    "Thank you."


    After putting the report back into the folder, Haloby asked, "Now, I¡¯d like to know your thoughts on the coup."


    Deng Shiyang fell silent, contemplating the question for several minutes. Then, he looked up and answered, "Taking down Ndofa would definitely plunge Swaziland into chaos, so someone with sufficient influence would need to step in and stabilize the situation."


    Haloby nodded gently.


    "Therefore, capturing the presidential palace and taking over the radio station is the key to success. Once Ndofa''s death is made public, the military government would collapse. At that point, the king could return under the pretext of restoring the monarchy, using public opinion to create an appearance of a successful coup. The goal would be to win over the rank-and-file soldiers, or at the very least, incite them to mutiny, making it impossible for the officers loyal to the president to organize an effective defense."


    "Indeed, the presidential palace holds a unique symbolic value for the people of Swaziland," Haloby agreed, then asked, "And the method to attack the palace?"


    Deng scoffed slightly and replied, "Local forces alone wouldn''t be able to pull it off. In Swaziland, even hunting rifles and machetes are regulated. The people there simply don¡¯t have access to weapons."


    "Even if they had weapons, crossing the kill zone outside the palace would result in heavy casualties. I don¡¯t see them having the spirit for such sacrifices. And even if they made it to the walls, scaling them would be suicide. The four-foot-thick concrete walls would be difficult to demolish even with excavators, let alone by hand. Blowing the gate open with explosives is an option, but there probably aren''t any trained demolition experts available. As for the two-ton retractable barriers at the entrance, they go four feet underground and can''t be lowered from outside."


    "To capture the presidential palace, sufficient artillery support would be essential. The best time to strike would be during the night or early morning when the enemy is asleep. Before the assault, mortar fire should target the guard barracks to inflict heavy damage before they can react. The walls won¡¯t provide protection against such weapons and could even trap the defenders inside."


    "There are two ways to breach the walls and enter the palace. The first is to bribe the guards or plant someone as a mole to open the gate for the attacking force at night. However, from what I saw inside, infiltrating the palace would be extremely difficult. And I don¡¯t trust potential traitors enough to bet everything on them, as they could turn at any moment."


    Growing impatient, Haloby frowned and asked, "What¡¯s the second option?"


    "The second option is an airborne assault. Following the preparatory artillery barrage, helicopters would deploy troops inside the palace, capitalizing on the chaos caused by the mortars to eliminate the guards quickly. The attackers could then occupy the palace and use the walls and defenses to repel any reinforcements. This plan is more challenging to execute but has a higher chance of success."


    Haloby thought for a long time, making Deng Shiyang impatient, before finally looking up. He rubbed his chin and said, "There''s no denying that this ''sledgehammer tactic'' is risky, but it¡¯s direct and unexpected."


    He paused, then smiled. "I understand your ideas now. I''ll relay them to the client along with the report. If we secure the job, you''ll be leading this operation."


    Deng readily accepted the proposal, extending his hand. "Let me congratulate you in advance on your success."


    "Thank you," Haloby replied, shaking his hand.

 Financial lnvestigation

    The two exchanged opinions on the details of the report for a while. At 8 p.m., Deng Shiyang declined Harrowby''s invitation for dinner, using "catching up on sleep" as an excuse, and then left his room.


    Since both breakfast and lunch were delivered to his room, Deng Shiyang planned to splurge on a fancy dinner tonight to treat himself with some of the reward he had just earned. However, to his surprise, three out of the four restaurants in the hotel that served dinner were fully booked. The only one that didn¡¯t require a reservation, ¡°The Lounge,¡± located in the hotel lobby, had a business casual dress code, and he was turned away for not meeting the attire requirement, as he was wearing casual pants and a jacket.


    After hitting several walls, his enthusiasm was completely deflated. Back in his room, he ordered a quick dinner by phone and then took his time enjoying a hot bath before changing into a loose robe. At 10:30 p.m., after estimating the time in New York, he called "Thomas Investigative Consultants" on his phone.


    After providing the name of the client to the receptionist, who had a seductive voice, the call was quickly transferred to another extension. Shortly after, a deep male voice came through the receiver. Deng Shiyang repeated the agreed-upon name and then inquired about the investigation results regarding "Ruiyuan International."


    "Please hold on," the other party said, placing the phone down. Deng Shiyang could hear the sound of documents being shuffled on the desk. About half a minute later, the man finally found the needed report.


    "I have the investigation report here. Would you like it sent to you?"


    "Don''t send it," Deng Shiyang responded, then asked, "Is the report long?"


    "Not long, only five pages."


    "Fax it to me." He walked to the desk and read out the fax number aloud over the phone.


    About ten minutes later, he received the investigation report.


    The report contained a large amount of dizzying financial jargon. It took Deng Shiyang two hours to slowly sort through the details.


    The main shareholders of "Ruiyuan International" were originally three companies. The largest shareholder was Shougang Holdings (Hong Kong) Ltd.; the second-largest was Tongguan Resources Holdings Ltd., a wholly-owned subsidiary of Tongling Nonferrous Metals Group Holdings Co., Ltd. Besides these two Chinese state-owned enterprises, after a major share reduction by "Asset Management" last year, the largest overseas shareholder became France''s Plus All Holdings Ltd.


    Earlier this year, a financial investment company named "Diliman Holdings," registered in Jersey, purchased $5 million in convertible bonds from Ruiyuan International¡¯s largest creditor, Credit Suisse (Hong Kong) Ltd. It then used the opportunity of an asset restructuring to convert the bonds into equity, instantly becoming the company¡¯s third-largest shareholder.


    At the end of January, "Diliman Holdings" used Ruiyuan International''s assets as collateral to secure a $30 million short-term loan from Deutsche Bank¡¯s Singapore branch, while also starting to market a $10 million bond in the U.S. with a high interest rate of 12%.


    Just last week, "Diliman Holdings" acquired all of the shares held by Plus All, increasing its total shareholding to 16.7%, making it the largest shareholder of Ruiyuan International.


    "This is getting more and more interesting," Deng Shiyang muttered as he put down the investigation report. He walked into the bathroom to freshen up before bed. Lying on his back in bed, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, he kept thinking about the final sentence in the report: "Based on current investigation results, ''Diliman Holdings'' is preparing to acquire Ruiyuan International through a leveraged buyout."A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    The next day, Deng Shiyang slept in until noon.


    After lunch, he walked to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of chilled mineral water, and then sat on the sofa in front of the floor-to-ceiling window.


    The weather was great today. The white clouds, like giant pieces of cotton, floated slowly across the blue sky. Sunlight slanted into the room through the glass. The early spring weather, unique to southern China, wrapped around him like soft velvet. Victoria Harbour was calm and tranquil in the afternoon, with boats moving across the sea that was as flat as a piece of blue marble, leaving behind gentle, slowly fading white waves.


    The warm sunshine made him feel as though he had returned to Cyprus, recalling the leisurely and comfortable time he had spent on vacation by the Aegean Sea. This was the life he had always dreamed of. He yawned, lazily stretched out his limbs on the sofa, then picked up the bottle of mineral water from the coffee table, unscrewed the cap, and took a big gulp. The cold liquid flowed down his throat and into his esophagus, dispelling the drowsiness brought on by the sunlight and clearing his mind.


    Slowly, he stood up and walked to the large floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at the bustling and prosperous city outside. On the street next to the hotel, Min Guang Street, he could see office workers in suits hurrying toward nearby office buildings, trying to make the most of the little time left before their lunch break ended.


    Separated by just a thin piece of glass, there were two completely different worlds. He remembered standing in front of the glass window of a travel agency, staring at the large promotional photos of another world and another lifestyle. At that moment, he had made up his mind to cross to the other side of the glass, to leave behind that life of commuting in a second-hand Chevrolet, working in a cramped office operating a photocopier, a life as bland and flavorless as cheap coffee.


    That evening, he dialed the number for "Thomas Investigative Consultants" again and reached the same employee from the previous night.


    He began by offering positive feedback on the investigation report he had received the previous night, and he praised the person in charge of the case. After some polite small talk, he got to the point: "I would like to commission you to conduct a thorough investigation into ''Diliman Holdings.'' I want to know the background of the company, who its shareholders are, and its financial movements over the past six months."


    The other party said nothing. A faint rustling sound came through the receiver, indicating they were taking notes. The employee quietly listened until Deng Shiyang finished speaking before responding, "Sir, I understand your request. But in the interest of professional ethics, I must remind you before accepting this commission: trust or investment companies like this are abundant in the UK, especially those registered in offshore jurisdictions, which are even more difficult to trace." After pausing briefly, he added, "We''ve had many similar commissions before. Clients have spent a lot of time and money on investigations, only to uncover unrelated names or bank accounts in places like Gibraltar or the Cayman Islands, or even find that it¡¯s another similar company..."


    "Thank you for the reminder," Deng Shiyang interrupted. "I''m aware of what companies that sell junk bonds are like, but I still want you to investigate."


    "In that case, we accept your commission," the other party seemed to sigh in relief.


    Deng Shiyang thought for a moment and added, "Also, I want you to closely monitor the movements of this company and report to me any activity they have in the stock market."


    "That¡¯s not a problem, but it will require additional manpower..."


    "This is important," Deng Shiyang raised his voice slightly. "I need first-hand information on that company''s activities in the stock market. The moment they start buying a stock or strike any kind of deal with another company, you must notify me immediately."


    The person on the other end of the phone seemed startled and nervously replied, "We will pay extra attention."


    They spoke a bit more, agreeing on a reasonable price for the commission, and then ended the call.


    After hanging up, Deng Shiyang walked to the desk in the living room, sat down, opened his laptop, and logged into his online bank account. He transferred $5,000 to the account of the Thomas company.


    Annotations:


    Junk Bond: A high-interest, high-risk bond, usually issued by companies with very low credit ratings.


    Leveraged Buyout (LBO):Also known as a financing acquisition, it refers to the strategy where a company or individual uses assets as collateral to secure debt financing to acquire another company.

 Coup work

    The client likely needed time to digest the evaluation report, and progress on the investigation of "Diliman Holdings" wasn''t fast, so the following two days passed very peacefully. Deng Shiyang was once again like a tourist on vacation. He slept until noon every day, had lunch in his room, then spent time at the outdoor pool on the sixth floor or in the fitness center on the fifth floor.


    On the third morning, Harrowby called to inform him, "Keith will arrive in Hong Kong this afternoon, and we hope the three of us can have dinner together tonight."


    The person chosen to assist in planning was becoming clear.


    Unexpectedly, Keith''s welcome dinner was not held at one of the hotel restaurants but was a small gathering in Harrowby''s suite. He had ordered a deluxe seafood set through room service, which included Australian lobster, various shellfish, vegetable salad, fresh fruit, and desserts, filling up the dining table. There was also a bottle of 1995 Salon Champagne in an ice bucket on the table.


    Harrowby personally popped the cork, poured champagne into their glasses, and then raised his glass to make a toast: "First of all, welcome Mr. Brown." He then turned his head to look at Deng Shiyang, saying, "At the same time, I want to thank you again for that excellent report, which allowed us to secure this job smoothly."


    "Cheers!"


    Three slender tulip-shaped champagne glasses clinked together, producing a crisp sound. The golden liquid, filled with delicate bubbles, swayed with the collision, gathering a layer of fine white foam at the rim.


    Deng Shiyang took a small sip of his drink. As the wine, exuding aromas of toasted bread and white flowers, slid down his throat, he gently swirled the glass and said to Harrowby, "It might be a little inappropriate to say this..." He paused and then continued, "A $500 bottle of champagne tastes great, but isn¡¯t it a bit too early for a celebration?"


    "This isn''t a celebration; it''s a reward for both of you." Harrowby glanced at him, then put on an apologetic expression and said, "Actually, I also hoped that you could take a few days off and relax first, but our client wants to get the coup plan draft as soon as possible. Your upcoming days won''t be easy."


    Deng Shiyang frowned in confusion and asked, "What does ''as soon as possible'' mean?"You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    "It means you only have a week." Harrowby said, turning his head to glance at Keith, who was standing by the dining table, eating.


    Keith was holding a small piece of lemon and was squeezing lemon juice over an oyster on a plate. He said, "I read the evaluation report on the plane. Regarding the method to attack the presidential palace, my view is the same as JD''s."


    These words drew the attention of the other two to him.


    Keith picked up the lemon-juiced oyster with his fingers, brought it to his lips, and sucked the oyster into his mouth. He put down the empty shell, wiped his hands with a napkin, and then continued, "For Swaziland, which lacks anti-aircraft weapons, a helicopter assault is indeed more effective than a conventional land-based attack."


    He took a sip of water, cleansing his palate, then looked up at the other two and said, "But before making a plan, we need to confirm two things: first, the president, Ndofa, must be inside the presidential palace during the attack. If we can''t eliminate him, the military government can still control the army, and even if we take the presidential palace, we can''t seize power."


    "That''s easy." Deng Shiyang walked to the table, put down his champagne glass, picked up a spoon to scoop up some mussels in white wine sauce, and said, "We just need to pick a day when the president would definitely not be absent. There are two such days I know of¡ªone is his birthday, which is two months from now, and the other is the National Day at the end of the year."


    "It seems we can determine the operation date." Keith nodded and said, "The second thing we need to confirm is where we will set off from. Due to the helicopter''s short range and limited load capacity, we need to establish a forward base, where we can assemble personnel, weapons, and vehicles, which will inevitably attract attention. So, we need to get permission from the local government. I don''t want to end up like Simon Mann."


    Deng Shiyang put down the plate of mussels and responded, "Geographically, the options are only South Africa and Mozambique. But Mozambique is an ally of the Republic of Swaziland, so they wouldn''t openly let us overthrow a government they recognize. So, only South Africa remains. I think the border areas in Mpumalanga Province or KwaZulu-Natal Province adjacent to Swaziland are ideal..."


    "Forget about South Africa." Harrowby suddenly interjected, finishing the champagne in his glass. He walked to the table, pulled the bottle from the ice bucket, refilled his glass, and continued, "Earlier this year, the ANC started legislating to ban PMC operations within the country. Now all our peers in South Africa have either disbanded or relocated, so setting up a forward base in South Africa is impossible."


    Annotations:


    - Mpumalanga Province: An eastern province of the Republic of South Africa, bordering Swaziland and Mozambique.


    - KwaZulu-Natal Province: An eastern province of the Republic of South Africa, bordered by Lesotho to the west, Mozambique and Swaziland to the north, and the Indian Ocean to the east.


    - ANC (African National Congress): The largest political party in South Africa, currently the ruling party.


    - PMC (Private Military Company): A private military or security company.

 Forward Base program

    Deng Shiyang frowned after listening. He thought for a moment before asking Harrowby, "What about Mozambique? Can you use your connections to deal with the local government?"


    "That¡¯s unlikely. Although many African officials who don''t know who Obama is are familiar with ''Franklin,'' this isn¡¯t about smuggling across borders; it¡¯s a military operation targeting a neighboring country. In Africa, where power struggles are particularly sensitive, assembling a group of armed men and several helicopters would definitely not escape the local government''s attention. Unless the country changes its foreign policy, it¡¯s impossible to allow actions that could cause conflict between two nations."


    "What about Lesotho? Have you considered it?" Keith interjected, speaking somewhat unclearly.


    Deng Shiyang glanced over and saw that the plate in front of him was already full of empty oyster shells.


    Harrowby took a sip of champagne and replied, "During the reign of King Mswati III, relations with the Lesotho royal family were good. Moreover, the patrolling of Sehlabathebe National Park involves Western contractors, so negotiation shouldn¡¯t be an issue."


    "Lesotho is too far, over 300 miles." But Deng Shiyang immediately poured cold water on their idea.


    He glanced at Harrowby, who looked confused, and continued to explain, "Swaziland has a high elevation. Fully loaded helicopters departing from Lesotho wouldn¡¯t have enough fuel for a return journey¡ªthey could only land in Swaziland or South Africa. If we intend to hold the presidential palace, we need helicopters to transport supplies, and if we can¡¯t hold it, we also need helicopters to evacuate those trapped inside."


    Keith thought for a moment and asked, "What about the Mi-26?"


    "The Mi-26 has sufficient range and payload, but landing in the presidential palace wouldn¡¯t be easy. However, we can consider it as a backup plan," Deng Shiyang said, glancing at Harrowby.


    Harrowby shrugged and replied, "Regular transport might be possible, but those aviation companies probably won¡¯t lease helicopters for a coup."


    Deng Shiyang looked disappointed and murmured softly to himself, "Does this mean we still have to go by land?"


    "We¡¯re not at the point of giving up yet." Keith had already consumed most of a plate of oysters. He took a big gulp of water and then said, "I just thought of a way."


    "What way?" the two asked in unison.


    "It¡¯s just a preliminary idea." Keith smiled slyly, seemingly teasing them, and then turned to Harrowby, saying, "To determine if this plan is feasible, I need some intelligence."


    "No problem." Harrowby put down his glass, walked to the desk, and took out a pen and a black leather notebook from the drawer.


    He opened the notebook, clicked the button at the end of the pen, and asked, "What do you need to know?"


    "First, the locations of all radar stations within Swaziland, as well as their detection ranges."


    "Second, I need a report on Mozambique¡¯s naval and air forces."


    "Third, intelligence on the air defense system in Maputo Province. I want to know the locations and attack ranges of all radar stations, surface-to-air missiles, and anti-aircraft gun positions."


    Keith watched as Harrowby finished taking notes in the notebook and then asked, "How long will it take?"Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    "The first two are easy; I can give you that information tomorrow." He paused before adding, "But the last one is more troublesome¡ªprobably two days. No, make it three days."


    Keith nodded and said, "Alright, let''s meet again tomorrow. If my idea is feasible, I''ll let you know."


    "Alright." Seeing that Keith didn¡¯t want to say more, the other two didn¡¯t press him, turning their attention to the food and drinks covering the table.


    The dinner ended at nine in the evening. Without any desire for leisure, Deng Shiyang returned to his room, took a hot bath, and then went to bed.


    The next morning, Harrowby called the two to his room.


    Usually impeccably dressed, Harrowby was in a robe, his face showing fatigue. He gestured toward the living room sofa, then walked to the coffee table, picked up a coffee cup and two A4 pages held together with a paperclip.


    He yawned, took a sip of coffee, and handed the two pages to Keith, saying, "This is the report on Mozambique¡¯s navy and air force. I stayed up all night to get it."


    Keith took the report, read it, and then handed it to Deng Shiyang, saying, "It¡¯s about what I expected; the plan seems feasible."


    After listening, Deng Shiyang also read through the report.


    The report was brief, as there wasn''t much content to include. Mozambique''s navy and air force were both pitifully small.


    The country¡¯s navy had only three small coastal patrol boats, which was hardly sufficient for its 1,500-mile-long coastline. Even the capital had only one patrol boat stationed at Cape Santa Maria, responsible for patrolling Maputo Bay and nearby waters.


    Mozambique¡¯s air force had 45 planes and helicopters, but only 30 were operational. Among these were 20 old MiG fighters¡ªfive MiG-17Fs and fifteen MiG-21MFs. Additionally, there were four Mi-24 armed helicopters and six Mi-8 multipurpose helicopters capable of carrying weapons.


    Deng Shiyang had roughly guessed Keith¡¯s plan. He put the report on the coffee table and asked in a probing tone, "You¡¯re not planning to set up the forward base at sea, are you?"


    "Got it!"


    Keith raised his head, his face full of pride, and answered, "During the Falklands War, the Royal Navy converted freighters into helicopter carriers for Harrier jets and Wessex helicopters. So I thought, if it¡¯s impossible to establish a base on land, why not convert a simple carrier? I did the calculations last night: from Mozambique¡¯s exclusive economic zone, it¡¯s less than 150 miles to Swaziland. A medium helicopter with a full tank of fuel can easily make the round trip, and in case of an accident, it¡¯s easy to escape to international waters."


    Harrowby yawned and rubbed his bloodshot eyes with his hand, saying, "It¡¯s a good idea, but renting and converting a ship isn¡¯t a small expense..."


    "Forget the budget. We need a feasible plan first. If it doesn¡¯t work, then money doesn¡¯t matter." Keith interrupted him, asking, "Did you get information on Swaziland¡¯s radar stations?"


    "Yes, I called the former king¡¯s aide last night." Harrowby walked to the desk, pressed a button on a laptop connected to a TV. The plasma screen showed a satellite image with two red markers and a light yellow sector-shaped area nearby.


    He picked up a fax on the desk and cleared his throat, reading, "During Mozambique¡¯s civil war, Swaziland established a radar station in the mountainous area near Parara, but it was closed in 2001. Currently, there are two radar stations in Swaziland: one at Matsapha Airport and the other in the Lugogo district, inside the under-construction Sikhupe International Airport. Reportedly, radar and navigation equipment had mostly been installed there before the coup."


    Keith walked to the TV, stared at the image for a while, and then asked, "Besides these two radar stations, are there any other air defense facilities in Swaziland?"


    "Swaziland¡¯s air force purchased three Arava attack aircraft from Israel thirty years ago. One crashed in 1980, and the other two were converted for transport and training purposes in 1997, eventually retired in 2002, and are now stored at the northern Mhlume Air Force base."


    "What¡¯s the condition of those planes?"


    "According to the former king''s aide, maintenance during their service was sloppy, and they haven¡¯t flown since retirement."


    Keith nodded and said to the other two, "It seems the feasibility of launching from the sea is quite high. As long as we avoid Mozambique¡¯s air defense systems, we can enter Swaziland from the air."


    "Wait!"


    At this point, Deng Shiyang, who had been silently staring at the TV screen, spoke up. He pointed at Matsapha Airport and said, "If this schematic is correct, we¡¯ll enter its radar detection range before we even arrive."


    Annotations:


    Benjamin Franklin: A famous American politician and scientist, one of the key leaders of the American Revolution. His portrait appears on the $100 bill.


    Maputo Province (Prov¨ªncia de Cidade de Maputo): A southern province of Mozambique, bordered by Swaziland to the west, South Africa to the south, and the Indian Ocean to the east. Its capital, Maputo, is also the country¡¯s capital.


    Lugogo: An administrative district in eastern Swaziland, with its capital at Siteki.


    Sikhupe Airport: An airport in the Lugogo district, Swaziland''s new international airport under construction.

 Combat Forces

    Keith seemed to understand the point and added, "If taking off from South Africa, helicopters would enter from the mountainous west or north, but entering from the east requires flying across half of Ezulwini Valley and would enter Matsapha Airport''s radar detection range before reaching the presidential palace."


    Harrowby frowned and asked, "Can we fly at low altitude to avoid the radar?"


    Deng Shiyang extended his hand, pointing to Kwaluseni, east of the presidential palace, and said, "This area has a widely dispersed population, and even if we avoid radar, the engine noise won¡¯t escape the ears of people on the ground."


    Keith approached the TV screen, estimated the actual distance to scale, and said, "Just fly straight through. It¡¯s only about ten minutes; even if they spot us, they won¡¯t have time to react."


    Deng Shiyang replied, "If it¡¯s an airstrike or direct helicopter assault, ten minutes is indeed too short for a response. But deploying mortar teams takes time, and if the helicopter carrying the mortar teams is detected, the element of surprise is lost."


    Keith listened and nodded slightly.


    "Can we go around?" Harrowby asked.


    Keith stared at the mountainous region beside Ezulwini Valley for a while before responding, "That¡¯s hard to say. I¡¯d need to know the population distribution in that area before I can plan the flight route. I hope you can get a recent satellite image of Swaziland¡ªGoogle Earth only has one from 2007."


    "I¡¯ll get it for you in two days." Harrowby nodded and said, "I can get an image from seven days ago."


    "Perfect." Keith smiled, satisfied, and said, "Before we start the operation, I hope you can also provide the latest satellite images."


    "No problem." Harrowby readily agreed, then looked at Deng Shiyang and said, "Now, let''s set aside the deployment issue and discuss the plan to attack the presidential palace."


    Keith echoed, "I want to hear what someone who has been there thinks."


    Seeing that the two shared the same opinion, Deng Shiyang didn¡¯t decline. He pointed at the laptop on the desk and asked, "May I?"


    Harrowby nodded and then stood up to let him take the seat at the desk.


    Deng Shiyang sat down, operated the laptop to enlarge the satellite image, and said, "The terrain to the east, south, and west of the presidential palace is open, and it¡¯s near the highway, making it unsuitable for concealment and retreat."


    The other two nodded.


    He moved the mouse cursor to the mountains north of the presidential palace and said, "The only suitable place to set up mortars is here." Then, slowly moving the cursor, he pointed to a ridge and said, "This ridge is two miles from the presidential palace and has no trees, making it ideal both as a mortar position and landing zone."Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    He dragged the mouse to center the presidential palace on the screen, then zoomed in, saying, "I mentioned in the report that the presidential guard''s barracks are in the front yard, made of plastic and fiberglass, and have low resistance to attacks."


    The other two nodded again.


    "My idea is to conduct a mortar barrage on the front yard late at night." He paused and pointed with the cursor to several concrete buildings along the fence, adding, "Considering firepower density and lethality, I think we need at least three mortars, with a caliber no less than eighty-one millimeters."


    Harrowby rubbed his chin and asked, "How much ammunition do you need?"


    "The front yard of the presidential palace covers about five acres..." Deng Shiyang thought for a moment and replied, "I need 200 high-explosive rounds. A skilled mortar crew can fire seven to eight rounds per minute, and three mortars can expend all the ammunition in just ten minutes. The helicopter lands after the barrage to send in the assault team."


    "Good idea. What comes next?"


    "If all goes well, the presidential guard will have been largely neutralized by the mortar barrage, and the remaining enemies can be eliminated with helicopter fire support before taking over the presidential residence." Deng Shiyang paused, then looked at Keith with a questioning expression and said, "Regarding personnel and equipment, someone here is more qualified to speak than I am."


    Harrowby shifted his gaze to Keith.


    Keith seemed prepared. He smiled and replied, "If the mortar barrage works as expected, along with helicopter fire support, the assault team doesn''t need to be large." He paused and continued, "I think forty-eight men should be enough, divided into four twelve-man squads. They¡¯ll be equipped with automatic rifles, rocket launchers, and a large number of grenades. If possible, get a few grenade launchers and body armor for them."


    Harrowby seemed to be calculating something and remained silent.


    "Of course, we also need a reserve team to counter any government backlash."


    "With the assault team and the mortar crew, we need at least five helicopters." Harrowby muttered to himself.


    "Right!" Keith acknowledged and then said to Harrowby, "We¡¯ll recruit men in Angola and go to Botswana for short-term training. Before the operation starts, we¡¯ll head to the sea base by ship. Can you arrange that?"


    Harrowby nodded and replied, "No problem. My company recently got a contract to train the anti-poaching unit in Chobe National Park, so setting up a temporary training camp there won¡¯t be an issue."


    "As for the weapons, I plan to buy them locally in South Africa. I suggest bringing Du Preez into this¡ªhe knows a guy from the 32nd Battalion who¡¯s a capable arms dealer."


    "You two are in charge. Decide for yourselves who to bring in as deputies."


    "Thank you." Keith nodded, then continued, "Besides the weapons, transportation is the biggest challenge. I don¡¯t think we should rent anything because those shipping companies dealing in illegal business can¡¯t be trusted and are prone to leaks. It¡¯d be better to spend extra money to buy the necessary helicopters and ships, then hire pilots and sailors. We can always sell them later, and it won¡¯t cost much more."


    "That would require more initial funding. You need to create a detailed financial budget and timeline¡ªthis is a specific request from the client."


    Keith pursed his lips and answered, "We don¡¯t have all the intelligence yet, so the budget will have to wait until the plan is finalized."


    "I understand. Just a reminder." Harrowby picked up his coffee cup, took a sip, only to find it empty. He glanced at the wall clock and yawned, saying, "Since the general strategy is set, let¡¯s end it here for today."


    After hearing this, Deng Shiyang and Keith wisely stood up to leave.


    Annotations:


    32nd Battalion: Nicknamed the "Buffalo Battalion," it was a special unit under the South African Defence Force composed mainly of foreigners. The battalion initially assisted UNITA in Angola''s counter-insurgency efforts and was later deployed domestically to suppress opposition forces after South West Africa gained independence. It was infamous during the apartheid era and was disbanded in 1993.

 Mortar Group Problem

    Two days later in the morning, the three men met again in Harrowby¡¯s room.


    After exchanging greetings, Harrowby led them into the living room. He pointed to the seat in front of the desk, then walked to the place where the laptop was positioned and sat down.


    After they were seated, he handed each of them a document held together with a paperclip.


    Deng Shiyang spent about ten minutes reading through the thin document from beginning to end. The three A4 pages detailed the types and quantities of all of Mozambique''s air defense weapons.


    Compared to their modest air force, Mozambique''s air defense units were much larger, with a richer variety and quantity of weapons. They not only had Russian-made SA-3, SA-6, and SA-9 surface-to-air missiles but also a considerable number of Chinese-made Type 65 and Type 74 twin-barrel 37mm anti-aircraft guns. In addition, some border defense units were equipped with Russian-made ZU-23 twin-barrel 23mm anti-aircraft guns.


    Putting down the document, Deng Shiyang asked, "Where did this intelligence come from? Is it reliable?"


    Harrowby, who was operating the laptop, didn¡¯t answer. Deng Shiyang glanced at the TV on the wall, which was displaying an image being loaded. The loading speed was slow, but the displayed portion showed it was a high-resolution satellite image.


    Once the image was mostly loaded, Harrowby looked up and, in an almost official tone, said, "Gentlemen, what you are seeing is a gift from our Western friends." He paused and advised, "On this point, I hope you forget it as soon as you leave this room."


    On this satellite image, which took twenty minutes just to load, all the positions and attack ranges of the surface-to-air missiles and anti-aircraft guns in Maputo Province could be seen. Additionally, it marked the detection range of every military and civilian radar station in the area and their detection altitudes at various distances.


    Mozambique appeared confident in its southern neighbors, Swaziland and South Africa, as the bulk of its air defense units were deployed in the northwest, near the borders with Zimbabwe, Zambia, and Tanzania. In Maputo Province, there were only three SA-3 missile batteries, all located in the suburbs of the capital, Maputo. Furthermore, there were three anti-aircraft batteries equipped with 37mm guns stationed at Inhaca, near Santa Maria Point, and further south at Bela Vista. Some border defense units stationed near the South African border were also equipped with a few 23mm anti-aircraft guns.


    Keith spent the entire morning cross-referencing the information on the maps and satellite images and finally determined the air infiltration route. The helicopters would take off at midnight from the offshore base, ten nautical miles from Mozambique. They would first fly low over the Lagoa area, then cross the border near the Nunes Mountains to enter Swaziland airspace.


    Flying over Mozambique turned out to be easier than expected, but after seeing the latest satellite images of Swaziland, Keith wasn''t the least bit pleased.


    Due to Swaziland¡¯s scattered population, even if they detoured through the mountains to use the terrain to avoid radar, the engine noise would inevitably alert people on the ground. Despite the effort to avoid densely populated areas when planning the flight route, silently transporting the mortar team to the mountains near the presidential palace was still an impossible task.


    It was soon midday. Affected by the stagnation in planning, everyone seemed a bit downcast. Harrowby suggested a short break, with lunch afterward. The other two had no objections, so he picked up the phone on the desk and dialed room service.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    Deng Shiyang stood up, rubbed his numb buttocks, then walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window, facing Victoria Harbour as he stretched exaggeratedly and exhaled a long sigh.


    Keith, looking a bit tired, paced over to the refrigerator, took out a bottle of mineral water, and lazily sat on the sofa by the window. He took a sip of water and then complained, "If we can''t transport by air, we might as well have the mortar team travel overland."


    Harrowby put down the phone and responded irritably, "If they weren''t carrying weapons, it would be easy¡ªjust bribe the border guards."


    "Wait!" Deng Shiyang seemed to have thought of something. He walked quickly over to Harrowby and asked, "What did you just say?"


    "Bribe the guards..."


    "No, the other part."


    "If they weren''t carrying weapons..."


    "Yes, exactly!" Deng Shiyang suddenly slapped his thigh, startling the other two.


    "Can you arrange for the mortar team to enter the country and transport them to the Madimayba Mountains?"


    "I looked into it before. Due to scarce supplies, food and everyday goods are commonly smuggled in border areas. In the South African border area, a few dozen dollars is enough to bribe the guards to let you in. At checkpoints in cities, a couple of Marlboro packs or a bottle of whiskey will do." Harrowby paused and said, "But the border checks are strict, and it''s hard to smuggle in large weapons like mortars."


    "That¡¯s good enough." Deng Shiyang nodded, then turned to Keith on the sofa and said, "Calculate the weight of the mortar team''s equipment¡ªI might have an idea."


    Keith walked to the desk and sat down, typing on Harrowby''s laptop for a while, and then answered, "The three 81mm mortars, with baseplates and tripods, weigh 300 pounds. Two hundred shells weigh 2,000 pounds. Adding the propellant charges, fuses, and ammunition boxes, the total is about 3,000 pounds."


    "That load needs at least a truck to transport it¡ªhow do you plan to get it past inspections?"


    "I don¡¯t plan on transporting the mortars overland." Deng Shiyang calmly replied, adding, "You just reminded me¡ªthe weapons and personnel don¡¯t have to be transported together." He then paused and said to Keith, "Check again if there are any South African flight routes passing over Swaziland."


    "Are you planning an airdrop?"


    "Exactly. My plan is to enter Swaziland airspace via a commercial flight route and airdrop the mortars and ammunition near the presidential palace."


    Harrowby looked disappointed and said, "Commercial routes fly too high. At that altitude, an airdrop requires a large landing zone, and there¡¯s not enough space in the mountains..."


    "That¡¯s for regular parachutes." Deng Shiyang interrupted, "You must have heard of JPADS used by the U.S. Army, right?"


    "JPADS? The GPS-controlled parachute?"


    "Yes." Deng Shiyang nodded and continued, "JPADS stands for ''Joint Precision Airdrop System.'' It''s used by the U.S. military for parachuting supplies into dangerous airspace. Its computer calculates wind drift and air pressure to control the parachute to land at a designated spot with an error margin of less than a hundred yards."


    "I know what JPADS is!" Harrowby seemed a bit frustrated. "We''re a commercial organization, not the Pentagon. It¡¯s not easy to get our hands on such equipment."


    Deng Shiyang smiled and said, "That¡¯s where your ''Western friends'' come in. Let them ask ''Langley'' for help to get us two JPADS-2K units."


    Harrowby''s expression shifted slightly, and he asked, "Is there any other way?"


    "As far as I can see, there isn¡¯t."


    "I also think this plan could work." Keith pointed at the map displayed on the TV screen, echoing, "There''s a route from Richards Bay Airport to Nelspruit Airport that passes right over Swaziland." He paused and added, "Moreover, Richards Bay is a large deep-water port, and it''s only a day¡¯s sail from Mozambique¡ªperfect for transferring weapons and supplies."


    Deng Shiyang glanced at Harrowby and said, "There are less than two months until Ndofa''s birthday." To push him to make a decision, he added, "Besides, I don''t think the client has the patience to wait until National Day at the end of the year."


    Harrowby raised his head, staring at Deng Shiyang with an intense gaze, as if trying to see through him. He suddenly found the man before him to be unfamiliar and elusive, a sense of being manipulated welled up within him.


    After a long consideration, he gritted his teeth and said decisively, "Fine, I''ll try to get JPADS. You two get started on the detailed plan¡ªI want it by the end of the week."


    Annotations:


    - Langley: Located in Fairfax County, northern Virginia, USA, it is the headquarters of the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA).


    - JPADS-2K: A lightweight version of JPADS, capable of carrying a payload of 2,200 pounds.


    - Richards Bay Airport: A South African airport located in the city of Richards Bay, KwaZulu-Natal Province.


    - Nelspruit Airport: A South African airport near the capital of Mpumalanga Province, Nelspruit.

 Plan Action

    In the days that followed, the two men began drafting a detailed plan for the coup. Deng Shiyang did not step out of his room, having all three meals there. In order to write the operation plan, he and Keith had less than six hours of sleep each day.


    After three long days of hard work, a more than ten-page plan for the coup was handed over to Harrowby before the deadline.


    In contrast to the two who worked through the deadline, Harrowby did not immediately open the plan after receiving it. Although the desire to read it was clawing at him like a small cat since the moment he got it. During lunch at the sixth-floor restaurant, he wanted several times to go back to his room to read it, but in the end, he restrained himself.


    At 4 p.m., after shaking off the drowsiness from lunch, he dialed room service and ordered a bottle of 1999 Chateau Palmer wine. Holding a wine glass in one hand and the document in the other, he sat on the sofa by the window. This was a habit he had developed over the years¡ªwhenever he needed to concentrate on something, he preferred doing so in the afternoon or evening. Now, it was necessary to carefully read through the plan.


    He gently opened the light blue plastic folder, set aside the maps and explanatory images, and began reading the text portion.


    The coup plan was a synthesis of the information provided by Harrowby, Deng Shiyang''s observations in Swaziland, and the client¡¯s objectives. It included forecasts on the possible international impacts of the coup and offered suggestions on how to quickly seize national power and stabilize the domestic situation.


    The plan also provided a brief analysis of the military forces in Swaziland and Mozambique, as well as an outline of the strategy to be adopted in the coup and the reasons for choosing that strategy.


    Following that were six pages detailing the operational methods: where to hire the necessary personnel, what weapons and equipment were needed, auxiliary gear, transport helicopters, the ships to be used as a sea base, as well as the prices of uniforms, food, fuel, and other consumables.


    The plan emphasized the necessity of maintaining secrecy throughout. Although there would be four deputies under the director, none of them would know the contents of the plan. The destination and flight routes would only be disclosed to the ship captains and pilots at the last moment, ensuring that even under investigation, other members and the plan itself would not be compromised. All weapons, equipment, and other materials needed for the operation would be purchased legally to reduce the risk of police investigation. Only the two project directors, Harrowby, and the client would know all the details of the plan.


    Finally, there were two appendices, printed separately on two pages.


    Page One: Financial Budget


    - Reconnaissance trip to Swaziland, feasibility assessment report (completed): ¡ê50,000


    - Project manager and deputy managers¡¯ salaries: ¡ê300,000


    - Deputies¡¯ salaries: ¡ê200,000


    - Salary for hired personnel: ¡ê320,000 (soldiers: ¡ê150,000; mortar crew: ¡ê30,000; helicopter crew: ¡ê80,000; mechanics: ¡ê40,000; ship crew: ¡ê20,000)


    - Travel expenses: ¡ê100,000


    - Cargo plane rental: ¡ê20,000


    - Weapons purchase: ¡ê800,000


    - Helicopter purchase and modification costs: ¡ê4,000,000


    - Ship purchase and modification costs: ¡ê1,000,000


    - Purchase of other auxiliary equipment: ¡ê300,000


    - Contingency fund: ¡ê500,000


    - Total: ¡ê7,290,000


    Page Two: Timeline


    - Phase One: Recruitment of personnel, opening bank accounts (two weeks)


    - Phase Two: Training personnel, purchasing supplies (three weeks)


    - Phase Three: Modifying transport vehicles, transporting personnel and supplies (two weeks)


    - Phase Four: Boarding personnel and supplies, preparing for action (one week)


    - Total Duration: Eight weeks


    Harrowby carefully reviewed the plan twice. He stared out at Victoria Harbour while continually drinking wine. After drinking more than half a bottle of wine, he took the report out of the folder, put it in the fax machine, and sent it to a fax number in London before heading to his bedroom to rest.


    The day after completing the plan, Deng Shiyang slept until noon. After a quick wash, he touched his growling stomach and walked over to the desk in the living room. Upon approaching, he noticed that the phone on the desk, which was charging, displayed two "missed calls."


    Upon checking, he saw that the two calls were made an hour and half an hour ago, both from a number with a long-distance area code of "636." This was the number for "Thomas Investigative Consultants." He knew that the call coming late at night must be something important, so he immediately pressed "redial."The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    The call was answered after only two rings. Before he could speak, the familiar voice of the employee from before came through: "Finally, I got hold of you."


    "Any news?"


    "Yes." The employee answered, with a hint of self-satisfaction in his tone, "You previously instructed that if ¡®Diliman Holdings¡¯ makes any moves in the stock market, we must notify you immediately..."


    "Go on." Deng Shiyang interrupted.


    "Oh, sorry. We just received word that ¡®Diliman Holdings¡¯ has approached ¡®Credit Suisse¡¯ to acquire all of ¡®Ruiyuan International¡¯s¡¯ debt. They are also preparing to negotiate with ¡®Shougang Holdings¡¯ and ¡®Tongguan Resources¡¯ to acquire their shares."


    "When did this happen?"


    "Contact with ¡®Credit Suisse¡¯ was made two hours ago, and the negotiation is scheduled for two days later."


    Deng Shiyang frowned and asked, "So, ¡®Diliman¡¯ started the full acquisition of ¡®Ruiyuan International¡¯ this morning?"


    The other party thought for a moment and replied, "You could say that. Their leveraged buyout has already entered the final stage."


    Deng Shiyang was silent for a moment before feigning a displeased tone, saying, "Was there no sign of this beforehand?"


    "Oh, sorry," the other person replied a bit awkwardly. "This move was very sudden. I was also taken aback when I received the news."


    "Alright." Apparently accepting the explanation, Deng Shiyang''s tone softened. After pausing, he asked, "How¡¯s the investigation into ¡®Diliman¡¯ going?"


    "Please hold on."


    The sound of shuffling papers came through the receiver. After a few minutes, the employee said, "The progress isn''t fast, but we''ve made some headway. The report is right here; I can fax it to you."


    "Is it long?"


    "No, it''s less than a page."


    "Read it to me."


    "Alright." The employee cleared his throat and then read: "As per the request, our firm conducted a background investigation of ¡®Diliman Holdings Ltd.,¡¯ registered in Jersey. According to information obtained from ¡®Extel,¡¯ the company was founded in 1923 under the name ¡®Diliman Trading Co., Ltd.¡¯ It was primarily engaged in rubber plantation and tire manufacturing."


    "The company¡¯s founder, Sean Plummer Diliman, anticipated a surge in demand for tires during the 1920s automobile boom and invested in rubber plantations in Malaya. However, things didn¡¯t go as planned. Shortly after its founding, the Great Depression of the 1930s led to a sharp drop in rubber demand. The outbreak of World War II later briefly improved the situation, but two years after the outbreak of the Pacific War, the Japanese invasion shattered any chance of good fortune."


    "After the war, independence movements swept across Southeast Asia¡¯s colonies. Amid the insurgency and rebellion led by the Malayan Communist Party, the company struggled to survive until 1957 when the plantations were nationalized by the newly independent Federation of Malaya. The company then went into steep decline, and its share price kept plummeting. By the end of last year, before it was acquired, each share was only 43 pence."


    "Earlier this year, ¡®International Commercial Bank,¡¯ based in Luxembourg, began purchasing shares of ¡®Diliman Trading Co., Ltd.¡¯ After gaining control of the board, they moved the company from London to Jersey and renamed it ¡®Diliman Holdings.¡¯"


    "What an ideal shell company," Deng Shiyang thought but didn''t say aloud. He quietly listened until the employee finished and then asked, "Can you find out who acquired this company?"


    There was a long silence on the other end before the reply came: "That''s probably not possible. We only know that they acquired ¡®Diliman¡¯ shares through seven people. Since each held less than ten percent, the bank wasn¡¯t required to disclose the buyer''s identity."


    British corporate law stipulates that anyone wanting to acquire more than ten percent of a publicly listed company¡¯s shares must prove their identity to the company¡¯s board of directors within two weeks. The purpose of this law is to make the buyer¡¯s identity public and inform how many shares they purchased and from which company.


    For this reason, if a broker is buying more than ten percent of a company¡¯s shares, they must disclose the buyer¡¯s identity to the company¡¯s board of directors. Only when purchasing less than ten percent can the buyer remain anonymous.


    Thus, a financial tycoon wishing to remain anonymous while acquiring the majority of a company¡¯s shares can appoint multiple agents to bypass the law. However, this approach is easily seen through, and brokers may eventually be forced to reveal the true buyer due to legal pressure.


    Therefore, a foreign bank not bound by British corporate law can refuse to disclose the identity of the actual buyer and does not need to provide any other details.


    "...Sir, are you still there?"


    The voice from the receiver seemed distant, interrupting Deng Shiyang¡¯s thoughts. He replied apologetically, "Sorry, I was just thinking."


    "This is all we have so far regarding ¡®Diliman Holdings.¡¯ Are you satisfied?"


    "Yes, you''ve done well."


    "Thank you. So, what do you plan to do next?"


    "What do you mean?"


    "Do you want us to end the investigation or continue?"


    "Continue." Deng Shiyang thought for a while, then said, "I need you to note down a couple of things for further investigation."


    The sound of shuffling papers came through again. After about half a minute, the employee said, "Go ahead."


    "I need you to look into two things: first, the current management of ¡®Diliman.¡¯ If those seven brokers want to remain anonymous, they will definitely appoint an agent to enter the company¡¯s board of directors. I need you to find out this agent''s identity."


    "And the second?"


    "Second, the source of ¡®Diliman¡¯s¡¯ funds. I need to know where they got the money for acquiring ¡®Ruiyuan International¡¯ besides loans and bond issuance."


    "Got it."


    After the employee finished taking notes, Deng Shiyang asked, "How long will it take?"


    "The first task isn''t difficult¡ªshould be done in a day. The second one is harder. These guys are pros with multiple channels for moving money. Tracking it down will be quite tricky."


    "Do your best." Deng Shiyang responded nonchalantly, then ended the call.


    Annotations:


    - Extel (Exchange Telegraph Company): A British-based commercial investigation company.

 Unexpected events

    Originally, Deng Shiyang thought that reviewing the plan would take at least two to three days, but the unexpected move by "Diliman Holdings" wiped away his relaxed mood for the weekend. He had a vague feeling that this was a sign that the action was about to begin.


    The next morning, Deng Shiyang and Keith were summoned to Harrowby''s room.


    With a gloomy and uncertain expression, Harrowby led the two into the living room and gestured towards the long sofa against the wall. After they sat down, he took a seat on the single-seater sofa across the coffee table from them and said, "I have one good news and one bad news. Which one do you want to hear first?"


    Keith thought for a moment and replied, "Let¡¯s hear the good news first."


    "Your plan has been approved."


    Deng Shiyang tried his best not to show an expression of "I expected as much" and asked, "And the bad news?"


    "Last night, I received news from New York that China plans to hold a special meeting of the UN Security Council next week to discuss lifting sanctions on Swaziland."


    Keith frowned and asked, "What''s the White House''s stance?"


    Harrowby''s expression suddenly wilted. He shook his head and replied, "According to information gathered from the State Department, the U.S. will vote to ''abstain.''"


    A blatant look of mockery appeared on Deng Shiyang¡¯s face, and he said, "Looks like those hundreds of billions in treasury bonds weren¡¯t bought in vain."


    "The Chinese government is preparing to act," Harrowby added. "If the U.S. chooses not to use its veto, neither the U.K. nor France will vote against it, and the resolution will definitely pass. Once the sanctions are lifted, China will be able to openly import minerals from Swaziland."


    "The minerals import is a minor issue," Keith shared his view as well. "Once sanctions are lifted, China will be able to provide direct military aid to Swaziland. If the military government fully controls the army, it will be very difficult to seize power even if we eliminate Ndofa."


    Harrowby¡¯s face turned even grimmer. After thinking for a while, he asked, "Is there a possibility of taking action ahead of schedule?"


    "Setting aside whether we can cut down the preparation time, can you guarantee that Ndofa will definitely be in the presidential palace on the day of action?" Keith answered bluntly.


    Harrowby said nothing in response, lowering his head in thought.


    "I have a question." At this moment, Deng Shiyang broke the silence, drawing the attention of the other two.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    "If the coup succeeds, how likely is it that China will intervene?"


    "Since they don¡¯t have the proper means for long-range deployment, sending troops directly is impossible." Keith paused and added, "But I think they¡¯ll support remnants of the military government to launch a civil war or incite Mozambique to intervene under the guise of ''counter-insurgency assistance.''"


    Deng Shiyang looked at Harrowby and asked, "Can you try to persuade the British government to use Commonwealth influence to pressure Mozambique to remain neutral?"


    "It¡¯s worth a try, but only if the coup is successful."


    "Alright, let me share my thoughts. Based on my observations in Swaziland, there are two main reasons for the low loyalty of government forces¡ªlow morale and poor conditions. Firstly, morale: the majority of soldiers enlisted simply to avoid being in the camp of either the ''oppressors'' or the ''oppressed.'' From their perspective, they have no reason to serve the military government faithfully. Secondly, regarding conditions: grassroots soldiers only receive meager pay, and what truly attracts them is the supply of essential goods. As long as those supplies are not reduced, they don¡¯t care whether the boss wears a crown or a military cap."


    Keith and Harrowby both nodded.


    "Based on these two points, I believe military aid can improve the combat effectiveness of the government forces to some extent, but as long as the military system and power structure remain unchanged, there won¡¯t be much improvement. Moreover, Ndofa¡ªwho is paranoid about insurrection¡ªwill never allow ''foreign powers'' to interfere with his military. As for the common methods like ''cult of personality brainwashing'' and ''establishing political commissars,'' it would be difficult to achieve results in the short term."


    Harrowby seemed to have thought of something and asked with a hint of anticipation, "What¡¯s your conclusion?"


    Deng Shiyang glanced at him and replied, "I believe Chinese military aid will not have a significant impact on the plan. If we need countermeasures, more effort should be put into secrecy during preparations. Also, the king should develop some conciliatory policies to prevent civil war after taking power."


    Harrowby made a noncommittal "hmm" and said nothing more.


    "I support JD''s view." As if to bolster his confidence, Keith also chimed in, "We don¡¯t have accurate and timely intelligence, and acting prematurely will only add unnecessary risks."


    Harrowby seemed convinced. After a moment of consideration, he looked up and, as if making up his mind, said, "Alright. What do you need me to do?"


    "You should rephrase that." Keith did not answer the question directly but paused before saying, "It¡¯s not about what we need you to do but what you can do for us."


    Harrowby seemed slightly taken aback by the comment. He thought for a moment and then replied, "I can use my connections to help you recruit the necessary personnel and gather materials. I can also provide training and false identities for the recruits and send them to Richards Bay." He paused and added, "But you¡¯ll have to handle negotiations yourselves."


    For an illegal activity like a coup, it was naturally impossible to involve legitimate companies. Thus, although Deng Shiyang felt some resentment toward Harrowby for distancing himself from the matter, he had nothing to say.


    "What about the money?"


    "The operational funds will be distributed among several bank accounts in Gibraltar, managed by me. I¡¯ll open an account for you in a South African bank and deposit a sum for operational expenses. During the preparation period, I¡¯ll transfer the required funds to you in batches."


    "Alright, that¡¯ll do." Keith nodded, extended his hand, and said, "To a successful collaboration."


    Harrowby shook hands with both Keith and Deng Shiyang, then said to them, "Now, let¡¯s get started. In two months, we¡¯re going to seize a country!"


    Annotations:


    - Richards Bay Airport: A South African airport located in the city of Richards Bay, KwaZulu-Natal Province.

 New identity

    Deng Shiyang was naturally indifferent to this kind of slogan-like statement. He just nodded slightly and said an unenthusiastic "hmm." Keith''s reaction was about the same.


    Feeling a bit awkward, Harrowby quickly changed the topic, saying, "During the preparation phase, you''ll need a base to ensure contact with the outside world."


    Keith responded, "I¡¯ve already thought about this. Since most of the materials will be purchased in South Africa, I think it would be more convenient to set up the base there. As for the exact location, Du Preez will have a way to arrange it."


    "Once you have chosen a place, find a bank to open an account and send me the account number and name by email," Harrowby paused and continued, "After entering the preparation phase, we won''t meet again; we¡¯ll stay in touch only by phone and email."


    Keith and Deng Shiyang nodded.


    Harrowby got up and went into the bedroom, returning shortly afterward with two burgundy-covered European Union passports. He walked over to the coffee table and placed a passport in front of each of them, saying, "These are your new identities."


    Deng Shiyang picked up the Belgian passport, with a lion crest on the cover, and examined it carefully. It was a standard passport, slightly worn to make it look more genuine, with fine creases in some places, and a few drops of what seemed to be either tea or coffee stains if looked at carefully.


    The passport was issued by the Belgian Embassy in London, and the holder was named "Josh Bockman Deylek," 27 years old, residing in Hamilton. Although the issue date was July 21, 2004, the signature line was still blank.


    Deng Shiyang reviewed the passport from beginning to end, then shook it slightly with a frown, saying, "This guy¡¯s name sounds like a Flemish person with German ancestry, but I can¡¯t speak a word of French, German, or Dutch. Besides, he doesn¡¯t look like me at all."


    Harrowby smiled indifferently and replied, "Border checks mainly focus on luggage and documents. For individuals, it¡¯s height, eye color, and signature comparison. And since this passport doesn¡¯t have a biometric chip, having the five-year-old photo look exactly like you might raise suspicion."


    Deng Shiyang said nothing further, just nodded lightly. Though Harrowby didn''t spell it out, he had roughly guessed the origins of the two passports.


    Those in this circle all knew that Belgian passport management had significant loopholes. It was said that since 1990, as many as 19,000 blank passports had been stolen in the country in less than two decades, and that was just the official figure.


    In reality, those passports had been taken by corrupt Belgian civil servants and sold on the black market. According to U.S. and U.K. intelligence agencies, at least 45 were sold by the Belgian Consulate General in Strasbourg, while the embassy in The Hague sold over 20. The two Moroccan assassins who killed Ahmad Shah Massoud, the leader of the Northern Alliance, in 2001 used passports from the latter.


    Unlike Deng Shiyang, Keith opened his passport and frowned immediately. He glared at Harrowby, his voice filled with anger, "This name is a joke! Which idiot came up with it?"


    Harrowby showed an almost mischievous smile and said with satisfaction, "I thought it suited you quite well."


    Curious, Deng Shiyang glanced at it¡ªthe passport holder''s name was "Charles Alfred Thomas Shannon." He couldn¡¯t help but laugh, agreeing, "I think it¡¯s a great name. Don¡¯t you like it? Kitty(CATS)¡ª" He even dragged out the last word deliberately.


    "Hahaha!" Harrowby burst into loud laughter.


    Keith glared at him and said angrily, "Why don¡¯t you change your career to become a novelist?"


    "Thanks for the suggestion! After this job succeeds, I¡¯ll consider it," Harrowby replied insincerely, which made Keith feel quite frustrated.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    Once the atmosphere calmed down, Harrowby glanced at his wristwatch and said, "I¡¯ll book your flight tickets for tomorrow night. From now until then, you have a day and a half¡ªI suggest you make good use of the time to prepare. If there¡¯s anyone you need to contact, I¡¯d be happy to help."


    Keith thought for a moment and said, "Please contact Du Preez and have him call me by noon tomorrow." He seemed to think of something halfway through and turned to give Deng Shiyang an inquiring look, adding, "...He hasn¡¯t taken any jobs since leaving Bolivia and has been staying in Durban."


    Deng Shiyang nodded and replied calmly, "You can decide on things like this."


    "Thank you." Keith expressed his gratitude, then turned to Harrowby and said, "After we arrive in South Africa, we¡¯ll rent a PO box at a nearby post office and get a few mobile phones. Then, we¡¯ll send you our communication addresses and phone numbers by email. Does that arrangement work for you?"


    "Very thoughtful." Harrowby nodded, then asked, "Anything else?"


    "Unless there¡¯s something special, our regular call time will be 8 p.m. each day, and we¡¯ll report the latest progress to you by phone."


    "Understood." Harrowby nodded once more.


    By the time Deng Shiyang returned to his room, it was already noon. He called room service to quickly take care of lunch, then found a few blank notepads and repeatedly practiced the signature "Josh Deylek" until he was comfortable with it before signing his passport.


    Satisfied, he picked up the passport and looked at it for a while before putting it away. Then, he rolled up the used notepads into a ball and burned them in the ashtray, poured the ashes into the toilet, and slowly started packing his bags.


    Aside from his involvement in drafting the plan, most of the other work was handled by Keith, the deputy. Compared to him, Deng Shiyang, the supposed director, seemed relatively relaxed. But knowing his own shortcomings in planning and organizing, he was content with taking a hands-off approach.


    At 10 p.m., he dialed Thomas Company¡¯s number again.


    The agent who answered the call was very attentive, and after a few formal pleasantries, he began to report the latest investigation results: "After those seven brokers took control of ''Diliman Holdings,'' they entrusted all shares to a trust company called ''Bormac Investments.'' Our investigation shows that this company is registered on the Isle of Man, and the registered legal representative is named Martin Thorpe. Would you like us to conduct a background check on this company?"


    Deng Shiyang thought for about half a minute and then answered, "I don¡¯t want to waste more time and money on these shell companies¡ªI¡¯m ending the investigation."


    The agent was clearly surprised by his decision and was silent for a moment before replying, "As you wish. Regarding the investigation expenses, I¡¯ll send the bill to your email, so please keep an eye out for it."


    After hanging up the phone, he went to the desk, sat down, and logged into his email using his laptop. When he saw the amount on the bill, his heart skipped a beat. Recalling the risks he¡¯d taken with IEDs in Iraq and the income he earned during his year there, he cursed to himself, "Damn it, this is highway robbery."


    He leaned back in his chair, looking around the luxuriously decorated but elegantly tasteful suite, then exhaled deeply.


    Deng Shiyang paid the bill and transferred an amount equivalent to half a year¡¯s income in Iraq to Thomas Company¡¯s account. Then, he logged into online banking and consolidated all available funds into one account.


    The next morning, he left the hotel, took a taxi to Exchange Square Phase 1 on Connaught Road, and took the elevator to the 48th floor to "China Merchants Securities." He stayed there for half an hour, opened a personal investment account, and transferred all his funds into it.


    With the payments from his previous two jobs, the advance he¡¯d just received, and his accumulated savings over the years, he had a total of 230,000 U.S. dollars, equivalent to 1.88 million Hong Kong dollars. Considering the current share price of Ruiyuan International at HKD 0.38, this amount could buy roughly 4.9 million shares, about 3.5% of the total equity.


    Buying a large number of shares at once would certainly cause price fluctuations and lead retail investors to hoard shares. Considering this, he specifically instructed the broker to purchase these shares in batches over the next eight weeks.


    It was already noon by the time everything was done. He had lunch at a nearby restaurant, then found a salon to dye his hair chestnut and curl it slightly. Before returning to the hotel, he took a stroll near Central and bought five 100-dollar traveler¡¯s checks at Citibank.


    Upon returning to the hotel, the rigid, expressionless office worker had completely disappeared, replaced by a handsome, vibrant Belgian tourist. Keith, who had gotten used to his previous appearance, nodded repeatedly and even half-jokingly asked if he was interested in joining the "Secret Intelligence Service."


    That evening, Deng Shiyang and Keith assumed their new identities and boarded Cathay Pacific flight CX749 bound for Johannesburg.


    Annotations:


    Charles Alfred Thomas Shannon: Protagonist of the novel *The Dogs of War*. Because the initials of his name are "CATS," his nickname is "Kitty."


    Secret Intelligence Service (SIS): The British foreign intelligence agency, also known as MI6.

 The Base at South Africa

    It was seventeen hours later when the Boeing 737-200 carrying Deng Shiyang and Keith landed at Durban International Airport. They had arrived at Oliver Tambo International Airport in Johannesburg at 7 a.m., had a short layover, and then took an inland flight with South African Airways, arriving in Durban at 10:30 a.m.


    After completing immigration formalities, they went to the baggage claim area to retrieve their checked luggage. The yawning Deng Shiyang exaggeratedly stretched, then slung his travel bag over his right shoulder and used his other hand to pull the Rimowa polycarbonate suitcase he had bought in Hong Kong, following behind a similarly tired Keith out of the terminal. As he rubbed his eyes, he complained about Harrowby¡¯s stinginess; the more than ten hours spent in economy class had left him exhausted.


    Just as they exited the airport, Jannie Du Preez came up to meet them.


    Slightly overweight, Du Preez wore dark yellow shoes, beige casual trousers, and a white short-sleeved linen shirt with blue paisley patterns. He wore large black sunglasses and had a rattan hat on his head. If it weren¡¯t for the somewhat eye-catching skull tattoo on his left arm, the South African mercenary could easily pass as a suburban middle-class resident.


    After a brief greeting, Du Preez led them to the parking lot next to the airport, where they boarded a brand-new Toyota Land Cruiser 200.


    The white Land Cruiser left the airport, heading northeast along the M4 highway into the Jacobs area before turning onto Croly Street toward the beach. The vehicle first passed through a small residential area, then continued east along Hubble Road beside "Happy Valley," passing through a small wooded area before arriving at a residential area called Brighton Beach, finally stopping in front of a villa on Ellerley Road.


    "This is the best place I could find with such short notice," Du Preez said, opening the car door and leading them into the garden.


    The red-roofed, white-walled villa covered less than 3,000 square feet. Rather than calling it a villa, it would be more accurate to describe it as a relatively large beach house. The two-story house faced northwest, with lush woods growing on the slope behind the house, stretching all the way down to Brighton Beach. From the backyard, while looking at the view of the Indian Ocean, the beach below and the road leading to it were barely visible through gaps in the treetops.


    Du Preez led the two of them around the villa. Keith observed the beach for a while and pointed toward a parking lot at the end of the road, asking, "How far is it?"


    Du Preez looked in the direction he was pointing and replied, "About a hundred yards. There¡¯s a path through the woods leading to the parking lot; it only takes a few minutes to get there if you walk quickly."This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    "Where does the road lead?"


    "Seaview; it''s about one or two miles from here."


    Keith thought for a moment and then said, "Arrange a car there later. Get an inconspicuous old one, and have enough keys for everyone."


    "No problem, I¡¯ll take care of it before the afternoon."


    "Great." Keith nodded and gestured toward the villa, asking, "How many keys are there?"


    Du Preez took out a keyring from his pocket, which held four silver keys.


    Keith took the keyring and removed two keys. He put one in his pocket and handed the other to Deng Shiyang.


    The three of them spent over an hour carefully inspecting the garden and the surrounding area before moving their luggage inside. All of the villa''s furniture was covered with white cloth, suggesting that it hadn¡¯t been inhabited for some time. However, the floors and windows were spotless, indicating that someone had been hired to clean it regularly.


    Keith put down his luggage, walked around the living room and kitchen, picked up the telephone receiver, and then smiled at Du Preez, saying, "This place is nice; you¡¯ve done a great job."


    The South African man smiled but said nothing.


    Keith handed him two stacks of twenty-dollar bills, saying, "This afternoon, head to the nearby post office and rent a mailbox under the name ''Charles Shannon.''¡± He paused before continuing, "We¡¯ll be staying here for a month; see what¡¯s missing and buy what we need."


    Du Preez took the money and put it in his pocket, then asked, "Is there anything else?"


    Keith thought for a moment before replying, "That¡¯s all for now." Then he rubbed his stomach and said, "Is there a good restaurant nearby? I''m starving."


    By midday, the two of them, now settled in, sat in Du Preez¡¯s Land Cruiser, heading for Van Riebeeck Park next to Brighton Beach.


    Keith hadn¡¯t revealed too many details about the job. In the car, he only casually mentioned that he had recently secured a contract and needed some people to participate. Though Du Preez remained expressionless, Deng Shiyang could see that the big South African¡¯s curiosity had been sufficiently piqued.


    In the golf clubhouse at the park, they had a hearty meal of "bredie," a traditional South African stew, and two large plates of skewers known locally as "sosaties," all accompanied by fruity beer. After their meal, Keith and Du Preez discussed the job.


    "I can''t say much about the specifics for now, but one thing¡¯s for sure¡ªbesides the combat itself, we¡¯ll need to handle the preparations ourselves," Keith said. He paused, glancing at Du Preez before adding, "As for the pay, each participant will receive a ¡ê10,000 advance payment and ¡ê40,000 upon completion."


    Upon hearing this, Du Preez muttered softly, "The South African government is cracking down on mercenaries, and all the colleagues have already been documented. Especially those who came out of EO or fought abroad¡ªeach of them has a file as thick as the Bible at the ''Secret Service'' headquarters..."


    "That¡¯s not what we''re doing at all," Keith interrupted with a laugh. "We need your connections to buy some weapons and supplies here in South Africa. Of course, all transactions will be done legally. Once the cargo leaves port, the rest will be handled in another country."


    Du Preez grinned.


    "Is it a long-term operation, or a sudden strike?"


    "A sudden strike!" Keith replied affirmatively.


    "Alright, I''m in." After a brief consideration, Du Preez agreed.


    Keith extended his hand to shake with him.


    This day marked sixty days until President Ndofa''s birthday.


    Annotations:


    - South African Secret Service (SASS): South Africa''s intelligence agency.

 Open the account

    After letting go of his handshake, Keith pointed to Deng Shiyang, who was sitting next to him, and introduced, "JD is in charge of this job, and I¡¯m his assistant."


    Du Preez was slightly taken aback but quickly put on a smile, extending his hand in greeting, "Pleasure working with you."


    "Thank you," Deng Shiyang smiled as he shook his hand and said, "Thank you for your help in advance."


    Du Preez smiled and raised his beer glass, "To this job."


    The other two also picked up their glasses, raised them, and took a sip.


    After putting down his glass, Keith said seriously, "Alright, let¡¯s start by talking about what we need. First, we need to establish a temporary base for communication, which we¡¯ve already found."


    Du Preez nodded.


    "Each of us needs a mobile phone for communication. Also, JD¡¯s laptop requires wireless internet access."


    "That¡¯s easy," Du Preez replied. "South Africa hasn¡¯t implemented real-name registration for mobile phones yet, so you can easily buy prepaid phones at any ''PEP.'' As for wireless internet, you just need an ID copy and proof of income to apply for an account with iBurst."


    "These matters are up to you," Keith said with satisfaction. "We also need to apply for two credit cards."


    Du Preez thought for a moment and replied, "Financial management in South Africa is very strict. To apply for a credit card, you first need to open a checking account, but the process of opening an account is complicated." He paused and added, "Moreover, South African banks are very strict about foreign currency management. Personal foreign currency accounts are not allowed, and all transfers must be declared, with any incoming currency automatically converted to rand."


    Keith frowned and asked, "What about transferring funds abroad?"


    "For outbound transfers, there¡¯s a limit of 200,000 rand per transaction, and the origin and purpose must be declared."


    Keith clicked his tongue and said, "Check what documents are required to open a personal account."


    "I''ll make a call." Du Preez didn¡¯t hesitate, immediately standing up and walking to the restaurant''s telephone booth.


    Watching him close the glass door, Keith turned to Deng Shiyang and said, "With such strict regulations, it seems we can''t transfer funds through South African banks."


    "But I¡¯m more concerned about the credit card," Deng Shiyang replied. "Using cash as a foreigner might raise suspicion. If there¡¯s no other way, we could use local residence information to open an account. Those things shouldn¡¯t be hard to get on the black market."


    "It¡¯s doable, but it will add unnecessary risk..." Keith stopped mid-sentence, tapping Deng Shiyang¡¯s foot under the table with his shoe.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    At that moment, Du Preez came back holding a small piece of paper.


    The South African man sat down in front of the table and said, "I¡¯ve already asked about the account-opening requirements for foreigners." He cleared his throat, picked up the paper, and started reading, "To open an account at a bank, you must be there in person, with your original passport and proof of residence."


    "What¡¯s proof of residence?"


    "There are two types in South Africa: employment certification from a company, or a letter of verification from the electricity and water utility."


    "Forget the first one, tell me more about the second."


    "Normally, applicants take their passport and a utility bill to the utility office to get a verification letter. If it¡¯s a rented property, the landlord needs to provide a letter, which is then taken to the utility office for processing."


    Keith listened quietly before asking, "Is it possible for you to get a document from the landlord?"


    "I''ll have it for you by tomorrow morning," Du Preez said, looking at both of them, then extended his hand, "but I need your passports."


    "No problem," Keith agreed, handing over his passport. Deng Shiyang hesitated for a moment before also taking his passport out of his pocket and handing it over.


    After Du Preez put away the two passports, Keith summoned a waiter to settle the bill, and they left the clubhouse.


    Deng Shiyang asked the South African to drive to a nearby bank, where he exchanged $500 in traveler¡¯s checks, then handed Du Preez 3,000 rand in cash.


    They parted at the bank entrance. Du Preez hailed a taxi on his mobile phone to take Deng Shiyang and Keith back to the villa, while he drove the Land Cruiser into the city.


    Back at the villa, the two of them began to clean up the house. Deng Shiyang chose a room on the second floor with a window facing the Indian Ocean, complete with an en-suite bathroom. He took a quick hot shower and then lay down to deal with his jet lag.


    He slept until late at night. Possibly due to having too many spicy dishes at lunch, he woke up feeling parched and went down to the kitchen for some water.


    At that moment, Du Preez and Keith were sitting at the bar in front of the kitchen counter, each with a wine glass in front of them. On the table, there was also a bucket with a bottle of chilled white wine and a large white ceramic bowl filled with dried meat strips.


    Seeing Deng Shiyang walk into the kitchen, Keith pointed at the bottle in the bucket, but the former waved his hand. He opened the refrigerator but found no bottled water, so he took out a bottle of Appletiser apple juice, poured himself a glass, and sat down beside the bar.


    There was no denying Du Preez¡¯s efficiency. He had managed to get everything done in just one afternoon. He bought a wireless modem and three Vodacom prepaid phones, along with a large amount of food and drinks, and two big plastic bags full of toiletries like toilet paper and shampoo.


    Most importantly, he obtained the landlord''s signed verification document, listing both of their names and passport numbers, confirming that they were residing there.


    Deng Shiyang was satisfied as he put away the documents and passports, then took a brown piece of jerky from the bowl and started eating it with the juice...


    They kept eating and drinking like this until dawn. At nine in the morning, Du Preez took them to a nearby chain restaurant, where they had a traditional breakfast of sour yogurt and corn porridge before driving to the utility office.


    Getting the proof of residence didn''t take long. The young Black man in charge compared the passport photos, then quickly filled in the address, names, and passport numbers on the form before taking it to the office to get a manager¡¯s signature and stamp.


    With all the documents prepared, opening the account went smoothly, and it was completed before noon. Deng Shiyang and Keith went to Standard Bank on Chamberlain Road in the Jacobs area and opened personal accounts, also applying for credit cards.


    On their way back, Du Preez made a detour to the Brighton Beach post office, where Keith rented a PO box under the name Charles Shannon.


    That night, Deng Shiyang sent Harrowby an email with both of their bank account numbers, mobile phone numbers, and the postal address and PO box number.

 Kruger Semler

    According to Standard Bank of South Africa''s credit card application process, it takes at least five working days for review. Therefore, they decided to stay in Durban for a week to prepare for recruitment.


    The next morning, Deng Shiyang slept until after nine o''clock. Unbelievably, Keith, a former SAS reservist, was quite a cooking expert. In just over half an hour, he prepared a lavish English breakfast that included grilled tomatoes, scrambled eggs, bacon, boerewors sausage, fried mushrooms, and chips, with butter-fried bread slices as the main dish, accompanied by orange juice and Kilimanjaro coffee.


    Du Preez was punctual, arriving at the villa right on time for breakfast. He unceremoniously piled a plate high with scrambled eggs, then filled another plate with bacon, sausage, and chips. Settling himself on the kitchen bar, he began eating heartily.


    Halfway through breakfast, Keith said to Du Preez, "There are six core members for this job: JD and me, plus four deputies. Besides you, we''ve already decided on two, both of whom you know." He paused before continuing, "One of them is Mark Vlaeminck. After the Bolivia operation, he hasn''t taken any work and has been staying in Ostend. The other is Per Jansen, who''s currently working on a short-term contract in Kenya."


    "Oh, right," Keith added as if he remembered something, "I recently heard that the ''Frenchman'' found a job with Canal+ as a military advisor for a movie."


    Du Preez sneered, joking, "I just hope he doesn''t rat us out if ELN catches him for interrogation."


    Keith smiled and continued seriously, "This job requires recruiting a lot of cheap manpower, but we don''t have those kinds of contacts."


    Du Preez perked up and asked, "How many people do you need?"


    Keith glanced at him and answered, "A hundred soldiers, to be trained in Botswana."


    "How long will the training be?"


    "Three weeks. It could be slightly extended, but it won''t exceed a month."


    "With just three weeks, it looks like we can''t use civilians." Du Preez thought for a moment and asked, "What do you need me to do?"


    "We need someone to recruit these soldiers and train them." Keith paused before continuing, "We can provide training grounds and other resources, but we need someone with existing relationships to take charge of recruiting and training these one hundred soldiers. Do you know anyone who can handle this?"


    Du Preez thought for a long time before replying, "I know a guy from my time at EO, a German who served in the ''32 Battalion.'' He speaks four languages and has worked as a military advisor in Angola and Sierra Leone. He''s also trained troops in Congo."


    In a shabby tavern near Wesmore, Pietermaritzburg, Kruger Semler was sitting at an uncleaned table. In front of him was a serving of roast beef and green beans, along with a large mug of beer.


    This tavern was a typical gathering place for the lower-middle class: dirty, small, and with poor-quality food. The green beans were overcooked, and the roast beef was dry and lacked any juice. However, his alcohol-numbed taste buds couldn''t distinguish between "delicious" and "awful" anymore. Mechanically, he stuffed the rough, bark-like beef into his mouth, chewed quickly, and washed it down with beer.


    Semler was born in 1963 in a middle-class intellectual family in Leipzig. His father, Josef Semler, was a journalist with right-wing inclinations, and his mother, Caroline, belonged to a declining Prussian Junker family in Brandenburg and worked as a teacher at a local high school.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    In 1971, Josef was arrested by the Stasi for writing articles critical of the Soviet Communist Party and the Socialist Unity Party of Germany (SED) for funding left-wing extremist groups such as the Red Army Faction. From then on, he was never heard from again. The following year, Semler fled with his mother through Hungary, crossing into Austria near K?rmend, and eventually sought refuge in South Africa when he was only nine years old.


    He lived in Windhoek, the capital of South West Africa, for ten years until 1983 when his mother passed away from cancer. That same year, he joined the South African Defence Force''s "32 Battalion," assisting UNITA in its anti-guerrilla warfare against the Soviet- and Cuban-supported MPLA. In 1988, he participated in the Battle of Cuito Cuanavale. In February''s "Operation Packer," he led a platoon of South African soldiers to raid an FAPLA encampment, killing twenty Angolan soldiers and one Cuban military advisor.


    In 1992, Kruger, who had been promoted to lieutenant, left the SADF and joined EO at the invitation of Eeben Barlow. During the Angolan Civil War, he was sent to the northern Lunda province as a military advisor, training both the Angolan Armed Forces and UNITA. In 1995, he was sent to Sierra Leone to train the government army in Freetown to fend off attacks from the Revolutionary United Front (RUF).


    After EO disbanded in 1999, Kruger remained quiet for a while, surviving off his contacts in Windhoek by smuggling cigarettes and alcohol into Namibia''s Tuli region.


    With the outbreak of 9/11 and the Iraq War, the private security business boomed, and he returned to his old profession. In 2004, he was hired by the newly formed Aegis Defence Services, which sent him to the Ituri district of the Orientale province in the DRC to form a small security team to protect a JFPI-owned diamond mine from harassment by anti-government militias.


    In March of that same year, four Blackwater employees were ambushed and killed in Fallujah. Their bodies were burned, dismembered, and hung from a bridge for display. This incident shocked the world and brought the relatively unknown industry of "private military contractors" into the spotlight.


    The "Fallujah incident" garnered widespread media coverage, but most people could not differentiate between the heavily armed "security contractors" appearing in the streets of Baghdad and mercenaries, so they were seen as synonymous with "profit-driven individuals."


    In 2007, independent American journalist Jeremy Scahill published a book titled "Blackwater: The Rise of the World''s Most Powerful Mercenary Army," exposing many negative stories about the industry. It included claims that contractors in Iraq acted violently and indiscriminately shot civilians; it even specifically mentioned former soldiers flocking to make money, including some notorious "Koevoet" members from apartheid-era South Africa, further tarnishing the industry''s already poor reputation.


    Because of "32 Battalion''s" already controversial reputation, Kruger had not received new work since the Congo contract ended in 2005 and had been surviving on meager savings. He registered with a few agencies in Pretoria and Cape Town but received no response.


    Life now was even worse than his smuggling days. Though the risks and rewards of smuggling were not high, at least there was something to do. Planning and executing smuggling runs brought a sense of adventure, reminding him of his survival battles in Angola. But all of that was gone now; he spent his days drowning in alcohol and tobacco, completely dispirited.


    That day, he was once again drunk and left the tavern at noon. Unbeknownst to him, as he staggered back to his small, filthy apartment in Prestbury, Du Preez was speeding down the N3 highway in a Land Cruiser, heading for Pietermaritzburg.


    Notes:


    Canal+ (Canal Plus): A major French pay-TV channel.


    Socialist Unity Party of Germany (Sozialistische_Einheitspartei_Deutschlands, SED): The ruling party of East Germany.


    Red Army Faction (Rote Armee Fraktion, RAF): A left-wing terrorist group active in Germany during the 1970s.


    Stasi: The Ministry for State Security (Ministerium f¨¹r Staatssicherheit), the secret police and intelligence agency of the German Democratic Republic.


    South West Africa (Suidwes-Afrika): The former name of Namibia before gaining independence.


    People''s Armed Forces for the Liberation of Angola (Foras Armadas Populares de Libertao de Angola, FAPLA): The armed forces established by the MPLA after taking control of the government.


    Eeben Barlow: Former SADF lieutenant colonel and founder of EO.


    Aegis Defence Services: A private military company based in London, United Kingdom.


    JFPI Corporation: An African mining company headquartered in Kinshasa, Democratic Republic of the Congo, primarily involved in the extraction of copper and diamonds.


    "Blackwater: The Rise of the World''s Most Powerful Mercenary Army" by Jeremy Scahill: A book revealing many negative aspects of the private military contractor industry.


    Koevoet: Also known as "Operation K," the formal name was the "South West Africa Police Counter-Insurgency Unit." It was part of the South West Africa Police and focused on suppressing the SWAPO insurgency.

 Mark and Per

    March in Ostend was still cold. With two months left before summer vacation, the empty streets were devoid of tourists, and even the passersby appeared listless. The city, known as the "King¡¯s Seaside Resort," presented a desolate scene.


    In the northwest corner of Mariakerke, there was a small restaurant called "Sun Beach." As it was only a road away from the beach, it was always packed during the tourist season. But now, it was so quiet that there was only one customer. Two young waiters stood in the corner, whispering and laughing, while the idle owner dozed behind the bar.


    Mark Vlaeminck sat under a navy-blue umbrella in the outdoor seating area. After finishing a meal of white wine mussels and fries, he burped, then took a large swig of foamy Chimay Trappist beer, and leaned back in his French oak chair, nodding off.


    After finishing his work in Bolivia, he returned to his hometown, spent half of his pay on an old single-mast yacht, and leisurely sailed the North Sea for two weeks. Then, with a few friends, he went hiking along the Meuse River in the Ardennes, followed by a hunting trip in Wallonia.


    But less than a month later, he was bored out of his mind, unable to muster interest in anything, and started to spend his days in a haze of alcohol. It wasn¡¯t until a few days ago, after he drunkenly beat up two trouble makers in a bar and threw them out, that he finally felt a bit more alive.


    A cold sea breeze, salty and harsh, swept through the street, blowing across the burly Belgian''s body and shaking him fully awake. Mark shivered, stood up, tightened his coat, downed the rest of his beer, and left after paying.


    He drove his Opel Astra along the N34 highway, heading west towards Westende. Seeing the empty beaches and neat rows of piers on the roadside, his mood grew even more irritable. Like most veterans with many years of service, he had grown weary of the peaceful yet monotonous civilian life and started to miss the adventurous life he once led.


    Back at his apartment in Lombardsijde, he took a bottle of "Leffe" pale beer from the fridge, sat on the living room sofa, and started drinking. After finishing the beer, he opened his gun cabinet, took out more than a dozen hunting rifles and handguns, and brought them to the dining room. One by one, he disassembled, cleaned, and oiled them before reassembling them.


    It took him over four hours to complete the maintenance, finishing just as dusk approached. Mark glanced at the clock and then went into the room to turn on his computer. He logged into his eBay account to check if there were any bids on the items he was selling. Last week, he had put up a wild boar head trophy from his last hunting trip for auction.


    With some time to spare before dinner, he browsed a few online gun shops, then logged into his email. In the "new mail" section, he was surprised to find a message from "Keith Brown." The email contained a long-distance number, starting with 002731, and two English words: "Call me."


    As dusk settled over Ostend, night had already fallen in Nairobi, the capital of Kenya. In a small hotel called "La Mada," Per Jansen cheerfully hung up the phone and raised a glass to the Karura Forest outside the window, saying, "To Durban!"


    He had returned to Nairobi two days ago to attend a work meeting and report to his employer. After two months of running around, his skin was tanned by the African sun, and his once youthful face now appeared several years older, transformed by the local climate.


    Shortly after returning from Bolivia, he had signed a three-month contract with Deyang Group to train a 30-member border patrol team near the Masai Amboseli Reserve on the Tanzanian border, tasked with anti-poaching and fighting cross-border smuggling.


    The history of mercenaries working in environmental protection dates back to the early 1980s. At that time, the global mercenary business was in decline, and the Kenyan government took the opportunity to hire mercenaries to work in the country''s nature reserves, combating poaching and ivory smuggling.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Last year, an environmental group called "Green Planet" reached an agreement with the Kenyan government: the organization would provide a grant through its nature conservation fund to help combat poaching and the illegal ivory trade. In exchange, the Kenyan government pledged to strengthen border patrols and take measures against illegal ivory sales.


    Ordinarily, companies as large as Deyang wouldn''t be interested in such low-profit work. However, the private military contractor industry had garnered increased attention in recent years, with companies like Deyang, much like Blackwater, facing widespread criticism in the media.


    In 2000, the UN International Police in Bosnia exposed Deyang Group for forcing minors to engage in prostitution and providing sexual bribes to UN officials in order to win a $15 million police training contract. This scandal has recently been turned into a film, scheduled to be released in the US in 2010.


    In 2006, more than 1,600 civilians from Esmeraldas Province and Sucumb¨ªos Province in Ecuador filed a lawsuit in a Florida federal court, accusing Deyang Group of spraying herbicides from airplanes during drug eradication efforts, causing harm to local residents.


    2007 was a tumultuous year for Deyang. In February, the US Government Accountability Office accused Deyang of wasting resources and committing fraud during its police training work in Iraq. In October, the company¡¯s employees, while protecting a convoy for the US State Department, recklessly killed a taxi driver in Baghdad.


    Mismanagement had led Deyang to lay off employees twice, yet the situation remained dire. To open new business avenues, the company¡¯s executives believed that engaging in more "noble" work would help improve their image. They heavily publicized their role in maintaining order and assisting with reconstruction in Louisiana after Hurricane Katrina, as well as their involvement in counter-narcotics operations in Afghanistan and South America, while also taking on some unprofitable "PR" tasks.


    Compared to working in Iraq or Afghanistan on "Protect jobs," training assignments were much safer and more relaxed, supposedly a "simple task." But for Jansen, his time in Kenya had been neither enjoyable nor fulfilling.


    Half of the patrol members didn''t understand English, and the rest, besides basic daily conversation, had a vocabulary smaller than that of a high school student. Since Jansen didn¡¯t speak Swahili and the assigned interpreter arrived late, the first month of training relied heavily on gestures.


    Additionally, the rampant corruption among Kenyan officials left Jansen fuming. According to the contract, the necessary supplies for the patrol were to be provided by the Border Police Headquarters and the Amboseli Reserve management in the border city of Namanga. However, after passing through several layers of graft, the remaining supplies were barely enough to meet basic needs.


    Take weapons, for example. They only received 26 old AK-47s made in China, Cuba, Romania, and the former Yugoslavia, and each person wasn¡¯t even assigned their own rifle. Furthermore, each rifle came with only one magazine, and they had no cleaning or maintenance tools. Extra magazines, gun oil, and even cleaning rods had to be bought out-of-pocket. The government was also incredibly stingy with ammunition, and they had to scrape together around 3,000 rounds from Nairobi and Namanga, using them sparingly.


    It took over a month to get transportation for the patrol, eventually receiving two rusty Land Rovers and a Toyota Land Cruiser 40 that was at least 30 years old. The condition of the two Land Rovers was appalling ¡ª the exhaust pipes spewed black smoke as soon as the engines started, and they required constant revving to prevent stalling when idling. The Land Cruiser was functional, but its interior had been stripped bare. Apart from the driver¡¯s seat, all the other seats had disappeared long ago, and makeshift seats were welded from steel rods and thick iron plates.


    The most unbearable aspect was the widespread bureaucracy in Kenya, where even the most trivial expenses had to be reported and approved at multiple levels, resulting in extremely low administrative efficiency. Once, Jansen had to fill out four different forms to get a 3,000 Kenyan shilling fuel expense reimbursed, and the request still had to be sent to Nairobi for approval.


    However, bureaucracy wasn¡¯t all bad ¡ª at least the twice-monthly meetings gave Jansen an excuse to leave the makeshift outpost built from tin sheets and spend two days at a hotel in Nairobi with hot showers and cold beer. He was in a good mood now, not just because the annoying job was nearing its end, but mainly because of the email he received that afternoon.


    They had just spoken on the phone. Keith had told him about a new job and wanted him to head to Durban as soon as this assignment was over, leaving him a meeting address. Keith also promised to cover all his expenses, and even if Jansen didn¡¯t take the job, he would be provided with a ticket back to the US.


    Notes:


    *Deyang Group (DynCorp International LLC): A private American military contractor.*

 Work

    In Pietermaritzburg, it took Du Preez an entire afternoon to find Semler''s rented apartment, and then quite a bit of effort to drag him out of the reeking pile of garbage that smelled of alcohol and mold.


    Seeing his friend, now a poor, destitute drunkard, Du Preez couldn''t help but feel a surge of anger. He shoved Semler into the back seat and drove to Athlone, where he found a motel. Then, he filled the bathtub in the bathroom with cold water and shoved the German''s head into it.


    This waterboarding-like sobering method was unpleasant, but the effect was immediate. The previously unsteady Semler, after having his head "washed" in the tub, coughed out a few mouthfuls of cold water, then knelt by the toilet and dry heaved for a while, gradually regaining his senses.


    Du Preez grabbed a towel from the rack by the sink and forcefully tossed it at the disheveled Semler''s face, saying, "If you''re not dead yet, clean yourself up before I get back! I''ve got a job for you in Durban." Then he turned and left the room.


    He drove around the area and found a large shopping mall along the N3 highway, where he bought a few sets of replacement clothes, along with two shirts, a pair of casual pants, and a pair of light brown hiking shoes.


    When he returned to the motel, Semler was still in the shower. Du Preez placed the purchased items on the floor, then used his phone to call the villa in Durban, telling them that he''d found the person but had a few things to handle, so he''d return the next morning.


    Just as he hung up the phone, Semler emerged from the bathroom wearing a bathrobe. He had shaved his stubbly beard and slicked back his previously messy hair, looking much more presentable. After putting on the new clothes, his frame still seemed a bit thin, but compared to the disheveled drunkard from half an hour earlier, he was practically a different person.


    Du Preez gave him a once-over, then nodded in satisfaction. The two checked out, drove to the commercial district, and had a steak dinner at a relatively upscale restaurant. After dinner, Du Preez took Semler to a hair salon for a haircut and then found a small but comfortable hotel downtown to spend the night.


    Although Keith hadn¡¯t revealed the job details over the phone, both men showed great interest. Mark agreed to set off the next morning, take the train to Brussels, and catch the earliest flight to Durban, some six thousand miles away. Due to having to make two layovers, the earliest he could arrive would be in the afternoon. Jansen also promised to depart as soon as possible but needed to stay in Kenya for another week to finish his handover duties before he could travel.


    The day¡¯s work went relatively smoothly. That evening, Deng Shiyang and Keith reported to Harrowby over the phone. The latter informed them that the first funds had been secured in Gibraltar and promised to transfer ¡ê20,000 to the Standard Bank account in South Africa as soon as possible.


    The next morning, Du Preez and Semler returned to the villa.


    Deng Shiyang and Keith conducted an interview in the living room, asking Semler about his experiences with EO during the civil wars in Angola and Sierra Leone, as well as his work in the Congo. Although Du Preez vouched for him, to be safe, they still took down Semler¡¯s full name and passport number to verify with Harrowby.


    This show of distrust made Semler uncomfortable. But when Deng Shiyang told him that another member from Belgium would be arriving that afternoon, all his dissatisfaction disappeared in an instant. After all, a one-way ticket from Brussels to Durban cost at least $1,300 ¡ª quite a sum. He had secretly speculated the day before that the backer behind this job was quite influential, and now this confirmed his suspicions.


    Shortly after lunch, Mark called from Abu Dhabi International Airport, saying that he would arrive in Durban by 4 p.m. Not long after, Harrowby sent Deng Shiyang an email with a detailed resumes of Semler¡¯s career, including his work for EO and Shield Security.


    Semler was secretly stunned by this and was glad he hadn¡¯t exaggerated during the interview. At the same time, his curiosity grew like a snowball rolling down a hill, getting bigger and bigger.


    That evening, a small welcome party was held in the villa¡¯s dining room to welcome the two new members. Semler felt that this was a signal that he had been accepted and approved to participate.


    After drinking a bottle of white wine from Northern Cape, Deng Shiyang said to everyone present, ¡°Our job this time involves planning, organizing, and carrying out a military operation.¡± He paused and then continued, ¡°The target is a building located inland in Africa. We are to launch a surprise attack, eliminate all the scum inside, and then take over the building.¡±Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    The three men reacted differently. Du Preez, who had already guessed the general outline, remained calm, simply smiling and downing the rest of his wine. Semler muttered something under his breath in German, then pulled out a cigarette and lit it. Mark didn¡¯t show much surprise either; instead, his face revealed a mix of excitement and eager anticipation.


    ¡°This job will take about two months,¡± Deng Shiyang added. ¡°The preparation phase includes recruitment and training of personnel, as well as the procurement of various supplies.¡± He paused briefly before adding, ¡°Of course, all of this will be done through legal channels.¡± Once everyone¡¯s interest was piqued, he continued, ¡°As for compensation, each of you will receive ¡ê10,000 as an advance, plus travel and living expenses during the mission, and another ¡ê40,000 upon completion.¡±


    ¡°Sounds good,¡± Mark responded, then asked, ¡°What about insurance?¡±


    Deng Shiyang motioned to Keith, who replied, ¡°Insurance will be maritime insurance, with a coverage limit of up to $500,000. You¡¯ll have to pay the additional premiums yourselves. If anyone meets with an accident, the rest of you will need to testify to the insurance company that he fell into the sea and drowned. If someone is injured, we¡¯ll claim it was due to shifting cargo on the ship. How does that sound?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m in!¡± Semler was the first to reply, without hesitation.


    Mark glanced at him, then nodded and said, ¡°I¡¯ll join.¡±


    They shook hands, and that settled it.


    Keith then began assigning tasks. First, he said to Semler, "We need you to go to Angola, recruit one hundred soldiers, and send them to Botswana for training." He paused, then added, "Find Black soldiers who have been trained by whites, are battle-hardened, and follow orders. Out of the hundred, we need ten to be sergeants. They must have basic conversational English skills to communicate orders and lead the troops in battle."


    "I understand your requirements," Semler nodded lightly, then asked, "How much are you planning to pay these people?"


    "As for the pay, each soldier will get two thousand dollars, and the sergeants will get five hundred more. All expenses during the training will be covered by us."


    Semler furrowed his brow and cautiously said, "Two thousand dollars is no small sum, but the people you''re looking for won''t come cheap. Also, with so many foreign investors in Angola, locals who speak English are already earning good money. This amount may not be enough to convince them to go to war."


    At this point, Deng Shiyang, who had been watching him, asked, "What¡¯s your suggestion?"


    As if he had been waiting for this question, Semler immediately replied, "I speak fluent English and Portuguese, so I can relay complex orders myself. We can then just pick a few smart soldiers and teach them some English commands. This would make recruiting easier and save money."


    "That could work," Deng Shiyang agreed. "Tell them that if they perform well during those two months, they can get at least a six-month contract afterward, with a salary of no less than fifteen hundred dollars a month."


    "That¡¯s much better," Semler nodded. "Compared to Angolan incomes, this kind of money is enough to buy their lives."


    "Now that the mission is clear, tell us what you need."


    "First, I¡¯ll need communication tools. It¡¯s fine in Luanda, but in remote areas, cell phones might not work. To stay in contact with you, I¡¯ll need a satellite phone."


    "No problem," Deng Shiyang nodded. "Anything else?"


    "Then there¡¯s the budget. Travel and lodging in Angola will cost around three thousand... no, five thousand dollars..." Halfway through, Semler looked embarrassed and said quietly, "But I don¡¯t have a credit card."


    Deng Shiyang exchanged a glance with Keith, who said, "That¡¯s easy. Tomorrow, Du Preez will go with you to Pietermaritzburg to open an account. Your expenses and fees will be transferred to that account." He paused, then added, "You have two weeks. I suggest you leave as soon as possible. Don¡¯t worry about the money; we¡¯ll give you five hundred dollars in cash and traveler''s checks worth two thousand dollars. We¡¯ll have the credit card mailed to us here, and as soon as we receive it, we¡¯ll send it to Angola by courier. How does that sound?"


    "Very thoughtful," Semler sniffed and let out a barely audible sigh.


    "Any other questions?"


    "None for now."


    "I suggest you go pack and get ready for tomorrow."


    Semler nodded, said his goodbyes, and left the kitchen.


    Watching the German¡¯s figure disappear down the hallway, Keith turned to Mark and said, "Your job is to find a ship. We need a ''clean'' used ship." He paused, emphasizing, "Remember, the ship must have a clean background and complete documentation. It doesn¡¯t need to be fast, but the engines must be reliable and durable; it should be around five thousand tons, ideally a container ship, though a bulk carrier will work if necessary. The ship shouldn¡¯t stand out in appearance, and there shouldn¡¯t be any cranes or other equipment on the deck. It must be able to load cargo at a South African port without attracting attention. The price can¡¯t exceed one million dollars, not including maintenance and upkeep. You have one month to arrange this, and the ship needs to arrive at the Natal Basin in four weeks. We¡¯ll tell you the port where it will dock later."


    The Belgian repeated what he had heard silently, then replied, "Considering the journey from Europe to here, a month is tight, but I¡¯ll do my best."


    Marc nodded, recalling the phone numbers of a few shipping companies in Ostend.


    "Du Preez, do you remember telling me that you knew a guy who used to be with the 32 Battalion? He used to be Nick du Toit¡¯s partner, the one who went solo after Toit got caught."


    "I remember, his name¡¯s Johan Schlink," the South African replied without hesitation.


    "Can you find him?"


    Du Preez scratched his head and said, "I heard he¡¯s running a customs business in Cape Town. I¡¯ll have to call some contacts over there to get the details."


    "When you find him, tell him someone wants to buy a batch of weapons and arrange a meeting as soon as possible."


    "No problem," Du Preez nodded, then asked with a puzzled look, "Is that all?"


    "That¡¯s all for now."

 The Kristo

    The welcome party didn''t end until eight o''clock in the evening. Deng Shiyang and Keith made a report over the phone, and Harrowby was pleased with their concise summary. He jotted down the details in a notebook to relay to his clients in London.


    Once the notes were finished, Keith made a request: "Please transfer twenty thousand pounds to our Standard Bank account in South Africa by tomorrow."


    "No problem."


    "Also, the person heading to Angola will depart in the next few days. We''ll need your contacts there to assist him as much as possible."


    "That¡¯s fine, I¡¯ll provide you with the contact person''s name tomorrow. Your man can find him for help when he arrives in Luanda."


    "Great."


    "By the way, I recently received some news," Harrowby paused, then continued, "Due to the tightening regulations on domestic PMCs by the ANC at the beginning of the year, SkyLink is planning to wind down its operations in South Africa. I¡¯ve heard they¡¯re looking to sell off the equipment from their South African branch. You might want to contact them ¡ª you could get a good deal on some second-hand helicopters."


    "That¡¯s good news," Keith nodded. "Do you have a contact?"


    Harrowby gave him a name and a phone number, which Keith noted down on paper.


    After the call ended, Deng Shiyang emailed Harrowby the bank account details for the other three members, instructing him to transfer their advance payments.


    The next morning, Du Preez arrived at the villa early. As soon as they met, he handed Keith a folded piece of paper.


    "This is Johan Schlink¡¯s phone number. I spoke with him last night, and he¡¯s agreed to meet with you. You can arrange the time and place directly with him."


    "Thank you." Keith took the paper, raised it slightly in acknowledgment, and glanced at Deng Shiyang with a questioning look.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    Deng Shiyang briefly returned his gaze, then took the paper.


    After breakfast, Du Preez and Semler left for Pietermaritzburg. Once the two had departed, Marc pulled a slip of paper from his jacket pocket and showed it to Deng Shiyang, asking, "Can you access this website?"


    Deng Shiyang glanced at the paper and replied, "Should be able to."


    He brought his laptop into the kitchen, opened it on the counter, and typed the URL from the paper into the browser''s address bar. A website for buying and selling second-hand ships appeared on the screen.


    Mark pointed at himself, and Deng Shiyang understood, pushing the laptop over to the table beside him.


    The Belgian sat down at the bar, quickly opened the ¡°wanted¡± section, and then entered the tonnage and type of ship he was looking for into the search filters. After pressing the ¡°search¡± button, a list of available ships that met the criteria appeared.


    Deng Shiyang called Keith over, and the three of them huddled around the laptop, reviewing the details of each ship on the list.


    They spent the entire morning looking through the three-page list and carefully reviewed the information on all fifty-four ships for sale.


    In the end, Deng Shiyang and Keith decided on a container ship named "Cristo." This ship had a full displacement of 5,200 tons, was 390 feet long, and had a maximum speed of 20 knots. Its forward deck was quite spacious and flat, making it ideal for their needs.


    After some investigation, they found out that the Panama-registered vessel was built in Fuzhou in 1990. It had originally belonged to a Dutch shipping company, but in 2007, it was sold to FEMAS Ocean Shipping Company, headquartered in Antwerp, Belgium. Late last year, FEMAS faced financial difficulties and was on the verge of bankruptcy. At the start of this year, they began restructuring their assets. To reduce expenses and pay off debt, the management decided to sell off a third of their fleet, including the "Cristo."


    The asking price for the ship was 900,000 euros, which converted to around 1.17 million U.S. dollars. Although the price exceeded their budget, the seller mentioned on the website that the ship had undergone a comprehensive overhaul in mid-last year, and the engine was in good working order. This would not only save on maintenance costs but also allow for immediate modifications once the ship reached South Africa. Furthermore, Mark assured them that in such deals, the final price could usually be negotiated down, which strengthened their resolve.


    Once they made the decision, Keith said to Mark, "I¡¯d like you to contact the company as an intermediary this afternoon and then head to Antwerp as soon as possible. Can you do that?"


    "No problem."


    "You¡¯ll need to inspect the ship''s condition and verify the registration documents. Once you¡¯re certain everything checks out, get in touch with me. We¡¯ll go over the transaction details then." He paused and added, "You¡¯ll be staying in Europe for a while. I¡¯ll transfer ¡ê3,000 to your bank account in Belgium as a budget."


    "Got it," Mark replied with a nod.

 The Johan Schlink

    In the afternoon, work proceeded in an orderly manner, with everyone contacting their respective liaisons.


    Mark dialed the phone number listed on the ship brokerage website and reached the head of FEMAS Ocean Shipping Company. He introduced himself as a second-hand ship broker, recently commissioned by a shipping company to look for a 5,000-ton container ship.


    He first asked a few questions about the ¡°Cristo¡± and then requested the seller to prepare the ship¡¯s registration documents, as he would soon travel to Antwerp to negotiate the purchase in person.


    Keith dialed the number Harrowby had given him and reached a man named Allen Baker. This guy was a broker in aviation equipment, and he had clearly gotten wind of the situation beforehand, as he immediately sent over an email listing the number and models of SkyLink South Africa¡¯s aircraft.


    The company owned two Mi-17C medium utility helicopters and three MD-500D light helicopters, as well as several Beechcraft small fixed-wing aircraft. Considering range and payload factors, the MD-500s were quickly ruled out, leaving the two Mi-17s as the only viable options.


    Later, Keith called Baker again, expressing interest in purchasing the two Mi-17s. He promised a $50,000 commission, regardless of the deal''s value, and requested that Baker quickly arrange a meeting with a SkyLink representative.


    Deng Shiyang also called "Leon Butterworth Import and Export Trade Consulting Co." in Cape Town and got through to Johan Schlink himself.


    It was clear that Schlink was a very cautious man, and he held considerable suspicion toward new clients in an initial transaction. Although Deng Shiyang tried to probe several times during their conversation, the arms dealer remained tight-lipped about his "business," only agreeing to a meeting in Cape Town the following week.


    Du Preez and Semler returned by dinnertime, having spent the entire day in Pietermaritzburg handling the necessary paperwork for the credit card application and obtaining expedited business visas at the Angolan consulate.


    That evening, Harrowby informed them during the routine call that the ¡ê20,000 had been transferred to Josh Deylek¡¯s Standard Bank account in South Africa.


    Deng Shiyang logged into the online bank and transferred ¡ê4,000 each into Semler¡¯s and Mark¡¯s accounts. He then spent ¡ê2,000 to book flights for the two of them to Luanda and Antwerp.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    In less than half an hour, half of the newly received ¡ê20,000 was gone. He split the remaining amount in two, keeping ¡ê5,000 for himself and transferring the rest into Keith¡¯s account.


    On the seventh day after arriving in Durban, the credit cards were delivered to the villa as scheduled. By this time, Mark and Semler had already left South Africa, and the remaining team members decided to go their separate ways. Keith and Du Preez would head to Pretoria to meet Allen Baker, while Deng Shiyang would travel to Cape Town to meet Johan Schlink, the intermediary for the weapons deal.


    Due to considerations of national security and politics, the military-industrial complex, supported by governments, had long become an integral part of most countries'' industrial systems. Coupled with the influence of the international arms race, nations were compelled to invest vast resources in updating their weaponry. Although no government wished to embroil their country in war, they had to maintain and develop their military industries.


    In peacetime, the large stockpiles of weapons and ammunition accumulated could not be consumed unless a war broke out. The simplest and most expedient solution was to spark conflicts in other countries, thus marketing the surplus weapons to them. Driven by huge political and economic interests, the arms trade quickly became a highly lucrative industry, second only to the drug trade, with governments naturally participating.


    Contrary to the "noble" purposes touted by official media, the major exporting nations rarely cared about how their weapons would be used. They didn¡¯t consider whether buyers intended to defend against foreign invasions or to maintain authoritarian regimes. Especially during the Cold War, when the East and West blocs were competing for overseas influence, socialist countries like the Soviet Union, China, and Cuba, who believed in ¡°power coming from the barrel of a gun,¡± sent massive aid to the Third World under the banner of "exporting revolution." Weapons exports also became a key means of political expansion and hegemonic ambition.


    Arms dealers were a product of the market competition between nations. These companies or individuals didn¡¯t have their own arms factories, but they had deep political connections. They acted as intermediaries in transactions, connecting buyers and manufacturers while profiting from the deals. After years of power struggles between global powers, this industry gradually matured and became systematized. Under market economy principles, Eastern countries developed state-backed organizations like Norinco and Poly Group, while Western counterparts included international arms barons like Pierre Falcone and Viktor Bout. The former, protected by the US and UK, smuggled billions of dollars'' worth of weapons into Angola, at one point influencing the outcome of the civil war; the latter is the real-life inspiration for Yuri Orlov, the protagonist of the film *Lord of War*.


    In the murky arms market, there were individuals operating in the legal gray area. These people survived in the cracks between legitimate arms dealers, representing clients who couldn¡¯t obtain government sales permits and whose ventures weren¡¯t supported by communist regimes, negotiating with arms manufacturers and collecting commissions in the process.


    Johan Schlink was one of them.


    Notes:


    Beechcraft: An American aircraft manufacturer, primarily producing propeller-driven civilian planes.

 A spy meeting

    It only took two hours to fly from Durban to Cape Town. Deng Shiyang¡¯s Kulula Airlines Boeing 737-400 flight landed at Cape Town International Airport at 11 a.m.


    Upon arrival, the first task was to contact Johan Schlink. The meeting was set up like something out of an Ian Fleming novel.


    As planned, Deng Shiyang arrived at the caf¨¦ in the terminal building. He looked around and soon spotted his contact at a table in the corner, reading a newspaper.


    The man handling the meeting was a white male in his early thirties with dark brown curly hair. He wore a white short-sleeved shirt and an airport ground staff ID badge. Two plastic-capped ballpoint pens, one red and one blue, were clipped to his left breast pocket¡ªthis was the identifying mark for the meeting.


    Deng Shiyang quickly walked to the table, placed his luggage on the chair opposite, and casually said, ¡°Have you been waiting long? Sorry, the flight was delayed.¡±


    The man looked up at him, then quietly replied, ¡°Not too long, but sometimes Mango Airlines really is terrible.¡±


    This was the agreed-upon code. Deng Shiyang smiled slightly and echoed, ¡°Yes, it really is terrible.¡±


    "Who are you really?" The man suddenly stood up and shouted, "What¡¯s your problem? I told you, you¡¯ve got the wrong person!" He threw the newspaper on the table and stormed out of the caf¨¦.


    This commotion immediately made Deng Shiyang the center of attention in the caf¨¦. Feeling the eyes of the other customers on him, he awkwardly shrugged, sat down at the table, and ordered a cup of coffee.


    Once people¡¯s attention shifted away, he picked up the discarded *Cape Times*. In the classified ads section, there was a job posting for the ¡°Fountain Hotel,¡± and the hotel¡¯s name was circled in blue pen. Next to it, a name was written¡ª¡°Alden.¡±


    For a meeting, this level of precaution seemed a bit over the top. Even Deng Shiyang thought Schlink was being excessively cautious. But despite his thoughts, he paid for his coffee and left the caf¨¦, then took a taxi to the city center.


    Arriving at the Fountain Hotel in Cape Town¡¯s business district, he went to the front desk and asked, ¡°Is there a message for Mr. Alden?¡±


    The receptionist, a young woman with light chestnut-colored hair, checked the records, then handed him a small envelope. Inside, he found a slip of paper with the number "603" written on it. Deng Shiyang took the elevator to the sixth floor and knocked on the door of room 603.


    After a moment, the door opened a crack, revealing half the face of a middle-aged white man.


    Before Deng Shiyang could speak, a raspy voice from inside asked, ¡°Is this Mr. Deylek?¡±


    Johan Schlink was a short, balding, overweight man. He had drooping triangular eyes, and his constant fake smile while speaking made him uncomfortable to look at.


    Deng Shiyang nodded and handed his passport through the crack in the door. Schlink glanced through a few pages before returning it, then closed the door to undo the chain and opened it fully.


    After letting his guest into the room, Schlink apologized, ¡°I¡¯m sorry we have to meet this way, but I hope you understand, in our line of work, we must be cautious, especially during these sensitive times¡­¡±


    ¡°I understand,¡± Deng Shiyang waved him off, stopping his rambling. He set his luggage down and sat in the armchair near the window.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Schlink opened the fridge and took out two bottles of water. He placed one on the small table in front of Deng Shiyang, then sat in the opposite chair, saying, ¡°What can I do for you?¡±


    ¡°You, like me, probably don¡¯t like wasting time,¡± Deng Shiyang glanced at him, then said, ¡°So let¡¯s get straight to the point.¡±


    ¡°Agreed, you¡¯re right,¡± Schlink nodded quickly.


    ¡°I believe our mutual friend, Jannie Du Preez, has already told you. I need to purchase some weapons,¡± Deng Shiyang said directly. ¡°That¡¯s why he introduced me to you. While this order may not be large, if the transaction goes smoothly, you¡¯ll receive a significant number of orders in the future.¡±


    Schlink nodded deferentially and asked, ¡°What do you need?¡±


    Deng Shiyang took a folded slip of paper from his wallet¡¯s photo compartment and handed it over.


    ¡°This is the list.¡±


    Schlink took the list and read it softly, ¡°100 R5 rifles, 20 Mini-SS light machine guns, 20 SS-77 machine guns, 20 MGL MK-1L grenade launchers, 10 RPG-7 rocket launchers with PGN-1 night vision , 3 81mm mortars¡­¡± He paused and glanced up at the man sitting across from him with suspicion.


    Deng Shiyang nodded, signaling him to continue.


    ¡°200 81mm high-explosive shells, 400 HEAT-FRAG(PG-7VS), 3,000 40¡Á46mm  M381 high-explosive grenades(Using the M552 fuze),1,000 40¡Á46mm M680 covering smock grenades, 5,000 M26 hand grenades, 400,000 rounds of .308 rifle ammo, and 500,000 rounds of .223 rifle ammo!¡± His voice involuntarily rose at the end.


    Setting the list down, he jokingly asked, ¡°Are you planning to invade North Korea?¡±


    Raising an eyebrow, Deng Shiyang replied, ¡°Can you get these items?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Schlink responded eagerly. ¡°I have ongoing business with Denel. I can get this shipment together by this afternoon.¡± He paused, then nervously asked, ¡°I suppose you don¡¯t have an EUC?¡±


    In most legitimate arms deals, a crucial document is required: the End-User Certificate (EUC). This document guarantees in writing that the buyer is the end-user of the weapons and will not sell them to third parties. It must be issued by a recognized legitimate government.


    Of course, EUCs can be forged or bought on the black market. In fact, many Third World government officials sell these documents for extra cash, and sellers often don¡¯t verify their authenticity. For most arms-exporting nations, this document is merely a formality in the name of ¡°preventing weapon proliferation,¡± but it remains a necessary part of the procedure for both buyers and sellers.


    After a moment of thought, Deng Shiyang replied, ¡°I¡¯m afraid not. I hope you can come up with something.¡±


    ¡°No problem,¡± Schlink said, ¡°I can handle that, but it will take a little more time and, of course, money. Alternatively, I can source another batch of goods that doesn¡¯t require an EUC¡­¡±


    ¡°That won¡¯t be necessary,¡± Deng Shiyang interrupted. ¡°I want to avoid trouble, so I hope this deal can proceed through legal channels.¡±


    ¡°Yes, you¡¯re right. That¡¯s definitely safer,¡± Schlink laughed nervously and added, ¡°In that case, I¡¯ll charge 10% of the total amount as an additional fee for the EUC¡­¡±


    Deng Shiyang frowned but said nothing.


    Noticing his expression, Schlink quickly added, ¡°And then there¡¯s the brokerage fee. According to standard practice, I¡¯ll have to charge another 10%.¡±


    This time, Deng Shiyang nodded and asked, ¡°How do we handle the payment?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll give you a detailed price list within two days. You¡¯ll first pay 10% as a down payment for the EUC. Once the EUC is secured, I¡¯ll place the order with the manufacturer on behalf of the buyer, at which point the full payment is required. When the goods are ready for FOB, the remaining fees will be settled. Does that work?¡±


    After thinking for a moment, Deng Shiyang replied, ¡°That¡¯s fine, but the payment must be made through a letter of credit. Upon inspection, 80% will be paid, and the balance will be settled once the goods are loaded for shipping.¡±


    Schlink¡¯s expression changed, but before he could speak, Deng Shiyang cut him off, ¡°This arrangement protects the interests of both parties. I¡¯m sure the manufacturer won¡¯t object.¡±


    Schlink was momentarily at a loss for words but had no choice but to agree, ¡°Yes, you¡¯ve thought this through well.¡± He paused and asked, ¡°Where do you want the goods delivered?¡±


    ¡°For now, I can only tell you the shipment will be loaded at a South African port,¡± Deng Shiyang replied, then added, ¡°When can I expect the shipment?¡±


    ¡°Let me think¡­¡± Schlink pondered for a moment, then said, ¡°I¡¯ll need to confirm with the manufacturer for an exact date. Since this isn¡¯t a large order, I¡¯d estimate no more than forty days, possibly as soon as a month.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Deng Shiyang stood up, extending his hand, ¡°Let¡¯s leave it at that for now. I¡¯ll wait for your update.¡±


    ¡°Of course, pleasure doing business,¡± Schlink quickly stood up and shook his hand.


    Notes:


    *Ian Lancaster Fleming*: British journalist and author, famous for the *James Bond* series.


    *Denel*: South African defense contractor, the country¡¯s largest defense equipment manufacturer.


    *FOB (Free on Board)*: A trade term indicating that goods have cleared customs and are ready for shipment.

 Day 9

    The meeting lasted less than an hour, and Deng Shiyang didn¡¯t stay in Cape Town. After leaving the hotel, he immediately headed to the airport and booked a 2:25 PM ticket at the South African Airways counter. He then had a simple lunch at the airport restaurant before boarding a flight back to Durban.


    Meanwhile, at the Sunshine Coast Hotel in Luanda, the capital of Angola, Semler sat silently in a single chair in his room. He appeared anxious, chain-smoking one cigarette after another, looking restless. On the small oak side table next to him lay a nearly empty box of Davidoff cigarettes, alongside a large glass ashtray filled with cigarette butts.


    He had spoken with Keith over the phone the previous night. Keith was dissatisfied with the current progress and urged him to speed up the work, setting a final deadline for the week. Keith also mentioned in the call that a new member would arrive in Durban next week. Semler knew this was a warning¡ªif he didn¡¯t complete the task before the deadline, the two supervisors in Durban would not hesitate to replace him.


    Upon arriving in Luanda, Semler immediately went to the post office and sent an urgent airmail letter. It was a long, handwritten letter, addressed to a tribal leader of the Mbundu people living in Soyo. In the letter, he claimed to be working for a private military company, hoping to recruit soldiers from the tribe. He promised a fifty-dollar referral fee for each recruit and included his contact information, urging the recipient to respond as soon as possible.


    After the collapse of the Soviet-led Eastern Bloc, the Angolan government abandoned the socialist path in 1990 and introduced a multi-party system. In May of the following year, mediated by the former colonial power Portugal, the MPLA and UNITA signed a peace agreement, ending more than a decade of civil war.


    However, in September 1992, tensions flared again between the two parties over the presidential election, and in October, the second civil war broke out. Not long after Semler joined EO, Eeben Barlow dispatched him to the port city of Soyo in northwestern Angola to train a unit composed of Mbundu people to protect local oil facilities. It was during this time that he met the chief of the largest local tribe.


    By 1993, the Angolan Armed Forces were suffering defeat after defeat at the hands of UNITA, and the MPLA''s rule was hanging by a thread. The Angolan government then signed a contract with EO, hiring the company to fight UNITA. That same year, Semler began serving as a military adviser, responsible for training government soldiers until he was transferred to Sierra Leone in 1995.


    Considering the distance between Luanda and Soyo, the urgent airmail would take about two to three days to reach the recipient. However, ever since last night''s phone call, Semler had been feeling uneasy. He had already made up his mind that if he didn''t hear back from Soyo in two days, he would use his connections in the Angolan Armed Forces to recruit 100 retired soldiers through familiar officers. Though this might alert the Angolan government, he couldn¡¯t afford to lose his current job and wouldn¡¯t hesitate to take drastic measures if necessary.


    After glancing at the cigarette pack on the table, he took a deep drag from the half-smoked cigarette and crushed it into the ashtray.


    As he stood up to walk toward the door, his phone rang from the nightstand.


    March in Antwerp was as cold as in Ostend. Mark Vlaminck shivered and instinctively tightened his coat.


    He was wearing a sleek charcoal black suit, with a crisply pressed white shirt underneath and a maroon tie with off-white stripes around his neck. Due to his build, the suit felt somewhat awkward on him, and combined with his rugged, stubbly face, he looked oddly mismatched.


    The tall Belgian was clearly not used to this kind of attire. He reached out with his right hand to loosen his tie and then unbuttoned the collar, finally feeling a bit more comfortable.


    In contrast to the gloomy, overcast weather, Mark was in high spirits. He had just left the headquarters of FEMAS Maritime, located near Central Station, after wrapping up the first meeting about purchasing a ship.


    He had spent the entire morning carefully reviewing the company¡¯s factory records, registration documents, and some receipts that proved the "Cristo" had undergone maintenance and upkeep.


    From the documents at hand, the background of the "Cristo" was clean, and all its certificates were in order. Moreover, the ship already had a crew in place. The eighteen crew members, including the captain and first officer, were experienced sailors. Once renamed, the ship could immediately set sail, saving the trouble of recruiting a new crew.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    For now, everything about the ship seemed ideal. The only dissatisfaction was that, despite Marc showing enough sincerity and intent to purchase, the seller remained firm on the price. At the end of the meeting, he told the other party that while he was very satisfied with the "Cristo," he would need the buyer''s approval before proceeding.


    After leaving FEMAS, Mark called a friend in the shipping business in Ostend, asking them to verify the authenticity of the documents. He then had lunch at the "Samba" restaurant in the city center before walking to the taxi stand by the Scheldt River and taking a cab back to his hotel, the Holiday Crown Hotel.


    By the time Deng Shiyang returned to Durban, it was almost five o''clock. He took a taxi from the airport''s taxi stand and returned to the villa at Brighton Beach.


    Keith and Du Preez had arrived earlier than him. Deng Shiyang went to his room to drop off his luggage, then took a small bottle of Grapetiser grape juice from the refrigerator in the kitchen and sat down in the living room to chat with the two of them.


    After briefly recounting his experience in Cape Town, Deng Shiyang took a sip of the juice and summarized, "I don¡¯t trust that guy named Schlink. And of course, he doesn¡¯t trust me either."


    "That¡¯s normal. Anyone involved in arms deals is not to be trusted." Du Preez chimed in.


    Keith thought for a moment and asked, "What kind of person do you think this Schlink is?"


    "That guy is cautious to the point of being neurotic, and I don''t think he''s as capable as he boasts," Deng Shiyang paused and added, "Besides, I have no doubt that if he gets the money, he would sell us out to the police. That¡¯s why I asked him to help arrange the EUC. It will cost a little more, but this way, he has to be on our side. Otherwise, the cops will find out that he used fake documents to buy weapons from the South African government."


    Keith nodded and said, "Your analysis makes sense. I''m sure the boss will agree."


    Seeming relieved, Deng Shiyang took a big gulp from the bottle. After the fizzy grape juice flowed down his throat, he asked, "How are things going on your side?"


    "Not so well," Keith replied with dissatisfaction. "I met with that Alan Baker today, and it turns out he''s a big fraud. The guy is just a broker, with no capital for dealing in aviation equipment, and his background isn''t as solid as he claims." He clicked his tongue and added, "He did offer to introduce us to Skylink, but we¡¯ll have to negotiate prices directly with the seller."


    "Just arranging a few meetings and he wants to pocket a $50,000 commission? That guy is really greedy." Deng Shiyang frowned.


    "I also feel that Alan Baker is unreliable," Keith echoed, displeased. He then turned to Du Preez and said, "Your second task is to help us find any helicopters for sale. The place of origin and model don¡¯t matter, but it has to be a medium helicopter of around ten tons, with a full-range of at least 400 miles. It also needs to come with a pilot and a mechanic." He emphasized, "The pilot must be someone with night-flight experience, and it''s fine if the salary is higher. Got it?"


    "Understood," Du Preez nodded and replied.


    "Oh, by the way," Keith suddenly remembered something and turned to Deng Shiyang, "Both Semler and Mark called while you were away and gave updates."


    Deng Shiyang glanced at him and asked, "Good news?"


    "Not exactly good news, but there¡¯s some progress," Keith paused before explaining, "In Angola, the German contacted a chief with considerable influence in Soyo. He plans to head there tomorrow to recruit. Meanwhile, Marc has verified that the ''Cristo'' has a clean background. The problem now is that the seller refuses to budge on the price, so we can¡¯t move forward until that¡¯s settled."


    "That¡¯s up to the boss, but I think he¡¯ll agree," Deng Shiyang said as he glanced at the clock in the living room, noticing it was almost six. He then said to the two men, "It¡¯s getting late. Let¡¯s go out for dinner tonight."


    Naturally, neither of them objected. They got into Du Preezs¡¯ Land Cruiser and drove to the port district, where they had a meal at an Indian restaurant near the commercial center. It wasn¡¯t a lavish dinner, but the lamb masala was rich in flavor.


    At 8 PM, Deng Shiyang and Keith made a phone call to report the updates. Harrowby was somewhat satisfied with the progress but had some complaints about the price of the ship.


    Knowing that Harrowby was a businessman who cared most about the cost-benefit ratio of a project, Keith said, "I believe this ship is the best option at the moment. While the price is a bit high, it will save us a lot of time."


    There was a brief silence on the speakerphone.


    "Also, we have less than seven weeks left. Considering the time needed for the purchase and the voyage, we don¡¯t have much leeway," Deng Shiyang added in agreement.


    "Can¡¯t you buy a ship in the Middle East or the Mediterranean to save time?" Harrowby asked in dissatisfaction.


    But Keith, clearly not putting his employer on a pedestal, replied calmly, "That might be possible, but we''re amateurs in ship trading. That¡¯s why we need Mark¡¯s connections in Belgium. You wouldn¡¯t want to spend a fortune on a ship that breaks down halfway through the journey, would you?"


    Caught off guard by this, Harrowby didn¡¯t know how to respond for a moment. After a long pause, he said with some frustration, "Fine, if you say so, I won¡¯t object. But remember, this operation must succeed! Do you understand?"


    "Rest assured," Deng Shiyang smiled slightly, speaking with confidence, "That¡¯s exactly why we¡¯re here."


    Thus ended the ninth day.

 Soyo

    The EMB-120 regional passenger plane bound for Soyo was hovering over the airport in preparation for landing.


    Semler had already been irritated by the engine noise, which sounded like asthma, and now he finally breathed a sigh of relief. He turned his head toward the window beside his seat, taking the opportunity to gaze down at the city of Soyo, which he hadn¡¯t seen in many years.


    Compared to when he left in 1993, Soyo hadn¡¯t changed much. Around the straight airport runway, thousands of makeshift houses built from mud bricks and corrugated iron were scattered chaotically, divided into uneven neighborhoods by a spider web of roads. The brownish-yellow dirt between the gray rooftops was dotted with a sparse number of trees, making the entire city look like a giant mossy patch.


    As Semler stared out the window, lost in thought, the EMB-120 ceased circling and began descending toward the runway.


    Soyo, located in Angola''s northwestern Zaire Province, is a port city near the border with the Democratic Republic of Congo. Before being devastated by the civil war in 1993, it had been an important oil port for the country.


    On February 22, 2002, UNITA leader Dr. Jonas Savimbi was killed by government forces. In April of the same year, the MPLA and UNITA signed a ceasefire agreement, bringing an end to the 27-year-long civil war. However, the years of conflict had caused incalculable damage, severely crippling Angola¡¯s economy and industry, and almost completely destroying the country¡¯s infrastructure.


    Although Angola had achieved some economic growth in recent years due to its abundant natural resources, its over-reliance on oil and mineral exports meant that the 2008 global financial crisis had severely impacted the country''s economy. Many infrastructure projects had been delayed or halted, and since the government''s development focus was on Luanda and the southern regions, Soyo''s reconstruction plan remained a distant hope. Its status as an oil port has been replaced by the enclave of Cabinda.


    The airport terminal, with its corrugated iron roof, still looked the same, though the walls had been freshly painted grass-green, a notable improvement compared to before.


    As the only white passenger on this flight, Semler was quickly recognized. As soon as he walked out of the airport, a small, thin black youth in four-season pants and a light blue T-shirt approached him, greeting him in broken Portuguese: "Are you Mr. Semler?"


    Semler nodded.


    "Please give me your passport," the youth said, extending his hand.


    Semler pulled his passport from his jacket pocket and handed it over.


    The youth took it, flipping through the pages while glancing up at Semler from time to time. After about a minute, satisfied, he returned the passport and respectfully said, "Mr. Jaba sent me to pick you up." He then reached out his hand and added, "Let me carry your luggage."


    Semler handed him the travel bag with his change of clothes but kept the shoulder bag containing cash and a satellite phone.


    The youth led Semler to the nearby parking lot, where they got into a silver Mitsubishi Pajero SUV and drove north along the main road beside the airport.


    This was one of the few paved roads in Soyo. Although it was narrow and dirty, with no traffic lights at the intersections, it was much better than the dirt roads elsewhere that were merely compacted mud.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    Along the way, the city looked desolate. On the roadside, makeshift shacks made of iron sheets, canvas, or wooden planks could be seen. Poorly dressed black locals were everywhere, idly gathering in the shade, staring blankly at passing vehicles.


    After about five or six minutes, the Pajero reached an overpass that connected the city to the port district. The vehicle turned right at the roundabout and entered another road along the Congo River. After traveling about a third of a mile east along the riverbank, they turned onto a bumpy road and stopped in front of a simple dock.


    To the left of the dock was a local fishery. Several small boats, mostly stripped of their paint, lay upside down on the riverbank, and nets were strewn haphazardly on the pebble-covered shore.


    As they approached the dock, Semler noticed that to the right was a dilapidated port. A row of decaying wooden breakwaters extended into the river, and at the end was a white yacht, at least twenty feet long, which stood in stark contrast to the small fishing boats moored nearby.


    A white man was a conspicuous sight in such a place, but the black workers at the dock seemed fearful, avoiding eye contact with Semler and his party, even deliberately looking away as they approached.


    The young man walked up to the side of the yacht and handed the luggage to a black crew member dressed in a white polo shirt. He then pointed to the yacht.


    Semler nodded in acknowledgment and boarded the yacht via a gangplank. Several black men quickly untied the ropes, and the yacht slowly left the dock, heading down the Congo River toward the Atlantic Ocean.


    Padron Point, located to the northwest of Soyo, juts into the mouth of the Congo River like a giant rhino horn, forming a natural breakwater for the city. The place Semler was headed was at the tip of this "horn."


    After about half an hour on the water, the yacht arrived at a white dock. The dock was entirely built of white marble and looked quite grand. Next to it was a thirty-foot-long pier leading to a small man-made island in the water, a dedicated dock for seaplanes.


    Two black men stood on the pier. One had a magazine pouch attached to his belt and carried a G3KA4 rifle with a folded stock slung across his chest. The other wore black trousers and a white short-sleeved shirt, with a khaki vest over it, looking like a hotel doorman.


    Once the yacht was docked, the "yellow vest" man came forward, took the luggage from the crew member, and led Semler up a white marble staircase on the hillside behind the dock.


    At the top of the fifty-foot-long staircase was a neatly manicured lawn. In the northeast corner stood a glass greenhouse occupying over a thousand square feet. In the center was a three-story white Victorian-style villa, with armed guards patrolling the area.


    Rounding the villa, the first thing visible was an oval swimming pool. Further west was an observation deck with a view of the Atlantic Ocean, and in the corner was a hexagonal pavilion.


    As they approached the pool, a tall, thin man with dark sunglasses and a navy beret, carrying a Polish-made PM-63 submachine gun, approached Semler and gave a "raise your hands" gesture.


    Semler handed his shoulder bag to the black man carrying his luggage, then raised his hands.


    After a thorough body search, the tall man gestured to someone behind him and pointed to the pavilion by the observation deck. "Mr. Jaba is waiting for you there," he said.


    Looking in the indicated direction, Semler saw a fat black man in dove-gray trousers and a dark orange short-sleeved shirt standing in front of the pavilion. Semler quickly walked over.


    As he approached, the bald, round-faced man with a bulbous nose and thick lips, whose neck was nearly invisible, smiled broadly and opened his arms. In an exaggerated tone, he greeted, "Semler, my dear friend, it¡¯s been so long."


    Semler¡¯s eyebrows unconsciously twitched as he stepped forward to embrace him.


    After a few moments of insincere pleasantries, Jaba invited Semler into the pavilion. The two settled into large wicker chairs, and Jaba personally opened a light yellow cedar cigar box on the coffee table, offering a full box of H. Upmann cigars to his guest.


    But Semler waved it away, pulling a box of Davidoff cigarettes from his jacket pocket.


    Jaba glanced at the cigarette box in Semler''s hand and, with a half-boastful tone, said as he picked up a cigar from the box, "Are you sure? These are top-quality Havana cigars¡ªeach one costs at least fifty dollars in Luanda."


    "No, thanks. I¡¯m not used to cigars," Semler said as he took a cigarette from the pack.


    Jaba chuckled. He gestured to a nearby man, who quickly ran over. The thin black man in a light brown short-sleeved shirt pulled a shiny gold lighter from his pocket and respectfully lit Semler''s cigarette.

 Recruiter

    Semler pinched the lit cigarette between his fingers, took a deep drag, and watched as Jabba Liso clipped the tip of his cigar before lighting it with a custom-made, thick matchstick.


    The fat Black man held the matchstick in his right hand and, with his left, turned the cigar around in the flame. Wisps of light blue smoke drifted from his thick, coffee-colored lips.


    After a session of smoking, Jabba tapped his ash into the cloisonn¨¦ ashtray on the coffee table, then leisurely asked, "So, my friend, what can I do for you this time?"


    "Your Excellency, I''ve come to you because I need something." Semler stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and continued, "As I wrote in my letter, I hope to recruit a group of soldiers from your tribe."


    "I¡¯ve already handed over the chieftain position to my son. I''m afraid I can''t help you now."


    "But Your Excellency, your influence still holds. Your people remain loyal to you."


    Jabba smiled noncommittally and then asked, "How many do you need this time?"


    "A hundred men, preferably those I¡¯ve trained before."


    Jabba took a puff of his cigar, silently pondering for a moment before saying, "I love my country! But you people..." He paused before adding, "First, it was the Portuguese, then came the Cubans, the Russians, later the Americans and South Africans, and now it¡¯s the Chinese. They come with all kinds of excuses, using AK-47s and moldy wheat to plunder our oil and diamonds, but they¡¯ve never done anything real for us. Especially the white men¡ªthey only cause trouble in Africa. I don''t want to help you and then find I can''t stay in this country."


    "I¡¯m not asking you to commit treason." Semler quickly replied.


    Jabba glanced at him, and Semler said earnestly, "I assure you, this task will not harm the interests of the Angolan government."


    "Let¡¯s hope you never forget that." Jabba nodded and said, "If this won¡¯t harm my country or my people, then I can help you."


    "Thank..."


    Before Semler could finish, Jabba interrupted, "But the fee needs to be raised."


    "Damned old bastard!" Semler couldn¡¯t help cursing inwardly, but he quickly put on a smile and began negotiating with the fat Black man in front of him.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    Jabba complained that recruiting so many people would be a lot of work, and since he was no longer the chief, he¡¯d have to spend money to smooth things over with the tribal elders. So, he asked for $100 per person. But Semler thought $50 was already well above the local rate, and only agreed to raise the commission by $10.


    After more than an hour of debate, they finally settled on $80 per person. Jabba agreed to send out his men immediately and arrange a recruitment meeting in the next couple of days.


    Once the deal was settled, Semler felt a wave of relief wash over him. Having rushed to the airport for an early flight that morning without eating, he was already feeling hungry. Now that the tension had lifted, a mix of hunger and fatigue hit him all at once.


    However, there was still some time before lunch, so he decided to rest in the guesthouse.


    The "guesthouse" was actually a standalone poolside cabin located at the northwest corner of the viewing deck, about twenty yards from the villa. This cabin, with over 1,300 square feet of space, was divided into a living room and a bedroom. The west and north sides were fitted with large floor-to-ceiling windows, offering a view of the vast blue Atlantic Ocean through the glass.


    Not only was the cabin air-conditioned, but it also had a 52-inch flat-screen TV in the living room with access to 36 satellite channels. The bathroom had hot water available 24/7. Semler could guarantee that even in Luanda¡¯s most luxurious Talatona Conference Hotel, you wouldn¡¯t find a room better than this.


    When he first met Jabba, the man was just a tribal chief controlling a village of no more than six or seven hundred people, feeling proud of being able to ride in a Nissan car. But now, the yacht, the seaside villa, and this luxurious guesthouse left Semler feeling dizzy from the stark contrast.


    He walked into the bedroom and opened the wardrobe, where his luggage was neatly stored. He took out his satellite phone from his bag, intending to report to Durban before lunch. But the roof was too thick, and the windows were too awkwardly angled, so the phone couldn¡¯t get a signal.


    Just as he hesitated about whether to step outside by the pool to make the call, a servant knocked on the thick glass door of the "guesthouse," inviting him to the villa for lunch with Jabba.


    The lunch was lavish: lemon-seasoned black pepper duck breast salad, potato soup, a fresh vegetable salad, French bread baked with butter and garlic, and charcoal-grilled veal. Judging by the spread, even in South Africa, this would count as a luxurious meal.


    Due to Angola¡¯s underdeveloped agriculture, foodstuffs were heavily reliant on imports, causing prices to remain high for a long time. Semler estimated that, if in a high-end restaurant in Luanda, just the food on this table would cost one or two hundred dollars; with the two bottles of South African wine they had with the meal, the bill would certainly exceed $300. Moreover, since Soyo didn¡¯t have upscale restaurants, the ingredients had to be specially shipped in from Luanda or Congo, making the transport costs an added expense.


    It¡¯s worth noting that an Angolan civil servant¡¯s annual income was less than 100,000 kwanzas, meaning this lunch cost a typical working-class person three to four months'' salary. Jabba¡¯s luxurious lifestyle was evident.


    ---


    Notes:


    Angolan Kwanza (AON): The official currency of Angola. In February 2009, the exchange rate was 74.1 kwanzas to 1 U.S. dollar.

 Ship and crew

    Mark casually ate lunch in the hotel restaurant, then walked to the entrance, where he got into a taxi summoned by the doorman and headed for the Port of Antwerp.


    The burly Belgian was dressed similarly to the day before, still in that mismatched suit. He fastened his top button, then slightly turned to the side to adjust his tie in the reflection of the car window. Then, he leaned back silently against the seat.


    He had spoken to Durban on the phone last night, and Keith instructed him to buy the ship as soon as possible. So, first thing this morning, he called FEMAS and expressed his client¡¯s interest in purchasing the *Christo*, asking them to arrange a viewing of the ship and a meeting with the captain.


    The *Christo* was docked in a secluded corner of the Port of Antwerp. After paying for the taxi, Mark had to walk for another twenty minutes to reach it.


    This cargo ship had clearly been refurbished recently, but the rust treatment was sloppy. Up close, many areas of fresh paint were already bubbling under the sunlight or peeling from seawater exposure, revealing brownish-red rust spots on the hull, giving it a dirty and worn appearance. But this didn¡¯t bother Mark, as it was exactly what Keith had requested ¡ª unremarkable enough. In the Mediterranean, hundreds of similar ships crossed the Suez Canal every month, shuttling between Europe and African ports; the *Christo* looked just like them and would attract no attention.


    Three white men were standing by the gangway, one of whom, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, was Mr. Goussain from FEMAS. He greeted Mark with a smile and introduced the other two.


    The one with the Germanic face and graying hair was the captain, named Karl Waldenberg. He was over fifty but well-preserved, with no signs of sun or wind damage on his face. His slender figure and well-fitted brown plaid suit gave him an air of German Junker nobility.


    The other was in his early forties, with a square face and freshly shaved chin, named Ivan Sernechevich. Despite the cold weather, this Slavic man, as strong as a Kodiak bear, wore light clothing. He had on faded work pants and a weathered tan jacket, with the open front revealing a rust-red T-shirt that tightly hugged his solid chest muscles.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    Mark shook hands with both men, then followed them up the gangway onto the ship.


    The crew quarters were locked, and the sailors were all ashore enjoying themselves, not expected back until the evening. Mark first toured the bridge and navigation room, and then, led by the captain and first officer, carefully inspected the entire 5,000-ton cargo ship inside and out.


    Following Keith¡¯s instructions, he paid special attention to three things: whether the deck had enough space for four medium helicopters to take off and land, whether the interior could accommodate 200 people for a week, even if they had to sleep on the floor in the lower holds, and whether the engine was in good enough condition to ensure a safe journey to South Africa.


    During the tour, he covertly observed the captain and first officer. He noticed that apart from formalities, Waldenberg barely spoke, maintaining a detached attitude. In contrast, Sernechevich was very enthusiastic, not only handling the entire ship¡¯s introduction but also patiently answering all kinds of questions.


    The inspection took the entire afternoon, and Mark was quite satisfied with the ship¡¯s condition. He said goodbye to the captain and first officer, then got into Goussain¡¯s BMW 325 to leave the dock.


    As the car left the port area, Mark started inquiring about the background of the captain and first officer.


    ¡°Both of them came from a previous company and have been on this ship for over a decade,¡± said Goussain as he drove. ¡°Waldenberg reached retirement age a few years ago and no longer manages much. Sernechevich handles all the day-to-day affairs on board.¡±


    Mark¡¯s face showed a ¡°just as I thought¡± expression, and he asked, ¡°What do you think of this guy?¡±


    ¡°Sernechevich? He¡¯s a good man. Ambitious, knows the ship well, and keeps the crew in line.¡± Goussain paused, adding, ¡°He¡¯s already got his captain¡¯s license. If your client wants to keep the current crew, he¡¯d be the ideal choice for captain.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll pass along your recommendation,¡± Mark nodded knowingly, then put on a slightly troubled look and cautiously said, ¡°It might be a bit awkward to ask, but does he have any bad habits? I think my client would consider that when making a decision.¡±


    ¡°That guy?¡± Goussain laughed and confidently replied, ¡°You don¡¯t need to worry about that. Other than drinking and occasionally gambling a bit, he goes to the ¡®red-light district¡¯ after payday. Typical sailor stuff, nothing really problematic.¡±


    Mark laughed along and replied, ¡°Then that¡¯s even better.¡±

 Jansens mission

    Around 6 p.m., Per Jansen called from Durban International Airport. Due to the early completion of the handover work in Nairobi, he arrived at Jomo Kenyatta International Airport earlier in the day and flew to Johannesburg on a Kenya Airways flight. However, during the layover at OR Tambo International Airport, his flight was delayed for more than two hours due to a mechanical failure, so he only arrived in Durban in the evening.


    After receiving the call, Deng Shiyang gave him the address, telling him to take a taxi from the airport to the villa, and then informed Keith and Du Preez of the news.


    About an hour later, a small gathering was held in the kitchen as a welcome dinner for Jansen. Keith personally prepared a simple but refined English dinner, which included Irish-style ham and pea soup, a curry sauce with melon evoking Northumberland home cooking, a main course of herb-roasted lamb chops with red wine sauce, and  with fresh cream and blueberries for dessert.


    After the meal, Deng Shiyang recounted their previous work to Jansen, who listened with a smile on his face.


    "Finally, a decent job!" he said, rubbing his hands with excitement. "Make sure to include me this time."


    "I was waiting for you to say that," Deng Shiyang laughed. "During the preparation, you¡¯ll stay here and can pick any room on the second floor. Keith and I often have to go out, so Du Preez will stay in Durban to look after things. Let me know your bank account, and you¡¯ll receive an advance within two days.¡±


    Jansen nodded in agreement.


    "Your task is to procure supplies. We need 300 short-sleeve crewneck T-shirts, the same number of shorts and socks, and 150 sets of combat uniforms, preferably in gray or dark brown camouflage, but  British DPM camouflage," Deng Shiyang added. "Additionally, we need 150 pairs of military boots. Don¡¯t buy those heavy, hot American leather boots¡ªjust get Chinese-made lace-up canvas boots."


    "What about sizes?" Jansen asked.


    "I¡¯ll have those in a few days. You can get most of these items from outdoor supply shops and military surplus stores. Check the internet and magazine ads, or use Du Preez''s connections if necessary, but be sure to buy from different stores. You have one week to locate the items, then purchase them once you have the sizes, and pay for everything in cash.¡±


    ¡°No problem. Anything else?¡±


    "Next is the gear. We need 100 Kevlar helmets, all fitted with cat-eye bands. Also, 150 thick nylon belts and the same number of MBSS tactical vests, each equipped with two NIJ Level III ballistic plates. Additionally, we¡¯ll need 500 dual magazine pouches that can clip on, and 40 ammo bags to hold plastic bins for 200 rounds each. We also need 150 waist-mounted triple magazine pouches and 150 utility thigh pouches to hold ten grenades each, plus 50 large camping backpacks with aluminum support frames.¡±Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    ¡°Lastly, camping supplies: 200 lightweight nylon sleeping bags, the same number of military mess kits, a month¡¯s supply of canned food for 200 people, and a water purifier with a capacity of 15 gallons. Got it?¡±


    Jansen gave an embarrassed smile.


    Deng Shiyang realized there was quite a bit to buy. Scratching his head, he apologized, ¡°I¡¯ll make you a list later.¡± Then, turning to Du Preez, he added, ¡°Rent a self-storage unit in Durban to store everything Jansen buys, and contact a shipping company to send everything to Richards Bay once we¡¯ve got it all.¡±


    ¡°Where in Richards Bay?¡± asked the South African.


    ¡°Just store it at the dock¡¯s warehouse for now, and find a customs clearance company to handle the exit procedures for the shipment,¡± replied Deng.


    Du Preez nodded.


    So far, the preparations were progressing smoothly. That night, Deng Shiyang and Keith received text messages from Johan Schlink and Alan Baker, requesting them to head to Cape Town and Pretoria the next day. Baker mentioned he had arranged a meeting with Skylink.


    After the routine report, Mark also called long-distance. He detailed his observations from that day, paying special attention to the points Keith had asked him to keep in mind.


    "I believe the *Christo* meets all the requirements," he concluded, adding, ¡°Also, although Goussain says we¡¯re the only interested party, I found out there¡¯s another Belgian shipping company eyeing the ship. They¡¯re offering a higher price, but lack sufficient cash flow and are pushing for installment payments, so their negotiations with FEMAS are at a standstill.¡±


    Keith, who had remained silent, looked at Deng Shiyang, who replied, ¡°Don¡¯t worry about the money.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good to hear,¡± Mark replied, before asking, ¡°Have you decided on the new captain yet?¡±


    ¡°For now, it seems that the guy you mentioned, Sernechevich, is the best choice,¡± Deng said, pausing before adding, ¡°But you have to make sure he¡¯s reliable.¡±


    After a brief silence, Mark said, ¡°From what I¡¯ve observed, he¡¯s been eyeing the captain¡¯s position for some time and wouldn¡¯t miss this opportunity. The main issue is whether he¡¯s willing to take the risk, but I think he would if the pay is right.¡±


    Keith frowned and asked, ¡°Has he figured anything out?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s hard to say, but he¡¯ll definitely know soon enough. After all, no one would be foolish enough to spend over a million to buy a 5,000-ton cargo ship just to sail it empty from Europe to Africa. Plus, if he decided to quit once he reached South Africa, he might leak the information to South African authorities. It¡¯d be better to disclose some of the details now and offer him enough money to keep him in line. That way, we¡¯d not only have a reliable captain, but he¡¯d also help us keep the other crew members in check.¡±


    Deng was tempted but speak out his concerns, ¡°If he learns the details and still decides to quit, the news will definitely leak out.¡±


    ¡°If he tries to quit after learning the details, there will only be one outcome for him,¡± Keith said darkly, gritting his teeth.


    Deng felt a chill and added, ¡°Mark, try to reassure him. Tell him that the cargo does carry some risk, but both loading and unloading will happen in international waters, so he doesn¡¯t need to worry. And if he agrees to be the captain, he will receive double salary and be provided for at least six months and a $20,000 bonus upon successful completion. Does that sound good?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a very generous offer; I think he¡¯ll accept it,¡± Mark agreed.


    They chatted for a while longer before ending the call.


    Notes:


    NIJ : National Institute of Justice

 The second meeting with Schlink

    As with last time, the second meeting was held at the Fountain Hotel in Cape Town. After arriving at the airport, Deng Shiyang dialed Johan Schlink''s contact number, then took a taxi from the taxi stand at the airport to the business district. About half an hour later, he met the short, stocky man in a room on the fifth floor.


    Schlink was noticeably more respectful this time. He invited his guest to sit down and personally brewed a pot of Ceylon tea, thoughtfully asking if he¡¯d like milk or a lemon slice.


    ¡°I can do it myself,¡± Deng Shiyang said, waving him off and glancing at the overly accommodating man. ¡°Mr. Schlink, how are things going with what I asked you to handle last time?¡±


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s exactly why I asked you to come,¡± Schlink replied, putting on an awkward smile. ¡°Regarding your order, I¡¯ve arranged for the rocket launchers, grenade launchers, and ammunition, and the process has been mostly smooth. I¡¯ll have a detailed price list ready soon. However¡­¡± his expression turned even more uneasy, and he stammered, ¡°...there¡¯s a bit of an issue with the rifles.¡±


    ¡°What kind of issue?¡±


    ¡°Rifles,¡± he replied. ¡°The SS-77 and Mini-SS machine guns are no problem, but the R5 you requested is out of production, so I couldn¡¯t find any in stock.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t they keep any reserves? Try contacting the South African military or police to see if they have well-preserved stockpiles. As long as the transaction is legal, I don¡¯t mind if the rifles aren¡¯t brand new.¡±


    ¡°Impossible,¡± Schlink rejected the suggestion outright. ¡°Due to the ANC¡¯s legislation banning private military companies earlier this year, combined with preparations for next year¡¯s World Cup, South Africa¡¯s weapon regulations are currently very strict. Aside from the armaments factories, I¡¯m probably the only one willing to take on a deal like this.¡±


    Deng Shiyang clicked his tongue in dissatisfaction and asked, ¡°Besides Denel, are there no other companies in this country that manufacture assault rifles?¡±


    ¡°Well, there is. A few years ago, a company called Truvelo in Midrand began selling a rifle known as the Raptor carbine. But it¡¯s heavy and expensive, so it hasn¡¯t sold well. Also, Truvelo is a small company with limited production capacity, so placing an order would mean a long wait.¡±


    His words were half-truths. The Raptor, like the R4 series by Vector, was based on the Israeli Galil, a model that wasn¡¯t light to begin with. Although the Raptor carbine was slightly heavier than the R5, it wouldn¡¯t significantly impact usability. And given the small order size, producing a hundred rifles wouldn¡¯t take that long. However, without Denel¡¯s connections, buying weapons with fake ¡°end-user certificates¡± might attract attention from the South African government, likely the main reason Schlink wasn¡¯t eager to go through Truvelo.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    But Deng didn¡¯t call him out on it and instead asked, ¡°Do you have any other options?¡±


    Schlink lowered his head and thought for a long time, drinking his tea as he did so. Deng¡¯s patience began to wear thin.


    ¡°Hey, do you have a solution or not?¡±


    Seemingly snapping out of his thoughts, Schlink looked up, smiled apologetically, and said, ¡°Forgive me; this has become quite tricky. But I did manage to locate a batch of MAZ rifles made in Sudan. I can assure you the quality is good; they¡¯re all brand-new and still sealed in oil.¡±


    ¡°Is the transaction legal?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­¡± Schlink¡¯s face turned awkward, and he replied, ¡°But I can arrange for these weapons to leave the country, and you¡¯d save the cost of purchasing an EUC¡­¡±


    ¡°Forget it. I¡¯m not risking it just to save a little money,¡± Deng interrupted. ¡°Let¡¯s put the rifles aside for now. Do you have any other news to share?¡±


    ¡°Yes, about the mortars, and it¡¯s good news.¡± Seeing the client¡¯s displeasure, Schlink immediately replied meekly, ¡°I contacted Denel Land Systems and told them a new client from East Africa wants to purchase a few mortars for trial, with the potential for larger orders if the quality meets expectations.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good enough?¡±


    ¡°No problem at all. This reason is quite plausible, and since Denel is South Africa¡¯s largest defense contractor with close government ties, legalizing this transaction shouldn¡¯t be difficult.¡± Schlink then pulled a folded piece of paper from his jacket pocket, opened it, and read: ¡°Here¡¯s their quote: M8 81mm mortar with H-019 sights, priced at $13,000 each, so three would be $39,000. High-explosive 81mm rounds are $240 each¡­¡± He scratched his head and added, ¡°But your order for rounds is really too low. Could you raise it to 300? That would make it easier. Even for testing, no country would buy only 200 mortar rounds.¡±


    After a moment of feigned deliberation, Deng replied decisively, ¡°Fine, let¡¯s go with 300 rounds. But our budget is limited, so that¡¯s all.¡±


    ¡°Alright.¡± Like a magician, Schlink produced a small calculator and began pressing its buttons with his stubby fingers. ¡°With the rounds, that¡¯ll be $72,000. Each trigger fuse is $12, and with the propellant charges, the total for the rounds is $78,000. Adding in the mortars, the total is¡­¡±


    ¡°$117,000,¡± Deng interjected.


    ¡°Yes, yes. The total for the mortars and ammunition is $117,000, plus 10% for the EUC and another 10% for export licenses and handling fees¡­¡±


    ¡°No need for all that,¡± Deng interrupted again. ¡°Let¡¯s keep it simple. You get a clear price for everything and email me the quote. If everything checks out, I¡¯ll wire the advance payment immediately.¡±


    ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll get a detailed quote ready as soon as possible.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯ll be it for today.¡± After sitting a while longer to confirm there were no other issues, Deng stood up to leave. Schlink escorted him to the door, where they shook hands.


    ¡°I¡¯ll wait to hear from you. Don¡¯t disappoint me.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Mr. Deylek; just trust me,¡± Schlink replied with a grin.


    ¡°Only an idiot would trust a broker!¡± Deng muttered under his breath as he headed down the corridor toward the elevator.


    ---


    Notes:


    Denel Land Systems: A South African defense company and a subsidiary of the Denel Group.


    Truvelo Manufacturers Ltd: A South African military equipment company, primarily producing firearms and equipment for law enforcement.


    MAZ Rifle: Sudan-produced version of the Chinese Type 56 assault rifle.

 Precision Aviation Services

    At noon, Wonderboom Airport in Pretoria was sweltering under the glaring heat. After finishing his lunch at the San Giovanni restaurant near the airport entrance, Keith took out his phone and made a call.


    About half an hour later, Alan Baker arrived at the restaurant. In his early forties, lean and of medium build, Baker had an exceptionally ordinary appearance, the type that leaves no impression after a glance. Keith found he could barely remember what he looked like just two days later.


    "Mr. Shannon," called the broker with a sharp eye, spotting Keith seated in the corner as soon as he walked in and raising his hand in greeting from afar.


    Keith scanned the room, noting the irritated expressions of other patrons, and motioned toward the door.


    Baker nearly jogged to Keith¡¯s table, sitting down before he had even wiped the sweat from his brow, apologizing between breaths, "I¡¯m really sorry for asking you to come so urgently, and I appreciate you making time today."


    "It¡¯s fine," Keith replied calmly, "I want this to proceed smoothly as well."


    "You¡¯re absolutely right," Baker agreed, nodding vigorously as beads of sweat fell onto the tablecloth, leaving small wet spots.


    He pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his forehead and continued, "I contacted SkyLink the day before yesterday, and they called me back yesterday¡­" Mid-sentence, he fell silent as a waiter approached, placing a menu and a glass of ice water with lemon on the table.


    Baker grabbed the water glass, gulping down most of it, then resumed as soon as the waiter had walked away, "SkyLink reached out to me yesterday and asked me to arrange a meeting with you, so I called you right away..."


    "You mentioned this on the phone last night," Keith interrupted, waving a hand. "Where is the meeting?"


    "Very close by. The company is just next to the airport."


    "What time?"


    "Two o''clock."


    Keith glanced at his watch on his left wrist; it was only ten minutes to one.


    "Well done," he said with satisfaction, then asked, "Have you had lunch?"


    They stayed in the restaurant for another half hour and finally left around 1:30. In the midday sun, they walked northwest along Lintevert Avenue near the airport entrance for about ten minutes until they reached a hangar enclosed by black wrought-iron fencing.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    The hangar, covering about a quarter of an acre and standing three stories high, had red brick walls lined with rectangular steel-framed windows. If not for the fiberglass roofing in a gray-blue shade and the air conditioning units on the exterior walls lending a more modern appearance, most would assume it was a factory built in the 1960s or 70s.


    Keith curiously glanced around, noting the sign next to the door that read ¡°Precision Aviation Services¡± (PAS), and cast an inquiring look at Baker.


    "PAS is a wholly-owned subsidiary of SkyLink," Baker explained, seemingly reading his thoughts. "However, their operations differ slightly. PAS not only provides aviation transport and aerial support but also offers aircraft maintenance and personnel training. PAS Flight Training School is the largest private training institution in Gauteng Province and has been a logistics and training contractor for the South African Police Air Wing."


    "No wonder," Keith murmured, mentally noting this information.


    The two entered the hangar from the back, climbed to the second floor, and walked down a straight corridor until they reached a white door with a ¡°General Manager¡± nameplate.


    Baker knocked on the door, and a voice from within called, ¡°Come in.¡± He pushed open the door and led Keith inside.


    As they entered, the general manager stood by the door to greet them. After Baker introduced them, he extended his hand with a smile. Keith noticed that on his right ring finger, he wore a dark gold ring with a beaver engraved on the face.


    The general manager of Precision Aviation Services was named William Crawford. He looked to be in his thirties, tall and athletic, with a tan complexion and a physique resembling that of an American football player, giving him the appearance of an Ivy League alum who enjoyed outdoor sports.


    After a brief handshake, Crawford gestured toward the sofa, then went to the water cooler and poured two glasses of ice water for them.


    He placed the glasses on the coffee table in front of the sofa, took a seat in an adjacent armchair, and asked, "Mr. Shannon, Mr. Baker mentioned you¡¯re interested in our aviation equipment. Is that correct?"


    Keith pulled at his collar to unstick his sweat-soaked shirt from his chest and replied, "Yes, I¡¯m co-investing in an aviation transport company with a few business partners. We specialize in delivering supplies to offshore oil platforms, and your two Mi-17 helicopters fit our needs perfectly."


    ¡°We happen to be looking to sell those two helicopters,¡± Crawford nodded, saying, ¡°The price is $1.98 million each.¡±


    "I¡¯ll need to discuss this price with the others," Keith calculated the total in his mind and then added, "Additionally, I have one extra request."


    "Go ahead."


    "If the deal goes through, you¡¯ll need to perform a full inspection on those two helicopters. I want them to be ready for immediate operation after payment."


    "Of course," the other replied readily, ¡°This is about our company¡¯s reputation; we wouldn¡¯t sell defective equipment to a client.¡±


    "Very well. I¡¯ll be in touch within the next couple of days." Keith stood up, signaling the end of the meeting.


    They shook hands again, and Keith requested a business card from Crawford before leaving with Baker.


    ---


    Note:


    Ivy League: An athletic conference composed of eight elite universities in the northeastern United States, commonly associated with the American upper class.

 Captain

    In an unassuming small bar in Antwerp''s port district, Mark Vlaminck and Ivan Sernechevich sat facing each other at a small table in the corner. On the table sat a glass of beer, a bottle of Russian "Green Label" vodka, a serving of fries, and a small plate of pickles.


    The bar''s lights were off, and the atmosphere was a bit dim. Mark had specifically chosen a seat with his back to the window, allowing him to observe his companion in the slanting sunlight, while Sernechevich couldn¡¯t clearly see Mark''s facial expressions.


    They had been chatting aimlessly for a while, but Mark hadn''t mentioned anything about buying a ship. Observing Sernechevich''s growing impatience as he repeatedly tried to broach the topic, the Belgian finally confirmed that the man was very eager to captain the "Kristo."


    When the vodka bottle was down to less than half, Mark drained his beer, set down the glass, and said, "To be honest with you, my boss doesn¡¯t plan to buy the ''Kristo'' just to transport peanuts." He paused before continuing, "The cargo will involve some risks, but loading and unloading will be done on the high seas. Your only job is to get the goods from Point A to Point B."


    Sernechevich''s expression shifted slightly, but he remained silent.


    "Woldenberg is about to retire, and that ship needs a new captain. Gusan recommended you to me, saying you''re the ideal candidate. I asked my boss last night, and he said that if you¡¯re willing, you¡¯ve got the job."


    "Hmm¡ª"


    Sensing his interest, Mark added persuasively, "He¡¯s also offering you double the salary, and an extra $20,000 upon the cargo''s successful delivery."


    Sernechevich listened without interruption, then smiled and extended his hand. "Please tell your boss, he''s got himself a captain."


    "Great!" Mark shook his hand and added, "I''ll confirm the ship purchase with Gusan tonight. But the first shipment schedule is tight, and my boss hopes for a quick departure."


    "When are you planning to set off?"


    "The transfer paperwork will take about a week. You¡¯ll need to handle any crew changes and prepare for the voyage in the meantime."


    "No problem."


    "And about the choice for the new first officer¡ªany thoughts?"


    "Don¡¯t worry about that," Sernechevich replied confidently. "I know plenty of sailors in Antwerp, a few of whom are reliable enough for the role."


    "Alright, it¡¯s up to you."A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    Mark stood up, they shook hands again, and then left the bar after settling the bill.


    Johan Schlink was efficient. By the time Deng Shiyang returned to Durban that afternoon and opened his computer, he found an email from him. Inside was a bank account and a detailed breakdown listing the price per unit and quantity for various weapons and ammunition, as well as the total expenditure.


    Weapons:


    - Mini-SS Light Machine Gun: $1,460/unit (20 units) - $29,200


    - SS-77 Machine Gun: $2,360/unit (20 units) - $47,200


    - Note: Each weapon includes a spare barrel and cleaning kit.


    - MGL MK-1L Grenade Launcher: $2,500/unit (20 units) - $50,000


    - RPG-7 Rocket Launcher with PGN-1 night vision scope: $1,200/unit (10 units) - $12,000


    - M8 81mm Mortar: $13,000/unit (3 units) - $39,000


    Total: $177,400


    Ammunition:


    - 81mm Mortar Shells: $240/unit (300 units) - $78,000


    - PG-7VS (HEAT-FRAG): $250/unit (400 units) - $100,000


    - M381 40mm Low-Pressure Grenades (with M552 fuse): $50/unit (3,000 units) - $150,000


    - M680 40mm Low-Pressure Smock Grenades: $30/unit (1,000 units) - $30,000


    - M26 Hand Grenades: $18/unit (5,000 units) - $90,000


    - .223 Caliber Bullets: $260/1,000 rounds (500,000 rounds) - $130,000


    - .308 Caliber Bullets: $510/1,000 rounds (400,000 rounds) - $204,000


    Total:$782,000


    Other Expenses:


    - End-User Certificate: $95,940


    - Processing Fees: $95,940


    Grand Total: $1,151,280


    Deng Shiyang double-checked the figures and used his computer to verify the total before forwarding the quote to Harobi''s email.


    "What¡¯s with this quote?" Harobi voiced his dissatisfaction over the phone at the start of the evening briefing. "We¡¯re nearly over budget already, and that¡¯s without the rifles."


    Keith immediately defended, "You know that arms pricing isn''t fixed; we can only estimate costs when planning. Plus, South Africa''s regulations are stricter now, so additional costs are unavoidable. That¡¯s why we kept a reserve in the budget."


    "But remember, that reserve is limited."


    "Alright, my oversight," Deng Shiyang interjected, having remained silent until now. "I don¡¯t know if the R5s are truly discontinued, or if he''s lying to push those MAZ rifles on me. Either way, I don''t want to risk buying questionable arms."


    "I agree with JD''s decision," Keith backed him up before Harobi could respond. "Du Preez said the guy isn¡¯t capable of trafficking arms, so I suspect that stock is being o some black-market dealer. Of course, if you¡¯re willing to take that risk, we can go ahead with the purchase."


    "No!" Harobi said quickly. "I¡¯ll find a solution for the rifles. Don''t act on this without my say-so."


    Deng Shiyang shot Keith a meaningful look, then continued, "If you¡¯re okay with this quote, please transfer the $120,000 to the account listed in the email."


    There was silence on the other end. Despite his frustration with the two of them for working in tandem, Harobi eventually agreed to the request.


    "Anything else to report?"


    "Yes," Deng Shiyang replied. "Mark called this afternoon. He¡¯s already found a new captain for the ship and reached a verbal agreement with FEMAS. He said he¡¯ll ask a contact experienced in ship transactions to draft the transfer contract, and we should send him the buyer¡¯s information as soon as possible."


    "No problem."


    "And, SkyLink¡¯s two helicopters are priced at $1.98 million each. Not sure how much we can negotiate, but they agreed to a full inspection."


    "That¡¯s acceptable. Keep pushing for a better price and verify flight hours and maintenance records carefully."


    "Got it."


    "We¡¯re nearly out of funds from the last disbursement," Deng Shiyang added. "Also, we need funds for clothing and equipment."


    "How much?"


    "Another ¡ê30,000."


    After a brief pause, Harobi replied, "I¡¯ll approve the ¡ê30,000, but make sure it¡¯s put to good use."


    The call concluded before 9 p.m.

 Cabinda

    Early in the morning, a white yacht carrying Semler and Jabba left Cape Padrao, heading north toward Cabinda Province.


    Cabinda is an exclave of Angola, separated from the country by the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Its history dates back to the 1885 Berlin Conference on West Africa, where the Protocol of the Berlin Conference divided up the former Kingdom of Congo territory among France, Belgium, and Portugal. The Portuguese colony established there became known as Portuguese Congo, now called Cabinda.


    In April 1974, Portugal experienced the "Carnation Revolution," ending the fascist rule established by the authoritarian leader Salazar. During the following two-year transitional period, the new government began implementing a decolonization policy, relinquishing all overseas colonies, leading to the independence of Portuguese colonies worldwide.


    In January of the following year, Portugal and Angolan armed groups signed the Alvor Agreement, defining Cabinda as an "indivisible and inalienable part of Angola." However, the Cabinda Enclave Liberation Front and other independence-seeking organizations did not attend and declared the agreement illegal.


    That same year, with support from Zaire''s President Mobutu, a provisional government for the "Republic of Cabinda" was established in Kinshasa, proclaiming independence on August 1. On November 11, the day of Angola''s independence, MPLA forces entered Cabinda and quickly gained control of the area with Cuban military support. However, the Cabinda Enclave Liberation Front did not abandon its goal for independence, reconstituting in the 1990s with factions like the "Renewal Committee" and "Armed Forces," continuing the struggle through guerrilla warfare.


    Semler sat quietly on the upper deck of the yacht, holding a glass of brandy mixed with soda, gazing silently at the faint outline of the coastline in the distance.


    "By conservative estimates, Cabinda produces 900,000 barrels of crude oil daily, accounting for 60% of Angola''s total output," Jabba said, adjusting his dark amber Alain Mikli sunglasses. "Yet, the government only allocates a tenth of the taxes and oil revenue to Cabinda, which remains one of the country''s poorest provinces."


    "Still, those oil companies are ''fat sheep,'' so kidnapping and extortion are common occurrences." He took a big sip from his glass of brandy and ice, then proudly added, "So I proposed offering protection to these companies, in exchange for hiring employees I recommend."This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "And then charge a recruitment fee to those hired?" Semler interjected.


    ¡°Heh-heh.¡± The hefty man laughed, revealing two rows of gleaming white teeth. Whether it was the drink or his desire to boast, he seemed especially talkative today. "More than half of Eni and Chevron''s local employees were introduced by me. And since Angola''s banking sector is still underdeveloped, they also rely on my underground bank to remit salaries back to their families."


    "Smart." Semler immediately understood the scheme. He swirled his glass with a complex expression, then turned his head away, remaining silent.


    At 9 a.m., the yacht anchored about half a nautical mile from the shore. A few crew members brought a two-foot square light yellow package from the hold, quickly unfolded it, connected a pump, and inflated it. Then they attached an engine. About fifteen minutes later, the package became a small inflatable boat that could hold four people. The "tall, skinny guy" from the previous day''s security check took the helm, ferrying Semler and Jabba toward the shore.


    As the inflatable boat approached, silhouettes gradually emerged on the beach. Drawing closer, Semler could see three vehicles parked there: a dirty, worn-out Datsun 720 pickup, a rust-covered Chevrolet S-10, and a dark blue Toyota Land Cruiser 60. A group of armed locals surrounded the vehicles, some holding AK or RPD rifles, and one of them was waving at them.


    As they reached the shallows near the beach, the "tall, skinny guy" cut the engine, and two gun-toting men waded into the knee-deep water to drag the inflatable boat ashore.


    The two disembarked, trudging through the sand toward the convoy. Jabba chattered in the local dialect with the group before signaling them over, taking a seat in the back of the Land Cruiser. Semler, not bothering to shake the sand out of his shoes, joined him.


    With two trucks full of armed men escorting them at the front and back, the convoy left the beach and proceeded inland along a narrow dirt road.


    ---


    Annotations:


    - Carnation Revolution: Refers to the April 25, 1974, military coup in Lisbon, Portugal, which overthrew the dictatorship led by Marcelo Caetano. Soldiers participating in the coup placed carnations in their rifle barrels, symbolizing a peaceful transition, hence the name "Carnation Revolution."


    - Ant¨®nio de Oliveira Salazar: Former Prime Minister of Portugal who ruled the country under a fascist regime for over thirty years.


    - Cabinda Enclave Liberation Front (FLEC): Also known as Frente para a Liberta??o do Enclave de Cabinda.


    - Eni SpA: An Italian multinational oil and gas company and Italy''s largest industrial enterprise, with revenues exceeding 84 billion euros in 2009.

 New supplier

    With two trucks full of armed men escorting them from front and rear, the Land Cruiser traveled for two hours along a bumpy dirt road, finally reaching a village near the Congo border.


    Outside the vehicle was a quintessential African scene. The clear, blue sky stretched endlessly, contrasting sharply with the grass-green horizon. Simple houses, with walls made of yellow mud mixed with cow dung and roofs covered in dried palm leaves, lined both sides of the road, forming a narrow settlement.


    Small stalls dotted the roadside, displaying various fruits and large pieces of smoked meat. Women in traditional attire crouched beside the stalls, waving fly-whisks made from animal hair and haggling with buyers. Meanwhile, men lounged in the shade of trees, conversing about topics only they understood. Groups of dark-skinned children, naked and barefoot, ran around the houses and palm trees or chased each other through the dust stirred up by passing vehicles.


    Just before noon, the convoy left the main road and entered a large compound surrounded by high walls, stopping in front of a three-story villa. Semler followed Jabba out of the car, where they were greeted by a middle-aged black man accompanied by an armed guard. Semler recognized the face: the man, nearly forty, had trained under him in Soyo and was one of the few from that group who had completed secondary school.


    The man greeted Jabba first and then nodded with a smile to Semler. He dismissed the guard and personally led them into the villa, guiding them to a spacious but empty living room. He also ordered a servant to bring two bottles of cold Coca-Cola.


    Semler and Jabba sat in the living room for half an hour. Once their clothes, damp from sweat, had dried in the air conditioning, a tall young black man entered the room.


    "Hello, Mr. Semler, it¡¯s been a long time. Has it been over a decade since we last met?" The young man greeted him in flawless Portuguese.


    Semler recognized him as Jabba¡¯s only son, whom everyone referred to as "Little Jabba." The two had met once in Soyo more than ten years ago when Little Jabba was just eleven. It was said that he left home at twenty to study in the United States and returned to Angola only two years ago after graduating.


    "It¡¯s been a while," Semler replied, extending his hand.


    "I¡¯ve heard about your situation," Little Jabba said, taking a seat on the sofa. "I think I can help you with this."


    The three of them shared a simple lunch, then spent over three hours in heated debate¡ªdiscussing whether they could hold a recruitment event and arguing over whether transporting people to Soyo would incur additional charges. They finally reached an agreement, after which Little Jabba ordered a car to take Semler and Jabba back to the shore in time to catch the yacht and return to Cape Padrao before sunset.


    As they said their goodbyes on the villa''s steps, Semler shook Little Jabba''s hand again and them walked over to the Land Cruiser that .


    "Thank you for your assistance," Semler said.


    "I¡¯ll send people to gather them immediately," Little Jabba replied. "I guarantee that you¡¯ll have the people you need within three days."


    On the way back, Semler felt a wave of exhaustion. The tension of the past week had kept him awake day and night, and hours of travel by land and sea had depleted his energy. Now that he felt relieved, he soon began to doze in the car, although the bumpy ride prevented him from truly resting. So, once he boarded Jabba¡¯s yacht, he collapsed onto a folding bed in the cabin and fell into a deep sleep.Stolen novel; please report.


    When the yacht docked at the private pier in Cape Padrao, Deng Shiyang and Keith were at the villa in Durban, holding a conference call with Harobi.


    "There¡¯s some good news regarding the rifle purchase," Harobi said after the usual progress reports. "It¡¯s incredible¡ªI just put out the request last night, and this morning I already got a response. The Zimbabwean government is preparing to buy weapons from Indonesia¡¯s Pindad company."


    "Is the information reliable?"


    "Absolutely. The intermediary for this deal is a Vienna-based arms brokerage company where I have a contact."


    "Interesting," Keith remarked. "Isn¡¯t Mugabe buying from China this time?"


    "Who knows," Harobi replied, then added with a hint of schadenfreude, "It might be due to last year¡¯s ¡®An Yue Jiang incident.¡¯"


    Since Robert Mugabe became president in 1987, Zimbabwe¡¯s human rights record had been widely criticized. Failed land reforms and poor price controls by the central bank had led to a worsening economy, with inflation reaching a staggering 100,500 percent.


    In this challenging political and economic climate, Mugabe¡¯s rule, once seen as heroic for leading the fight against Rhodesia¡¯s white government, was increasingly precarious. During the 2008 elections, the opposition Movement for Democratic Change won a parliamentary majority, ending the longstanding dominance of Mugabe¡¯s Zimbabwe African National Union-Patriotic Front. In the March presidential election, opposition leader Morgan Tsvangirai claimed a landslide victory, but the Mugabe government repeatedly delayed the release of election results and refused to cede power.


    On April 15 of that year, the Chinese ship "An Yue Jiang-Guang Zhou" arrived in Durban with 77 tons of weapons for Zimbabwe. Suspecting the weapons might be used to suppress opposition forces, South African human rights organizations and dock workers initiated a boycott, urging the government to deny the ship docking rights.


    Some human rights groups petitioned the court for an injunction, banning the shipment of weapons to Zimbabwe¡¯s border. On April 18, the court ruled that the An Yue Jiang could dock in Durban but prohibited transporting the arms overland through South Africa. Fearing the goods would be impounded, the An Yue Jiang left South African waters before the injunction took effect and headed for Mozambique.


    The International Transport Workers¡¯ Federation called for a boycott at African ports, and nations such as Mozambique, Namibia, Angola, and Zambia banned the ship from docking, forcing the An Yue Jiang to return .


    In reality, the United Nations had not imposed an arms embargo on Zimbabwe, so neither China nor Zimbabwe had violated international law. But on April 24, China¡¯s Ministry of Foreign Affairs issued a statement: "We hope the relevant parties in Zimbabwe can properly address their current differences and maintain national stability and development." later adding, "The Chinese government has always approached military exports cautiously and responsibly, One key principle is non-interference in the internal affairs of the receiving country. We hope that certain parties do not politicize this issue."


    Hearing Mugabe¡¯s name reminded Deng Shiyang of two other news stories involving him: one from February 2009, when Mugabe¡¯s daughter, Bona, attending the City University of Hong Kong, had her bodyguard assault two journalists outside her villa in Tai Po; the other, just a month earlier, involved Zimbabwe¡¯s first lady, Grace Mugabe,  "lesson" the two photographers outside the Shangri-La Hotel in Tsim Sha Tsui East for taking her picture.


    Deng Shiyang chimed in, "Another possible reason¡ªperhaps he annoyed the Chinese government with his wife and daughter¡¯s actions in Hong Kong."


    "Pfft," Harobi laughed, then said with a touch of irony, "Either way, we should be grateful Mugabe is dealing with the Indonesians and not the Chinese, as it gives us an opportunity."


    ---


    Annotations:


    - Pindad (PT Pindad): An Indonesian state-owned arms manufacturer.


    - Republic of Rhodesia: The former name of Zimbabwe after its unilateral declaration of independence from the United Kingdom in 1965. It was renamed Zimbabwe-Rhodesia in 1979 and then Zimbabwe in April 1980.


    - Lesson: Another word for "beating".

 The helicopter

    When Keith arrived at the entrance of "Precision Aviation Services," it was already 10:30 a.m. Unlike last time, he came alone. For confidentiality reasons, he hadn¡¯t informed Allen Baker beforehand, opting instead to arrange a time directly with Crawford by phone.


    The two met in the modest manager''s office on the hangar¡¯s second floor. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Crawford placed two black folders on the coffee table.


    Keith spent over three hours skimming through the thick files, oblivious to the fact that lunchtime had passed.


    The files were for two Mi-17 helicopters, containing certificates of origin, copies of transfer contracts, and flight and maintenance records.


    These helicopters were actually Soviet Mi-8MTs, manufactured by Kazan Helicopter Plant and rolled out in 1983 and 1984. They were remnants of Soviet equipment left in Afghanistan. When the Soviet Union withdrew in 1988 and the puppet regime they had supported fell in 1992, the military assets of the Afghan Republic were divided and sold by warlords. During that time, these two helicopters were sold to the Pakistani government, who then sold them to Precision Aviation Services in 2001.


    The documentation was incomplete, especially the part covering Afghanistan, which was almost entirely blank, and the information provided by Pakistan was very general. However, ''Precision Aviation Services'' records were thorough, with each flight meticulously documented. It was now clear that both helicopters had logged over 3,000 flight hours, with one reaching 3,800 hours. However, Precision Aviation¡¯s maintenance was meticulous, recording every maintenance job and replaced part. Both helicopters had recently undergone major overhauls: one in the middle of last year and the other at the last year-end.


    At 2:00 p.m., Keith rubbed his numb backside and stood up. Glancing at his watch, he sheepishly said to Crawford, "Sorry, I lost track of time."


    "It¡¯s alright. If you could decide quickly, that would help me," Crawford replied with a smile, showing no signs of annoyance. "The helicopters are in the hangar. Would you like to take a look?"Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    "No, thanks," Keith replied after a moment¡¯s thought. "This kind of inspection is better handled by a third party."


    "Good point," Crawford nodded in agreement.


    Keith stood up and said, "Let¡¯s leave it here for today. I need to discuss this with my partners at the company."


    "By the way," as he reached the office door, something occurred to him, and he turned back. "I remember your company also offers personnel training, right?"


    "Yes."


    "Could you help me find a team of mechanics? Also, I¡¯d like you to recommend two crews familiar with Mi-17 operations."


    Crawford paused momentarily, then smiled and replied, "Of course, we have several excellent people who would definitely meet your requirements."


    "Great, then. Please organize their resumes and fax them to me. I¡¯ll arrange separate meetings after reviewing them."


    "No problem."


    Crawford personally escorted him to the company entrance, and the two shook hands by the roadside to say goodbye.


    While Keith was on his flight back to Durban, Deng Shiyang was waiting for a connecting flight at Oliver Tambo International Airport in Johannesburg. He entered the Lufthansa lounge, chose an inconspicuous corner seat, and took out a recently purchased copy of the African Times.


    The previous night, Harobi had provided him with an email address, the contact for the arms brokerage firm acting as the intermediary for the Zimbabwean government and Pindad. He asked Deng to contact the firm to see if they could add 100 assault rifles to the order.


    This is one of the more common forms of manipulation in the international arms market. Particularly for brokers unable to gain interest from arms manufacturers due to low profits or lack of legitimate authorization, their strategy is to place orders with other legitimate arms dealers. They include the requested weapons and ammunition within a larger order, secure export permits, and then deliver the goods to the buyer through their own channels. As long as the transaction doesn¡¯t threaten national security or interests, most arms-exporting governments tacitly ignore the authenticity of the "end-user certificates." Therefore, as long as the middlemen manage it properly, this practice of blending orders has long been a common tactic in the trade.


    Deng had sent an email to that address the previous evening, requesting 100 SS1-V2 short-barreled assault rifles with folding stocks and 2,000 thirty-round magazines. He added a note specifying that each rifle should have a STANAG 2324 NATO standard rail on top and include a maintenance kit.


    The response arrived this morning, inviting him to Frankfurt to discuss the transaction details. So, he immediately booked a flight to Frankfurt and took a South African Airways flight to Johannesburg around noon.


    ---


    Annotations:


    - SS1 Assault Rifle: An Indonesian-made version of the FNC rifle, produced under license by Pindad.

 Frankfurt

    After more than ten hours of flying, Deng Shiyang landed at Frankfurt International Airport at 6:30 a.m. local time.


    The weather in Frankfurt was cold in March, and the clothes he¡¯d brought from Durban were too light. He shivered involuntarily as he stepped outside the airport. Pulling his coat tightly around him, he carried his luggage to the taxi stand and got into a pale-yellow Mercedes cab.


    "Where to, sir?" asked the driver, a ruddy-cheeked white man with thinning hair, as Deng settled into the back seat.


    Though he didn¡¯t understand German, Deng could guess what the driver was asking. He took out a pamphlet he¡¯d picked up at the airport, opened it, and pointed to the description of a hotel.


    "Oh, I see," the driver replied in English, nodding, and smoothly pulled the car out of the taxi stand, heading along the road toward the Sachsenhausen district on the south bank of the Main River.


    About halfway through the journey, perhaps to liven up the atmosphere, the driver suddenly asked, "Are you American, sir?"


    Deng, staring out the window, was momentarily startled. In a British accent, he replied vaguely, "I¡¯m from South Africa."


    "Here on holiday?"


    "Business."


    "First time here?"


    "I¡¯ve been to Frankfurt twice before, but didn¡¯t stay long either time."


    Trying to seem warm and chatty, the driver smiled and asked, "How do you like the city?"


    "Hmm¡­" Deng clicked his tongue, then replied, "It¡¯s a beautiful city¡ªclean streets, orderly, everything in its place. But it lacks energy and feels cold." He glanced at the rearview mirror and added, "It gives you a feeling of wanting to leave quickly."


    The driver grunted in slight disappointment and fell silent.


    About ten minutes later, the taxi stopped in front of an impressive gray-blue mansion. Deng paid the fare, got out, and handed his luggage to the doorman before heading straight to the front desk.


    The night before he¡¯d left Durban, Harobi had transferred ¡ê30,000 to a Standard Bank account. Deng split the funds, taking ¡ê10,000 for travel expenses and giving the rest to Keith. Along with the remaining budget from last time, the "Josh Deylek" account now held 130,000 rand, more than enough for a comfortable stay in Frankfurt for two months, though he estimated he¡¯d only be there for two weeks.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    This trip felt like a public-funded vacation, with all expenses unaccounted for and no receipts required. With his wallet full, he wasn¡¯t planning to skimp on comfort and had booked a room at Frankfurt¡¯s best, the Villa Kennedy Hotel.


    Since Durban and Frankfurt are only one time zone apart, jet lag wasn¡¯t an issue. After settling in, Deng sent an email from his phone, then made a long-distance call to the villa in Durban. He¡¯d missed last night¡¯s conference call while on the plane and felt it necessary to catch up on the latest developments.


    The phone rang only two or three times before it was answered by Keith¡¯s slightly garbled voice. "¡­ JD? ¡­ Are you in Frankfurt?" He sounded strange, as though he had something in his mouth.


    Deng frowned and replied, "Just arrived at the hotel."


    "Right, one sec¡­" Keith paused, followed by the sound of water gulping. After about a minute, he spoke in a more normal voice, "I assume you¡¯re calling first thing to hear about last night¡¯s meeting?"


    "What did I miss?"


    "Nothing major." Keith paused, then continued, "First, regarding Angola¡ªyesterday afternoon, Semler called to say he¡¯d reached an agreement with a tribal leader in Cabinda. He said the people we need would arrive in Soyo within three days."


    "That¡¯s all he said?"


    "He also asked for $8,000 to cover the finder¡¯s fee."


    "What did you tell him?"


    "I told him to leave the account info and that we¡¯d transfer the money as soon as those people left Angola."


    "Good job," Deng said, then asked, "Anything else?"


    "Yes, about the helicopters. I¡¯ve reviewed the flight and maintenance records. Although they¡¯re a bit old, they¡¯ve been well-maintained. I¡¯m planning to have a reputable aircraft maintenance company conduct a full inspection of their mechanical condition. Also, each ¡®Hippo¡¯ can carry twenty-four soldiers, so we could transport a forty-eight-man strike team with just two helicopters. I¡¯m thinking of reducing the number of helicopters from four to two. What do you think?"


    "If the mission can be accomplished with only two helicopters, that¡¯s a good suggestion."


    "So, I take that as your approval?"


    "Yes," Deng replied with a nod.


    "Lastly, regarding Jansen¡ªclothing, shoes, and gear are all sorted. He found a few clothing manufacturers and military supply stores to place orders in China for combat uniforms and tactical vests, which should arrive within a month."


    "Let¡¯s proceed. But hold off on the magazine pouches until I confirm this things ."


    "Of course," Keith continued. "The problem is with helmets and ballistic plates. Both are considered military items and are currently hard to source."


    "Aren¡¯t these items available at military stores?"


    "They are, but they don¡¯t sell many, so stores usually stock only a few. And in these times, buying in bulk might attract attention from the South African police."


    Deng frowned and asked, "Any suggestions?"


    "Honestly, we could skip the helmets; they¡¯re too conspicuous and inconvenient to transport."


    Deng thought for a moment and replied, "That works, but the tactical vests must have ballistic plates."


    "I¡¯ll find a way."


    At 9 a.m., the two ended the call. After hanging up, Deng noticed a new email notification on his phone, and the sender was the arms brokerage company¡¯s email address.

 Meeting

    The email contained a complete meeting plan, including the time, place, dress code, and passphrase. The meeting point was in the lobby of Frankfurt Central Station. Between 2 p.m. and 3 p.m., he was to go to a public phone at the southern exit and dial a number provided in the email to receive further instructions. As a visual identifier, he had to wear a black coat and a white scarf, and carry a copy of the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung under his arm. The passphrase was, "Have you been waiting long? I was stuck in traffic."


    After reading the email, Deng glanced at his watch; it was now 9 a.m. He went to the clothing store in the hotel lobby to buy a black Hugo Boss lambskin coat and a beige wool scarf with light gray patterns at both ends. Then, he had a lavish breakfast at the hotel restaurant, lingering with his coffee until noon before heading back to his room to change into his newly bought clothes and taking a pre-booked taxi.


    At 1 p.m., he arrived at Frankfurt Central Station and spent over an hour walking around, familiarizing himself with the locations of each exit. He then took the scarf out of his coat pocket and wrapped it around his neck, bought a copy of Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung and a phone card from a kiosk in the lobby, and walked to the public phone at the southern exit of the station.


    With the newspaper''s front page facing out, tucked under his arm, Deng picked up the receiver and dialed the number from the email.


    The call was quickly answered, but the other party said nothing.


    "Have you been waiting long? I was stuck in traffic," Deng said first.


    "Go to the main entrance," replied a husky, deep male voice, before the line was disconnected.


    Deng hung up the phone and slowly walked to the main entrance of the station. He stood with his back to the station, looking at the GLS Bank building across the street, pretending to wait for someone for over twenty minutes. Several passengers passed by him, coming and going, but no one greeted him.


    He knew someone was definitely watching him nearby, and the thought made him uneasy. Although he didn¡¯t believe there would be any danger during this Frankfurt trip, the fact that the other party had complete control of the situation was unsettling.


    Just as he started to grow impatient, someone gently bumped his left shoulder from behind. Reflexively turning around, Deng didn¡¯t see the expected contacts. Frowning, he reached into the left pocket of his coat and found a small envelope.


    He immediately left the station, randomly picked a bus at the bus stop, rode it for three stops, then switched to a taxi to return to the hotel.


    Back in his room, he took out the item from his pocket¡ªa light brown Manila envelope. Carefully tearing it open, he took out three folded sheets of paper.


    After reading the contents, Deng couldn¡¯t help but wonder if paranoia was an occupational hazard for arms dealers. He had thought that the spy novel-like meeting process before meeting Johan Schlink in Cape Town was already exaggerated, but this Austrian company took it to a whole new level.


    The envelope didn¡¯t contain a weapons quotation sheet but rather a note with instructions on how to retrieve it, indicating that the other party had no intention of meeting him in person.


    The quotation was hidden in Lousia Park in the Niederrad district, northeast of the famous weeping willow, attached to the underside of the first bench on the left using a magnetic box. He had to retrieve it between 6 p.m. and 8 p.m., and stick a piece of chewing gum on the bench''s armrest as a marker. Besides the written instructions, the envelope contained two detailed maps, clearly showing the exact locations of the bench and the magnetic box.


    This was one of the common methods of espionage, called "dead drop," where something is left in a secret location for the other party to pick up. The storage container had no fixed form¡ªit could be a bank safety deposit box, a self-storage locker, a book, a tree hollow, a hollow brick in a wall, or even a sealed plastic bag weighted down in the water. Unlike "live drop" handovers, this method was called "dead drop."


    Deng memorized the contents, took the papers into the bathroom, burned them, and flushed the ashes down the toilet. He then went to the hotel¡¯s business center, used Google Earth to familiarize himself with Lousia Park and the surrounding area, as well as the nearby public transport routes, and then had dinner at the restaurant.


    At 6:30 p.m., he took a taxi to Lousia Park. Pretending to be a lost tourist, he asked the driver to circle the park, making sure there were no suspicious people or vehicles before getting off two streets away and walking into the park.


    The park was small, covering less than sixty acres. Although there were several residential areas nearby, it was dinnertime, and there were no other visitors in the park. Deng walked through the woods to the garden and soon found a broken white chalk piece on the path by the weeping willow¡ªthat was the signal.


    He took a pack of mints he had bought earlier from his pocket, popped two into his mouth, and chewed as he walked to the bench beside the path in the garden. Looking around and making sure no one else was nearby, he reached his left hand under the bench, running it along the black cast-iron leg toward the backrest. Soon, his fingers touched a rectangular metal object the length of his middle finger. Confirming it was the target, he grabbed it and gave it a sharp twist to detach the magnetic box and put it in his pocket. Then, he took the chewing gum out of his mouth and stuck it to the bench, quickly retreating into the woods behind the path.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    After leaving the park, Deng Shiyang deliberately took a roundabout route, just as he did on the way there. He changed vehicles twice and didn''t return to the hotel until 9 p.m.


    Back in his room, he took a small bottle of mineral water from the fridge, twisted off the cap, and sat down on the sofa. He opened the magnetic box and pulled out two rolled-up sheets of onion paper.


    The first was the quote:


    SS1-V2 Rifle (with rail): $860 per unit (100 units) - $86,000


    30-Round Magazine: $30 per unit (2,000 units) - $60,000


    Maintenance Kit: $26 per set (100 sets) - $5,200


    Total: $151,200


    Service Fee: $31,000


    Grand Total: $182,200


    "Profiteer!" Deng cursed internally before grabbing the water bottle and taking a big gulp.


    Although he wasn¡¯t an industry insider, he knew quite a bit about the retail price of rifles in the civilian market due to personal interest. Compared to the budget American gun manufacturers like Armalite, DPMS, and Bushmaster, $860 was more expensive than most CAR-15 carbines they produced. If he compared it to Eastern European AKs, that price was equivalent to the total cost of two Romanian or Polish units. Even though Belgian-made guns were always pricey, Southeast Asian weapons had always been known for their affordability, and the production cost of the FNC wasn¡¯t significantly higher than that of the AK. Besides, the factory order price was wholesale. He was convinced the broker had jacked up the price.


    But frustration aside, given the current situation, he had no choice but to grit his teeth and accept it. He put the water bottle down, wiped his damp right hand on his pants, and began reading the contents of the other onion paper.


    The three-inch-square sheet was covered with tiny handwriting detailing the transaction process.


    According to the broker''s requirements, the buyer had to transfer the $31,000 service fee into a designated account within the week, after which they would place an order with Pindad. Once the transaction was confirmed, a letter of credit for the full payment had to be deposited in the seller''s bank. The entire batch of arms would be airlifted from Indonesia to Zimbabwe via Madagascar, with a refueling stop in Antananarivo. At that time, the extra weapons would be transferred from the airport to Mahajanga or Toamasina, and legitimate export permits for the goods would be obtained. Once the shipping process was completed, the seller would request payment from the bank using the bill of lading as proof.


    It was undeniable that the arrangement was meticulous, even watertight. The "End-User Certificate" issued by the Zimbabwean government included the extra weapons, and Pindad had no idea that there was a second buyer involved, believing that all the goods would be delivered to the same destination. As a result, everyone was satisfied¡ªMugabe and Deng Shiyang would receive their weapons, and the Indonesians and brokers would make their money without anyone losing out.


    Deng read the two sheets of onion paper several times to ensure nothing was overlooked before composing an email on his phone and sending it to Harobi. He then made a call to Durban.


    The phone was quickly answered, and Du Preez''s voice came from the receiver. "Hello, is this JD?"


    "Yes," Deng replied. "Get Keith on the line."


    "He''s not here," the South African replied. "He left for Pretoria early this morning and called in the afternoon to say he couldn¡¯t get a ticket and would be staying there overnight."


    "What about the meeting?"


    "It''s been postponed¡ªhe said to wait until he returns tomorrow."


    "I see," Deng continued, "do you have anything to report now?"


    "Yes," Du Preez paused before saying, "I''ll let Jansen tell you." He then set down the receiver with a clatter.


    After waiting for a while, Deng became a little impatient. He picked up the half-full bottle of mineral water from the coffee table and drank it all in one go, just as Jansen''s voice came through the receiver, "Still there?"


    *Cough, cough!* Deng choked on the water, coughing uncontrollably for a while before finally recovering.


    "Are you okay?"


    "I''m fine, go ahead." Deng had finally cleared the water from his throat, though his voice sounded strange.


    "I''ve been calling around with the ''Yellow Pages'' these past two days, and I''ve found most of the things you asked for." Jansen cleared his throat, and the sound of pages turning came through the receiver. "Underwear and socks, I plan to buy at Martini¡ªthey have several Taiwanese-owned garment factories. Combat uniforms, belts, tactical vests, and boots are also sorted. Johannesburg¡¯s Chinatown has many wholesalers, and we can place orders through them in China."


    "Got it," Deng acknowledged, then asked, "What type of camo and boots did you decide on?"


    "I checked with two suppliers about the camo. They have jungle tiger stripes and Spanish camo. Which do you think is more suitable?"


    "Tiger stripes."


    "Got it," Jansen continued. "As for the boots, I initially considered the green canvas boots used by the French army, but the Chinese-made ''Sri Lanka boots'' are cheaper, so I decided to go with those."


    "Whatever you decide."


    "I inquired with several outdoor supply stores in Durban about sleeping bags and backpacks. They said they don¡¯t have that much in stock, but they guarantee delivery within a month after receiving the order."


    "You can start procuring the sleeping bags and backpacks now. If you need money, talk to Keith¡ªhe¡¯ll sort it out."


    "I''ll take care of it tomorrow." Jansen paused before adding, "I''ve contacted a few water filter dealers, but they don¡¯t have the model you need. As for ballistic plates, there''s still no lead. Keith has told you about the helmets, right?"


    "Yes, we spoke this morning. If it¡¯s too much trouble, skip them. Replace them with brown or olive-green baseball caps." Deng seemed to think of something else and added, "If we¡¯re not getting helmets, we won¡¯t need the cat-eye bands either. Instead, buy two hundred fluorescent armbands with Velcro."


    "Got it."


    "Anything else?"


    "Nope."


    "You¡¯ve done well, but speed up with the other items¡ªwe¡¯re running out of time."


    "I''ll do my best."


    Deng had confidence in Jansen''s ability to get things done. He gave a few more instructions before hanging up.


    He glanced at his watch¡ªit was already 10:30 p.m. Deng looked down at his clothes and then stood up to head into the bathroom.


    ---


    Annotations:


    - Letter of Credit (L/C): A primary payment method in international trade, where the payer deposits issuance fees and a guarantee with the issuing bank, ensuring that payment is made to the beneficiary under certain conditions. The most common type, called a *Documentary Credit*, requires the beneficiary to present the necessary commercial documents to receive payment.

 To Maun

    When the response arrived, it was already the next morning. Perhaps because Keith''s plan to reduce the number of helicopters had saved a substantial amount of the budget, Harobi didn''t comment on the overpriced weapons. He said in his email that the $31,000 service fee had already been transferred to the designated account and attached a transfer receipt number.


    Deng Shiyang forwarded the transfer receipt number to the broker¡¯s email, then went into the bathroom to freshen up briefly, and changed clothes to go down for breakfast. About half an hour later, he received a new email from the broker, informing him that the transaction had been confirmed.


    He forwarded this information to Harobi by email, marking the successful completion of his tasks. Feeling relaxed, Deng was in a good mood and combined breakfast and lunch, eating heartily.


    He didn''t return to his room until noon, then immediately made a long-distance call to the villa in Durban.


    This time it was Keith who answered the phone, and he seemed to know what Deng wanted to ask. He got straight to the point, "I was in Pretoria yesterday, and I¡¯ve already inspected those two helicopters."


    "What¡¯s their condition?"


    "Pretty good," Keith replied. "SkyLink''s maintenance is well done, and from the exterior, you can¡¯t tell that they are over twenty years old. Besides, since they are military models, the cockpit is surrounded by armor plates, and they have self-sealing explosion-suppressant fuel tanks, and even machine gun mounts in the cabin. However, the backup hydraulic system and fire suppression system have both been removed."


    "That¡¯s a shame," Deng muttered softly, then asked, "What about the other aspects?"


    "I¡¯ve already commissioned an aircraft maintenance company to conduct a full inspection of the mechanical condition. It¡¯ll take about two to three days to get the results."


    "How long will it take to complete the transfer procedure?"


    "I asked about that yesterday. Including the inspection, it will take about two weeks." Keith paused, then added, "Besides, both helicopters are white and need to be repainted¡ª"


    "Let''s do that once they¡¯re in storage or loaded onto a ship," Deng interrupted. "Avoid raising any suspicion."


    "Yeah, I was thinking the same." Keith agreed, then said, "I¡¯ve got the resumes of the backup mechanics and pilots. Do you need me to fax them to you?"


    "Don¡¯t bother. I¡¯m done with things on this end. I¡¯ll be back in Durban soon, and I¡¯ll take a look then."


    "Got it."


    Deng then remembered the call from last night. "Jansen¡¯s progress has been faster than expected. I think you can pull Du Preez away now and have him start setting up the mortar team. Also, I want you to spend the next few days devising a plan for entering Swaziland by land."Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    "All the good jobs fall to me¡­" Keith mumbled under his breath.


    Deng raised an eyebrow. "What did you just say?"


    "Nothing, just talking to myself."


    After exchanging a few more words, they ended the call.


    Just as he hung up, Deng''s phone rang again. He glanced at the screen¡ªit was an international number starting with "44." He quickly pressed the "answer" button.


    "Are you done with everything you needed to do in Germany?" As soon as the call connected, Harobi''s urgent voice came through.


    Deng was a bit surprised, as this was the first time calling this number.


    "Yes. I plan to head back to South Africa tonight."


    "Don¡¯t rush back." Before he could finish, Harobi interrupted. "You need to go to Angola immediately. I just got word that the recruits have all arrived."


    "So soon?" Deng sounded a little taken aback. "Keith didn¡¯t mention anything about it."


    "Maybe Keith doesn¡¯t know yet either. My guy in Luanda called to let me know. He said that German fellow you sent contacted him today, hoping to arrange for a hundred people to leave the country in the coming days."


    Deng frowned. "Belgian passports don¡¯t allow for visas on arrival in Angola, and applying for a visa now will take at least two or three days."


    "Dammit," Harobi cursed under his breath, then said, "In that case, head to Botswana."


    "What do you want me to do there?"


    "There are mainly two reasons. First, that guy¡ªum, what¡¯s his name¡ª"


    "Semler, Kruger Semler."


    "Oh, right, Semler," Harobi continued. "That guy doesn¡¯t know the details of the operation, and it¡¯s inevitable that the training he¡¯s overseeing may not be up to standard. I think if you¡¯re there, you can give them some substantial advice."


    "Okay," Deng nodded.


    "Second, it¡¯s our first time working with this guy, and all we know about him is from Du Preez''s introduction and his work record at EO and Shield Defense. I¡¯m sure you understand, those Angolan soldiers will be the main force in the operation. No one knows if they¡¯ll slack off or even defect if they get trapped in the Presidential Palace. If we can¡¯t control them at that time, you¡¯ll be in a very passive situation. So, you need to ensure that those guys are on our side¡ªat least for this job. I¡¯m sure you understand what I mean."


    "I understand," Deng replied. "But how do you expect me to do that?"


    "What do you mean?"


    "In other words, what terms do you allow me to use for negotiation?" Deng added, "If you¡¯re worried about Semler, we can buy him off with money or offer a well-paying job in exchange. As far as I know, his life has been rough these past few years, so he¡¯s eager to prove himself to us. One reason he recruited those soldiers who don¡¯t speak English may be to make us more dependent on him. I think if this job can bring him enough benefits, he shouldn¡¯t betray us."


    "What about the soldiers?"


    "I asked Semler to tell them that if they perform well, they could get at least a six-month contract, with a monthly salary not less than $1,500." Deng paused and then added apologetically, "Sorry for making that promise without your consent, but I feel that if the coup succeeds, their value to the new government will far outweigh that money."


    "No problem." Harobi didn¡¯t blame him, but instead praised him, "You handled it well. After all, fulfilling that promise is for after the coup¡¯s success, and giving them a reason to work hard is no bad thing."


    "Yeah, that¡¯s what I thought too."


    "Alright." After a moment of thought, Harobi said, "Let¡¯s do it your way. If the coup succeeds, those soldiers will get a six-month contract with a monthly salary of $1,500. Additionally, I¡¯ll hire Semler as the supervisor to lead them, with a daily rate of $500."


    "Good, I think they¡¯ll accept that."


    That night, Deng Shiyang boarded a flight from Frankfurt International Airport to Johannesburg. Thirty-five hours later, he traveled via Botswana''s capital Gaborone, arriving in the central city of Maun at 8:30 in the morning.

 The training camp

    When Deng Shiyang walked out of Maun Airport with his luggage, it was just past nine in the morning. He quickly spotted Harobi''s man at the entrance.


    The person responsible for picking him up was a sun-tanned white man. He stood about six feet eight inches tall, very lean, with long limbs that made his shoulders look narrow. Combined with his long neck and gaunt face, he brought to mind the alien race known as "Skinnies" from the science fiction novel *Starship Troopers*.


    As soon as they met, the "Skinny" man put away a sign that read "Josh Bockman Deylek," stepped forward, and extended his hand, saying, "I''m Stuart Harris, the A.F.S. representative in Botswana. Mr. Harobi called me the day before yesterday and asked me to assist you in every way possible."


    Deng shook his hand and replied, "I appreciate your help."


    "Mm," Harris replied formally, then turned and pointed to a Land Rover Defender parked nearby, saying, "I''ll take you to the training camp now."


    The two got into the vehicle, and the Defender drove through the city, heading east along the A3 highway in the suburbs.


    "Your people have already arrived," Harris said as they made their way to the camp. "They flew in on a DC-6 transport from Soyo yesterday."


    "Harobi works fast," Deng nodded, then asked, "How are they?"


    "Not bad, but I think many of them got airsick from being stuck in the cargo hold too long."


    "Did Semler come too?"


    "The German guy was the worst off," Harris said with barely concealed mockery. "He vomited all over the cabin¡ªalmost caused the charter company to complain to me."


    Deng found this comment somewhat unpleasant but still defended Semler, "That old man is getting on in years, his stamina can''t compare to those young black guys."


    About an hour later, the Defender turned onto a road heading south, then crossed a concrete bridge built on a dried-up riverbed, entering the small town of Motopi.


    Harris pulled into the town''s only gas station. He opened the car door, got out, and exchanged a few casual words in Tswana with two local workers, then jogged into the adjacent grocery store.


    After more than an hour of driving, the thin seats of the Defender were making Deng''s back feel sore. He took the opportunity to get out of the car while refueling and began to stretch.


    Harris soon returned with two bottles of cold beer. He twisted off one of the caps with a "pssh" sound and handed a bottle to Deng.


    "Thanks," Deng said, accepting it, and curiously looked around the small town.


    "Our camp is to the south, about an hour''s drive from here. The road ahead is a bit rough, so let''s take a break here first." Harris pointed west. "There''s another town over there called ''Makalamabedi,'' or something like that¡ªit''s several times larger than here. Supplies for the camp come from there." He paused and pointed northeast. "There''s a small airstrip across the river. If you need anything that can''t be found here, we can have it flown in from abroad."This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Deng''s curiosity was piqued by this information. He took a sip of the beer and asked, "How''s the camp?"


    "Pretty good," Harris replied. "We started setting it up two weeks ago. Housing, food, and water are no problem, but we don''t have enough bathrooms and toilets. We ordered a batch of portable toilets from Gaborone, and they should arrive in a few days."


    "That''s not a big deal," Deng nodded, then asked, "How many people are there?"


    "In addition to your group, there''s another batch of trainees," Harris said. "Including the instructors and staff, there are about 170 or 180 people now."


    Refueling didn''t take long, and the Defender soon left Motopi, heading into the grasslands to the south of the town.


    Two parallel tracks formed a long, straight dirt path across the grasslands, but this makeshift road was quite bumpy. For a non-independent suspension off-road vehicle like the Defender, it made the ride even rougher.


    Deng had always been confident in his ability to handle car rides, but he hadn''t factored in two things: first, he''d just been on a plane for over thirty hours, and second, he hadn''t eaten anything since last night. After ten minutes, he found himself talking less; after twenty minutes, his face started turning pale; and after that, he felt his stomach churning, barely managing to hold back his urge to retch.


    After enduring the torment of motion sickness and the bumpy ride for more than an hour, they finally reached a camp built in the grasslands at a quarter to twelve. By then, Deng was drenched in cold sweat, his polo shirt soaked through. As the car drove onto a leveled clearing, he stuck his head out of the window, taking in deep gulps of fresh air.


    The camp was quite large, covering around 200 acres, with its main structures being two sections of fiberglass prefabricated buildings with blue roofs and white walls. On the eastern side, there were three two-story buildings connected in a square "U" shape. Behind these prefabricated buildings was a structure made of connected shipping containers. In the distance, an orange bulldozer could be seen parked near the edge of the camp.


    "The two-story ones are the office buildings, which also serve as dorms for the instructors and staff. The structure at the back is the armory where all the weapons and ammunition are stored." Harris turned the steering wheel as he spoke, and the Defender made a semi-circle on the clearing, heading to a cluster of over a dozen one-story prefabricated buildings to the west of the clearing.


    "The two large ones are the mess halls, and the smaller ones are the trainees'' dormitories." He paused and added, "Your people are staying in the dormitory farthest away, separated from the first batch of trainees. Also, I built a large prefab building specifically as their dining hall."


    "Good,"Deng Shiyang nodded and praised:  "You''ve done well."


    Harris smiled, parking the vehicle in front of the two-story prefabricated buildings. He got out and led Deng upstairs, stopping in front of the southernmost room.


    "This is your room. Semler is staying next door." He took out a key, unlocked the door, and gestured for Deng to enter.


    The room was small and simply furnished. Against the far wall was a single bed that occupied almost a third of the room. Mounted on the wall opposite the bed was a split-unit air conditioner, the only appliance other than the overhead fluorescent light. The room had three pieces of furniture: a small multipurpose folding table, a gray-blue plastic chair with a backrest, and a portable wardrobe assembled from an aluminum frame and plastic sheeting.


    Deng glanced around the room, then placed his luggage on the table and asked, "Is there internet access here?"


    "Yes," Harris said, putting the room key on the table. "The camp has a BGAN system and a wireless router. I''ll bring you a laptop later."


    "Thanks," Deng nodded. He turned and looked out the window before saying, "If possible, I''d like you to take me to see Semler now."

 The camp conditions

    "They¡¯re doing physical training right now," Harris said, glancing at his watch. "Let¡¯s wait for him in the mess hall. I assume you haven¡¯t had lunch yet?"


    "Alright," Deng Shiyang replied, taking the key from the desk and putting it in his pocket before leaving the room with Harris.


    The mess hall was even tidier than its exterior suggested. It was said that Harobi intended to turn this place into A.F.S.¡¯s first training center in Africa, so all the facilities were well-equipped. The camp had a fully functional water supply and sewage system. Security, cleaning, and laundry were handled by dedicated personnel, and the management of the mess hall and meal services was outsourced to a food service company. According to Harris, this provided trainees with a comfortable environment, allowing them to focus entirely on enhancing their combat skills.


    Perhaps Harobi hadn¡¯t explained clearly, but Harris seemed to regard Deng as a senior company official. Although he had a dismissive attitude toward Semler, Harris appeared to be respectful and accommodating toward Deng, answering every question and even eagerly offering to order food.


    Lunch was quite hearty: vegetable stew, fried fish with tartar sauce and fries, mushroom chicken rice, fruit, and coffee to go with the meal. Compared to a restaurant, the food in the mess hall was not as flavorful, but for trainees dealing with demanding training, the calories mattered far more than the delicacy of the flavors.


    "I have work to do later,  " Deng declined the beer Harris offered, then picked up a stainless steel tray full of food and walked over to a table in the corner.


    Harris glanced at his back, put the two bottles of Budweiser back into the fridge, and then carried his lunch to join Deng.


    As soon as Harris sat down, Deng said, "This operation is on a tight schedule. I¡¯d like to know what kind of training is available for my men here."


    "We have complete physical training facilities, and the camp has ten lanes each for seven meters, twenty-five meters, and fifty meters of shooting ranges. I can also provide you with some classrooms, each equipped with a projector and full audiovisual equipment¡ª"


    Deng waved his hand to cut him off and asked, "What kind of weapons do you have here?"


    "The armory has forty AKs and ten RPDs, plus some pistols¡ªmainly CZ-75s and BAPs."The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    "What about the ammunition?"


    "About 200,000 rounds of 7.62 rifle ammo, 100,000 rounds of 9mm pistol ammo, and some blanks ."


    "That''s not enough," Deng shook his head and continued, "Their training will focus on live-fire exercises, and ammo consumption will be high. You should arrange for more ammunition. We only need rifle ammo; keep the pistol rounds for yourselves."


    Harris''s mouth twitched, but he said nothing.


    "Also, I need MGLs, RPGs, and training grenades," Deng continued. "Get me a batch of red dot sights as well¡ªabout twenty should be enough."


    Harris frowned. Deng glanced at him and asked, "Is there a problem?"


    "It¡¯s about the sights," Harris replied. "I know a guy in Gaborone who is a Kobra dealer. If we order from him, they can be delivered in two days. Any other brand will take longer."


    "Let¡¯s go with that."


    As soon as he spoke, there was a burst of noise at the entrance, and a group of black men wearing gray-green short-sleeved T-shirts and shorts noisily entered the mess hall. Most of them were in their prime, tall and muscular. Their T-shirts were soaked with sweat, clinging tightly to their bodies, showing the outlines of their developed chests. Deng gestured toward the entrance, then gave Harris a questioning look.


    "Yes, that¡¯s them," Harris nodded.


    Deng turned his head to look toward the entrance, just in time to see Semler walking in with the group. He waved in that direction.


    Semler spotted them as soon as he walked in. He quickly jogged over to the table, greeting Deng, "Mr. Deylek, long time no see."


    "Yes," Deng nodded and said, "I''m here to help you train them. I assume Shannon already informed you."


    "Yes, we spoke on the phone yesterday," Semler said, nodding.


    Deng glanced at him and pointed to the mess hall counter, "Go eat first. We¡¯ll talk after."


    About five minutes later, Semler returned with a stainless steel tray of food. He greeted Harris first, then sat down beside him.


    "Let¡¯s talk about roles first," Deng began. "I''ll only handle the combat side. I won¡¯t interfere with physical or basic training." He paused before continuing, "I may have to leave at any time, so I¡¯ll only set the training content, but the actual execution is up to you. Any questions?"


    Semler remained silent but nodded.


    "I need more training facilities," Deng said to Harris. "We need to build some wooden walls for cover shooting exercises, as well as grenade and RPG window targets. Also, add some 100-yard shooting lanes."


    "This place uses the metric system," Harris reminded him.


    "Alright, 100 meters," Deng continued. "Also, we need to build a Killing House. It doesn¡¯t need to be too complex¡ªjust hallways, a hall, and medium-sized rooms." He gave a glance at Semler, who looked uneasy, and added, "I don¡¯t expect them to learn any advanced CQB tactics. I just want them to be able to avoid getting shot in the back or blown up by a teammate¡¯s grenade during an attack."


    Semler nodded again.


    "Alright, that¡¯s all for now," Deng paused before adding, "Also, I want to conduct a live-fire exercise this afternoon to assess their combat skills."


    ---


    Annotations:


    - BAP : Browning automatic pistol.


    - Kobra: A Russian-manufactured reflex sight.

 On the shooting range

    Semler seemed to have some reservations about the proposal, but he did not voice any objections. Harris, on the other hand, had no issues. He readily allocated ten AKs and six thousand rounds of ammunition to Deng Shiyang and even lent him an M-Gator utility vehicle for transporting the equipment within the camp.


    After lunch, Deng instructed Semler to gather the group of black trainees at the shooting range, while he and Harris drove the M-Gator to the armory to collect the weapons.


    The armory was essentially the prefab structure behind the office building, consisting of two orange shipping containers that housed the weapons and ammunition.


    Harris pulled out a set of keys and unlocked the door, saying as he did, "I¡¯m responsible for keeping the keys to the armory. You need to request access from me and register to collect weapons and ammunition." He paused, adding, "All training weapons must be returned on the same day. That¡¯s company policy."


    The armory didn¡¯t have much inventory and looked rather empty. In the far corner were several tall black metal cabinets, while along the wall stood two gun racks holding forty AKs, half of which were Egyptian Maadi rifles with fixed stocks. There were also about a dozen Bulgarian AR-S rifles and five or six Hungarian AMD-65s. Opposite the gun racks were some miscellaneous shelves, with a row of RPD light machine guns on the upper level and six translucent plastic storage boxes filled with magazines on the lower level.


    After quickly scanning the gun racks, Deng walked over to the AR-S rifles. He picked out ten, grabbed twenty magazines from the storage boxes, and then carried everything out of the armory, placing them in the bed of the M-Gator.


    Harris didn¡¯t help; instead, he stood at the armory door taking notes on a plastic clipboard that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. When the items were loaded, he glanced at the bed of the M-Gator and asked, "Is that all?"


    "Yes," Deng nodded.


    Harris locked the armory and then used another key to unlock the container next door.


    Inside the ammunition storage container were a series of dark green crates, neatly stacked, occupying about one-third of the space. Upon inspection, the rifle ammo turned out to be Yugoslavian M67 rounds, all in military packaging with each crate containing 1,005 rounds. Deng picked up six crates and loaded them onto the M-Gator.


    After signing the weapons check-out register, Harris drove him to the shooting range in the southeast corner of the camp.


    The so-called shooting range was simply a two-person-high dirt wall created by a bulldozer, with targets set up in front and a white line drawn with quicklime in the distance.


    The vehicle stopped beside the firing line, and Deng gestured to the bed of the M-Gator, saying to Semler, "Use these rifles for future shooting exercises. Once they¡¯re used to folding stocks, teach them how to shoot with the stock folded." He paused, then turned to Harris, "Do you have slings? I need some single-point slings."


    "No," Harris shook his head, "but I can order some from Gaborone. They can be delivered along with the red dot sights."


    "Thanks," Deng said, then announced that the shooting training was officially beginning.


    He first had Semler select the ten best shooters for a demonstration. These men all claimed to have shot many times before, and some even boasted combat experience. To make it easier to evaluate, they were each given ten rounds and stood in a line at the firing line.


    "Ready," Semler said loudly in Portuguese, then put the whistle in his mouth. The ten men raised their rifles, aiming. Some of them seemed uncomfortable with the cheek weld on the wire stock, and their posture appeared a bit awkward.


    With a long whistle blow, the range was filled with the sound of rapid gunfire. "Tat-tat-tat-tat..." Ten AKs simultaneously spat out fire, and the dirt wall behind the targets was quickly engulfed in a cloud of dust.


    They emptied their magazines in under two seconds.


    Deng frowned, glaring at Semler with an intensity that felt like two scorching beams. Semler looked down in embarrassment, while not far away, Harris had a smirk on his face as if he wanted to laugh but didn¡¯t dare. The ten men on the firing line glanced at each other, puzzled as to what they had done wrong.


    Deng rubbed his temples and asked Semler to take the men forward to count the bullet holes on the targets.


    As expected, the result was disappointing. Only half of the silhouette targets had one or two bullet holes, while three targets had none. The other two had three bullet holes each, but the shots were scattered widely across the target, as if they were fired randomly.


    After patching up the bullet holes, Deng had Semler demonstrate.


    "Tat-tat, tat-tat, tat-tat..."


    With the same ten rounds, Semler fired in short bursts over three seconds, using five two-shot bursts. Deng then asked everyone to check the targets.


    This time, there were ten fresh bullet holes in the chest area of the silhouette target.


    With the trainees lined up again, Semler raised an AK and asked them, "Do you see the difference?"


    The men all nodded.


    Semler raised the rifle to demonstrate, explaining, "You should know that the rifle will recoil upward when you shoot. Like this, *bang, bang, bang*..." He lifted the muzzle, then added, "If you keep holding down the trigger, it will be like this: *bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang*..." He gradually pointed the muzzle skyward and said, "All the rounds will end up in the sky."Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Although Deng and Harris didn¡¯t understand Portuguese, they both smiled.


    "Now, I''ll teach you a simple way¡ªwhen you shoot, say ''Dvadtsat dva.''"


    "Dvadtsat dva..." came the uneven response from the crowd.


    Semler raised his right hand and extended his index finger, demonstrating the trigger pull. "When you say ''Dvadtsat,'' pull the trigger, and when you say ''dva,'' release it. This way, you¡¯ll only fire two or three rounds each time. Once it becomes a habit, you¡¯ll naturally be able to fire in bursts."


    He then had the men extend their fingers and practice mimicking the trigger pull, repeating "Dvadtsat dva" as they bent and straightened their index fingers.


    "Once you get used to it, you don¡¯t have to say it out loud¡ªjust think it in your head." He reminded them, then allowed them to practice on their own.


    With some downtime, Deng walked over, curiously asking, "What does ''Dvadtsat dva'' mean?"


    "It¡¯s Russian for ''twenty-two,''" Semler replied. "A Russian guy from EO taught me this trick. He said it¡¯s how the Soviet army trained recruits."


    "It¡¯s a good method," Harris nodded in approval.


    Deng glanced at the trainees. They were mimicking the posture of holding a rifle, mumbling softly while repeatedly bending and straightening their right index fingers, practicing trigger pulls.


    "It¡¯s a good method, but the gun cannot be shot accurately without practice." He paused, then added, "You can¡¯t learn marksmanship just by imagining it. If they don¡¯t get hands-on practice with live rounds, they¡¯ll end up emptying their magazines in once go during actual combat."


    The other two said nothing.


    Deng patted Semler on the shoulder and pointed to the M-Gator¡¯s cargo bucket. "Alright then, once they¡¯ve gotten used to the trigger control, have them do live-fire exercises. Make sure they get enough practice with live ammo. Mr. Harris and I will sort out the ammunition for you." He glanced at Harris and asked, "How long will it take to get extra ammo?"


    "I¡¯ll need to make a phone call to find out, but our company has a good relationship with the Botswana government. Arranging an arms shipment shouldn¡¯t be a problem."


    "How much can we get?"


    "About 300,000 rounds."


    "Okay," Deng nodded, as if talking to himself, "Three hundred thousand rounds, even if used sparingly, will only last two weeks..."


    Hearing the implication, Harris quickly added, "I¡¯ll head back right away and make some calls. I¡¯ll see if I can get more ammunition." He then started walking toward the M-Gator.


    "Wait, I¡¯ll go with you." Deng called out to him, then turned to Semler, "I¡¯ve got some things to take care of later, so you¡¯ll be in charge of this afternoon¡¯s training. Remember to return the weapons before sunset. When you get back, tally their clothing and shoe sizes, and tell me before dinner."


    "Okay." Semler had two of the trainees unload the weapons and ammunition from the M-Gator, while Deng and Harris drove back to the camp¡¯s office building.


    Deng was exhausted. The thirty-plus-hour flight had kept him from sleeping for almost two days and nights. He barely typed two lines of the training plan before yawning repeatedly. He took a few clothes from his luggage, took a hot shower, and then went to bed.


    That night, Deng arrived at the mess hall just before closing. The staff had already started cleaning up. The mess hall manager and head chef, an elderly black man who looked remarkably like Morgan Freeman, was eager to help. Knowing that Deng had just arrived at the camp that day, he took ingredients from the freezer meant for tomorrow¡¯s meals and personally made a burger platter with cheesy hash browns, along with a cold salad and a bowl of chicken mushroom chowder.


    After dinner, Deng returned to his room, opened the laptop Harris had given him, and initiated an audio call via MSN Messenger to conduct a conference meeting.


    "I assume you¡¯re all aware of the situation. Due to a change of plans, I¡¯ll be staying here for a while. Keith will be in charge of work on that side." Deng then recounted the events of the shooting training that afternoon.


    "You can¡¯t judge African soldiers by the same standards as Europe contractors," Keith said in a half-reassuring tone. "Two years ago, I did a training project in Guinea-Bissau. The soldiers there were practically like civilians who had never touched a gun before. They had an infuriating habit¡ªwhen firing, they would unconsciously close their eyes."


    "I saw that kind of thing in Sierra Leone too," Du Preez chimed in. "Both the government forces and the RUF had the same bad habit¡ªwhen shooting, they wouldn¡¯t even use the sights. They¡¯d just raise the gun and spray bullets. Unless they were at close range, anyone hit was really unlucky."


    "In that case, these guys are practically elite," Deng said, half-mockingly. "I called this meeting because you guys understand African soldiers better than I do, so I wanted to get some advice."


    Du Preez was the first to respond, "Africans have good physical endurance. As long as the training volume is adequate, they can improve their combat skills. Semler is very capable in that area, so just leave it to him. However, the biggest issue with black soldiers is their weak will to fight. Back when EO was in Sierra Leone, we beat the RUF with just 300 mercenaries. Many people say that victory was achieved thanks to fuel-air explosives and armed helicopters, but in reality, low morale was their biggest weakness." He paused before adding, "In that famous battle in Kono, we defended a mine with helicopter support. In the end, we held off a thousand attackers for a week with just sixty-three men. Most of the time, as soon as the front-line guys were killed, the ones behind them would scatter."


    Laughter came from the speakers after the South African finished speaking.


    "It¡¯s definitely an issue, and I¡¯ll keep that in mind," Deng said. "I¡¯m worried that the African soldiers aren¡¯t used to Mechanical aperture sights, so I plan to order two hundred red dot sights along with the same number of 2324 standard mounts. That won¡¯t be a problem, right?"


    "Two hundred will need to be ordered, but it shouldn¡¯t be too difficult," Jansen replied, then asked, "Which brand of red dot sights are you looking for?"


    "They¡¯re training with Kobra sights, but any affordable brand will do. They all work similarly. Include any optical gear you guys need in the order, and get me a 4x SpecterDR while you¡¯re at it."


    "Alright," Jansen said, then added, "Yesterday I found a broker who has connections with Norinco. He can get Chinese-made Dyneema ballistic plates."


    "Dyneema?" Deng thought for a moment, then asked, "The stuff similar to Spectra?"


    "Yeah, that¡¯s the one."


    "How much?"


    "He¡¯s asking $320 per plate, including shipping from China to South Africa. He also said they could be delivered in four weeks."


    "I¡¯m not too confident about this stuff''s protective capability," Deng said, frowning. "I¡¯ve heard that China also makes ceramic plates similar to SAPI. Does he have access to those?"


    "Not sure, but I can ask," Jansen replied. "I know SAPI offers better protection, but if it¡¯s unavailable, there¡¯s nothing we can do. Actually, Dyneema meets NIJ Level III standards, which is good enough for AK or other small-caliber rounds, and it¡¯s also lightweight."


    "If SAPI is unavailable, go ahead and get these," Deng said after considering it. "Also, we¡¯ve already ordered the rifles¡ªIndonesian-made FNCs¡ªso just order pouches for the NATO-standard 4179 magazines. I¡¯ve also gotten the clothing and shoe sizes, which I¡¯ll email to you later. Once the uniforms and gear are ordered, you¡¯ll need to procure other equipment too¡ªKeith will give you the list."


    "Got it. If there are any problems, I¡¯ll call you."


    "Contact Keith if you have questions¡ªthere¡¯s no cell reception here, so we¡¯ll mainly communicate online."


    After discussing a bit more, Deng ended the meeting. He opened "Notepad" and continued drafting the training plan, planning to discuss it with Semler the next morning.


    ---


    Notes:


    - Dyneema: A type of ultra-high molecular weight polyethylene (UHMWPE) material produced in the Netherlands.


    - Spectra: An ultra-high molecular weight polyethylene (UHMWPE) material produced in the United States.


    - SpecterDR: A variable magnification sight produced by the Canadian company Elcan.

 The RPGs training

    Since the start of this operation, Keith had felt his days growing increasingly hectic. Constantly traveling between Durban and Pretoria, negotiating with "Precision Aviation Services," and dealing with various application procedures¡ªall these activities made him feel like there was never enough time.


    Three days passed in the blink of an eye, and the assessment report for the two helicopters was finally in hand. On the morning that the "Kristo" set sail, Keith signed the helicopter sales contract under the name "Charles Alfred Thomas Shannon" and paid a deposit equivalent to 20% of the total price.


    But even after signing the contract, he didn''t feel like the workload had lessened. He still had to review the personnel list provided by "Precision Aviation Services," liaise with Harroby to allocate funds for Jansen, and plan the entry of the mortar team into Eswatini. The mountain of tasks left him breathless, and he no longer had time to handle meals¡ªeveryone''s daily food came from takeout or Microwave instant meals.


    With China''s influence, the UN had lifted its trade sanctions on the military government, but the embargo enforced by Western countries led by the U.S. remained in place. South Africa''s stance was ambiguous; officially, they implemented the embargo, but enforcement was lax. The intelligence gathered by Du Preez confirmed Harroby''s statements: at the border towns of Bulembo and Ngwenya, same-day return visas could be obtained at border posts. Many South Africans used these visas to bring cigarettes, candy, and alcohol into Eswatini for profit.


    Therefore, they decided to stick with the original plan: disguise the mortar team members as smugglers to enter Eswatini. To further streamline the personnel, Deng Shiyang and Keith decided to reduce the mortar team to four members. Although this arrangement would lower the firing rate, a smaller team meant a reduced chance of being detected.


    In the midst of the intense preparations, the fourth week quickly passed halfway. One morning, a Pilatus PC-6 light aircraft landed at Motopi Airport in the early dawn.


    Two bright lights shone beside the runway as a Nissan pickup truck that had been waiting there drove up. As soon as the vehicle stopped by the plane, a tall, skinny white man jumped out of the car. Together with the pilot, he dragged out several three-foot-long green crates, along with a dozen smaller wooden boxes from the cargo hold.


    It took less than five minutes to load everything¡ªthey moved all the crates onto the pickup''s cargo bed and covered them with tarpaulin. The Nissan pickup immediately left the airport, driving south through Motopi. The PC-6, with its cargo hold emptied, then turned around, taxied down the runway, and took off, disappearing into the pale sky.


    This scene had already played out at the same spot for the second time.


    After a week of intensive training, the black soldiers had become familiar with the operation of folding stock rifles and the use of reflex sights, and had also learned shooting techniques for different situations. However, the live-fire training consumed a tremendous amount of ammunition. The training camp''s remaining stock of rifle rounds had dwindled to just over 2,000¡ªnot enough to fill a magazine for each person. To make matters worse, the additional ammo that had been ordered was still nowhere in sight, so Semler decided to move the RPG training course forward.


    In the afternoon, the one hundred black soldiers were summoned to the shooting range and assembled at the new 100-meter range.


    The range had undergone some changes. The targets that originally stood in front of the berm had been removed, replaced by a sandbag parapet, behind which stood an old oil drum propped up on empty ammo boxes. To make aiming easier, the part of the drum protruding above the parapet had been painted white. In front of the firing line, a sixty-foot long, thirty-foot wide sector had been marked on the ground with lime. In the center of the area stood a wooden stand with a cross base, covered with a brown burlap cloth to conceal its contents.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Semler gathered the black soldiers in front of the M-Gator, then climbed onto the cargo bed, pulled out a Chinese-made Type 69 rocket launcher from a weapon crate, and raised it over his head, saying loudly, "This is an RPG-7, the most widely used light anti-armor weapon in the world. It is extremely powerful, reliable, and easy to use. With just a little training, even idiots like you can easily destroy a tank worth millions of dollars!" He looked down at them and added, "Believe me, if you encounter enemy armored vehicles or machine-gun emplacements in battle, don''t waste your time shooting at them with rifles. Sure, that¡¯s better than throwing rocks..."


    A burst of laughter erupted from the crowd.


    When the laughter subsided, Semler put down the launch tube and took out two cylindrical objects from the ammunition box. They were a rocket and the matching propellant cartridge. Semler removed the cylindrical packaging and connected the rocket and propellant barrel, quickly slotted it into the launcher tube, and twisted it into place. "As you may know, there are many types and models of rocket launchers, each with different operating methods. You don''t need to copy my every move; just learn how to aim and fire." He paused and added, "But before that, you need to learn how to safely use this weapon. I don''t want to have to tell your families later, ''Sorry, your husband died in a stupid accident!''"


    He glanced at the silent crowd, then jumped down, placed the loaded rocket launcher at one corner of the marked sector, and walked over to the wooden stand, with the black soldiers following.


    "To give you a sense of safety awareness, I will demonstrate the consequences of improper operation." As Semler spoke, he lifted the burlap cloth covering the stand, revealing a dummy made of straw.


    Pointing to the dummy, he said, "Now, let me introduce my assistant¡ªMr. Idiota."


    The dummy was crudely made, its straw torso wearing a gray-green short-sleeved T-shirt with the word "Idiota" scrawled on it in black marker. Its head was a white cloth bag with facial features drawn on it, stuffed until it was bulging, and topped with a black beret set askew.


    Seeing the comically awkward dummy, the black soldiers burst into laughter again.


    Semler frowned and asked, "You think this is funny?"


    The laughter instantly ceased, and no one answered.


    "Look at your feet," he said, pointing to the white lines on the ground. "The area inside the lines is the danger zone for the backblast." He then pointed to the RPG on the ground, adding, "If someone fires it now, you''re all dead. If you don¡¯t want to die, get out of the area."


    Once they had lined up properly outside the zone, Semler put on his goggles and moved to the firing line. He removed the protective cap from the warhead¡¯s fuse, use the thumb plated down to start the hammer, then stood with his feet shoulder-width apart, assuming a standard firing stance. He took a deep breath, aimed using the iron sights on the left side of the launcher tube, and pushed the safety pin above the trigger with his right index finger before pulling the trigger.


    "Whoosh!"


    The RPG fired with a loud blast, leaving a grayish trail of smoke between the firing line and the target. A Type 69-1 anti-tank rocket flew over the parapet, striking the painted oil drum with precision. A shaped charge ignited, producing a jet of metal that pierced the barrel, sending out countless orange-red sparks. The target erupted into a gray-black cloud, and fragments of sandbags and the drum scattered all around. The soldiers watching cheered.


    Semler spat out a mouthful of dirtied saliva, took off his goggles, and looked back. The RPG¡¯s backblast had blown the dummy off the wooden stand, sending it flying a dozen feet away, its clothes and straw igniting, forming a human-shaped fireball.


    "Did you see that clearly?" he shouted, pointing to the burning dummy. "If you''re standing near the tail jet, you''ll end up charred like that. Remember the size of this danger zone well¡ªno one is going to mark the ground for you during a battle."


    Seeing the shock on the soldiers'' faces, Semler''s lips curled slightly in satisfaction. He believed that this "shock education" had achieved the desired result. Only he knew the truth¡ªto ensure the tail jet looked sufficiently lethal, he had soaked the dummy in gasoline beforehand and place a balloon filled with LPG gas inside his clothing.


    ---


    Notes:


    - Pilatus: A Swiss aircraft manufacturer primarily producing single-engine light turboprop aircraft.

 The RPGs training

    Since the start of this operation, Keith had felt his days growing increasingly hectic. Constantly traveling between Durban and Pretoria, negotiating with "Precision Aviation Services," and dealing with various application procedures¡ªall these activities made him feel like there was never enough time.


    Three days passed in the blink of an eye, and the assessment report for the two helicopters was finally in hand. On the morning that the "Kristo" set sail, Keith signed the helicopter sales contract under the name "Charles Alfred Thomas Shannon" and paid a deposit equivalent to 20% of the total price.


    But even after signing the contract, he didn''t feel like the workload had lessened. He still had to review the personnel list provided by "Precision Aviation Services," liaise with Harroby to allocate funds for Jansen, and plan the entry of the mortar team into Eswatini. The mountain of tasks left him breathless, and he no longer had time to handle meals¡ªeveryone''s daily food came from takeout or Microwave instant meals.


    With China''s influence, the UN had lifted its trade sanctions on the military government, but the embargo enforced by Western countries led by the U.S. remained in place. South Africa''s stance was ambiguous; officially, they implemented the embargo, but enforcement was lax. The intelligence gathered by Du Preez confirmed Harroby''s statements: at the border towns of Bulembo and Ngwenya, same-day return visas could be obtained at border posts. Many South Africans used these visas to bring cigarettes, candy, and alcohol into Eswatini for profit.


    Therefore, they decided to stick with the original plan: disguise the mortar team members as smugglers to enter Eswatini. To further streamline the personnel, Deng Shiyang and Keith decided to reduce the mortar team to four members. Although this arrangement would lower the firing rate, a smaller team meant a reduced chance of being detected.


    In the midst of the intense preparations, the fourth week quickly passed halfway. One morning, a Pilatus PC-6 light aircraft landed at Motopi Airport in the early dawn.


    Two bright lights shone beside the runway as a Nissan pickup truck that had been waiting there drove up. As soon as the vehicle stopped by the plane, a tall, skinny white man jumped out of the car. Together with the pilot, he dragged out several three-foot-long green crates, along with a dozen smaller wooden boxes from the cargo hold.


    It took less than five minutes to load everything¡ªthey moved all the crates onto the pickup''s cargo bed and covered them with tarpaulin. The Nissan pickup immediately left the airport, driving south through Motopi. The PC-6, with its cargo hold emptied, then turned around, taxied down the runway, and took off, disappearing into the pale sky.


    This scene had already played out at the same spot for the second time.


    After a week of intensive training, the black soldiers had become familiar with the operation of folding stock rifles and the use of reflex sights, and had also learned shooting techniques for different situations. However, the live-fire training consumed a tremendous amount of ammunition. The training camp''s remaining stock of rifle rounds had dwindled to just over 2,000¡ªnot enough to fill a magazine for each person. To make matters worse, the additional ammo that had been ordered was still nowhere in sight, so Semler decided to move the RPG training course forward.


    In the afternoon, the one hundred black soldiers were summoned to the shooting range and assembled at the new 100-meter range.


    The range had undergone some changes. The targets that originally stood in front of the berm had been removed, replaced by a sandbag parapet, behind which stood an old oil drum propped up on empty ammo boxes. To make aiming easier, the part of the drum protruding above the parapet had been painted white. In front of the firing line, a sixty-foot long, thirty-foot wide sector had been marked on the ground with lime. In the center of the area stood a wooden stand with a cross base, covered with a brown burlap cloth to conceal its contents.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    Semler gathered the black soldiers in front of the M-Gator, then climbed onto the cargo bed, pulled out a Chinese-made Type 69 rocket launcher from a weapon crate, and raised it over his head, saying loudly, "This is an RPG-7, the most widely used light anti-armor weapon in the world. It is extremely powerful, reliable, and easy to use. With just a little training, even idiots like you can easily destroy a tank worth millions of dollars!" He looked down at them and added, "Believe me, if you encounter enemy armored vehicles or machine-gun emplacements in battle, don''t waste your time shooting at them with rifles. Sure, that¡¯s better than throwing rocks..."


    A burst of laughter erupted from the crowd.


    When the laughter subsided, Semler put down the launch tube and took out two cylindrical objects from the ammunition box. They were a rocket and the matching propellant cartridge. Semler removed the cylindrical packaging and connected the rocket and propellant barrel, quickly slotted it into the launcher tube, and twisted it into place. "As you may know, there are many types and models of rocket launchers, each with different operating methods. You don''t need to copy my every move; just learn how to aim and fire." He paused and added, "But before that, you need to learn how to safely use this weapon. I don''t want to have to tell your families later, ''Sorry, your husband died in a stupid accident!''"


    He glanced at the silent crowd, then jumped down, placed the loaded rocket launcher at one corner of the marked sector, and walked over to the wooden stand, with the black soldiers following.


    "To give you a sense of safety awareness, I will demonstrate the consequences of improper operation." As Semler spoke, he lifted the burlap cloth covering the stand, revealing a dummy made of straw.


    Pointing to the dummy, he said, "Now, let me introduce my assistant¡ªMr. Idiota."


    The dummy was crudely made, its straw torso wearing a gray-green short-sleeved T-shirt with the word "Idiota" scrawled on it in black marker. Its head was a white cloth bag with facial features drawn on it, stuffed until it was bulging, and topped with a black beret set askew.


    Seeing the comically awkward dummy, the black soldiers burst into laughter again.


    Semler frowned and asked, "You think this is funny?"


    The laughter instantly ceased, and no one answered.


    "Look at your feet," he said, pointing to the white lines on the ground. "The area inside the lines is the danger zone for the backblast." He then pointed to the RPG on the ground, adding, "If someone fires it now, you''re all dead. If you don¡¯t want to die, get out of the area."


    Once they had lined up properly outside the zone, Semler put on his goggles and moved to the firing line. He removed the protective cap from the warhead¡¯s fuse, use the thumb plated down to start the hammer, then stood with his feet shoulder-width apart, assuming a standard firing stance. He took a deep breath, aimed using the iron sights on the left side of the launcher tube, and pushed the safety pin above the trigger with his right index finger before pulling the trigger.


    "Whoosh!"


    The RPG fired with a loud blast, leaving a grayish trail of smoke between the firing line and the target. A Type 69-1 anti-tank rocket flew over the parapet, striking the painted oil drum with precision. A shaped charge ignited, producing a jet of metal that pierced the barrel, sending out countless orange-red sparks. The target erupted into a gray-black cloud, and fragments of sandbags and the drum scattered all around. The soldiers watching cheered.


    Semler spat out a mouthful of dirtied saliva, took off his goggles, and looked back. The RPG¡¯s backblast had blown the dummy off the wooden stand, sending it flying a dozen feet away, its clothes and straw igniting, forming a human-shaped fireball.


    "Did you see that clearly?" he shouted, pointing to the burning dummy. "If you''re standing near the tail jet, you''ll end up charred like that. Remember the size of this danger zone well¡ªno one is going to mark the ground for you during a battle."


    Seeing the shock on the soldiers'' faces, Semler''s lips curled slightly in satisfaction. He believed that this "shock education" had achieved the desired result. Only he knew the truth¡ªto ensure the tail jet looked sufficiently lethal, he had soaked the dummy in gasoline beforehand and place a balloon filled with LPG gas inside his clothing.


    ---


    Notes:


    - Pilatus: A Swiss aircraft manufacturer primarily producing single-engine light turboprop aircraft.

 Bluff

    After a week of screening, Deng Shiyang and Keith selected four pilots and twelve mechanics from the personnel list provided by "Precision Aviation Services."


    On the day before the end of the fourth week, Keith set off for Pretoria to meet with the selected flight crews and support personnel. This was his fifth visit to South Africa''s administrative capital in a month, but unlike previous trips, this time Du Preez and Mark accompanied him.


    The meeting took place at an estate in the Irene area. At noon on the last day of the week, the four pilots and twelve mechanics arrived at the address Keith had given them.


    The Irene area is located twenty miles north of Johannesburg and is known as Pretoria''s luxury district. With its beautiful environment and fresh air, the residents here are all either wealthy or influential.


    Although technical positions in South Africa are well-paid, and pilots earn even more than the average middle class, this group of self-proclaimed well-traveled individuals was completely awestruck upon arriving at the estate named "Vredefort."


    Leaving aside the front yard, which was larger than a community park, and the Mediterranean-style mansion they had only ever seen on TV or in magazines like *Robb Report*, as well as the garage full of luxury cars, even just the driveway was impressive. The circular driveway was as large as a standard track field, with over ten cars parked bumper to bumper, taking up only about a quarter of the space.


    Amidst mixed feelings of surprise, envy, and inferiority, the group parked their cars and gathered noisily at the steps in front of the mansion. At that moment, a square-faced, hooked-nose white man pushed open the glass door and walked down the steps to greet them. His eyes were cold, and he wore a thick gold chain around his neck. His turquoise silk shirt was casually rolled up to his elbows, exposing a black skull tattoo on his left arm, giving him the appearance of a gangster enforcer from a movie.


    "Welcome to Vredefort," Du Preez greeted them first.


    "Hello..." an older white man responded. After hesitating for nearly a minute, he nervously said, "We have an appointment with Mr. Shannon..."


    "I know." Before he could finish, Du Preez interrupted him, replying in a matter-of-fact tone, "The boss instructed me to take you to the backyard." With that, he rudely gestured toward the door.


    The group passed through the lavishly decorated foyer and down a long hallway to the backyard.


    In the backyard, there was a long table next to the swimming pool, laden with an assortment of cold dishes and desserts, with drink bottles sticking out of an ice bucket. Not far from the table was a barbecue grill with a whole beef rib roasting on it. A chef in a white uniform was brushing barbecue sauce over the meat, the mixture of fat and sauce dripping into the charcoal with a "sizzle" and sending up enticing aromas.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    On the other side of the pool stood Mark, expressionless, occasionally pacing back and forth. He wore a black knit sweater under a dark gray two-piece suit, with large black sunglasses on his face, making him stand out against the white marble floor. When he turned, some observant guests noticed a bulge under his left armpit, hinting at something hidden beneath his jacket.


    "There''s some food prepared here. Please help yourselves to lunch while I go inform the boss," Du Preez said, then turned and walked back into the house.


    He ran up to the second floor and entered a study facing the backyard.


    "How''s it going?" Keith''s voice reached his ears as soon as he entered.


    Today, Keith was dressed head to toe in European designer wear, looking every bit like a low-key millionaire. He was sitting on the sofa having lunch, with a plate of sandwiches, a pot of coffee, and a few cups on the table in front of him.


    "Not bad," Du Preez replied as he closed the door and sat down next to the sofa. He poured himself a cup of coffee and smiled. "They were so nervous they could barely speak at the door."


    "Good," Keith nodded, which was exactly the effect he wanted.


    When recruiting the flight crew and ground support personnel, Keith encountered the same problem that with the Mark faced when purchasing the ship¡ªif the nature of the job wasn''t disclosed, no one would want to take it. But if they revealed everything upfront, they would have to find a way to prevent those who decided not to participate from going to the police. Moreover, South Africans'' work ethic was "money first, then work," meaning there was no guarantee that someone wouldn''t take the money and then report them.


    After much consideration, Keith decided to stage this performance. To organize this meeting and dress the part, he nearly exhausted the funds in the account, not to mention the fake designer watch he wore.


    "Vredefort" certainly wasn''t his property. Its owner was a De Beers Group director who had left for a European vacation last month and wouldn''t be back until May. Conveniently, the security company responsible for the neighborhood was "Longreach Security," whose owner was a former South African National Defence Force officer and an old acquaintance of Du Preez''s.


    Through this connection, Keith had Du Preez reach out to his old friend, saying that his partner was negotiating a major deal with some foreigners and needed a grand and secure place to entertain them, leaving behind a generous payment as compensation to "borrow" the estate.


    After securing the location, Du Preez slipped some cash to the household staff, convincing them to take a two-day holiday. He then contacted an upscale Johannesburg restaurant to provide an outdoor barbecue service. And so, the meeting at the luxury estate was ready.


    They went to all this trouble and expense to put on a show, intending to convey a subtle message to the people downstairs: "The boss behind this job is wealthy and well-connected." At the same time, it warned anyone thinking of taking advantage of them to think twice before crossing someone with money and influence.


    ---


    Annotations:


    *Robb Report*: A renowned luxury lifestyle magazine based in the United States.

 Reveal details

    Once the people downstairs had mostly finished eating, Du Preez opened the glass door leading to the backyard and followed Keith outside.


    ¡°Gentlemen, welcome,¡± Keith greeted, then walked over to the pool, introducing himself, ¡°You can call me Shannon.¡±


    The lively chatter among the crowd immediately quieted.


    ¡°So¡­¡± He glanced around at everyone and asked, ¡°Are you all full?¡±


    All eyes were on him.


    ¡°Good,¡± he murmured to himself, then continued, ¡°Or is anyone still feeling a bit tipsy?¡±


    No one responded.


    ¡°I assume you haven¡¯t all decided whether you¡¯re interested in this job.¡± He paused, adding, ¡°It¡¯s a complicated job, with certain risks. If anyone feels it¡¯s not for them or simply isn¡¯t interested, feel free to enjoy the meal and leave; there¡¯s no need to feel embarrassed.¡± He glanced around at them again, then pointed back at the house, ¡°Otherwise, please follow me.¡±


    The group hesitated briefly before setting down their food and drinks to go inside, except for one person.


    This was a middle-aged man in an army-green short-sleeved shirt with rusty red short hair. He looked somewhat haggard, holding a half-full glass of whiskey on the rocks, and sat, hesitating, on a lounge chair by the pool.


    Du Preez looked him over, noticing a familiar insignia sewn onto the left sleeve of his shirt. It was a shield-shaped patch about the size of half a palm, with a black night sky as the background, a white embroidered moon in the center, and a black bat in flight in the foreground.


    Du Preez walked over and asked quietly, ¡°Thirty-second Battalion?¡±


    The man raised an eyebrow but didn¡¯t reply.


    To confirm his guess, Du Preez asked again, ¡°Aerial Reconnaissance?¡±


    ¡°Mmm¡ª¡± He nodded slightly, then asked, ¡°You too?¡±


    But Du Preez cut him off, ¡°Are you here for a class reunion?¡±


    The man¡¯s expression changed slightly, and he responded in a barely audible voice, ¡°No.¡±


    Du Preez gestured toward the house with a jerk of his head and said, ¡°Then get inside.¡±


    The red-haired man hesitated, then set down his drink, stood up, and walked inside.


    They gathered in an elegantly furnished lounge, and after everyone was seated, Keith got straight to the point. ¡°Gentlemen, as you know, I purchased two Mi-17 helicopters from PAS.¡± He paused, adding, ¡°I¡¯d like to hire you to complete a job.¡±


    ¡°First, let¡¯s talk about the risks. The job won¡¯t be on land but on a cargo ship. Since the ship can¡¯t carry passengers, you¡¯ll be classified as illegal occupants.¡± He looked at the three sofas, filled with people in the lounge, and continued, ¡°But I assure you, during your time at sea, the ship will stay in international waters, and South Africa doesn¡¯t have an extradition treaty with the country it¡¯s registered in.¡±


    After another glance at the people on the sofas, Keith continued, ¡°Now, it¡¯s time for questions.¡±Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    A young white man raised his hand, and Keith gestured for him to speak.


    ¡°Sir, I¡¯d like to know what exactly you want us to do.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s start with the mechanics¡¯ job; I¡¯ll discuss the pilots¡¯ duties later,¡± Keith replied. ¡°Mechanics will handle the maintenance and repair of the two helicopters, much like your usual work. PAS will perform a full inspection before departure, so you¡¯ll only need to handle minor issues.¡±


    Next, a thin black man in his early thirties raised his hand and hesitantly asked, ¡°I¡¯d like to know the working hours and the pay.¡±


    ¡°The job lasts two weeks, though the exact time might vary, but it won¡¯t exceed a month,¡± Keith paused, then continued, ¡°As for pay, I¡¯ll give each of you a daily rate of one thousand rand starting the day you set sail, with a twenty-thousand rand bonus upon return.¡±


    As soon as he finished speaking, a buzz of murmurs filled the lounge as the people on the sofas began to talk quietly amongst themselves.


    Keith smiled, saying nothing further. With the recent closure of Precision Aviation Services, many employees had been laid off, making a high-paying job appealing to them. He had checked with Crawford beforehand, learning that these people typically earned between fifteen and twenty thousand rand per month, so he felt confident in his offer.


    And indeed, after a few minutes of deliberation, the first person agreed, which encouraged the other twelve mechanics to express their willingness to join. Two were so eager they wanted to sign a contract immediately.


    But Keith declined, ¡°I value commitment; if you¡¯re willing to join, I¡¯ll give you the opportunity. Unless you think my promise is less trustworthy than a piece of paper.¡± He grew serious, adding, ¡°And I¡¯d rather not leave any evidence for the police, I trust that¡¯s clear.¡±


    Once there were no further objections, Keith continued, ¡°That¡¯s all I have to say. If there are no more questions, feel free to head back and enjoy your lunch; I still have matters to discuss with the pilots.¡± With that, he gestured to the door, and Du Preez stepped forward to open it.


    Soon, only Keith, Du Preez, and the four pilots remained in the lounge.


    When Du Preez closed the door, Keith told them, ¡°Your mission is to fly those two helicopters from the ship to the destination.¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s the destination?¡± one of them asked.


    ¡°I can¡¯t tell you that right now.¡±


    ¡°Where will we take off from?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t say that either.¡±


    The pilots¡¯ expressions grew increasingly skeptical.


    The red-haired man with the Thirty-second Battalion insignia spoke up, ¡°What are the helicopters transporting?¡±


    Keith glanced at him and replied, ¡°I can¡¯t disclose that right now, but I assure you, it¡¯s not drugs.¡±


    ¡°Not drugs¡­¡± The red-haired man murmured, and then, as if something dawned on him, he looked around, ¡°Could it be weapons?¡±


    Keith nodded reluctantly, adding, ¡°And there some people.¡±


    "Hiss--" A slight inhalation sound came from the reception room.


    But the red-haired man remained calm, pursing his lips and saying, ¡°While I¡¯d love to know every detail, I doubt you¡¯ll tell us, right?¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Keith replied, ¡°What I can tell you is: first, the mission will take place at night. Second, the flying distance is one hundred and fifty miles. Third, the first half of the route is across plains, and the latter half over mountainous terrain, with altitudes between fifteen hundred and twenty-five hundred feet. Fourth, at least two round trips are required.¡±


    All four pilots frowned.


    ¡°Now, here¡¯s what I can provide.¡± Keith paused, ¡°We have night vision goggles and GPS navigation equipment, and complete data on the flight route: this includes the latest satellite images, detailed topographic maps, locations of air defense facilities, and radar detection ranges at various altitudes.¡±


    The red-haired man glanced at his companions, ¡°So, what¡¯s the good news?¡±


    ¡°The good news is¡­¡± Keith deliberately dragged out his words, ¡°This job pays well enough to make it worth the risk.¡± He smacked his lips before continuing, ¡°Each of you will receive two hundred thousand rand, with half paid upfront, and the rest upon completion.¡±


    ¡°Whew¡ª¡± Someone quietly whistled.


    ¡°This is my final offer,¡± Keith said, ¡°If anyone¡¯s thinking of bargaining, please don¡¯t waste time. You¡¯ll need to decide whether to take it or leave it before you walk out of this room.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m in,¡± said the red-haired man, raising his hand as soon as Keith finished speaking.


    Keith looked at him, slightly surprised, then asked the remaining pilots, ¡°What about the rest of you?¡±


    Once again, the power of leading by example came through, and the other three nodded one by one.


    ¡°Looking forward to working with you,¡± Keith shook each of their hands before instructing, ¡°In the coming month, please stay in Pretoria. My people will contact you when it¡¯s time to start. Also, just a friendly reminder, don¡¯t share what you¡¯ve heard today with anyone.¡±

 Weapons Logistics Plan

    Deng Shiyang spent his thirtieth day in Botswana, having been at the training camp in Maun for two weeks. During this time, aside from working with Semler on training subjects, he held nightly video conferences via MSN with Durban to receive mission progress reports. Although his daily schedule was packed, the workload was relatively manageable, something that made Keith, who was constantly overwhelmed with paperwork, envious.


    During this period, Deng received two emails.


    The first email was from Hong Kong¡¯s ¡°China Merchants Securities,¡± sent by his stockbroker. Stimulated by acquisition news, the stock price of ¡°Ruiyuan International¡± had temporarily rebounded. Retail investors, hoping to break even, sold their shares, which allowed Deng to complete the purchase of shares ahead of schedule. However, it seemed a few major investors were also buying this stock, so the total holdings were 20% less than expected, with only 3.8 million shares acquired.


    The second email was from Johan Schlink, notifying him that ¡°Denel¡± had received a letter of credit for the full payment, and that the shipment could be ready in about two weeks. Schlink also requested the name of the vessel that would carry the arms and a copy of documents proving the ship¡¯s ownership and its owner, to facilitate the application for an export permit.


    After careful consideration, Deng decided to hand the task over to Mark, who was familiar with shipping operations. Mark would act as an agent of ¡°Carl Augusta International Trading Company¡± and liaise with the arms dealer to handle the exit procedures for the required supplies.


    That evening, after the regular meeting concluded, Deng stayed behind with Mark and shared his plan, omitting the exact timing and destination of the operation.


    ¡°The loading point is in Richards Bay. Du Preez has already rented a storage facility, and the equipment, clothing, and gear sourced by Jansen will be sent there,¡± Deng paused, then added, ¡°We need you to act as the agent for the owner of the ¡®Kristo¡¯ vessel to handle the export procedures for the weapons. Keith will provide you with a list later.¡±


    ¡°Understood,¡± Mark nodded, ¡°But you¡¯ll need that company to issue a document identifying me as their agent.¡±


    ¡°Keith will take care of that,¡± Deng continued, ¡°Notify me once the loading date is confirmed. I need to inspect the cargo personally and oversee the loading.¡±


    ¡°That might be tricky,¡± Mark replied, ¡°Arms are controlled goods. The cargo will be escorted by the military directly from the munitions factory to the port. Before loading, it will be stored in a government warehouse surrounded by barbed wire and guarded by armed personnel. Besides, you said the arms dealer placed the order in the name of an East African country. You can¡¯t exactly show up with a Belgian passport and claim to be the buyer.¡±This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    ¡°I¡¯m also planning to transport the mortars to the airport.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not feasible. You¡¯re oversimplifying things,¡± Mark shook his head repeatedly, ¡°If it were regular cargo, maybe, but not for arms. The ship will dock at a special pier for hazardous materials, guarded by soldiers, and the entire loading process will be monitored by customs officials. There¡¯s no way to remove anything from the port area.¡±


    Deng felt as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over him but remained hopeful. ¡°Could we transport the items ashore after the ship has leave the port?¡± he asked.


    ¡°That¡¯s up to you,¡± Mark responded, clicking his tongue. ¡°I can only remind you that once the ship is loaded with arms, it must leave the port within the designated time frame and cannot enter South African waters until the cargo is unloaded. Moreover, since it¡¯s carrying hazardous materials, a patrol boat will escort it after it departs.¡±


    Hearing this, Deng felt dejected. He and Keith were novices in shipping logistics, and the plan had been drafted in haste. He had anticipated some hiccups but only now realized the gravity of the situation.


    At this moment, Keith, who had been silent, interjected, ¡°Why not have the arms dealer apply to the South African government to change the loading location for the mortars and ammunition to Richards Bay Airport?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s too suspicious,¡± Deng cut him off before he could finish, ¡°If the South African government¡¯s oversight is as strict as Mark says, the airport will be heavily guarded. Even if we transport the mortars to the airport, there¡¯s no way to get the airdrop equipment onto the plane.¡±


    ¡°That is indeed a problem,¡± Keith muttered in agreement and fell silent.


    Deng turned to Mark, ¡°Don¡¯t worry about anything else for now, just focus on handling the export paperwork for the weapons. I¡¯ll think of another solution for the mortars.¡±


    ¡°Understood.¡±


    ¡°If there are no other issues, I¡¯d like to speak with Keith alone.¡±


    Mark, catching on quickly, took his leave.


    After watching him leave, Keith turned to the computer and said, ¡°Now it¡¯s just us ,Go ahead.¡±


    ¡°About what?¡±


    The British man in the video window smirked and said, ¡°About the solution, of course. Don¡¯t tell me you haven¡¯t thought of one yet.¡±


    ¡°I do have an idea,¡± Deng shrugged. ¡°But I really don¡¯t want to use it because it¡¯s unprofessional.¡±


    ¡°Haven¡¯t you heard of ¡®Murphy¡¯s Law of Combat¡¯?¡± Keith joked. ¡°I remember one of the rules: If a stupid idea works, it isn¡¯t stupid.¡±


    ¡°This method is unprofessional but would reduce a lot of hassle,¡± Deng replied slowly, seemingly to keep Keith in suspense. ¡°Harrowby would be thrilled because he wouldn¡¯t have to arrange the two JPADS for us; you wouldn¡¯t have to spend time coordinating the mortar team¡¯s smuggling; and it would save the cost of renting a cargo plane.¡± He cleared his throat and added, ¡°For now, I only have a preliminary concept. I¡¯m not sure if it¡¯s feasible.¡±


    ¡°JD!¡± Keith interrupted impatiently.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Deng spread his hands with a smile. ¡°My idea is simple¡ªload the mortar shells onto a helicopter and drop them from the air like bombs.¡±

 Bomb

    Keith¡¯s face showed clear disappointment. After thinking for a moment, he continued, ¡°I¡¯ve heard that during the ¡®Football War,¡¯ the Ecuadorian Air Force used mortars loaded onto trainer planes as ground-attack weapons. But do you really think it¡¯s feasible with helicopters?¡±


    ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t it be?¡± Deng Shiyang responded. ¡°If there¡¯s historical precedent, it¡¯s even more reason not to doubt its feasibility.¡±


    ¡°Feasibility and practicality are two different things!¡± Keith countered. ¡°You have to understand, the success of this mission largely depends on the effectiveness of the initial bombardment. If we can¡¯t inflict significant damage on the defending forces, we don¡¯t stand a chance with our,because we are smaller numbers. Also, those two helicopters have no armor and limited firepower. Considering fuel capacity and flight time, I¡¯m not very optimistic about air support.¡±


    ¡°You make valid points,¡± Deng Shiyang acknowledged. ¡°Let me explain my idea, and then we can discuss it further.¡± He paused before adding, ¡°As you said, the main objective is to use those 200 mortar shells to maximize enemy casualties. I believe this depends on two factors: ensuring accurate drops and triggering the shells effectively.¡±


    Keith nodded silently.


    ¡°First, let¡¯s address accuracy. The problem we face is that a helicopter loaded with personnel cannot make steep dives, so we can only use a level bombing approach. We both know how accurate that method is. Additionally, we don¡¯t have access to advanced bomb sights, and formation bombing is out of the question.¡±


    The man in the video window nodded again.


    ¡°However, mass bombing during World War II gave me an idea: increasing the density of the drop to create a spread pattern of falling bombs, thereby improving the chance of hitting targets.¡±


    ¡°That sounds promising, but execution won¡¯t be straightforward,¡± Keith said. ¡°Those helicopters aren¡¯t armored and have minimal resistance to attack. For safety, we¡¯re limited to two options: low-altitude, high-speed flybys or high-altitude, slow passes. Either way, relying on eyesight and manual dropping introduces too many external factors. I doubt we¡¯d achieve the accuracy needed in such conditions.¡±


    ¡°The key is to minimize the factors that affect accuracy,¡± Deng said, glancing at his laptop screen. ¡°When bombs ¡ª or rather, mortar shells ¡ª fall, they¡¯re influenced by various factors, including crosswinds, ground speed, course, and yaw, all due to the helicopter¡¯s movement. I plan to have the helicopter hover over the target before dropping the shells.¡±


    Keith clicked his tongue and asked, ¡°How high are you planning to fly?¡±


    ¡°To avoid ground-based anti-aircraft fire, I think we need to be at least 1,500 feet, or higher if necessary, up to 2,000 feet.¡±


    ¡°Flying that high, how will you aim?¡± Keith frowned.


    ¡°I¡¯ll mount a camera under the fuselage connected to a display in the cockpit so the pilot can control the helicopter while watching the screen,¡± Deng explained.


    ¡°Hmm,¡± Keith replied, still frowning. ¡°But how will you ensure the shells don¡¯t drift away from the aim point during their descent?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s impossible to eliminate drift, but we can minimize it,¡± Deng replied. ¡°To ensure the shells fall vertically, we can¡¯t just throw them by hand. I¡¯m planning to build a simple drop device.¡± He glanced at his screen again, noting Keith¡¯s interest, and continued, ¡°You know those plastic crates used for bottled drinks? The ones with compartments at the bottom?¡±


    ¡°You mean beer crates?¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Deng said. ¡°The drop device I¡¯m envisioning is simple and consists mainly of an external frame and a release mechanism. The frame is straightforward. The release mechanism is like a ¡®beer crate¡¯ with compartments sized to fit each mortar shells, and a small hole drilled at the bottom of each compartment. When loading the shells, we tie a piece of fishing line to the base of each shell, place them in the compartments, and thread the line through the holes in the bottom, tying them together tightly. When it¡¯s time, the crate is flipped upside down on the frame, and the shells are suspended by the fishing line.¡±


    Keith¡¯s eyes lit up as he interjected, ¡°And when the line is cut, all the shells drop simultaneously from the compartments. Is that it?¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡±This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°It sounds feasible,¡± Keith¡¯s brows finally relaxed, though he remained cautious. ¡°But we won¡¯t know for sure until we test it.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Deng agreed. ¡°The helicopter¡¯s maintenance should be nearly complete, right?¡±


    ¡°Almost. If everything goes well, we should have it back in a few days.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll aim to finish designing the drop device within the next two days and send you the sketches,¡± Deng said thoughtfully. ¡°You should use sandbags of similar weight to the shells for testing and measure the dispersion at different altitudes. If it works, we can proceed with making the device.¡±


    ¡°Understood,¡± Keith said, nodding. ¡°How do you plan to trigger the shells once they¡¯re dropped?¡±


    ¡°Uh¡ª¡± Deng scratched his head awkwardly. ¡°Regarding this issue, actually I haven¡¯t thought about it yet......¡±


    This response clearly caught Keith off guard. He took some time to digest the meaning before asking with a puzzled expression, ¡°You can¡¯t be serious, can you?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Deng Shiyang replied with a look of helplessness. ¡°I¡¯m being completely honest.¡±


    The right corner of Keith¡¯s mouth twitched slightly.


    Deng glanced at the computer screen and continued, ¡°We ordered contact fuzes that will detonate on impact, but the problem is how to disable the safety mechanism.¡±


    Contact fuzes are designed to be highly sensitive, capable of detonation with minimal impact, even on mud, snow, or water. However, this sensitivity also presents safety concerns, as no one wants a shell to detonate prematurely due to an accidental bump before it is fired.


    For this reason, modern mortar shells use dual safety mechanisms. One is a transport safety that the operator manually disengages before firing. The other is internal, automatically disengaged after launch. Unlike rifled artillery and grenades, which rely on centrifugal force to disable safeties through rotation, mortars do not spin in flight.


    Therefore, mortar fuzes typically use two types of mechanisms: one that is inertia-based, using the acceleration from firing to release the safety, and another similar to aircraft bomb fuzes, with a small propeller on the nose that spins due to air resistance and unlocks the fuze via a connected spring.


    ¡°I thought so,¡± Keith said, tapping his forehead. ¡°So, what are you going to do?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sureyet, so I¡¯m going to email Schlink and ask for a detailed list,¡± Deng Shiyang said, clicking his tongue. ¡°Once I understand the model and mechanism, I¡¯ll figure out a way to modify it.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the only option,¡± Keith nodded. ¡°Is there anything I can do to help?¡±


    Deng Shiyang thought for a moment before replying, ¡°Do you know anyone familiar with mortar fuzes?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t, but Du Preez might be able to find someone.¡±


    ¡°Ask Jansen; he used to work at L-3,¡± Deng Shiyang added. ¡°I remember that the U.S. military uses mortar fuzes produced by that company.¡±


    ¡°Alright. Forward me the list when you get it tomorrow, and I¡¯ll help you look into it.¡±


    They then discussed the possibility of smuggling the mortars overland, concluding the call at 10:15 PM, marking the end of the thirtieth day.


    At 8:00 AM the next morning, Schlink sent Deng Shiyang a reply with an attachment listing detailed specifications for the various types of ammunition.


    The ammunition in this procurement primarily came from two companies. The rifle rounds were produced by PMP, a subsidiary of ¡°Denel,¡± while other items were made by Rheinmetall Denel Munition, a subsidiary of the German defense company Rheinmetall. However, the fuzes came from Bulgaria¡¯s Arsenal JS Company and were of the AF64 impact fuze model.


    Seeing the list raised a question in Deng¡¯s mind. He had heard that South Africa¡¯s well-known electronics firm, Reunert Group, had a subsidiary called Reutech, which was one of the government¡¯s defense suppliers, producing various aircraft bombs and artillery fuzes. While he wasn¡¯t sure how much cheaper the Bulgarian fuzes were compared to the local ones, the total cost of 300 fuzes was only $3,600, a trivial amount compared to the more than million-dollar total bill. He couldn¡¯t understand why the stocky middleman would use Bulgarian products.


    The answer came during the evening briefing.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been swindled,¡± Jansen said bluntly as soon as the meeting began. ¡°This afternoon, I talked to an old colleague who works in L-3¡¯s ammunition department. He said that model of shell was discontinued in the 1990s.¡± He paused before asking, ¡°Didn¡¯t you say the mortars you bought were M8s?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Deng Shiyang confirmed.


    ¡°That explains it,¡± Jansen nodded. ¡°The M8 is a long-range mortar system that uses newly developed ammunition. You bought shells that require old-style supplementary propellant charges. While the M8 can fire them, their range is shorter compared to the M61 series currently used by the South African National Defense Force. Since the military started using the M8, ¡®Denel¡¯ stopped producing these shells. I suspect your middleman sold you surplus stock to make extra money.¡±


    ¡°Damn!¡± Deng Shiyang cursed.


    ¡°The fuzes are the same,¡± Jansen added, not missing an opportunity to drive the point home. ¡°The AF64 is an upgraded version of the M52 fuze used by the U.S. during World War II. It only has one detonation mode. The South African military¡¯s M0315 electronic impact fuze, on the other hand, has dual modes, with both ¡®instant¡¯ and ¡®delayed¡¯ detonation options.¡±


    ¡°Is there a significant price difference between the two fuzes?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure, but I do know that L-3 has been producing dual-mode impact fuzes for the U.S. military since the Vietnam era.¡±


    ¡°That God Damn fat bastard!¡± Deng Shiyang spat out angrily.


    ---


    Annotations:


    Rheinmetall Denel Munition (RDM): Originally Denel¡¯s munitions division, acquired by Rheinmetall in 2008, forming a joint venture.


    Arsenal JS Company: A Bulgarian defense firm that evolved from a state-run arms manufacturer.


    Football War (La guerra del f¨²tbol): Refers to the 1969 conflict between El Salvador and Honduras, sparked by violence following the 1970 FIFA World Cup qualifiers. The war, which lasted only six days, is also known as the ¡°Hundred-Hour War.¡±

 Training Assessment

    Despite the complaints, such venting was ultimately a form of verbal release without practical effect. Gritting his teeth, Deng Shiyang took a deep breath through his nose and then asked, ¡°Is modifying this type of fuze difficult?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve already got the schematics for the fuze,¡± Jansen said as he sent over a document, a black-and-white image. ¡°This is the internal structure of the fuze.¡± Jansen explained, ¡°The M52 impact fuze isn¡¯t particularly complicated. The detonator is mounted on a spring-loaded slider, which is held in place by a safety pin with a spring at the top. The tail end of the safety pin has a small hole, through which a retaining pin passes to secure it¡ªthis is the safety mechanism. The retaining pin also has a small hole, through which a fine wire is threaded, serving as the transportation safety.¡±


    Deng Shiyang nodded.


    ¡°So, the safety release mechanism works like this: once the transportation safety is removed, the retaining pin is no longer constrained. When the shell is fired, inertia forces the retaining pin downward, allowing the safety pin to be ejected by the spring. The slider then moves forward, aligning the detonator with the firing pin. When the top of the fuze is impacted, the firing pin strikes the detonator, igniting the primer charge at the base.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± Deng Shiyang said, ¡°so we could use the method they show in movies¡ªpull out the safety, tap the bottom of the shell, and throw it.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s theoretically possible,¡± Jansen paused before adding, ¡°but loading them into the launcher becomes tricky. A full set of shells weighs about 130 pounds, knock that explosives inside a helicopter isn¡¯t exactly a great idea. Plus, re-arming them after removing the safety isn¡¯t safe, and there¡¯s a risk of accidental detonation during handling.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s definitely an issue,¡± Deng Shiyang clicked his tongue and asked, ¡°What if we disassemble the fuzes beforehand and remove the retaining spring? That way, we could skip the ''knocking'' step.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯d need to modify 200 fuzes, disassembling each one would take too much time, and it¡¯s not safe for non-experts to handle this.¡±


    Deng Shiyang thought for a moment and said, ¡°Try this plan¡ªask your former colleague if there¡¯s a simpler method. If money¡¯s needed, Keith will handle it.¡±


    Jansen glanced at Keith sitting nearby, who nodded in agreement.


    Seeing they were on the same page, Deng Shiyang asked, ¡°Is there anything else regarding the ammunition?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Jansen replied, shaking his head.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Deng Shiyang turned to Keith, ¡°How¡¯s the helicopter situation?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve started arranging it,¡± Keith responded, ¡°Du Preez went to Cape Town today to meet with the mortar team¡¯s backup members. I plan to join him in Pretoria once that¡¯s wrapped up. Should be done within the week.¡±


    ¡°Appreciate it,¡± Deng Shiyang nodded, ¡°I need to conduct a training evaluation for the black students tomorrow, so the design for the shell launcher will be delayed a bit.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s still enough time for that,¡± Jansen said, ¡°You can handle it after the test results come in.¡±


    ¡°Understood,¡± Deng Shiyang affirmed and ended the call after confirming there was nothing else.


    According to the original schedule, the soldiers had only three weeks of training, with two-thirds of that time already used up. Semler, however, had high training standards and insisted that no one could participate in advanced combat training without completing the physical and basic skills training to minimize casualties from training accidents. Thus, for the past two weeks, the soldiers had endured endless running, push-ups, and live-fire exercises.


    The training evaluation was essentially a final assessment to determine if they had mastered what they¡¯d been taught and to assess their readiness for more advanced combat skills.


    There was no denying the impressive physical condition of these soldiers. In the morning¡¯s physical tests, they could each do 35 push-ups in two minutes, 40 sit-ups in the same time frame, and at least five pull-ups. They could also run a mile in under 10 minutes while wearing combat gear, boots, and carrying 30 pounds¡ªequivalent to the physical fitness standards of the U.S. Army.


    The afternoon was dedicated to combat skills evaluations, which included rifle and light machine gun shooting tests as well as live-fire practice with grenade launchers and rocket launchers.


    According to Semler¡¯s rules, everyone had to run two full laps around the training camp in full gear before heading to the shooting range. They had to use cover made of wooden walls and sandbags, fire at targets at various distances, and throw training grenades into sandbagged positions and windows. Moving between different covers at a run was mandatory to simulate combat conditions and assess their shooting skills.


    Machine gunners faced additional targets, such as doorways and windows, requiring suppression fire. Since the training camp had only a 100-meter range, longer-distance targets were represented by scaled-down silhouettes placed against the dirt walls.


    However, the limitations for ¡°larger weapons¡± like rocket launchers and grenade launchers were less stringent. The former¡¯s fuze had a five-second delay and a self-destruct mechanism beyond 1,000 yards, while the latter used training rounds that could be fired in an open field next to the camp.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    The evaluation lasted over four hours. Besides Semler and Deng Shiyang, Harris and several instructors were present to observe at the range.


    Training had clearly paid off. After two weeks, the soldiers weren¡¯t sharpshooters, but their accuracy had significantly improved. Even the tricky semi-automatic grenade launchers could hit window targets at 150 yards and sandbagged positions at 200 yards with reasonable success. The M680 smoke grenades, despite their different ballistics, could also hit their targets accurately.


    In rifle training, they had overcome the habit of firing wildly without aiming. Now, they knew how to adjust their shooting technique based on target distance¡ªfiring single shots at 100-meter targets, short bursts of two to three rounds at 50-meter half-body targets, and only using longer bursts for very close-range head targets, never firing more than five rounds at a time.


    As the test concluded, Deng Shiyang pulled Harris aside and whispered some instructions. Harris nodded and drove an M-Gator back to the camp. About five minutes later, he returned with an AMD-65 assault rifle fitted with a blank-firing adapter, two Chinese-made 75-round drum magazines, and a box of 7.62 caliber blank rounds.


    Gathering everyone at the 50-meter range, Deng Shiyang had Semler select ten soldiers for a basic standing shooting exercise.


    As before, Semler issued each man ten rounds. The results were significantly improved, with only two targets showing nine bullet holes while the other eight had all ten shots on target.


    Deng Shiyang then ordered the targets to be reset and quickly loaded the magazines with blank rounds. He turned to Semler, ¡°Load them up for shoot another round.¡±


    With magazines reloaded, the ten soldiers stood at the firing line, rifles at the ready. Deng Shiyang stepped behind them, raised the AMD-65 loaded with blanks, and signaled to Semler.


    The whistle blew.


    ¡°Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang¡­¡± The AMD-65 roared with a rapid burst of blank rounds, but the soldiers hesitated, some turning to look at him in confusion.


    ¡°Don¡¯t stop!¡± Deng Shiyang released the trigger and shouted to Semler, ¡°Tell them to shoot!¡±


    ¡°Fogo!¡± the German snapped in portuguese, shouting commands.


    The firing line erupted in chaotic noise, a mix of live and blank rounds blending into a cacophony.


    This time, half the rounds missed the targets.


    ¡°Did you see that?¡± Deng Shiyang lifted the empty AMD-65 and said to Semler, ¡°I only fired blanks from behind them, and they were already miss the target. How are they supposed to fight on a battlefield where real bullets fly?¡±


    Semler awkwardly lowered his head, looking like a student caught without homework.


    ¡°This was just with blank rounds,¡± Deng Shiyang continued. ¡°What happens when real bullets are flying over their heads?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry...¡± Semler finally managed to say after a moment¡¯s hesitation. ¡°...It was an oversight on my part...¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t say things that aren¡¯t helpful,¡± Deng Shiyang cut him off. ¡°What¡¯s on the schedule for next week?¡±


    ¡°Squad tactics and indoor combat training.¡±


    ¡°Cancel all of it. Replace it with stress resilience training.¡±


    The German¡¯s mouth opened slightly, but he said nothing.


    ¡°You should know I¡¯m not training these men just to stand guard,¡± Deng Shiyang glanced at Harris and lowered his voice. ¡°A group of soldiers who can¡¯t hit a target when they hear gunfire is useless to me.¡± He paused before adding, ¡°I¡¯ll find a way to extend their training here, but we don¡¯t have much time left. Once we¡¯re done here, prepare a plan for stress resilience training and have it on my desk by noon tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Understood.¡± Semler nodded.


    Deng Shiyang turned and waved Harris over.


    When Harris jogged over, Deng Shiyang asked, ¡°If I need to set up a facility for overhead live-fire training, how soon can it be done?¡±


    Harris thought for a moment before replying, ¡°We don¡¯t have tripods or mounts, but we do have a few camera tripods. We could secure them at a fixed angle and mount an RPD on them,¡± he said, looking a bit troubled. ¡°But using live rounds is risky¡ªif anything goes wrong, I won¡¯t be able to explain it to the higher-ups.¡±


    ¡°The sound of blanks isn¡¯t the same; there¡¯s no point unless we use live rounds,¡± Deng Shiyang replied. ¡°I¡¯ll get Harobi¡¯s approval first. Just get the tripods ready as soon as possible.¡±


    ¡°No problem,¡± Harris agreed readily.


    ¡°I have other things to handle; this area is in your hands now.¡± With that, Deng Shiyang said goodbye to Semler, placed the AMD-65 in the M-Gator¡¯s cargo bed, and walked back toward the camp.


    After leaving the range, he didn¡¯t return to his quarters immediately but instead went to the office and used the training camp¡¯s satellite phone to call Harobi¡¯s cell.


    The phone rang for a long time before it was answered, and a yawn was the first sound from the other end, followed by Harobi¡¯s voice: ¡°Hello, who is this?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s me, JD.¡±


    Another yawn followed, and Harobi¡¯s voice was muffled as he said, ¡°Is it urgent?¡±


    ¡°Very important.¡± Deng Shiyang summarized what had happened at the range and ended with his concern: ¡°I think we need to get these men used to the battlefield environment, or I can¡¯t guarantee their combat resolve when things turn against us.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right to be concerned. What do you need from me?¡±


    ¡°Harris is worried about accidents with live-fire training. I want you to give him a written authorization.¡±


    ¡°OK. What time is it there?¡±


    Deng Shiyang checked his watch. ¡°Twenty minutes to six.¡±


    There was the sound of rustling papers on the other end, and after a moment, Harobi said, ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll fax over an official notice. He¡¯ll have it by tomorrow morning.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Deng Shiyang said before ending the call.


    Time passed quickly, and soon it was time for the evening briefing.


    Deng Shiyang recounted the day¡¯s assessment to Keith and asked, ¡°I want to extend their training here as much as possible. Can you check with Du Preez to see how much more time we can get and find out what paperwork we need for their entry?¡±


    ¡°No problem,¡± Keith nodded. ¡°But we only have a month left. According to the schedule, everything needs to be prepped and shipped in three weeks. I think we can squeeze out an extra week at most.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good enough. I plan to conduct a seven-day stress training in the third week. If we can add another week, we can cover some basic CQB tactics and squad combat drills.¡±


    ¡°Got it. I¡¯ll have Du Preez handle it.¡± Keith said.


    ¡°Anything else I should know?¡±


    ¡°Today, Mark informed me that our ship has cleared the Red Sea and will enter the Gulf of Aden tomorrow. At its current pace, it will be a few days late to reach the designated spot.¡±


    ¡°As long as it arrives at Richards Bay within two weeks, we¡¯re fine,¡± Deng Shiyang said. ¡°Also, I¡¯ve finished a sketch for the shell launcher. Want me to send it over now?¡±


    Keith looked a bit surprised but nodded. ¡°Sent it.¡±


    Deng Shiyang sent the rough drawing he had made after dinner. It wasn¡¯t detailed since he only had access to Windows Paint. The launcher¡¯s main structure was a rectangular box with two rings on the longer sides. Two sturdy wooden poles ran horizontally through the rings to act as carrying handles.


    After viewing the sketch, Keith frowned and asked, ¡°Are you sure you didn¡¯t send the wrong file? Or are you trying to build the Ark of the Covenant?¡±


    ---


    Annotations:


    The Ark of the Covenant is a legendary ancient relic said to be a chest made of acacia wood and gold, used to hold the stone tablets of the Ten Commandments brought down by the prophet Moses from Mount Sinai.

 Stress training

    ¡°This is the launcher,¡± Deng Shiyang explained, ¡°the support frame just isn¡¯t drawn yet.¡± He added, ¡°You should remember I mentioned that this launching system is composed of both the launcher and a movable support frame, right?¡±


    ¡°I remember,¡± Keith nodded.


    ¡°The support structure is simple,¡± Deng Shiyang continued. ¡°It consists of two metal rods mounted on either side of the helicopter¡¯s cabin door, each with two fixed brackets welded at the top and pulleys at the rear. When not in use, the rods retract into the cabin.¡± He paused and added, ¡°We¡¯ll need to make multiple launchers. When using them, we disarm the fuze safety, insert the two poles through the metal rings on the sides of the launcher, and place the whole thing upside down on the support frame, pushing it outside the cabin. After launching, we just retract the frame and load another box, improving reload speed.¡±


    ¡°Now I get it,¡± Keith said. ¡°This sounds promising, but we¡¯ll only know for sure once we test it.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Deng Shiyang acknowledged. ¡°How do you plan to make this device?¡±


    ¡°The exact dimensions haven¡¯t been finalized yet, but I¡¯ll have Du Preez order the support frame from a metal workshop in Durban, and I¡¯ll handle the launcher construction myself.¡±


    ¡°Does anyone on your side have woodworking skills?¡±


    ¡°Mark. I remember him bragging about making a shotgun stock before. If he wasn¡¯t exaggerating, nailing planks together to form a box and adding a few metal sheets inside shouldn¡¯t be a problem.¡±The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°Then it¡¯s up to you.¡±


    The next morning, Harris knocked on Deng Shiyang¡¯s door early and handed him a fax.


    Deng Shiyang took the fax, noting that the contents matched what Harris had mentioned, but the ¡°00852¡± country code caught his attention. Without showing any reaction, he returned the fax to Harris, but internally he wondered, ¡°What is Harobi doing in Hong Kong at this time?¡±


    ¡°Mr. Harobi instructed me to assist you in any way possible, so I¡¯m here to see what you need,¡± Harris said.


    ¡°I only need the overhead live-fire training done for now. The rest will wait until Semler finalizes the training plan,¡± Deng Shiyang replied absently while holding the fax.


    During breakfast in the mess hall, Deng Shiyang briefed Harris, who immediately agreed to build the overhead live-fire training facility and promised to complete it within two days. Semler also finished the stress training plan ahead of schedule and brought it to the mess hall.


    According to his plan, the stress training would be conducted in three steps: first, target practice under the distraction of blank gunfire to acclimate the soldiers to the sound of gunshots. Next, the overhead live-fire training to overcome the fear of bullets.


    The last phase was particularly intriguing. Dubbed ¡®human pop-up targets¡¯ by Semler, this training combined overhead fire and pop-up target shooting. The range would be set up with sandbags and windows as cover, and the trainees would take turns lying inside with targets. When given a signal, they had to lift the targets to act as shooting practice for the others.


    After reviewing the training plan, Deng Shiyang agreed to emphasize the final phase. Harris, although skeptical about the safety of the training, did not voice any objections. After discussing, the three decided on the time allocation for each phase: two days for the first two phases and three days for the last.

 Throw test

    As the stress resilience training was in full swing, Keith returned to Pretoria for the fifth week of preparations.


    After the inspection was completed, Harobi paid the balance, and the two helicopters were officially transferred, becoming assets of an aviation services company registered in the Cayman Islands. This allowed the flight operations to proceed without any hindrance, and William Crawford reopened the previously closed hangar for Keith¡¯s use.


    At 8:30 a.m., Du Preez drove Keith to the ¡°Precision Aviation Services¡± hangar in a rented Mitsubishi Pajero V73 SUV.


    After taking delivery of the two Mi-17 helicopters, Keith selected two pilots and six mechanics from the candidate list and instructed Du Preez to notify them to report to the hangar that morning.


    Meeting Keith, their ¡°boss,¡± for the second time, the men were still somewhat tense but less so than during their first encounter. Keith greeted them with a smile and then pulled the two pilots aside, while Du Preez unloaded two half-person-height wooden crates from the car and loaded them onto the helicopter. The mechanics were instructed to refuel the helicopter.


    One of the pilots for this flight was the red-haired man whom Du Preez had previously ¡°ordered¡± inside. His name was Martini Sien, a former South African military pilot with experience flying the ¡°Alouette III¡± and over 500 hours of flight time on the ¡°K-Car Gunship.¡± After the disbandment of ¡°32 Battalion,¡± he joined the South African Police Air Wing and piloted SA330 ¡°Puma¡± medium utility helicopters.


    The other pilot, Daniel Morley, was a broad-shouldered, imposing white man whose colleagues had nicknamed ¡°Bear.¡± He had served in the South African Navy, where he flew Westland ¡°Wasp¡± light helicopters. After joining ¡°Precision Aviation Services,¡± he became Sien¡¯s co-pilot, and the two had worked seamlessly together.


    ¡°This is where we¡¯re headed today,¡± Keith said, handing over a slip of paper with GPS coordinates.


    Sien glanced at the paper and said, ¡°Not too far from here.¡±


    Keith nodded and added, ¡°I plan to drop some items from the air and need to test the accuracy at different altitudes.¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    ¡°While I¡¯m curious about what you¡¯re planning to drop,¡± Sien handed the paper to Morley and continued, ¡°I¡¯m guessing you¡¯re not going to tell me?¡±


    ¡°The tests will use sandbags,¡± Keith replied. ¡°I assure you, whatever we drop later won¡¯t land inside South African borders.¡±


    ¡°Good, that¡¯s reassuring,¡± Sien muttered, then began discussing the flight plan with Morley.


    About an hour later, the modified Mi-17 took off from Wonderboom Airport, carrying Keith and Du Preez toward the outskirts of the city.


    A small wireless CCTV camera had been attached to the helicopter¡¯s underside, along with a 14-inch LCD monitor and signal receiver in the cockpit. Due to time constraints, the exact placement of the camera hadn¡¯t been finalized, so it was temporarily secured with tape under the cabin door.


    They flew north for about 30 minutes before landing on a remote, barren expanse near Bonakalalo National Park.


    As soon as the helicopter settled, Du Preez jumped out with one of the wooden crates, which was filled with rolls of white cloth. He unrolled the one-foot-wide strips on the ground, creating a massive 90-foot by 60-foot rectangle. This rectangle represented the presidential guard barracks and was sized proportionally based on measurements from satellite photos.


    Once the target area was set up, Keith instructed Sien to start the helicopter and climb to an altitude of 1,500 feet, adjusting the position using the camera feed. When the helicopter was in a hover, Keith took out a sighting device with a bubble level, lay at the cabin door, and looked down through the crosshairs, ensuring the helicopter was directly over the target area.


    After confirming the position, he opened the second crate and took out the experimental ¡°ammunition¡±¡ªthe thin burlap sacks. Each sack was identical in size and filled with 11 pounds of sand, approximating the weight of an 81mm mortar shell produced in South Africa.


    Keith donned noise-canceling headphones, grabbed one of the sandbags, and moved to the cabin door. Holding the sandbag with outside the cabin, he radioed Du Preez on the ground, ¡°1,500 feet, first drop, get ready.¡±


    ¡°Ground ready,¡± Du Preez replied over the radio, having already retreated to a safe distance.


    ¡°Three¡ªtwo¡ªone¡ª¡± Keith counted down and released the sandbag.


    The sandbag plummeted under gravity, its tied-off mouth flapping erratically in the wind like a tan ribbon.


    ¡°Thud¡ª¡± The bag hit the ground with a dull impact, raising a cloud of pale yellow dust.


    ¡°Missed.¡± Du Preez¡¯s voice crackled in Keith¡¯s headphones.


    ---


    Annotations:


    Alouette III : A light single-engine multipurpose helicopter produced by A¨¦rospatiale of France.


    K-Car Gunship : A light attack helicopter modified from the ¡°Alouette III¡± by the South African military, armed with an MG151 or a Mk V Hispano 20mm cannon.

 Inhumane stress training

    The sandbag landed outside the target zone.


    Keith frowned, then took another sandbag from the crate, lifted it outside the cabin, and said, ¡°1,500 feet, second drop, ready¡ª¡±


    ¡°Ground ready,¡± Du Preez confirmed.


    ¡°Three¡ªtwo¡ªone¡ª¡±


    Another sandbag dropped from the sky, raising a cloud of dust upon impact.


    ¡°Missed.¡± Du Preez''s voice reported again, bringing more disappointment.


    Over the next fifteen minutes, they dropped all the sandbags from the crate, but none of the dozen or so sandbags hit the target.


    Keith instructed Sien to land the helicopter and then took out a measuring wheel, pacing back and forth between the sandbags and the target zone.


    The measurements showed that all the sandbags were skewed to one side, with distances from the edge of the target zone ranging from 25 to 35 feet. Calculating from the center of the target zone as the aiming point, the margin of error exceeded 60 feet. Frustrated, Keith decided to cancel the planned 2,000-foot drop test and told Du Preez to pack up.


    While Du Preez was busy rolling up the white cloth strips that marked the target area, Sien removed his noise-canceling headphones and approached Keith.


    ¡°Boss, I might not fully understand what you''re trying to do something, but I think I have a way to reduce the throwing errors,¡± Sien said.


    Keith looked at him and asked, ¡°What¡¯s your idea?¡±


    ¡°From the fact that all the drops skewed in the same direction, it¡¯s clear that the sandbags were affected by external factors like crosswinds or airflow, causing them to miss the target.¡±


    ¡°I considered that,¡± Keith replied with a frown. ¡°But I checked the weather report, and today¡¯s wind speed is only Level 1. It shouldn¡¯t cause such a large deviation.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re mistaken,¡± Sien continued. ¡°I¡¯m not talking about that. Anyone who has ever flown in a helicopter gondola knows that it shakes extremely hard when approaching the fuselage. I think the sandbag you throw will deviate from the target for this reason.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± Keith responded, half understanding.


    ¡°When a helicopter is in flight, the rotor wash flows downward at an angle along the sides of the fuselage, creating asymmetric turbulence on both sides. Your throwing position is at the left cabin door, which is susceptible to drafts.¡± Sien explained.


    Keith''s frown eased, and he asked, ¡°What¡¯s your solution?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s simple,¡± Sien replied. ¡°Move the throwing position to the tail.¡±


    ¡°So we¡¯d need to remove the tail door?¡± Keith glanced toward the rear of the cabin, eyeing the double-hinged door.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Sien confirmed. ¡°The Mi-17¡¯s tail door is below the tail boom, where the rotor wash splits and flows downward on both sides, avoiding asymmetric turbulence.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Keith nodded. ¡°Let¡¯s pack up and head back. We¡¯ll remove the tail door and run another drop test.¡± He paused and raised his voice, ¡°If this works, I¡¯ll give you a 10,000 rand bonus. Any suggestions that get used will be rewarded.¡±


    As the helicopter carrying Keith and Du Preez returned to Wonderboom Airport, Semler was busy drilling the black soldiers.


    The stress resilience training had entered its second day. After spending the previous day shooting targets under the sound of blank rounds, the soldiers had grown accustomed to the noise, and their shooting scores had significantly improved to near standard levels. Impressed by their adaptability, Semler decided to revise the training plan, replacing the scheduled 50-meter half-body target shooting with more advanced interference training.


    This training method, which Semler had learned during his time at ¡°Aegis Defense¡± and previously used in the Congo, was simple: shooting under various distractions. The instructors employed different methods to disrupt the shooters, who had to stay focused and accurately hit their targets while following orders. To motivate the trainees, Semler devised a reward-and-penalty system¡ªeach missed shot or failure to follow commands would result in a $10 deduction from their pay, while the top three performers would receive a $200 bonus.


    The system had an immediate effect. Upon hearing that their performance would directly impact their earnings, the soldiers were suddenly much more motivated. To dispel complaints such as ¡°unfamiliarity with the rules affecting performance,¡± the order of trainees was determined by drawing lots.


    Samler loaded the AMD-65 loaded with blank ammunition with a sharp ¡°clack",and shouted in Portuguese to the black soldier standing at the shooting line, ¡°Ready¡ª¡±


    The fully armed soldier raised his AR-S and nodded firmly.


    ¡°Fogo!¡±


    The soldier leaped over the shooting line and charged toward the center of the range, with Semler close behind. When they reached the middle, Semler suddenly shouted, ¡°First row, second from the left!¡±


    The soldier halted and aimed his rifle at the target.


    ¡°Tat-tat¡ª¡± He fired a two-round burst. Before he could reset, Semler kicked the back of his knee, sending him sprawling to the ground.


    ¡°What the hell are you doing?¡± Semler roared. ¡°Ten push-ups, now!¡±


    Without hesitation, the soldier placed his rifle on the ground and began doing push-ups. Semler fired blank rounds into the dirt, raising clouds of dust.


    When the soldier reached his eighth push-up, Semler kicked his supporting wrist, making him collapse face-first into the dirt.


    ¡°Get up, get up now, you worthless mutt! Over here!¡± More shouts and gunfire followed.


    The soldier grabbed his rifle and scrambled to his feet, running toward Semler.


    ¡°Smack¡ª¡± He received a slap that sent him back to the ground.


    ¡°Don¡¯t look at me!¡± Semler shouted, landing a kick to the soldier¡¯s midsection. ¡°Your rifle¡¯s out of ammo, idiot!¡±


    The soldier quickly ejected the magazine and pulled a spare from his tactical vest, loading it while being bombarded with insults and surrounded by clouds of dust from blank fire.


    ¡°Crouch! Now!¡± Semler slapped the back of his head and pointed to a target 25 meters away. ¡°The enemy¡¯s over there.¡± He then lowered his rifle and fired at the ground behind the soldier, enveloping them in smoke.


    ¡°What the hell are you doing?¡±


    The soldier, who had just raised his rifle to aim, was shoved to the ground again. Semler yelled, ¡°This isn¡¯t some damn shooting game! They¡¯re here to kill you! Take them out!¡± He followed up with a kick to the soldier¡¯s rear as he tried to get up.


    Covered in dust, the soldier gritted his teeth, picked up his rifle, and continued firing at the target, enduring the shouting and clouds of smoke until his magazine was empty.


    After the training, Semler walked back to the shooting line with the soldier and addressed the group of black soldiers standing there.


    ¡°I know you all hate me right now. But that doesn¡¯t matter,¡± he said. ¡°The ones you need to kill are them.¡± He paused, turning to point at the distant targets and shouted, ¡°Remember this: you are going to war. Your job is to kill those bastards. Treat every enemy as if they were your worst foe and put your bullets through their heads, rip open their guts, and blast their insides apart with your gun!¡±

 Training accident

    ¡°Three¡ªtwo¡ªone¡ª¡±


    With Keith¡¯s countdown, another sandbag slipped from his grasp and disappeared into the air.


    ¡°Thud¡ª¡± A cloud of dust rose from the southeastern corner of the marked target area.


    ¡°Hit,¡± came Du Preez¡¯s voice over the noise-canceling headphones. His tone was as cold and indifferent as ever, detached from any sense of excitement.


    ¡°Yes!¡± Keith clenched his fist triumphantly and exaggeratedly waved his right hand. The large motion caused his body to sway at the helicopter door, making it seem as though he might lose his grip and fall out, a sight that was nerve-wracking to watch.


    This was the final test of the 2,000-foot drop experiment.


    Back at Wonderboom Airport, Keith ordered the helicopter¡¯s tail door to be removed. Without the double doors, the rear section of the Mi-17 looked as though a large chunk had been carved out, giving it an unsightly appearance. However, the change in the drop position yielded immediate results. The accuracy of the sandbags thrown from the tail improved significantly. Although there was still a gap between the drop points and the aiming point, every sandbag now reliably landed within the target zone.


    The successful test confirmed the feasibility of Deng Shiyang¡¯s ¡°mortar bombing¡± plan and allowed Keith to breathe a sigh of relief. He instructed Sien to land the helicopter and told Du Preez to pack up. He needed to return to Durban quickly to discuss building the launcher with Mark. Additionally, with the drop position moved to the rear of the cabin, he realized it was necessary to revise the design of the launcher and the movable support frame.


    It took two more days to finalize the design of the launcher. Today was supposed to be the first day of the ¡°human pop-up target¡± training, but Deng Shiyang was busy writing a report about an incident that had occurred the previous day.


    ¡°Overhead live-fire¡± training is a traditional exercise used by the U.S. military, featured in many movies and TV shows and widely recognized around the world. The name accurately describes the training, which aims to expose soldiers to the shock of bullets flying over their heads, helping them acclimate to battlefield conditions more quickly.


    The facility for this training was designed by Deng Shiyang. The main structure was a 150-foot-long, 15-foot-wide shallow trench. The trench floor was compacted with a rammer and filled with water to create a muddy surface. Two rows of 2-foot-high wooden stakes lined the trench, connected by barbed wire to form a low, covered passage. Two machine guns were mounted on 2.5-foot-high tripods, aimed at a dirt wall beside the trench, with the bullet trajectories passing just six inches above the wire.


    During training, the soldiers had to submerge themselves in the cold, muddy water and crawl beneath the wire. Along with the sound of gunfire from the machine guns, they could clearly hear the whistling of bullets flying overhead and the ¡°thunk¡± as they hit the dirt.


    Crawling under fire was undoubtedly a challenge. Even those who had performed well in previous training or claimed combat experience often froze in fear before the barbed wire. In such cases, Semler would have those too scared to continue step aside and wait for everyone else to finish before giving them another chance. If they failed a second time, they would be disqualified from the exercise.


    The first day of training proceeded smoothly enough. The noise exposure from the previous two days had given some of the soldiers a level of psychological tolerance. Although the initial ¡°whiz¡± of bullets passing overhead made them flinch, most would follow the lead of the first brave soldier and crawl to the end.


    To make the training atmosphere as realistic as possible, Deng Shiyang instructed Harris to install noise-making explosive devices near the trench and sent people to a nearby town to collect bones, meat scraps, and organs from a butcher shop to hang on the barbed wire.


    This made life miserable for the black soldiers. After three weeks in the training camp, they had become accustomed to ¡°civilized¡± living¡ªdaily showers, clean clothes, and sleeping on beds with fresh sheets. Now they had to crawl through cold, filthy water, surrounded by the stench of rotting meat and pig entrails. Their hands often turned up submerged pig bones or swollen, waterlogged pieces of pig stomach.


    Some couldn¡¯t help but vomit, at which point Semler would pick up the loudspeaker and shout, ¡°On the battlefield, you¡¯ll see things a thousand times worse than this. If it¡¯s not your enemy, it will be you!¡±


    This speech had some motivational effect, and most of the soldiers gritted their teeth and pushed through the training. However, an accident still occurred.


    The casualty was a tall, lanky young man whom Deng Shiyang later learned was not yet 30. The details of the accident were unclear, but by the time Deng Shiyang arrived, the scene was chaotic. A group of black soldiers, covered in mud like they had been pulled from a swamp, gathered around the center of the training field. Some were waving their arms in agitation, shouting in an incomprehensible local dialect, and their stench was enough to make one cover their nose from a distance.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Harris struggled to part the crowd to let Deng Shiyang through. Several medics in white uniforms were crouched by the trench, frantically tending to a soldier lying on the ground. Their clothes were stained with dark patches, indistinguishable between dirty water and blood.


    The soldier on the ground was also covered in mud, but his face and neck had been wiped clean. Deng Shiyang could clearly see his contorted face, clenched teeth, and spasming features. Blood-soaked gauze was pressed against his neck by blood-streaked hands.


    Deng Shiyang shot a questioning glance at Semler but held back the obvious questions¡ª¡°What happened?¡± or ¡°Why did this happen?¡± Instead, he pulled Harris aside and whispered, ¡°Assemble your men immediately.¡± He paused, then added resolutely, ¡°And bring the weapon.¡±


    Harris nodded gravely, parting the crowd and ran toward the office building.


    Deng Shiyang turned to Semler, grabbing his shoulder and shaking him hard. The German¡¯s mouth opened and closed mechanically, but whatever he said was inaudible.


    ¡°Clean up first. We¡¯ll deal with the rest later,¡± Deng Shiyang said. ¡°Get these men back to the barracks with any excuse you can think of.¡± He paused and added, ¡°Training is over for today. Make sure they relax tonight. If you need anything, go to Harris.¡±


    Semler nodded blankly.


    Deng Shiyang felt a surge of irritation and leaned toward the medics performing first aid. ¡°How is he? Can he be saved?¡± he asked, lowering his voice despite knowing the black soldiers wouldn¡¯t understand English.


    One of the medics turned to look at him, then gave a subtle shake of his head.


    ¡°Damn it!¡± Deng Shiyang cursed inwardly, then whispered, ¡°Keep trying until my men take him away.¡± He paused and added, ¡°No matter what, don¡¯t stop.¡±


    The medic seemed puzzled by the order but nodded nonetheless.


    ¡°Come with me,¡± Deng Shiyang said, grabbing the still-Distracted Semler and pulling him to the M-Gator parked by the trench. He climbed into the cargo bed and waved his arms, shouting, ¡°Listen up, everyone, I have an announcement!¡± He glanced at Semler, who immediately translated his words into Portuguese.


    With everyone¡¯s attention now on him, Deng Shiyang continued, ¡°An unfortunate incident has just occurred here.¡± Once Semler finished translating, he tried to look as solemn as possible and added, ¡°But on behalf of the training camp¡¯s management, I assure you we will do everything we can to save him. He will receive the best possible medical care.¡±


    Despite the attempt to reassure them, the statement failed to quell the dissatisfaction among the black soldiers. Once Semler finished translating, the crowd erupted into noise again.


    ¡°Quiet! Everyone, quiet down and listen to me,¡± Deng Shiyang shouted, raising his hand. He hoped to regain control, but it had no effect.


    As the commotion continued, Deng Shiyang frowned and leaned toward Semler. ¡°What are they arguing about?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Well...¡± Semler focused, listening for a moment before replying, ¡°Most of them are complaining that the training is too dangerous and are afraid of another accident. Others want to know who will take responsibility for this incident and how much compensation they would get if injured during training.¡±


    ¡°I see...¡± Deng Shiyang muttered to himself. He glanced at the agitated crowd of black soldiers and asked, ¡°What exactly happened in this incident?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not entirely sure,¡± Semler admitted, scratching his head. ¡°One of the machine gun the bullet chain is jammed, so I went over to fix it. Just as I turned around, I heard someone shout. When I looked back, I saw that poor guy¡¯s neck had been shot, and he was hanging against the barbed wire.¡±


    ¡°I think what happened is...¡± Semler glanced at Deng Shiyang¡¯s disapproving face and pointed to a spot in the trench. ¡°He must have panicked and couldn¡¯t keep going. He stood up to try and climb through a gap in the barbed wire and got shot.¡±


    Looking in the direction Semler indicated, Deng Shiyang noticed a small gap in the barbed wire covering the trench¡ªjust large enough for a person to stand in. The original plan was to use welded wire mesh with openings only big enough for a hand to fit through, but since the overhead live-fire training facility had been hastily constructed, they used barbed wire looped around wooden stakes, creating wider gaps.


    ¡°I¡¯m truly sorry...¡± Semler said with a guilty expression. ¡°If I had been watching more closely and stopped them firing as he stand up...¡±


    ¡°The accident has already happened; talking about it now is pointless,¡± Deng Shiyang interrupted coldly. ¡°Get them back to the barracks with any excuse. He¡¯s not going to make it, and I don¡¯t want him to die in front of them.¡±


    Semler¡¯s face tensed.


    ¡°If you can¡¯t convince them,¡± Deng Shiyang glanced at the black soldiers, ¡°then stall for time until Harris gets back.¡±


    ¡°Understood,¡± Semler agreed and walked over to negotiate with the soldiers.


    Deng Shiyang felt uneasy. Although he had instructed Harris to gather the armed guards, it was a last-resort measure. This incident was undeniable, and if the soldiers intended to use it as an excuse for passive resistance, future training and the upcoming combat operations would become extremely difficult¡ªthe last thing he wanted.


    As Semler gestured and spoke to the black soldiers in a language Deng Shiyang couldn¡¯t understand, he began to consider his options. During his time at the training camp, he had learned about the behaviors of African soldiers through various means. One remark from Du Preez stood out: ¡°The two most notable characteristics of African workers are laziness and a talent for organizing strikes.¡±


    The first point had been confirmed through Semler¡¯s observations. While Europeans were not known for exceptional industriousness, by their standards, African laziness was almost ¡°alarming.¡± In economically developed South Africa, despite laws requiring companies to prioritize hiring black employees, many preferred idleness and lived off meager unemployment benefits. In less developed countries, people often foraged for bananas and cassava rather than invest time in farming or livestock, even as those countries spent substantial foreign currency importing agricultural products.


    The second point stemmed from a history of white rule, which instilled Westernized values and labor consciousness in Africans. When black-led governments took power and lifted restrictions on unions, the social status of black workers improved, and strikes became a common tool for demanding concessions from employers. The reasons for strikes ranged from wages, rights, and safety to working conditions and discrimination. It was said that a Chinese construction company in West Africa once faced a strike after employees ate a dog, sparking collective protests.

 Accident handling

    Deng Shiyang hadn¡¯t yet come up with a plan when Harris returned, jogging around the crowd to came the M-Gator.


    Bending down, Deng Shiyang asked, ¡°Where are your men?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re assembled and ready, but I didn¡¯t want to provoke the black soldiers, so I left them on standby in the camp,¡± Harris replied, lifting his shirt to reveal a radio clipped to his belt.


    ¡°Good,¡± Deng Shiyang nodded. He gestured toward the medics and said, ¡°That man won¡¯t make it. Arrange for a plane and get a vehicle to transport him out.¡±


    Harris hesitated, giving him a questioning look.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want anyone dying here and giving them an excuse to cause trouble,¡± Deng Shiyang explained. ¡°I¡¯ll tell them that the man is severely injured and needs to be taken to Gaborone for treatment.¡± He paused and added, ¡°Just make sure he¡¯s taken away as soon as possible.¡±


    ¡°Understood,¡± Harris nodded, stepping aside to use his radio.


    ¡°Listen up,¡± Deng Shiyang said loudly, drawing the attention of the black soldiers.


    ¡°The injured man¡¯s condition is serious, and we¡¯re preparing to take him to Gaborone. Rest assured, we will do everything we can to save him.¡±


    After Semler translated this into Portuguese, the crowd erupted into noise once again.


    Deng Shiyang waved impatiently, waiting for the commotion to die down before asking Semler, ¡°What do they want now?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re saying they don¡¯t trust us and want to go with him,¡± Semler replied.


    ¡°Let them pick two representatives to go, but only to the airport,¡± Deng Shiyang said, pressing his fingers to his temples. ¡°The plane can¡¯t hold more people, and they wouldn¡¯t be of any help there anyway.¡±


    Just then, a cream-colored Toyota Land Cruiser 79 pickup pulled up near the training ground. Two black men in orange vests jumped out, carrying a stretcher, and quickly loaded the injured soldier into the truck bed. Harris instructed the medics to get in the truck bed too.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°Time is short. Tell them to decide quickly who will go,¡± Deng Shiyang said.


    Semler argued with the group of soldiers, urging them to make a decision. After repeated prompting, two of the oldest black soldiers were chosen and, accompanied by Harris, climbed into a Mitsubishi Pajero that followed the Land Cruiser 79 as it left the camp.


    With the injured man taken away, the remaining soldiers had no reason to continue protesting and soon returned to their barracks under Semler¡¯s persuasion.


    Watching the crowd disperse, Deng Shiyang felt a slight sense of relief. He jumped down from the vehicle and pulled Semler aside. ¡°These men are likely to stir up trouble over this. We need to find a way to keep them calm.¡±


    Semler nodded.


    ¡°Here¡¯s what we¡¯ll do,¡± Deng Shiyang said after a moment¡¯s thought. ¡°Delay the scheduled training for now and let them rest. Have the boiler room provide hot water early, and tell the kitchen to prepare a better dinner¡ªbut never has the wine.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll handle it,¡± Semler replied, running off.


    Originally planning to escort him back, Deng Shiyang pressed his lips together, then instructed some staff to clean up the training equipment and drove back to the camp in the M-Gator.


    He parked in front of the office building, walked inside, and used the satellite phone to inform Harobi of the incident. The resulting reprimand was harsh.


    Harobi¡¯s scolding was difficult to bear, and Deng Shiyang knew he had no defense. The incident had been partly due to Semler¡¯s negligence in not halting the training when the machine gun malfunctioned, but Deng Shiyang had suggested the overhead live-fire training and approved the setup and equipment. Now, he couldn¡¯t shirk responsibility as the manager.


    Harris returned to the camp before dinner and immediately found Deng Shiyang to report. ¡°The man passed away on the way to the airport, but I managed to keep it under wraps.¡±


    ¡°You did well,¡± Deng Shiyang said, giving Harris a light pat on the shoulder. ¡°This accident happened because I failed to oversee properly. I¡¯ll report it ¡®truthfully¡¯ to Harobi.¡± He emphasized ¡®truthfully¡¯ to reassure him.


    ¡°Technically, I bear some responsibility as well,¡± Harris replied, though Deng Shiyang noticed a look of relief on his face.


    After a brief pause, Harris asked with concern, ¡°Is there anything else I can do?¡±


    ¡°Ensure the boiler room supplies hot water early for the next few days, and tell the kitchen to make the meals more substantial,¡± Deng Shiyang said. ¡°Also, tighten security around the camp, especially in the barracks and the armory.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take care of it,¡± Harris replied.


    Deng Shiyang glanced at his watch and said, ¡°That¡¯s all for now. We¡¯ll discuss the rest when I see Semler later.¡±

 Before the negotiation

    Half an hour later, the three of them met in the dining hall.


    Due to the recent accident, the atmosphere in the dining hall was somber. Most people ate in silence or exchanged whispers, and the usual friendly greetings between colleagues had given way to polite nods.


    After collecting their meals, Harris led Deng Shiyang and Semler to a table in a corner, away from the others.


    Once seated, Semler kept his head down, staring at his meal without speaking. His tray held only a corporate sandwich and a cup of coffee, which looked modest compared to the varied meals of both Deng Shiyang and Harris.


    Noticing the uneasy look on Semler¡¯s face, Deng Shiyang seemed to understand. As he poured dressing made of olive oil and herb vinegar over a bowl of salad and stirred it, he said: ¡°Since the accident has already happened, it¡¯s more practical to focus on handling the aftermath than wasting time on assigning blame.¡± He glanced at Harris for support.


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Harris chimed in immediately. ¡°Mr. Deylek is honorable and responsible; he won¡¯t shift the blame onto his subordinates.¡±


    The blatant compliment made Deng Shiyang feel slightly uncomfortable, but he turned to Semler and said, ¡°I¡¯d like to hear your thoughts on this training incident.¡± He paused, then added, ¡°Don¡¯t waste time on meaningless self-recrimination¡ªI need constructive feedback.¡±


    Semler raised his head and looked at Deng Shiyang. ¡°The accident has happened, and the black soldiers will likely use this as an excuse to stir up trouble or strike.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m aware of that,¡± Deng Shiyang nodded. ¡°My goal is simple: get them back to work as soon as possible. As for the training, you can modify some parts of the stress training, but next week¡¯s combat skills training must go ahead as scheduled.¡± He paused and asked, ¡°You¡¯ve worked with black soldiers more than I have. Have you ever dealt with a situation like this before?¡±


    ¡°Do you mean training accidents or strikes?¡± Semler replied: ¡°The soldiers I trained in Angola and Congo never reached this point.¡± He hesitated, then explained, ¡°I only taught them combat skills, not such dangerous training.¡±


    ¡°What about strikes? Have you experienced those?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Semler shook his head. ¡°I was only responsible for training. Other matters were handled by others.¡±


    Seeing that Semler had little useful information, Deng Shiyang said, ¡°Join me for a video meeting with Durban tonight.¡±


    At the evening meeting, Deng Shiyang briefed the team in Durban about the training accident. He glossed over the details of the incident and did not mention assigning blame, which seemed to reassure Semler.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°Relax,¡± Du Preez was the first to speak, half-reassuringly. ¡°In local factories here, black workers strike at least once a year. This is a common tactic. They find an excuse to stop working, stir things up for a while, and once they¡¯ve drawn enough attention, they send representatives to negotiate with management.¡±


    ¡°Negotiate what?¡± Semler asked eagerly.


    ¡°What else? Money, of course,¡± Du Preez said with a hint of disbelief. ¡°You¡¯ve been in South Africa for years and didn¡¯t know?¡±


    ¡°Uh¡ª¡± The German was momentarily speechless and looked down uncomfortably.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how it is in Angola, but in South Africa,¡± Du Preez continued, ¡°they¡¯ll bring up human rights, safety, religious freedom¡ªa whole list of issues. Once they¡¯ve gone around in circles, they get to the point¡ªmoney.¡±


    ¡°Is that all?¡± Deng Shiyang found it hard to believe. ¡°Their only goal is a pay raise?¡±


    ¡°It may be hard for you to understand if you¡¯re not familiar with African culture, but that¡¯s the reality.¡± Du Preez said. ¡°Their main purpose is always money, everything else is just an excuse.¡± He paused before adding, ¡°Of course,only speaking my experience at South Africa. I¡¯m not sure about Angolans, but in my experience, they don¡¯t have the nerve to cause serious trouble or damage¡ªthey¡¯ll just make a show of it to pressure management into better pay.¡±


    ¡°I hope you¡¯re right.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll see tomorrow. If they¡¯re eager to negotiate, it¡¯s just about money,¡± Du Preez said confidently. ¡°By the way, strikes by black workers can be quite a spectacle.¡±


    The next morning, Deng Shiyang witnessed it firsthand.


    Hundreds of black men gathered noisily in front of the office building. Whether due to the presence of security guards or the imposing black German Shepherds they had on leashes, the crowd did not dare to storm the building. Instead, they stood in the open area, chanting slogans in a chaotic mix of voices.


    After a brief standoff, several older men stepped forward, making impassioned speeches in an unfamiliar dialect, using hand gestures for emphasis. The rest of the crowd cheered, then moved back in an orderly fashion to clear a space and began singing and dancing with various props.


    Just as Du Preez had said, the strike was highly theatrical. It was less a strike and more a uniquely African performance.


    There was no doubt that musical talent came naturally to the Africans. They needed no instruments, no rehearsals¡ªjust a few overturned buckets for drumming and synchronized clapping and stomping to create a perfect rhythm, accompanied by chanted lyrics to form a song. Another dozen men holding mops and plastic basins danced as if performing street theater.


    The dance told a story of tribal warfare. The raised mops symbolized spears, and the plastic basins represented shields. Dancers holding red ¡°shields¡± fought against those with blue ones in a prolonged, arduous battle, ending with victory and celebration.


    ¡°Unbelievable. These guys didn¡¯t even rehearse,¡± Deng Shiyang said, holding a cup of coffee as he watched from behind the office¡¯s blinds. He remarked wryly, ¡°If they applied this kind of talent to war, they¡¯d have colonized Europe centuries ago.¡±


    The lively strike continued until noon, when the crowd dispersed for lunch at precisely 12:00.


    ¡°They¡¯ll start up again after they¡¯ve eaten,¡± Harris said to Deng Shiyang. ¡°They¡¯ve already sent word through my men that they want us to send representatives to negotiate. What do you think we should do?¡±


    ¡°Since they¡¯re not willing to escalate things, we¡¯ll delay,¡± Deng Shiyang replied. ¡°I need to write the accident report this afternoon. Let¡¯s keep them waiting until tomorrow.¡±

 Tips for Negotiating

    Nightfall came quickly.


    At the evening meeting, Deng Shiyang recounted the events of the strike he had witnessed earlier in the day.


    ¡°It seems that whether in Angola or South Africa, black workers act the same way.¡± Du Preez remarked with a hint of disdain.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Deng Shiyang replied. ¡°As you predicted, the strike was indeed about money.¡±


    ¡°If that¡¯s the case, then it¡¯s manageable.¡±


    ¡°Should I just talk to them directly tomorrow?¡± Deng Shiyang asked.


    ¡°No, that won¡¯t work,¡± Du Preez rejected the idea outright.


    ¡°In Europe countries, your approach might solve the issue immediately, but this is Africa,¡± he paused, continuing, ¡°The blacks here never state their position directly. They go to great lengths to avoid revealing the true purpose of their strikes.¡±


    Deng Shiyang frowned. ¡°Then what should I do?¡±


    ¡°Black protests are well-organized. Usually, there are a few core members leading the group, and the rest cooperate with them,¡± Du Preez explained:¡°These core members are chosen as their representatives during labor negotiations.¡±


    ¡°Can these people be bought?¡± Semler, who had been silent, suddenly interjected. ¡°Or should I contact Jabba and have him apply pressure?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely not. That chief will undoubtedly side with his own people. If he gets involved, your position will become even more difficult,¡± Du Preez interrupted: ¡°Bribing them isn¡¯t impossible, but it¡¯s challenging. These representatives are chosen for their standing in the group. If they can¡¯t satisfy their followers, they¡¯ll lose their influence. Unless you¡¯re willing to pay them enough to never worry about money again, it won¡¯t work.¡±


    ¡°Forget what I said.¡± Semler muttered, as if doused in cold water.


    Du Preez glanced at him before continuing to Deng Shiyang, ¡°Here¡¯s how negotiations with black workers usually go: they¡¯ll start with a list of reasons to justify their refusal to work. This is their way of stalling. You should let them talk and appear to be listening. Once they¡¯re done with their arguments, they¡¯ll reluctantly suggest that ¡®raising wages is the only solution,¡¯ and that¡¯s when the real negotiation begins.¡±


    ¡°Understood,¡± Deng Shiyang said. ¡°What should I keep in mind during these negotiations?¡±


    ¡°There are a few key points,¡± Du Preez said, thinking for a moment. ¡°First, limit the number of representatives. They like to use group dynamics to amplify their demands. If there are too many of them, they¡¯ll overwhelm you and push for outrageous demands.¡±


    ¡°Second, they¡¯ll drag out the conversation, often spending hours on unrelated topics before addressing the actual issue. You can ignore their rambling, but you must appear attentive and not show impatience. If they feel disrespected, they¡¯ll see it as an insult.¡±The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Finally, make sure they stick to the agreement. It¡¯s best to have a witness, but not a white person, as that would seem unfair to them. To prevent them from claiming ¡®misunderstandings¡¯ or ¡®confusion,¡¯ document the discussion and create a meeting summary for both sides to sign at the end.¡±


    Taking note of these points, Deng Shiyang turned to Semler. ¡°You¡¯ll handle the meeting notes tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Understood.¡± Semler nodded.


    Deng Shiyang shifted his attention to the computer screen. ¡°Anything else I should be aware of?¡±


    Du Preez scratched his head. ¡°That¡¯s about it. The rest depends on how things unfold during the meeting.¡±


    ¡°Alright, that wraps up our discussion on the strike,¡± Deng Shiyang said, glancing at Semler.


    ¡°I¡¯ll head back to my room,¡± the German said, standing up to leave.


    Watching Semler exit, Deng Shiyang turned back to the screen. ¡°Alright, any reports?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I have two pieces of good news and one bad news,¡± Keith said. ¡°First, our ship has reached the Indian Ocean. I had Mark inform the captain which port he was arrive, so it should arrive at Richards Bay in about a week. Also, the mortar team has been selected, and most of the items Jansen ordered have arrived. There are just a few pending, and I¡¯ve told Du Preez to handle customs paperwork.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡±


    ¡°The bad news is that arranging entry permits for the black soldiers has hit a snag. The South African government is cracking down on illegal foreign labor and tightening entry restrictions. Bringing in a hundred foreign workers is difficult, so I¡¯m considering other ways to get them onto the ship.¡±


    ¡°That is an issue,¡± Deng Shiyang said. ¡°What do you suggest?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s an island called Europa in the Mozambique Channel, a French territory. It doesn¡¯t have a port but has a one-mile runway suitable for DC-6 aircraft. It¡¯s also in a disputed zone between France and Madagascar, so there are no permanent residents.¡± Keith explained: ¡°My idea is to fly them to the island and use rubber boats to transfer them to the ship. I remember you mentioned the weapons from Indonesia would be transferred through Antananarivo Airport. We could send the weapons there and transport them with the men to the ship.¡±


    ¡°Sounds promising, but isn¡¯t it risky?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. France doesn¡¯t have a garrison on the island. The nearest base is 600 miles away in Mayotte, and Madagascar¡¯s navy is tiny¡ªonly seven small patrol boats¡ªbarely enough to patrol their own waters. Europa Island is 170 miles from their coast.¡±


    ¡°It sounds like a viable plan, but I want you to conduct a feasibility study first. Once confirmed, arrange for the cargo plane and buy the rubber boats. I¡¯ll have the arms dealer handle the exit permits with the Malagasy government.¡±


    ¡°Understood,¡± Keith nodded. ¡°Also, the design for the launcher has been finalized,¡± he continued. ¡°Remember, we moved the launch position to the tail to avoid the downwash from the rotors.¡±


    ¡°OK.¡±


    At that moment, MSN Messenger displayed a file transfer notification. Deng Shiyang clicked ¡°Accept.¡±


    When the transfer was complete, he opened the file to find a detailed black-and-white three-view diagram. The diagram, drawn with professional software, was far more refined than the sketch he had made earlier.


    ¡°Jansen and I worked on this for two days,¡± Keith said. ¡°The wide tail doors required adjustments to the dimensions of the movable support frame and the crossbars. I also made some changes. The ends of the support frame now have screw-in metal loops for securing the bars, and I replaced the iron rings on the sides of the launcher with hooks for quicker swapping. Other than that, everything else matches your original design.¡±


    Deng Shiyang examined the relevant parts on the diagram and said, ¡°Let¡¯s go with this.¡±


    ¡°Alright.¡±


    They discussed the current work progress for a while longer before ending the call.

 The witness

    Preparation for the negotiations turned out to be more troublesome than expected. At dawn, Deng Shiyang and Semler arrived at the training camp office.


    The first thing Deng Shiyang did was instruct Harris to tell the cafeteria to change the breakfast menu, replacing high-calorie foods like bacon, ham, and buttered bread with light dishes such as corn and oatmeal porridge. He also ordered that the accompanying drinks be switched to black coffee and tea, and set up a water station by the open area to provide water for the strikers.


    After breakfast, the black soldiers resumed their singing and dancing in the open area in front of the office building. However, the light breakfast and frequent trips to the restroom soon sapped their energy. The clapping and stomping became erratic, and the dancers lost the synchronized momentum they had shown the previous day.


    ¡°Looks like the first step worked,¡± Deng Shiyang said, turning from the blinds to Harris: ¡°Make sure the cafeteria serves a hearty lunch, and keep them there after they¡¯re full. To show we take them seriously, I want you to attend the negotiations as the ¡®camp director.¡¯¡±


    ¡°No problem.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Deng Shiyang continued. ¡°We need a witness for the negotiations. Do you have anyone suitable?¡±


    ¡°There are plenty of people here, but I¡¯m not sure what you¡¯re looking for.¡±


    ¡°The person shouldn¡¯t be white, should be older, and must be respected.¡±


    ¡°Then call Old Red,¡± Harris interrupted.


    ¡°Who?¡±


    ¡°Ellis Bod Redi, known as ¡®Red,¡¯he working in the canteen .¡±


    ¡°Sorry, I still don¡¯t know who that is,¡± Deng Shiyang said, trying to recall the name but drawing a blank.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Uh¡ª¡± Harris lowered his head in thought before explaining, ¡°It''s the canteen manager who looks a lot like Morgan Freeman.¡±


    ¡°Ah!¡± Deng Shiyang exclaimed. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you say that earlier?¡±


    ¡°I thought you¡¯d know,¡± Harris replied. ¡°¡®Red¡¯ is old enough, well-educated, and well-liked. I think they¡¯ll accept him.¡±


    ¡°But will he be willing to be a witness?¡±


    ¡°No doubt. I¡¯ll talk to him in a bit.¡± Harris said confidently.


    ¡°In that case,¡± Deng Shiyang thought for a moment, then turned to Semler. ¡°Wait until just before lunch and inform them that the negotiations will be at one o¡¯clock. Tell them we¡¯ll send three representatives and they should do the same.¡±


    ¡°Understood.¡± the German replied.


    Noon arrived quickly. The black soldiers, tired and hungry after a morning of protest, cheered when they heard that management had agreed to negotiations. They eagerly made their way to the cafeteria, and with the promise of a hearty lunch and cold beer arranged by Harris, no one wanted to leave and stand in the hot midday sun to support their fellow protesters.


    The negotiations were set in the ground floor meeting room of the office building. At the long rectangular table, Deng Shiyang, Harris, and Semler sat side by side. Across from them were three black representatives, with Old Red¡¯s seat in the middle as a neutral witness.


    Semler began by introducing the representatives and the witness. He placed a notepad and a pen on the table, opened them, and spoke a few words in Portuguese. Thus, the negotiations began.


    From the representatives¡¯ demeanor, it was clear that the true negotiator was the tall, thin man in the middle, Vanduren Mudi. The two crew-cut men flanking him were there to support his statements. Mudi¡¯s lighter skin and narrow, elongated face set him apart from the rounder faces of most other black soldiers. His wide mouth stretched to his cheeks, and his thin, pale lips added to an unusual appearance, complemented by down-turned, triangular eyes and short, bushy eyebrows.


    The negotiations unfolded as Du Preez had described. The black representatives began by airing grievances¡ªcomplaining about the instructors¡¯ harsh treatment, the grueling nature of the training, inadequate safety measures, and the camp¡¯s disregard for black soldiers¡¯ rights, which they claimed led to the accident.


    Since the discussion required translation by Semler, it took even longer. The lengthy and cumbersome complaints dragged on for most of the afternoon, until the sun casting a long golden beam across the floor.


    ¡°We value the opportunity you provide and are willing to work for you¡­¡± A subtle signal reached Deng Shiyang¡¯s ears as Semler translated the words.

 Negotiation terms

    ¡°Thank you very much for your understanding.¡±


    After enduring more than three hours of pretending to attentively listen, Deng Shiyang, who had long grown tired, suddenly felt invigorated and sat up straighter.


    ¡°However,¡± Mudi continued, a troubled expression appearing on his face, ¡°we have our difficulties, and we hope you can understand.¡±


    Even without translation, Deng Shiyang could tell this was the prelude to their demands. He responded smoothly, ¡°Of course, if you have any issues, feel free to bring them up. We will do our best to help.¡±


    When Semler translated this into Portuguese, Mudi broke into a grin. His mouth stretched wide, making it appear even larger, and his gleaming white teeth stood out sharply against his skin, amplifying the strangeness of his face.


    ¡°We have two requests: First, we ask that all dangerous training be stopped, and second, we want improved compensation.¡±


    ¡°We can discuss the second point,¡± Deng Shiyang said, pausing for a moment before adding firmly, ¡°but I cannot agree to the first.¡±


    Mudi¡¯s expression darkened upon hearing Semler¡¯s translation.


    Before he could respond, Deng Shiyang interjected, ¡°I think you know that the job you have to do is not the standing guard near the oil fields or escorting oil company workers to and from the oil fields.Do you really think sending a group of soldiers who can¡¯t even aim properly when they hear gunfire onto the battlefield is any different from murder?¡±


    Mudi appeared taken aback by Deng Shiyang¡¯s sudden show of resolve but maintained his composure as he argued, ¡°We¡¯ve had military training before, and it wasn¡¯t like this!¡±


    ¡°It was precisely due to insufficient training that the government forces were defeated so thoroughly by the opposition,¡± Deng Shiyang said, taking care not to sound dismissive. ¡°I know what you¡¯re going to say¡ªyes, EO had better weapons when they defeated the opposition, but let me tell you this: the ¡®overhead  live-fire¡¯ drill you did a few days ago is a standard U.S. military exercise. If you can¡¯t stay calm under live fire, then any advanced equipment given to you is wasted.¡±


    Semler translated this into Portuguese and glanced at the three black representatives, adding, ¡°He¡¯s telling the truth.¡±


    The three men¡¯s confidence seemed to deflate. Mudi¡¯s earlier smugness had vanished, and his thick eyebrows knitted together at the center of his forehead.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°This is discrimination!¡± one of the burly men who had been backing up Mudi shouted. The other quickly chimed in, ¡°Yes, blacks are not slaves to white men! We are not cheap cannon fodder!¡±


    Deng Shiyang glanced at Mudi, who made no move to intervene, instead narrowing his eyes and watching.


    ¡°Ha,¡± Deng Shiyang scoffed. ¡°If that were true, I wouldn¡¯t bother spending so much money and time training you.¡± He paused as,waiting the Semler translated, then continued, ¡°If you refuse to do anything, I¡¯ll terminate the contract and send you back. I''d rather pay Jabba the penalty. I can''t take you to the battlefield in your current state.¡±


    When Semler relayed the latter part in Portuguese, Mudi suddenly raised his head and asked, ¡°Mr. Deylek, did you just say ''you wouldn¡¯t take us to the battlefield?'' Are you going with us?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m the project manager, so of course I¡¯ll be with you, but only if you complete all the training,¡± Deng Shiyang affirmed.


    Mudi nodded slightly but remained silent.


    Deng Shiyang noted his reaction and said, ¡°Now, let¡¯s set aside the training for a moment. I want to hear your proposals for improving compensation.¡±


    This statement effectively cut off any further negotiation on training, deepening Mudi¡¯s frown. He lowered his head in thought, then raised it with a determined look and said, ¡°We hope for a pay increase of no less than 20%, and compensation for comrades injured or killed in accidents.¡±


    ¡°For this recent incident, our compensation plan is as follows:¡± Deng Shiyang said, pausing for emphasis. ¡°We will provide the family of the deceased with a payment equal to the full contract value. If similar incidents occur in the future, they will be compensated at the same rate. If anyone is injured during training, we will cover all medical expenses, and if an injury forces someone to withdraw from work, they will receive half the contract value as compensation.¡±


    While the death benefit was significant, the representatives were more concerned about pay for the living. Mudi couldn¡¯t help but ask about the salary increase.


    ¡°The budget for this project is tight, and 20% is too high,¡± Deng Shiyang said. ¡°Our maximum offer is a 10% increase. However, if you complete your training and perform well in combat, I can offer an additional six-month contract with a monthly salary of no less than $1,500.¡±


    When this was translated, Mudi¡¯s lips twitched upward slightly, though his expression remained conflicted. After conferring quietly with his colleagues, he said, ¡°We need to consult with the others before giving you an answer.¡±


    Deng Shiyang smiled at the translation and said, ¡°That¡¯s fine. I¡¯ll await your response.¡± He turned to Harris and said, ¡°Find someone to escort them to the cafeteria.¡±


    ¡°No problem.¡± Harris replied, opening the door and speaking to a black staff member waiting outside.


    As Mudi and his companions left, the tension in the room eased. Deng Shiyang drank a whole bottle of now-lukewarm water in one go and leaned back in his chair, exhausted. Semler stretched his limbs before returning to organize the notes in his notebook.


    About half an hour later, Mudi returned to the meeting room with news that they accepted management¡¯s terms. The negotiations concluded successfully. Shortly after, both parties and the witness signed the reconciliation agreement and meeting summary in English and Portuguese, bringing the incident¡¯s turmoil to an official close.

 Combat courses

    Time swiftly moved into the sixth week, the belated "Cristo" finally arrived at Richards Bay port.


    The day before docking, Sernechevich had already prepared an entry report in accordance with the regulations of the "Commercial Port Authority Management Ordinance," detailing the specifications of the "Cristo" and faxed it to the Richards Bay Port Authority for entry approval. This procedure was something he had done many times as a first officer, so it was routine. However, knowing what the cargo was this time still made him nervous.


    Shortly after Johan Schlink secured the transaction, Daniel Company submitted an arms sales application to the South African government, along with an ¡°End User Certificate¡± issued by the Burundian government. The documents made their way through the Treasury, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and the Ministry of Defense over three weeks of bureaucratic processing, accumulating additional paperwork as they passed through various departments. By the time the approval was granted, the application had grown from a few pages to a thick dossier. The military-green crates containing weapons and ammunition were then transported from the ¡°Daniel Land Systems¡± munitions factory to a designated hazardous materials warehouse in Richards Bay.


    Now, the approved application was enclosed in an official South African government document pouch, delivered to the office of the Richards Bay Port Authority, where it sat on the desk of Director Mosini Otu.


    Otu took the hefty dossier from the pouch and leafed through it absentmindedly. He was well aware that such arms deals had to pass through strict scrutiny by various departments, and any document reaching his desk for final approval was little more than a formality. Everyone knew about Daniel Company¡¯s strong ties with the South African government, and if there were any real issues, they wouldn¡¯t be for a port authority director to handle.


    The document pouch contained an array of files, each vetted by the Ministry of Defense, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and the Treasury. The Ministry of Defense confirmed there were no prohibited advanced weapons in the shipment; the Ministry of Foreign Affairs assessed that supplying the arms to Burundi would not harm South Africa¡¯s international interests; and the Treasury simply checked with Standard Bank to ensure that an adequate dollar credit line had been received.


    After skimming the papers, Otu glanced at the wall clock, which read 11:58. Through the glass partition, he saw that his colleagues were starting to pack up for lunch. He quickly signed a departure notice on an application for an outbound ship submitted by ¡°Carl Augusta International Trade Company,¡± then walked out of the office, calling a few friendly coworkers to join him for lunch.


    After lunch, Semler gathered the black soldiers at the training camp¡¯s shooting range.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Due to safety concerns and significant opposition, the planned ¡°artificial target exposure¡± training was ultimately scrapped, replaced by an eight-day combat course.


    ¡°I believe that in the previous training, you¡¯ve already learned basic aiming and shooting methods. Today, we will cover combat techniques,¡± Semler said, standing in the clearing of the shooting range. He wore a tan short-sleeve T-shirt and desert-pattern camouflage pants, with an AR-S rifle with its magazine removed slung across his shoulder by a single-point sling.


    ¡°Now, I will demonstrate the basic weapon handling positions.¡± He placed the rifle butt against his shoulder and held the gun at an angle toward the ground, explaining to those gathered around him, ¡°This is the most commonly used ready position, known as the ¡®ready¡¯ stance.¡±


    He raised the muzzle slightly and pivoted his torso while holding the rifle, saying, ¡°When scanning for targets, don¡¯t just turn your head¡ªalign your muzzle with your line of sight. As soon as you spot an enemy, switch immediately to the aiming position.¡± He raised the rifle to eye level, placing his right index finger on the trigger guard.


    ¡°Remember, unless you are in the aiming stance, do not place your finger on the trigger. This is important and must be practiced repeatedly until it becomes second nature.¡± While explaining, he demonstrated switching between the ¡®ready¡¯ and ¡®aiming¡¯ positions a few times.


    After having them practice for a while, Semler called one of the black soldiers to the clearing. ¡°In previous training, you¡¯ve learned standing and prone shooting positions. Now, I will teach you another commonly used stance¡ªthe kneeling position.¡± He directed the soldier to turn around and take a knee facing away from the group.


    ¡°This one-knee stance is common but has a drawback.¡± Semler nudged the soldier¡¯s heel, causing him to wobble.


    ¡°When in the kneeling position, your body weight rests on the rear leg. Just using your knee and toes for support makes your stance unstable.¡± He knelt down, extending his right foot flat so that his shin and the top of his foot were on the ground. ¡°This increases your contact area and lowers your center of gravity, preventing wobbling.¡±


    The surrounding soldiers nodded in understanding.


    Semler stood up and moved to a wooden wall used for cover during shooting exercises. He leaned slightly out from behind the wall, exposing his right shoulder and head while aiming his rifle outward.


    ¡°This is how you use obstacles for cover when shooting, and you should already be familiar with it,¡± he said. ¡°This position minimizes exposure, but if someone is standing behind me and I need to take cover suddenly¡­¡± he abruptly ducked back behind the wall.


    A sharp clatter sounded as the rifle barrel hit the wall.


    ¡°As you can see,¡± he said while lowering the muzzle and pulling it behind cover.


    ¡°In confined spaces, a long barrel can hinder movement,¡± he explained, holding the rifle horizontally in front of his chest and pointing to the AR-S¡¯s folding stock. ¡°When you¡¯re in such conditions, this stock becomes a burden.¡± He quickly folded the stock.


    ¡°In close-quarters combat, experience, reaction, and firepower are more crucial than precision.¡± He returned to the wall, leaned slightly out again, and pushed the rifle forward using the sling to stabilize it.


    ¡°Using a sling allows you to push the gun forward with both hands in one motion, making your response faster and handling more flexible in tight spaces,¡± he said, demonstrating how he swiftly retreated behind the wall, his movements noticeably smoother than when the stock was extended.

 Transform ‘Cristo’

    The concept of launching aircraft from ships first appeared two centuries ago. During the Napoleonic Wars, the British used the Royal Navy frigate ¡°Pallas¡± to fly kites along the French coast, dropping anti-Napoleon leaflets into France from the sky.


    In the mid-19th century, the Austrians planned to launch hot air balloons from the warship ¡°Vulkan¡± to bomb Venice. Although this bold attempt failed due to a change in wind direction, the idea of a ¡°balloon carrier¡± left a strong impression on the Americans. During the Peninsula Campaign of the American Civil War, the Union Army used coal barges to carry balloons for reconnaissance missions at sea.


    A century ago, a German mail ship that traveled between Hamburg and New York planned to launch mail planes from the foredeck to expedite mail delivery. This concept, reported in the news, caused an uproar, with some Americans who recognized its military potential suspecting that Germany¡¯s military was using postal operations as a cover to test a new method for attacking the United States. This inspired Washington Irving Chambers, an assistant to the Chief of the U.S. Navy Bureau of Equipment, to begin conducting experiments on launching aircraft from naval ships.


    Throughout history, the development of aircraft carriers has been closely tied to civilian ships, with many examples of civilian ships being converted into carriers. For instance, the first aircraft carrier of the U.S. Navy, the ¡°USS Langley,¡± was converted from a coal transport ship. During World War II, the Allies converted existing cargo ships into ¡°escort carriers¡± to protect maritime supply lines from Axis submarines.


    During the Falklands War in the 1980s, to compensate for the Royal Navy¡¯s lack of carrier-based aircraft, the British modified four requisitioned cargo ships to carry helicopters and Harrier jets, providing air support to the fleet and landing forces. Among these ships, the ill-fated ¡°Atlantic Conveyor¡± became the most well-known. This container ship was struck by an Exocet missile launched by an Argentine Navy Super ¨¦tendard on May 25, 1982, sinking with over a dozen helicopters and substantial supplies.


    Three days later, the ¡°Cristo¡± docked at Richards Bay had almost completed its refitting. This did not indicate high efficiency on the part of Sernechevich¡¯s crew or the dock repair workers; rather, the ship itself required minimal modifications.


    As an aircraft carrier, the most important feature is the flight deck for aircraft operations. The foredeck of the ¡°Cristo¡± was 350 feet long, spacious and flat enough to accommodate simultaneous takeoffs and landings of two Mi-17 helicopters. Built in an earlier era, the deck had no installed guide rails, and the only potential obstructions were the twist-lock sockets for securing containers.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    However, this was not a significant issue. Simply cutting off the protruding twist-lock sockets with a welding torch and smoothing down any tire-puncturing burrs would suffice. Unlike fixed-wing aircraft, helicopters do not require a runway for takeoff, so the space needed was minimal. Clearing enough space could be done in a few hours by four or five people, so Sernechevich decided to leave this task until they were at sea to avoid drawing attention in port.


    The second issue, aside from the flight deck, was fuel. After researching, Keith found that the Mi-8MT had a fuel consumption rate of half a gallon per mile. The distance from the starting point to the destination was 150 miles, requiring each helicopter to make three round trips to transport all personnel and supplies to the presidential palace, consuming at least 900 gallons of fuel. Considering the additional consumption for circling the target, flying fully loaded, operating in mountainous areas, and potential emergency situations like abandoning the mission, he decided that the ¡°Cristo¡± should carry 3,000 gallons of aviation kerosene.


    On land, this amount of fuel would require an eight-ton tanker truck, but smuggling fuel onto a cargo ship was surprisingly simple. Modern ships are equipped with ballast tanks, which are filled with seawater when unloaded to maintain stability. These tanks essentially acted as built-in fuel storage compartments. Since the ¡°Cristo¡± had been docked in port since undergoing repairs, some of its ballast tanks were unused, saving them the effort of cleaning them out.


    Of course, delivering fuel to a guarded dock was out of the question, so the loading point was set in international waters. Sernechevich had the crew modify the ballast tank¡¯s water pump, while Mark, through Du Preez¡¯s connections, secured a refueling ship. Using a payment of 20,000 rand convinced the captain to deliver 3,000 gallons of aviation fuel to the rendezvous point.


    With the necessary provisions for the helicopters in place, the next concern was living arrangements for the crew during their time at sea. Fortunately, the solution was straightforward. The ¡°Cristo,¡± being a container ship, had interior space equivalent to half a standard football field, providing ample room for over a hundred people without feeling cramped.


    As for living conditions, the ship was stocked with folding beds, military sleeping bags, camping equipment, and water purification systems to ensure an adequate supply of fresh water. Additionally, there was enough food on board to last everyone a month. Although squeezing more than a hundred people onto a freighter designed for a crew of fewer than twenty was far from ¡°comfortable,¡± it was certainly more luxurious than stowing away in a container like sardines. For those aboard, it was a seaborne journey .

 Team tactics and combat coordination course

    After the morning¡¯s routine exercises, the black soldiers were called to gather at the shooting range.


    Today¡¯s training focused on squad tactics and cooperative combat skills. Deng Shiyang was also brought to the training ground to assist Semler.


    ¡°¡­Therefore, today we have invited Mr. Deylek to demonstrate,¡± Semler explained in Portuguese to the group.


    A sparse round of applause sounded from the crowd.


    Deng Shiyang, dressed in a coyote-brown polo shirt and three-color desert camouflage pants with an AMD-65 rifle slung on a single-point sling over his shoulder, glanced at the unenthusiastic group through his sunglasses and smirked slightly.


    It was no surprise that he wasn¡¯t warmly received; after failing to secure better terms during negotiations, Moody must have blamed the management, casting Deng Shiyang, the project leader and chief representative, as the ¡°villain¡± exploiting the workers.


    ¡°In previous training, you learned how to shoot using basic cover,¡± Semler pointed to the shooting range behind him. ¡°But combat situations are much more complex. I will now explain common types of cover and how to use them.¡±


    Looking in the indicated direction, one could see a rusty Ford pickup truck parked on the range, several blue oil drums lined up, and a mock wall made of wooden frames covered with plywood, complete with a rectangular window.


    ¡°¡®Concealment¡¯ is a broad term that includes anything capable of hiding your body¡ªgrass, trash cans, sandbags, cars, walls, furniture, and so on. These can help you remain unseen by the enemy.¡±


    ¡°However,¡± he emphasized, ¡°not all concealments offer protection. A typical example is tall grass. It obstructs visibility but doesn¡¯t stop bullets. Once you¡¯re discovered, it¡¯s practically useless.¡±


    ¡°So, in combat, you need to know how to find ¡®cover¡¯¡ªsomething that can stop bullets. Even if the enemy knows you¡¯re behind it, they can¡¯t hurt you from a certain angle. Examples include concrete walls, thick tree trunks, sandbags, dirt mounds, and trenches.¡±


    ¡°Of all covers, vehicles are the most misleading. Certain parts can provide protection, but most are mere shelter,¡± Semler moved to the old pickup, pointing at the bodywork as he explained. ¡°Movie heroes often use car doors as cover, but in reality, doing so is suicidal because whether a character gets shot is up to the director.¡±


    The surrounding soldiers chuckled, though Deng Shiyang, who didn¡¯t understand Portuguese, was left puzzled by the laughter.


    ¡°Most car bodies are made of rolled thin steel sheets, easily penetrated by handguns ammunition, and utterly useless against for the rifles ammunition,¡± Semler said, moving to the front of the truck and kneeling by the front tire. ¡°Only two parts of a car offer reliable cover: the engine and the wheels. The engine can withstand most medium-caliber rifles ammunition, while the wheels provide protection for your legs against shots from beneath the vehicle.¡±


    ¡°People naturally hug cover closely during a firefight for a false sense of safety, but don¡¯t do that behind a car,¡± he said, stepping back a few feet. ¡°Bullets hitting the hood at an angle can ricochet. Keeping a distance of one to two meters reduces the risk of being hit by ricochets bullets.¡±


    ¡°Also, avoid peeking over low cover. It¡¯s conspicuous and invites enemy fire,¡± Semler demonstrated a side-peek shooting stance from behind the car. ¡°Always peek and shoot from the sides of cover when possible. This reduces exposure and uses shadows to your advantage. When shooting out of a window from inside, use shadows for cover and don¡¯t stand in front of or push your gun outside the window.¡±


    ¡°These are the common types of cover. Remember what I¡¯ve said and apply them on the battlefield.¡± Semler said, gathering everyone at the far end of the shooting range.


    Leading them behind the mock wall, he pointed to two half-body targets eight feet away from the wall, each with four balloons attached at the head, chest, and abdomen. The wall¡¯s window was about four feet square, with its bottom at least six feet off the ground, making the targets invisible from the front.


    Back in front of the wall, he pointed at the window. ¡°Suppose this wall represents a house. How would you eliminate enemies behind that window?¡±This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    ¡°Use a grenade,¡± someone answered from the crowd.


    ¡°Correct,¡± Semler nodded. ¡°Explosive devices such as grenades, grenade launchers, and rocket launchers can effectively kill enemies in enclosed spaces. Before entering an unknown area, throwing a grenade can reduce the risk of ambush.¡±


    ¡°However, weapons that use shrapnel are more likely to wound than kill, and furniture and other items can absorb much of the damage. Throwing a grenade before entering can disorient and disrupt enemies, giving you a safe entry point. But finishing the fight requires your rifle or machine gun.¡±


    Semler moved to the right side of the window and squatted against the wall.Then he opened his hands to Deng Shiyang. Deng Shiyang stepped forward and stood on Semler''s knees. Semler hugged Deng Shiyang''s thighs with his hands.


    ¡°See, this solves the height issue,¡± Semler said.


    Deng Shiyang, now standing on Semler¡¯s knees, did not lean into the window but raised his rifle and inclined his body slightly.


    ¡°No matter how dumb you might be, don¡¯t stick your head in front of a window¡ªthat¡¯s asking to die.¡±


    After the ladder demonstration, Semler let go, and Deng Shiyang jumped back down.


    ¡°Next, we will show how to coordinate during an assault,¡± Semler signaled some range safety officers over and whispered instructions. The officers ran to a nearby pickup and began unloading equipment.


    The attack starting point was about 80 yards from the mock wall, with five types of cover in between: tall and low walls made of wood and hollow bricks, six metal barrels lined up, a chest-high sandbag wall, and a horizontal, rusted pickup. Near each cover were three or four balloon targets.


    These targets differed from standard silhouette targets. Each stood about waist-high with a wooden cross-shaped base, and instead of boards, they had red balloons at the top, roughly the size of a human head.


    ¡°Our goal is to suppress and eliminate the enemy in that window,¡± Semler pointed to the mock wall, now set with a red silhouette target in the window.


    ¡°During the advance, Mr. Deylek will suppress the enemy in the window while I take out nearby balloon targets and advance to the closest cover. Once I¡¯ve secured the position, I¡¯ll provide covering fire for him to move to the next cover. We¡¯ll switch roles each time one of us advances, covering and moving in turns.¡±


    After explaining, Semler directed the soldiers to stand aside while he and Deng Shiyang stepped up to the firing line.


    Deng Shiyang wielded the AMD-65 he had zeroed the night before. He extended the stock and pulled a magazine from the hip pouch, loading it and setting the safety to semi-auto. He racked the charging handle.


    ¡°Ready,¡± Semler raised his left hand.


    A black soldier with a stopwatch nodded.


    Semler raised his AR-S and fired at a balloon target near the wooden wall.


    At the sound of the first shot, Deng Shiyang aimed at the window and began shooting. Since the zeroing distance was twenty-five yards, he pressed down the light spot of the red dot scope when aiming.


    ¡°Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop¡­¡± The AMD-65 barked out shots.


    As half the magazine emptied, Semler dispatched three balloon targets and sprinted to the wooden wall 10 yards ahead, firing at the window for suppression.


    Deng Shiyang redirected his shots to the targets behind the pickup.


    ¡°Pop-pop¡­ pop-pop¡­ pop-pop¡­¡± Three controlled double-taps burst the balloons behind the pickup truck.He bowed and ran to the front wheel of the pickup truck and knelt down on one knee, and continued shooting using the hood as support.


    Semler reloaded swiftly and aimed at targets near the next cover.


    Covering for Semler¡¯s advance, Deng Shiyang emptied of his the second magazine. He grasped the pistol grip with his right hand and pressed his shoulder against the butt of the gun to keep the muzzle pointed. He reached to his waist with his left hand and pulled out a spare magazine, pressed the magazine latch forward and knocked the empty magazine out, and then inserted the spare magazine into the magazine slot. Then quickly break the four balloon targets near the oil drums.


    When he reached the row of oil drums, the distance between him and the mock wall was less than thirty yards. At this point, aiming and controlling the bullet scatter became much easier, so even though he continued shooting in single-fire mode, his rate of fire was much faster compared to the beginning. In less than thirty seconds, he had emptied two more magazines.


    On the other side, Semmler performed equally impressively. He took less than ten seconds to eliminate the "enemy" near the final cover and then ran to the blind spot under the mock wall''s fire with his gun in one hand. He raised his hand and threw a light blue M69 training grenade into the window, then crouched against the wall just below the right side of the window.


    Taking advantage of the short interval before the grenade exploded, Deng Shiyang sprinted  around for the metal oil barrels shelter and ran to the mock wall, changing magazines as he ran. Just then, a "bang" sound came from behind the mock wall, followed by a puff of white smoke.


    Upon hearing the training grenade explode, Deng Shiyang quickened his pace, dashing to Semmler''s side. He stepped onto Semmler''s knees and stood on them. Once the "human ladder" was set, Deng Shiyang switched the AMD-65 to his left hand, leaned towards the window, and aimed through it to shoot at the targets behind the wall. After a rapid burst of fire that lasted only two seconds, all eight balloons hanging on the two mannequins were gone.


    "Done!" After breaking all the balloons, he raised his right hand to signal, and the person timing the exercise immediately stopped the stopwatch.


    Deng Shiyang turned off the rifle''s safety and jumped down to the ground. Both men removed their magazines and cleared their chambers. Semmler then turned toward the group of onlookers and asked, "What was this time?"


    "One minute and fourteen seconds," answered the Black man holding the stopwatch.

 In Killing House

    The dock workers at Richards Bay Port took three days to load the "Kristo" with over a dozen containers filled with various supplies. However, the ordered firearms were still stored in the warehouse and were scheduled to be loaded onto the ship the day before departure.


    The most challenging aspect of the transportation process was moving the two Mi-17 helicopters. It took quite an effort to get these two "Hippo" helicopters to the port. First, Keith contacted the pilots and had them relocate the helicopters to Richards Bay Airport, where they were then towed into a hangar to have the rotors removed. Du Preez contacted a transportation company that specialized in moving large cargo and rented two sixty-foot-long flatbed trucks.


    After securing the transportation vehicles, they faced another issue while planning the route. The Mi-17 fuselage stands over fifteen feet tall¡ªfar exceeding the clearance of bridges and tunnels¡ªmeaning they had to take a detour through the suburbs at a snail''s pace and even request assistance from the traffic department to close roads and maintain order. As a result, transporting the helicopters from the airport to the port ended up taking an entire day.


    On the day the helicopters were finally loaded onto the ship, the combat training course also reached its conclusion. It was also the same day that the training camp¡¯s "Killing House" was finally completed.


    The origins of the "Killing House" have long been lost to history, but since it was popularized by the British SAS and the American Delta Force many years ago, this facility has become a critical part of close-quarters combat training worldwide, used by militaries and law enforcement alike.


    Given the constraints of time and budget, the training camp''s "Killing House" was constructed as a "tire house." Its materials came from junkyards and garbage dumps across Botswana, South Africa, and Namibia. It took three weeks just to gather the old, discarded tires.


    Building the tire house wasn''t complicated, but it required a lot of labor. Workers would place used tires flat on the ground and stack them, inserting a long wooden stake into the middle and filling the inside with sand before compacting it. The result was a ten-foot-high "tire column." When lined up on the ground and placed side by side, these columns formed bulletproof walls.


    This "Killing House" wasn''t very large, covering an area of less than 600 square feet. But it used 3,000 discarded tires, which were stacked and assembled by dozens of temporary workers from nearby towns. It took them half a week to build, thanks in part to Harris spending a considerable amount of money on overtime pay to have the workers rush the construction day and night.


    The tire walls inside the house were divided into a thirty-foot-long hallway and two square rooms. The entrance was fitted with a wooden door, while the interior was furnished with old pieces of furniture, along with several target mannequins to simulate a living room and a bedroom. To allow instructors to observe the trainees up close, a narrow catwalk was installed atop the tire walls, with cameras also mounted in each corner of the rooms.


    The African soldiers had never seen such a novel training facility. Their curiosity and excitement made them eager to get inside to show off their skills well before it was even completed. But Semler seemed determined to build up their anticipation, making them practice instead in an adjacent open area¡ªhe had them split into squads, carrying unloaded rifles and rehearsing team movement and positioning within makeshift "hallways" and "rooms" that had been roped off.


    However, the current week¡¯s combat skills course was only a crash course, and there wasn''t much time left for further training. As such, on the day the "Killing House" was completed, it welcomed its first batch of users.


    More than a hundred African soldiers gathered in front of the "Killing House." A makeshift long table constructed from plywood was placed on the ground, with four laptops sitting side by side, each connected to the closed-circuit television cameras installed inside the facility, allowing the rest to observe the trainees in action.


    For the mission briefing, Semler moved the whiteboard from the conference room to the open area. On the board was a floor plan of the "Killing House," drawn in black marker, with about a dozen red and yellow magnets arranged next to it. Standing directly across from the whiteboard were ten fully-armed African soldiers.


    Semler took six red magnets and four yellow ones, lining them up in front of the entrance on the floor plan. Then he turned and gestured toward the nearby "Killing House," saying, "According to the intel, there are six enemies inside, but their exact positions are unknown. Your mission is to storm in and eliminate all of them."Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    "As you''ve been practicing for the past few days, you will be split into an ''assault team'' and a ''support team.''" He pointed to the magnets, then moved three red ones into the hallway. "Once the assault team is in and the hallway is secure, the rest of the assault team will follow, with the support team providing cover and entering last." He moved all the magnets into the building, placing them at the doorways of the two rooms.


    "I''ve already taught you how to clear a room." He moved two red magnets into the living room, placing them in the corners nearest the door. "If there''s no resistance or minimal resistance upon entry, take up positions in the two corners immediately, with the rest following and the support team providing cover in the hallway. If there''s heavy resistance at the door, the support team will suppress the enemy, and during that time, the assault team will hold their positions in the hallway. Once the enemy is suppressed, the assault team will enter." He moved four more red magnets inside, then pointed to the magnets in the corners before extending his finger to indicate the opposite corner, adding, "Once inside, move along the diagonal line of the room to search for enemies and eliminate all of them."


    After demonstrating with the whiteboard, he turned and asked, "Got it?"


    "Got it!" the ten men answered in unison.


    Semler nodded, then walked over to the makeshift table where the laptops were placed.


    The assault team took up positions on both sides of the "Killing House." One team member pulled out a light blue M69 training grenade, pulled the safety pin, and another signaled toward the table.


    Semler picked up the stopwatch and raised his left hand, waving it down, and the soldier immediately threw the training grenade into the house.


    "Boom!" As the sound of the explosion echoed, two soldiers on either side of the door immediately turned toward the interior, raising their weapons and aiming inside.


    "Rat-tat-tat¡ª" A burst of gunfire rang out, shredding a chest target placed at the end of the hallway. The two men then led the charge into the house.


    First the assault team entered, then the support team, and soon the three squads had successfully stormed the house. Each assault team member carried a large sledgehammer hooked onto their belts. After entering the "Killing House," they pulled out the hammers, rushing to the doorways, and swung them at the locks.


    "Bang!" The flimsy wooden doors couldn''t withstand the heavy hammers. The person who broke down the door dropped the hammer, kicked the door open, and then sidestepped out of the way, allowing the person behind to throw in a training grenade.


    Two more explosions rang out, and the assault teams streamed into the rooms one after another, followed by a flurry of gunfire echoing inside the tire house.


    The gunfire began and ended quickly, lasting just a few seconds before a voice shouted, "Clear!"


    All the enemy targets had been turned to swiss cheese. The entire mission¡ªfrom start to finish¡ªtook less than twenty seconds, a rather clean and efficient operation. For those who had undergone only a crash course in training, reaching this level was already commendable, but Semler¡ªwho had been staring at the screen¡ªcould only shake his head.


    "Turn off the weapon''s safety, clear chambers."


    The ten Africans immediately complied and stood in a line in front of the "Killing House."


    "Gentlemen." Semler walked up to them with a stern expression.


    The men who had previously stood proudly, now exchanged uneasy glances.


    The German waved them over, leading them inside the "Killing House." He stopped in the middle of the living room and asked, "Do you believe in God?"


    That question earned him ten bewildered looks.


    "Thank Him, because if this had been real, most of you would be dead."


    He spoke as he walked over to the corner of the room, where a dummy dressed in a light gray T-shirt and navy blue pants lay on the ground. He bent down and turned the dummy over, revealing a Browning automatic pistol taped to its chest.


    "Look at this¡ªthis gentleman here has a gun."


    After saying this, he moved to the other side of the room, reaching into the gap between the sofa and the tire wall, pulling out another dummy that had been stuffed inside.


    Throwing the dummy at their feet, Semler pointed to a training grenade taped to its "hand" and said, "And take a look at this guy¡ªhe''s got a grenade." He then added, "While you idiots were shouting ''Clear'' ,this guy would have had enough time to go meet Allah and those seventy-seven virgins."


    "But the intel said there were only six enemies..." one of the men protested.


    "You think in real missions, when intel says there are only six enemies, that means there are only six enemies?" Semler cut him off sharply. "There are three things you should never trust in combat¡ªintelligence, grenades, and the corpses lying on the ground."


    "Now tell me, what was your mission?"


    "To eliminate the enemy."


    "Wrong. It was to eliminate ''all'' the enemies." Semler corrected them. "Your mission is to capture this building, clear out all hostile forces, and eliminate potential threats. Remember, never overestimate a grenade¡¯s effectiveness. As long as it¡¯s not one of our own, standing or lying, shoot the couple of  bullets in the corpses. Turn any potential threat into a dead one before doing anything else. If enemies are hiding behind cover or barriers, suppress or eliminate them with machine guns and grenade launchers. Understood?"


    The African soldier looked at the ground, frustrated, and said nothing.


    "Did you understand me?" he asked again, raising his voice.


    "Yes, sir..." they answered in low voices.


    "Next time, bring your brains along. Thank God this was just a god damn exercise!"

 At Madagascar

    Deng Shiyang received the news while waiting for a transfer at Sir Seretse Khama International Airport in Gaborone. It was the last day of the sixth week, and he was on his way to Antananarivo, the capital of Madagascar.


    Inside the terminal, he logged into his email on his mobile phone and found a few new messages. One of them was from Hong Kong''s "China Merchants Securities," sent by his stockbroker. The email informed him that "Ruiyuan International" management had announced a stock split yesterday, at a ratio of 6:1.


    At that point, the share price of "Ruiyuan International" had exceeded 60 cents. Considering Deng Shiyang''s average purchase price was 49 cents, his shares had appreciated by nearly 20%. Although the split reduced the share price to one-sixth of its original value, the number of shares he owned increased sixfold to 22.8 million shares.


    After two transfers, in Gaborone and Johannesburg, and a total of eighteen hours of flying, Deng Shiyang arrived at Ivato International Airport in Antananarivo at 2 PM the following afternoon. He first got a visa on arrival at the immigration counter and then picked up his luggage and exited the airport, taking a taxi to his hotel.


    Due to the coup that occurred two months earlier, the country''s commerce and tourism sectors had not yet recovered. Antananarivo appeared rather deserted, with empty streets void of pedestrians. Piles of garbage lay uncollected along the roadside, while most shops were closed, giving the place a sense of desolation and decay.


    Since gaining independence in 1958, Madagascar''s domestic political landscape has been marked by instability, with revolts and coups becoming routine occurrences. Prolonged military interference in politics has led the government to grow increasingly autocratic and corrupt. Combined with economic hardship affecting people''s livelihoods, public discontent had been steadily rising.


    In January of this year, large-scale anti-government protests broke out in the capital, which later escalated into violent clashes, resulting in over 130 deaths. On March 17th, the military intervened, staging a coup to overthrow the democratically elected government led by President Marc Ravalomanana. After Ravalomanana fled into exile, the military backed the opposition leader¡ªformer mayor of Antananarivo, Andry Rajoelina¡ªto assume power as interim president.


    However, the constitution of Madagascar clearly states that anyone serving as president must be at least 40 years old. Since Rajoelina was only 35, the High Constitutional Court ruled that he could only serve as acting president to circumvent the constitutional requirements.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Due to widespread dissatisfaction with the military''s overthrow of the elected government, the transitional government failed to gain recognition from the international community. The United States promptly cut off all non-humanitarian aid to Madagascar, the African Union announced the suspension of the country''s membership, and not a single nation sent representatives to Rajoelina''s inauguration ceremony.


    The Carlton Hotel is Madagascar''s only five-star hotel, and it is considered one of the few luxurious venues in the country. However, Deng Shiyang did not choose this hotel for comfort; he chose it because he saw on the hotel website that the business center provided translation services to guests, which saved him a lot of trouble, given that he did not speak French.


    Affected by the slump in tourism, the hotel lobby was as quiet as the streets outside. As he followed the bellboy carrying his luggage towards the reception desk, every staff member he passed would stop what they were doing, bow to him, and say, "Bienvenue." This courteous attention felt quite unfamiliar to someone used to blending in unnoticed.


    Despite being almost empty, the Carlton Hotel lived up to its reputation as the best hotel in Madagascar, and the quality of service remained impeccable. Not long after he completed the check-in formalities, the translator sent by the hotel knocked on his room door.


    When Deng Shiyang opened the door, he saw a young man in his twenties. The young man had large earlobes and distinct South Asian features, his skin tone a mixture of coffee and reddish-brown, making him look like a blend of a native Malagasy and an Asian immigrant.


    "Hello, sir. I''m Chamkhan Jagadash, your translator," the young man greeted him.


    "Hello, I''m Josh Deylek. If you don''t mind, may I call you ''Dash''?" Deng Shiyang extended his hand.


    "Sure, no problem."


    They shook hands, and then Deng Shiyang asked, "Judging from your name, you''re not Malagasy, right?"


    "I am Malagasy," Dash replied. "But my ancestors were from India, so my name is derived from Hindi."


    "No wonder¡­" Deng Shiyang nodded and continued, "You know I need someone fluent in both French and English for interpretation, right?"


    "Yes, I graduated from North Madagascar University, majoring in English."


    "How well do you speak Malagasy?"


    "Quite well, though I''m more fluent in French."


    "Very good, you''re hired."


    "Thank you, I''m pleased to be of service," Dash said gratefully, then asked, "Is there any work you''d like me to do now?"


    "Now?" Deng Shiyang checked his watch¡ªit was 3:30 PM. He replied, "You can head back for now. Come to the hotel at 9 AM tomorrow."


    "Okay," Dash responded simply, then excused himself.


    ---


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    Stock Split: Also known as share split, this refers to dividing a stock with a larger face value into multiple stocks with smaller face values.