Chapter 1729 - 1352: Carrot and Stick

"If it really doesn't work, we'll just barge in!"

Seeing Song Heping staring at the satellite communicator screen for so long without saying a word, his knuckles slightly whitened from force, Little Masoud couldn't hold back and suddenly twisted his body from the front seat, his voice filled with impatience and a reckless gamble.

"I still have some loyal people in the city, willing to bleed for my father!"

His speech speed increasingly rapid, his eyes shining in the dim cabin.

"I can contact them right now, have them come with weapons. We don't need a lot, a dozen will be enough, forming a strike team. When Rashid arrives at the TV station, we'll suddenly rush in—"

He made a chopping hand gesture, the motion somewhat contorted due to excitement.

"—As long as we take him out, everything is resolved! With the leader gone, the security forces will be in chaos. Then we'll publicly announce my father is still alive, and his supporters will emerge!"

Silence spread inside the cabin.

Jamie was the first to break the silence.

"Storming the TV station is suicide."

He seemed to be calculating, or recalling some specific data.

"Rashid has deployed security forces within a three hundred-meter radius around the TV station's main building, visible posts, hidden posts, fixed fire points, mobile patrol units, all combined..."

Jamie turned his face to Little Masoud, his gaze held no mockery, only a nearly cruel realism.

"Conservatively estimated, at least eight hundred men. And that's not counting the TV station's internal security forces and the rapid response teams that can arrive at any time from three blocks away."

"You only have five people." He pointed inside the car: "Adding your 'loyal' subordinates, even if they miraculously evade all checkpoints and assemble with weapons on time, how many can you have? Twenty? Thirty?"

Jiang Feng shook his head: "I fear we can't even break through the first layer of the TV station's outer security perimeter."

Little Masoud opened his mouth, his face appeared pale under the instrument panel's faint glow.

From the driver's seat, Jamie glanced at the rearview mirror at the back seat, in the dim light, Song Heping's profile seemed rock-hard and expressionless.

"Then do you have a better idea?"

Jamie glanced at his watch, the phosphorescent hands clearly pointed to 5:07 a.m.

"Time waits for no one. Rashid's morning news broadcast is at seven sharp, meaning he will arrive at the TV station to prepare no later than 6:30. We have less than two hours in total. In these two hours, we need to make a plan, obtain equipment, infiltrate, and control a target protected by hundreds of elite soldiers..."

He took a breath, not saying the rest—it sounded like a fairy tale.

Song Heping remained silent.

His gaze fell on the satellite phone in his hand.

Finally, his fingers moved on the keyboard.

"Who are you contacting?"

Little Masoud couldn't help but ask again, leaning forward, trying to see the content on the screen.

"Tor Khan."

Song Heping did not lift his head.

"Now, only he can help us unlock that door to the TV station."

The communicator screen flickered a few times, displaying an encrypted icon spinning continuously.

The cabin fell silent again, leaving only the faint electronic hums from the communicator and the suppressed breathing of those inside.

Time ticked away second by second.

Thirty seconds in such waiting felt like a century.

Finally—

"Who?"

A deep male voice came from the communicator's mini speaker.

It was Tor Khan.

Song Heping brought the communicator slightly closer to his lips, responding in fluent and standard Arabic:

"A friend of General Duke. My name is Song Heping. I'm with Little Masoud."

He paused, giving the other party a brief moment to digest the information, then cut to the core.

"We have news that in an hour, Rashid will go to the TV station, preparing to deliver a nationwide speech during the morning news. We need to discuss this with you now."

The communication line fell into a longer silence.

Five seconds.

Ten seconds.

In the background, faint TV news broadcast sounds could be heard, the volume very low, seemingly from a Kurdish local station, mixed with electrical noise.

Then, a rustling sound arose, like fabric abrasion, followed by footsteps drawing near and then away, the TV sound in the background also becoming fainter, finally vanishing.

What replaced it was an empty, slightly echoing ambient sound and the very weak drip of water.

"Speak. Quickly."

Tor Khan's voice was very low, carrying a kind of frantic impatience like a trapped beast.

"I'm hiding in the bathroom, there's someone watching outside. Keep it short."

A hint of realization flashed in Song Heping's eyes.

The situation might be even more severe than he anticipated, Tor Khan indeed was under surveillance, and he still had the willingness and means for secret communication.

"We need to quietly enter the TV station and control Rashid before he starts the live broadcast." Song Heping spoke concisely, without unnecessary words: "But storming it is impossible. We need your help to let our people in. The premise is not to alert the spies around you."

"Impossible."

Tor Khan's refusal was almost instinctive, as quick as a reflex.

"There are at least monitors by my side, rotating 24-hour surveillance. Eating, sleeping, meeting, even..."

He seemed to be gritting his teeth: "Even going to the toilet, there are people guarding outside the cubicle. I have no private action space, let alone mobilizing resources to help you infiltrate the TV station, a place now most heavily guarded by Rashid!"