Chapter 1809 - 1378: The $250 Million Deal

The civilian evacuation point was set up on a wasteland 15 kilometers north of Titrick, like a temporary patch attached to the scar of war.

Within the area enclosed by barbed wire, thousands of civilians huddled like startled flocks of sheep among the flimsy tents, the air filled with dust, sweat, and a faint smell of chemical agents—an odor of death wafting from the south of Titrick.

The US Army checkpoint was solemnly stationed at the entrance of the camp.

When Song Heping's convoy arrived, five fully-armed American soldiers immediately fanned out, with fingers lightly resting on the trigger guards.

A captain stepped forward, his gaze swept over the license plates and markings of Song Heping's convoy, and nodded slightly.

"Mr. Song, General Duke is waiting for you in the command vehicle." The captain's tone was like a rehearsed line, "Please follow me, your guards can stay outside the alert line."

Song Heping glanced behind the checkpoint.

There were four anti-mine ambush-protection vehicles parked there, with M2 heavy machine guns on the rooftops pointing in all directions.

Further away, some US Army soldiers in desert digital camouflage were conducting individual searches of the civilians, their movements professional and indifferent.

It seemed that Duke had increased manpower here again.

"My deputy will go in with me." Song Heping told the guard captain, "The others wait here."

They were led to the edge of the camp, next to an elongated M1078 command vehicle.

On the vehicle body, the black lettering "JSOC" looked like some hidden totem under the sunset.

The door slid open, and Major General Duke appeared in the shadow inside.

"Song." Duke extended his hand.

The handshake was short and firm, like a silent test.

"Thank you for coming at this time."

"General Duke." Song Heping released his hand, "Your troops have taken over the checkpoint of my partner, I need an explanation."

Duke gestured for Song Heping to get into the vehicle, a nearly invisible smile on his face: "Let's talk inside. Some things are not appropriate to discuss in the open."

The inside of the command vehicle was converted into a mobile command center, cramped but fully equipped.

Data streams, surveillance footage, and map information were jumping on the three screen walls.

Song Heping's gaze stayed on one of the screens.

It was a real-time chemical gas dispersion model of Titrick, at least two generations more advanced in resolution than the system used by Musician Company.

"Sit down." Duke pointed to a folding chair, then leaned against the main console edge, "First, apologies for what's happening here. But these situations are special, and we need to ensure the evacuation point is fully controlled."

"Controlled?" Song Heping sat down, "For what?"

"You know, for him."

Duke tapped the keyboard and brought up a blurry photo.

An Arabic man wearing glasses, his face thin and eyes alert.

"Buckdadi's messenger, who is also the core figure in the 1515 chemical weapons program. We know he's in Titrick, and we also know the city has been rigged with chemical weapons."

Song Heping stared at the photo, then looked up at Duke: "You knew about the chemical weapons. But why didn't you warn us earlier?"

"The intelligence only indicated a possibility, not certainty..." Duke's expression did not change.

"Possibility." Song Heping repeated the word, sneering: "General Duke, my troops lost at least over eight hundred soldiers in Titrick, and more than three hundred poisoned, the number is still growing. If you knew about the 'possibility,' why not issue a warning?"

Duke was silent for three seconds.

"Intelligence work has its rules, Song." Duke finally spoke: "We did have information that 1515 might deploy chemical weapons in Titrick, but we didn't know the exact location, yield, or triggering conditions. Too early a warning might have alarmed the target and let him escape."

"So you exchanged soldiers' lives for your 'high-value target'?" Song Heping asked.

His tone still managed to remain calm.

Duke moved to the front of the screen and brought up an official document: "This is a statement issued by the State Department three days ago. The President has already approved raising the bounty on Buckdadi to 250 million US Dollars."

The figures flashed on the screen.

250 million US Dollars, enough to buy an army of a small country, or let a medium-sized private military company expand tenfold.

"The statement specifically pointed out that 1515 is 'directly responsible for chemical weapon attacks in the regions of Illiguo and Siria'."

Duke turned to Song Heping and said: "We know who orchestrated Titrick's gas attack. His name is Maysour Al-Jabri, a former Mosul University chemical engineering professor, who was kidnapped by 1515 in 2014 and turned into their chemical weapons expert."

He pulled up another file and continued: "A week ago, the CIA, along with the Delta Force, captured Maysour's assistant in a raid. The interrogation confirmed that Maysour himself was sent to Titrick to oversee the 'final deployment' of the chemical weapons."

Song Heping leaned slightly forward: "Since you knew these things, why did you just say 'possibility'?"

"It was also just a possibility." Duke corrected: "There was no concrete evidence. Until today at 2:17 PM, when the first wave of gas rose from Titrick's city center, the possibility became reality."

"Then your troops appeared at the evacuation point at 2:30 PM." Song Heping glanced at his watch, "A difference of thirteen minutes. The journey from Baghdad to here takes at least half a day, unless you departed early."

Duke's eyes narrowed.

It's the first time he's shown a defensive posture since the negotiations began.

Clearly, he was hiding something.

"We have air transport capability." He said.

"A Black Hawk Helicopter flying from the nearest US Military Base to here takes forty minutes."