Chapter 1850 - 1393: Detainment_2

Milosh took a deep breath.

In the command room, three communications officers from the "Musicians" company were already standing against the wall with guns pointed at them.

On the surveillance screen, the entire mercenary camp was being systematically controlled.

"My boss is on an external mission, with an indefinite return date, and his location is classified as mission-critical."

Milosh opted for the most standard response: "All encrypted communications are archived on your military server in Baghdad as per the contract. Feel free to check them."

"Is that so?" Ryan's lips moved slightly, which was not a smile but a habitual twitch of his facial muscles: "Then until he 'returns,' I'm in charge here. Now, take me to his accommodation and where he stores his personal belongings."

This was not a request.

The soldier behind Ryan stepped forward, moving his finger from the trigger guard directly onto the trigger.

Milosh was silent for two seconds, then turned: "This way."

Song Heping's accommodation in the camp was exceptionally simple.

A six-square-meter prefab, a military computer, a camping bed, a field wardrobe, a folding table.

On the table, apart from half a bottle of water and an English translation of the worn-out "The Art of War by Sun Tzu,"

The room had no personal belongings; not even a photo or casual clothes could be seen. It was clean like a temporary base ready for evacuation at any time.

Ryan stood at the center of the room, his eyes scanning around.

He did not immediately order a search but rather carried out a meticulous observation.

The angle of the bedspread's folds, the distribution state of dust on the tabletop, whether there were any discarded items in the trash can.

His gaze finally stopped on the wardrobe door.

"Thoroughly search there." He finally spoke: "Cut open the mattress to check the filling, use X-ray to scan the bedframe. Examine each corner of the wardrobe with an endoscope; inspect the seams for any magnetic attachments. Every inch of the floor to be scanned with ground-penetrating radar. The computer doesn't need to be turned on; directly disassemble the hard drive for physical analysis."

The soldiers began to take action.

One soldier removed a portable X-ray scanner from his backpack, slowly moving it over the bedframe; another inserted a fiber optic endoscope into each corner of the wardrobe; a third squatted down, advancing with a ground-penetrating radar flat against the floor.

The whole process was eerily quiet, only the low humming sound of the instruments.

Ten minutes later.

The soldier responsible for the X-ray scan reported first: "No abnormalities inside the bedframe, no double layers, no hidden spaces."

The endoscope operator then reported: "The inside of the wardrobe is clean, the backboard, baseboard, and topboard are all solid composite boards, no double layers, no magnetic reactions."

The soldier scanning the floor lastly said: "The foundation below is solid, no cavities, no buried items."

Ryan's expression had no change, but Milosh noticed his left pinkie finger twitch slightly.

That was his rare feeling of defeat.

"The computer." Ryan said.

The technician had already disassembled the laptop, connecting the hard drive to a black analysis device.

Three minutes later, the technician looked up, his tone puzzled: "The hard drive has been physically demagnetized, sir. It's not formatted; it's thoroughly damaged by a strong magnetic field. Recovery is impossible."

Only then did Lemont step forward.

"Let me see."

He brought over a chair, stood on it, took out a miniature screwdriver from his tool kit, and unscrewed the smoke detector near the ceiling corner, removing the casing.

Inside, there was no battery, no circuit board, just a bundle of wires and microchip remnants crudely shredded by pliers.

"This is the bugging device we installed seventy-two hours ago."

Lemont calmly said, displaying the remnants in his palm: "The frequency is ultra-high, theoretically impossible to detect with regular anti-surveillance devices."

He shifted location, moved to the desk, opened a drawer, his gaze landing on the inner side of the drawer's slide rail.

This time, he found a piece of lens from a pinhole camera.

The lens was pierced by a sharp object, the circuit board snapped in half.

Lemont consecutively checked three preset hidden surveillance devices.

All devices were found and destroyed without exception; the method was quick and clean.

It wasn't removal—it was complete physical destruction.

"All three surveillance points were found and destroyed."

Lemont finally summarized, his tone showing genuine surprise for the first time: "The time of destruction was approximately twenty-four to thirty-six hours ago. In other words, as soon as he got here, he found them all. The guy has been on guard against us all along."

Ryan finally had an obvious reaction.

He walked to the window, his back to the room, silently watching the sky outside gradually whitening.

"Song Heping knew we were monitoring him." Ryan eventually said, his voice low: "He knew, but he didn't raise an alarm, didn't change rooms, and didn't even report it. He simply… cleared the surveillance and continued to stay here."

He turned, his gaze locking onto Milosh: "This reveals two things: First, he had anticipated this day for a long time; Second, his truly important stuff is never kept in this room."

Milosh remained silent.

Ryan stepped up to Milosh's face: "Do you realize how serious the situation you are involved in now?"

Milosh shook his head: "I don't know."

Ryan moved closer, the distance between them less than half a meter: "Major General Duke suddenly collapsed at 11:47 PM last night in the camp and was sent to the hospital, where he was pronounced dead. The cause of death was initially presumed to be acute myocardial infarction. However, coincidentally, three hours before his death, the Ministry of Defense Inspector General's Office had just issued a warrant for his arrest, suspected of leaking core intelligence endangering United States national security to unauthorized personnel."

Milosh's breathing showed no change.

He had long learned to control physiological reactions when hearing any news, but internally, he felt deeply hit.

Duke's dead?

An Army Major General who was lively just yesterday, greeting him during a meeting, was actually dead?

"This means," Ryan continued, "your current authorization for all actions is invalid. More seriously, anyone who had direct contact with Duke may now be considered a potential participant in espionage activities. Wartime espionage charges, Mr. Kovac Milosh, you understand what this means."

Milosh knew.

Lifetime imprisonment at Guantanamo, or more straightforwardly, an "accidental death" on the battlefield.

"Now I offer you a way out."

Ryan's voice returned to a normal volume: "Tell me everything you know, the precise coordinates of Song Heping at this moment, the time and place of his meeting with Misu, and what his plan is, exactly what he's up to. Just say it, and you can receive witness protection, a new identity, sufficient resettlement funds. If not..."

He paused, letting the threat slowly ferment: "Then like other associates in the Duke case, you will become a problem that needs to be permanently silenced."

Milosh's throat was dry, but he did not swallow, which would expose his nervousness.

"I require legal assistance. According to the National Defense Authorization Act, Section 1208, contractor personnel have the right when detained—"

"Section 1208 does not apply to hostile personnel during a national security emergency."

Ryan interrupted him: "The executive order signed by the president at 2 AM today has clarified this point. You are now not a contractor employee but a hostile combatant suspected of endangering national security. Cooperation is your only legal way out."

Ryan gestured, lightly raising his index finger.

Two soldiers stepped forward, standing to Milosh's left and right.

Their positioning blocked all possible angles of resistance.

"Take him to Interrogation Room 2." Ryan said: "Proceed according to standard protocols."