Chapter 1897 - 1407: Accepting Delta's Surrender (2)

"Third," Simon continued, "the 207 mercenaries detained by the Special Activities Group will be released. This is personally approved by the President."

Samir standing to the side could hardly believe his ears.

Song Heping asked, "They didn't attach any conditions?"

"No." Simon said, "Everything will be done according to your demands."

"Thank President Obama for me."

Song Heping smiled.

"But I want it in writing."

Simon's mouth twitched: "You don't trust our verbal assurances?"

"In Illiguo," Song Heping said flatly, "I learned to only trust what I can see and touch. Especially when dealing with the United States, even written documents might not be worth much, but having them is still better than not having them."

"You really are something else."

Simon finally nodded. "Fine. I'll arrive at Baghdadi International Airport at eight tomorrow morning. There will be formal documents then; let's meet in the Green Zone."

"I suggest we meet in Mosul City controlled by the Tenth Division. The exact location will be designated by us."

"That doesn't con—"

"It's the only option, Director," Song Heping cut him off. "Given what's happened in the past twenty-four hours, you should understand my security requirements."

Simon took a deep breath. "All right. You cautious Easterner!"

"Same to you."

The transmission ended.

Suppressed cheers broke out inside the command post.

The staff officers were hugging each other, slapping backs, all celebrating having dodged death.

Samir, however, stayed unusually calm.

He pulled Song Heping aside. "This went too smoothly, didn't it?"

"It's perfectly normal. The United States' moral bottom line is highly flexible. They're not stupid, because if they don't cut their losses, even if they kill me, they won't end up any better off."

Song Heping lowered his voice. "You've been fighting in Illiguo for so many years and still haven't figured it out? As long as it serves their interests, they'll make deals with the Devil, they'll even call the 1515 Armed 'brothers.' The moment something doesn't serve their interests, you immediately become the 'enemy.'"

"That's true enough…"

Samir understood what Song Heping was getting at.

"So this isn't compromise, it's crisis management," Song Heping corrected him. "They're trading the smallest concessions for the maximum degree of control."

Samir pondered. "So will you trust their promises and documents?"

Song Heping grinned. "No. I care much more about the over two billion US Dollar in weapons. As for whatever agreement I sign with Simon, it's just toilet paper to slap in their faces and disgust them with when things blow up. Beyond that, it's meaningless."

When he finished he checked his watch, then added, "Lemont should already have received his orders. But for people like him, a loss like this is hard to swallow. Order our troops to maintain the encirclement and wait until they've digested it and come out to surrender on their own."

US Army Joint Task Force base.

Deep in the tunnel, the air was foul and damp.

Lemont leaned against the concrete wall, the beam of his tactical flashlight slicing a narrow cone of light through the dark.

He had just received a message over the encrypted channel—short and clear: terminate the operation, prepare to surrender.

"Repeat the order."

Lemont spoke into the microphone.

Although he'd more or less expected this order, he still felt a little unwilling.

They'd actually lost.

Lost to a Mercenary Leader.

"Order confirmed. Immediately cease all hostile actions against Song Heping. Make contact with the local Tenth Division forces and, per standard procedure, transfer personnel and equipment to them. They will provide an exfiltration route once the handover is complete."

Lemont took off his headset and let it hang against his chest.

In the darkness he heard his own heartbeat slowly steady.

It was finally over.

"Lemont." Ryan came over. "What did Washington say?"

"Game over," Lemont answered calmly. "Get ready for handover."

A stir ran through the tunnel.

More than twenty Delta Force Soldiers and eight Central Intelligence Agency Special Activities Group members who had entered the tunnel without being captured gathered around. Their expressions were hard to read in the dim light, but their taut body language said enough.

"Surrender?" one operator said in disbelief. "To these Illigos?"

"It doesn't really count as surrender, we're just both ceasing fire. The terms must've been worked out." Lemont's tone brooked no argument. "The order came directly from the White House just now."

He sighed and added, "Besides, we never had a chance of winning. Staying alive isn't a bad thing, is it?"

"What about Milosh and his two hundred men?" Ryan asked.

"They're being handed over as well."

The tunnel fell into silence.

From somewhere farther off came the faint sound of dripping water—it was unclear whether from seepage or a leaking pipe.

"Damn it! We're actually surrendering to these militia types!"

One Delta operator shook his head, refusing to accept reality.

Lemont flicked on his flashlight, the beam sweeping across their faces. "Listen carefully. This isn't a request, it's an order. Any act of disobedience will be treated as treason. Understood?"

"Understood, sir."

The responses were uneven, but they came all the same.

"Sort your gear. Destroy all sensitive documents. Retain basic personal weapons for self-defense." Lemont issued orders to a Delta captain. "Wilson, take two men topside and establish contact with the Tenth Division. Tell them we'll start…"

He checked his luminous watch. "The handover in one hour."

"What if they demand we surrender our weapons first?"

"Standard protocol: only surrender heavy weapons and explosives. Personal weapons are retained until the handover is complete." Lemont paused for a moment. "But if they insist…comply. There's no point resisting."

The operators began silently sorting through their gear.

Laptops were physically destroyed, encrypted comms gear had its chips removed, documents were stuffed into burn bags.