Chapter 1917 - 1414: Thieves Under the Night (3)

Beside them were two "Crow" small reconnaissance drones, labeled "Film Aerial Equipment" on the packaging box.

"These sensitive equipment will form a separate team," Walker said to a mercenary commander beside him. "They'll be escorted by your Team A via backup routes. If you encounter a checkpoint... you know what to do."

The mercenary commander was a bald strong man with a scar running from his brow to his chin.

He nodded, patting the gun at his waist. "Understood, Major. 'Encounter armed robbery, destroy sensitive cargo immediately'—we've rehearsed three times."

Walker was about to speak when footsteps sounded behind him.

Lieutenant Colonel Swift walked up.

In stark contrast to Walker's tidiness, Swift looked somewhat fatigued. His combat uniform was crumpled, eyes bloodshot, holding a cup of cold coffee.

"Walker, we need to talk." Swift's voice was unsteady.

Walker glanced at him, waved to the mercenary commander. "Go oversee the loading, I want the fleet ready by twelve thirty."

The commander saluted and walked away.

The two moved to a temporary office area in the warehouse's corner, where boxes of documents were piled up, the air filled with dust and the smell of motor oil.

"You look tired, Swift," Walker leaned against the table, pulling a cigar from his pocket, leisurely clipping its cap. "Didn't sleep well last night? Or..."

Swift showed no humor. "Song Heping found me last night, handed me two hundred thousand dollars personally."

Walker paused for half a second while lighting his cigar, then continued.

The lighter's flame flickered in the darkness, illuminating half of his face.

"So? We're all taking his money. Johnson took five hundred thousand, Miller thirty thousand, I took..." He exhaled smoke. "More than you'd think. This is the game, Swift. You think these items disappear from official lists just like that? You think the Ministry of Defense's auditors suddenly go blind? You think transportation permits get approved in 24 hours by chance?"

"I'm not talking about taking money," Swift set his coffee cup down. "I'm asking why Song Heping gave me this money individually? And why on the eve of our shipment?"

Walker finally looked at him directly. "What do you think?"

"I think he's not just buying me over." Swift went to the window, looking at the outside hustle. "He's sending a message, he might know what we're up to. This two hundred thousand isn't a bribe, it's a warning. 'I know your price, I can pay, but I can also do something else'."

Walker sneered. "You've watched too many movies, Swift. Who is Song Heping? A former East University soldier, now a weapons merchant and PMC contractor. What dare he do to us? Report to the embassy? Expose to the media?"

He went beside Swift, looking out the window as well. "Look down there, Swift. Look at that scale. Fifty heavy trailers, nearly six hundred million dollars' worth of equipment. You think this is just a small business between you and me? This is a system operation. From Washington offices to Baghdad warehouses, from Ministry of Defense officials to frontline commanders, everyone is on this food chain."

He pointed at the hoisted Striker vehicle. "That car, officially valued at two hundred ten thousand dollars. But in reality, it should've been retired three years ago. The military procured new batches, old ones are scheduled for destruction. Destruction cost? Five thousand dollars per vehicle. But if we 'handle' it, sell on the black market, it fetches one hundred eighty thousand dollars. The discrepancy—the profit."

He then pointed at the Javelin missile. "Those are even more exaggerated. Each launch unit valued at two hundred fifty thousand, each missile eighty thousand. Destruction cost? Almost zero, blast and it's gone. Black market price? Launch units a hundred fifty thousand, missiles a hundred twenty thousand. Know why? Because missiles are single-use, once used, they're gone, but demand never disappears."

Walker turned around, facing Swift. "Do you understand now? This isn't theft, it's profit optimization. These arms, if sold as per contract to him, would be scrap price at most. Now, they find new owners, realizing value, while we... we just charge a reasonable service fee."

Swift remained silent for a long while.

Outside the warehouse, crane alarms sounded, an M-ATV lifted into the air, slowly spinning under searchlights like a pinned beetle specimen.

"Song Heping killed a French Foreign Legion commander in Africa," Swift suddenly said. "In Mali. A Colonel tried to hack a batch of arms, was found dead in camp three days later, bullet entering from the back of the head, scene staged as robbery. No evidence pointed to Song Heping, but everyone knew it was him."

"Are you trying to scare me, Swift?" Walker laughed, his laughter full of ridicule. "This isn't Africa, not Ukraine. This is Illiguo, a United States-controlled zone. If Song Heping dares touch a hair on me, his company will be listed as a terrorist group the next day, his assets frozen, his people worldwide wanted."

"He commands four thousand mercenaries," Swift said. "Well-armed, experienced. General Samir's Tenth Division is his ally, with fifteen thousand men. Kurd Armed's Ninth Brigade has his ties too. If he truly decides..."

"Decide what? Start a war?" Walker interrupted, the cigar's tip tracing a red arc in the dark. "For this batch of equipment? Don't be silly. Song Heping is a merchant, not a madman. Merchant logic calculates cost and benefit. What's the cost of opposing us? Face off against the United States? Become a CIA focal point? What's the benefit? This batch of equipment? He can wait for the next batch. The Middle East is always at war, weapons are always needed. He won't ruin a tens of billions dollars business for six billion worth of goods."