Chapter 1918 - 1414: Thieves Under the Night Sky (Part 4)

He slapped Striker's shoulder, hard. "Relax a little. You're just too wound up, it's your first time on an operation this big. Trust me, I've been doing this seven years now, from Afghan to Illiguo, from Siria to Yemen. The drill's always the same: find a buyer, alter the paperwork, move the goods, split the profit. The only difference this time is the scale's bigger, that's all."

Striker looked out the window. The last Striker vehicle was being loaded onto a trailer.

That one was a little special.

The rooftop remote weapon station was an upgraded model, fitted with a 30mm autocannon and an anti-tank missile launcher.

That was the configuration for a company commander's command vehicle, and there were only three on the entire base.

"That one's not on the list," Striker said. "I remember very clearly, the transfer manifest only had standard variants."

Walker followed his gaze and chuckled. "Oh, that one. Call it a freebie. The buyer wired an extra five hundred thousand US Dollars for a 'special edition.' I checked—this vehicle's a test model, theoretically it doesn't exist, so there's no record. Stuff that doesn't show up on the books doesn't count as missing."

"A test model? You mean…"

"Yeah, an upgrade kit still in the experimental phase." Walker lowered his voice. "Active protection that can intercept RPGs, onboard AI that can auto-identify threat targets, and a fire-control system fused with a drone data link. This thing is at least five years ahead of current frontline kit."

Striker felt a chill run through him. "If something like this gets out, and they reverse-engineer it…"

"Then that's not our problem," Walker said, unconcerned. "The Russians, Lord Dong, the Persians, sooner or later they'll get these technologies anyway. We're just… accelerating the process. Besides, just these two vehicles net us five hundred grand."

Right then, the warehouse supervisor came trotting over, finally smiling. "Major, all vehicles are loaded! All fifty trailers are fully packed, paperwork's ready, escort convoy is in position!"

Walker checked his watch: 00:28.

Half an hour ahead of schedule.

"Good." He crushed his cigar in the ashtray. "Notify all elements: the convoy rolls in one minute. Follow the planned route, maintain radio silence, report position once every hour. If you run into any incident, I mean any incident, immediately initiate the contingency plan."

"Yes, sir!" The warehouse supervisor turned and ran off to relay the orders.

Walker straightened his collar and said to Striker, "See? Smooth as silk. Now I'm heading to the monitoring room to watch the convoy roll. You coming? Watching six hundred million US Dollars in assets vanish into the night… it's quite a sight."

Striker hesitated for a moment, then went with him.

The monitoring room was on the warehouse's second floor, three walls covered in displays showing real-time feeds of every angle of the warehouse, the base gate, and several key intersections along the route.

On the central main screen, the convoy was slowly pulling out of Zone C-7.

Fifty heavy trailers, each one covered by thick canvas, lashed down tight with ropes.

Eight "Damascus" armored vehicles guarded the front, middle, and rear, the 12.7mm heavy machine guns on their roofs covering every arc.

Four Toyota pickups acted as mobile outposts, prowling around the convoy.

The escort mercenaries all wore unmarked combat uniforms and balaclavas, only their eyes visible. Their weapons were a mixed bag: M4 carbines, SCAR assault rifles, even a few German HK417s.

All procured through different channels, impossible to trace.

"Total escort strength, two hundred and twenty men." Walker sat down at the console and pulled up the personnel roster. "All veterans, at least three theaters' experience. Commander Carl, former Seal Six, did four years of side gigs in Afghan and Syria. He knows what he's doing."

On the screen, the convoy rolled out through the base gate.

The duty soldier at the gate just glanced at the papers and waved them through.

He didn't even inspect a single vehicle—everything had been taken care of long ago.

The convoy merged onto the highway skirting Baghdad's outskirts, headlights stretching into a winding band of light, like a glowing Centipede crawling northwest.