Chapter 1926 - 1418: Return to the Base

Swift left the cubicle, walked out of the command center building.

The Green Zone at dawn was eerily silent.

The spotlight on the high wall swept slowly, casting moving light spots on the concrete road. In the distance, the low roar of a diesel generator provided electricity to this sleepless military fortress.

Swift did not return to his office, but went straight to the dormitory area.

His single dormitory was at the end of the second floor of Building C, with windows facing the interior of the Green Zone, relatively secluded.

Open the door, turn on the light, lock.

He did not act immediately but stood behind the door listening for a full minute.

Confirming there were no footsteps in the corridor, no unusual movements in adjacent rooms.

Then he walked to the bedside, knelt down, and dragged an unnoticeable gray suitcase from under the bed.

The box had a combination lock; he entered an eight-digit number.

This was the date he first received Song Heping's "gift."

Click.

The box opened.

Inside were twenty stacks of hundred-dollar bills, each stack ten thousand US dollars, neatly bundled with bank seals.

The bills were old, serial numbers non-consecutive, untraceable.

This wasn't bribery.

Swift was very clear.

This was the pledge, also the money for buying one's life.

Two hundred thousand US dollars is not an astronomical figure for a mid-level US Army officer, but it's certainly not a small amount.

More importantly, Song Heping conveyed several messages in this way: First, he knows Swift's value; second, he knows Swift's role in the Walker deal.

And the deeper message is: Follow me, you can live and make money; follow Walker, you're dead.

Swift picked up a stack of bills, fingers rubbed the edge of the paper.

These bills were clean, carrying only the scent of ink and paper.

Song Heping's ability was unfathomable.

Swift placed the money back in the box, took out a prepaid mobile phone from a compartment in the wardrobe.

The phone was the oldest model of Nokia feature phone, could only make calls and send texts, had no smart system, unable to be remotely implanted with malware.

He bought it on the black market for five hundred US dollars and a fake ID, used only for communicating with specific contacts.

Turned on, entered the number never dialed before.

Pressed the call button.

Beep—

It rang only once.

"Swift." Song Heping's voice came through the receiver, calm, clear, without a hint of drowsiness, as if he had been waiting for this call: "I guess Walker's emotions should be quite agitated now."

Swift took a deep breath: "He saw the live images transmitted by the drone. Carlson is dead, the guard is annihilated, fifty transport vehicles disappeared. He is convinced it was you."

A light laugh came from the other end of the line, very light, but Swift heard it clearly.

"What does he plan to do?" Song Heping asked.

"Initially wanted to report directly to the Pentagon." Swift chose to tell the truth: "I persuaded him to negotiate with you, propose to repurchase equipment at scrap value. This was my suggestion to him, also currently the only plan to minimize losses."

"Did he accept?"

"Didn't accept." Swift paused and said, "Mr. Song, I must remind you, the people behind Walker have great influence. If truly breaking ties—"

"Lieutenant Colonel."

Song Heping interrupted him, his voice still calm but carrying an indescribable sense of oppression: "Let me ask you a question. Would the people behind Walker offend a defense company boss who dared to besiege your Mosul Joint Operations Group base and killed dozens of you but managed to retreat unscathed for the sake of a Major who screwed up several billion dollars in transactions, left numerous evidence, and let sensitive equipment fall into unknown forces?"

Swift felt a chill run up his spine.

The last siege and shelling of the Mosul base, he also heard.

This matter had long spread within the US troops in Iraq, everyone speculating why Song Heping not only remained unharmed but also obtained the contract for the disposal of this "idle material."

Thinking about it now, Song Heping's words contained more profound meaning.

"You…" Swift's voice was somewhat hoarse.

"I assure you, Major." Song Heping continued, his tone eased somewhat: "In this matter, you will not suffer losses. In fact, if you cooperate with me at a critical moment, you will receive a generous reward, enough for you to retire in any country you want, with any identity you desire, enjoying your late years."

The phone seemed hot to touch.

Swift changed hands to hold it, his palm full of sweat.

"What do you need me to do?" he heard himself ask.

"Right now, just wait; when the time comes, I'll inform you what to do." Song Heping said: "Tomorrow morning, I'll meet Walker at the base. All you need to do is remain silent, observe, and when you receive my order... make the right choice."

"The right choice?" Swift questioned suspiciously: "What kind of choice?"

"Of course, the choice most advantageous to you." Song Heping laughed: "Lieutenant Colonel, you're a smart person. You know the cost of picking the wrong side in this game. Walker is already a sinking ship, while there are seats still available on my ship."

The call ended.

Beep—beep—beep—

The busy signal sounded exceptionally piercing in the silent room.

Swift slowly put down the phone, removed the back cover, took out the SIM card, used a lighter to melt the chip part, then flushed the remnants down the toilet.

Having done all this, he sat on the bedside, not turning on the light.

Outside the window, the eastern sky began to pale.

4:21 AM, Baghdad's dawn was about to arrive.