Chapter 1945 - 1425: Storage Pressure

In the evening, the sky over Mosul was dyed with a rusty orange-red hue.

Just arrived at the Tenth Division camp, Song Heping made his way to the warehouse without delay.

He pushed open the heavy iron door of the warehouse, greeted by a unique smell mixed with lubricating oil and dust.

Samir walked beside him, holding a high-powered flashlight, its beam cutting through the dim space of the warehouse.

"Look here." Samir's voice echoed in the warehouse.

The flashlight beam swept over rows of neatly stacked wooden crates, with faded English markings printed on them.

Song Heping approached, reaching out to wipe the dust off one of the crates.

"Loitering munition, brand new and unopened." He read the text in English, his voice devoid of emotion.

"This is just the tip of the iceberg." Samir said as he turned the beam toward the depths of the warehouse: "The entire Mosul, twelve warehouses, all filled. Some can only be stored at temporary storage points, all covered with waterproof cloth and piled outdoors, posing significant safety risks."

Song Heping walked silently, the sound of Salomon combat boots making a rhythmic noise on the concrete floor.

The warehouse was filled with spoils captured from the Amadiye Mountain Area, those fifty trucks of arms, along with equipment previously received from the US Army, forming an extraordinary scale.

All kinds of US-made M-72 rocket launchers, Gustav recoilless cannons, assault rifles, mortars, ammunition, even night vision equipment and infantry fighting vehicles…

They were neatly arranged like products on supermarket shelves, but the sole purpose of these "products" was to take lives.

"Have you calculated the total value?" Song Heping finally spoke.

Samir nodded: "Roughly estimated, currently only about 800 million US Dollars worth of equipment, with the highest value being the batch intercepted from the Amadiye Mountain Area. At present size, only one-third of the total, but it's already quite impressive."

Song Heping stopped in front of a row of crates marked "M249 SAW."

These light machine guns should have been in the hands of US Army soldiers, now they're ownerless goods, waiting to be redistributed and sold.

"What's the security situation?" He asked, fingers lightly tapping the crate.

"I've deployed two battalions, rotating in three shifts for guard duties." Samir replied: "But it's still insufficient. The news has already spread, various forces are eyeing this batch of goods. Just yesterday, someone tried to infiltrate the number three warehouse outside the city, but our men repelled them."

Song Heping turned around, his sharp gaze fixing on Samir: "I need you to strengthen security, at least increase by another hundred personnel. Until all the arms are processed, no issues can arise."

"Can't be too careful…" Samir chuckled bitterly: "Now that the US Army has withdrawn, various armed groups are starting to stir, it's chaotic everywhere."

Just as Song Heping was about to speak, the satellite phone in his pocket suddenly vibrated.

"Let me take this call first."

Song Heping took out the encrypted phone, raising his eyebrows slightly upon seeing the number on the screen.

It's Swift.

He pressed the answer button: "It's me, Song."

"Mr. Song." Swift seemed anxious, asking immediately: "Are you in Mosul?"

"Yes, checking the warehouse now." Song Heping walked toward the corner of the warehouse, gesturing to Samir to wait a moment: "What's the matter?"

The other end of the line was silent for a few seconds, this unusual pause instinctively heightened Song Heping's alertness.

"Walker's dead." Swift finally said: "In his office, used his service weapon to commit suicide. Now, the official statement is that he had psychological issues leading to depressive suicide."

"When did this happen?" Song Heping asked.

He had anticipated that Walker would eventually meet his end but didn't expect him to be so resolute, ending it himself, not letting the forces behind him arrange an "accidental death."

"Discovered today around three o'clock in the afternoon." Swift said: "He left behind a very brief note, just one sentence saying he willingly takes all the responsibility."

Walker's face, always with an arrogant expression, flashed quickly in Song Heping's mind.

"Now the military and CIA have started investigating." Swift continued, his voice lowered: "They might reach out to you for some information, as this matter is related to you."

"I understand." Song Heping said: "Anything else?"

"The handover work still needs to be completed." Swift's voice returned to professional tone: "The higher-ups hope you return to Baghdad soon to handle the remaining procedures. Walker's death won't affect our agreement."

"I'll arrange the time." Song Heping asked again: "Anything else?"

"That's all. Stay safe, Mr. Song." Swift said and hung up the phone.

Song Heping put the satellite phone back in his pocket, turning to look at Samir.

"What happened?" Samir asked with concern.

"Walker committed suicide." Song Heping said calmly.

Samir sneered: "The guy smuggling arms? How are they saying things in the US Army?"

"Official statement is long-term excessive stress, mental health issues, depression." Song Heping walked toward the warehouse door: "But I suspect things aren't that simple."

The two walked out of the warehouse, greeted by the evening's hot wind, carrying Mosul's characteristic dust and scorched earth smell.

Song Heping took out gum and tossed it into his mouth.

"Is this good or bad for us?" Samir cautiously asked.

"In the short term, it's good." Song Heping puffed out some smoke: "With Walker dead, the resistance to arms handover will be much less. But in the long term…"

He didn't finish, but Samir understood the implication.

Walker's death would prevent accountability for the forces behind him, meaning they bore resentment against Song Heping for spoiling their plans.

There's only a thousand days of being a thief, not a thousand days of guarding against one.

Being watched is naturally not a good thing in the long run.

"Boss, we need to expedite handling this batch of goods." Samir returned to the initial topic, "Not only the spoils from Amadiye but also the military equipment that will be shipped here next. All the warehouses are almost full. If we are attacked or have any accidents, the loss will be immeasurable."

Song Heping nodded, his brain quickly processing.

Tens of billions of US Dollars in arms, finding a buyer and completing the transaction in a short time; this task is nearly impossible.

But he had no choice.

"I will have the company's people contact all our transport lines and customers," he said. "Give them the biggest discount and handle these goods as quickly as possible."

"Alright, I'll wait for your instructions then."

Samir nodded and turned to leave.

Song Heping stood alone outside the warehouse, watching the sky gradually darken.

The night in Mosul is never truly quiet. Gunshots and explosions occasionally echo from afar, like the city murmuring in its sleep.

He took out his satellite phone, hesitated for a moment, and finally dialed a number.

"Eugene, it's me," he said in Russian.

A hoarse voice came from the other end, mixed with noisy background noise: "Song! Heard you've been making a fortune in Illiguo recently?"

"I need your help." Song Heping was straightforward, "There's a batch of goods that needs to be sold quickly, a large amount."

Yuri Ivanovich is a longtime arms transportation partner of Song Heping, a Russian with KGB background, who has a complex and extensive network worldwide.

"How big?" Eugene's voice became serious.

"Over twenty billion."

A whistle came from the other end: "US Dollars?"

"US Dollars," Song Heping confirmed, "All US Army active standard equipment."

"That's tricky. You know such arms sales are subject to many restrictions. Americans don't like these things falling into their adversaries' hands, and their enemies are all over the world," Eugene said. "So, they will track those serial numbers like hounds."

"If there wasn't urgency and difficulty, would I actively seek you for assistance? I too have my client base." Song Heping said, "I'm seeking you because time is tight, and your network is decent. I thought about pulling you in to make a fortune together, to take care of your wallet."

"That's true; if there were good meat, you wouldn't find me." Eugene teased but soon realized he had gone too far with the joke since Song Heping is one of his biggest arms suppliers, offending him would lead to no good. So he quickly changed his tone and said, "I was just joking. I've been cared for all these years. Since you have such a big business and still think of me, I definitely cannot let you down. Tell me, how long do you want it to be done?"

"The faster, the better," Song Heping said. "Now a third of the arms are in hand, all piled in Mosul. The warehouses here are about to burst, and the target is too big."

"Understood, but I can only do my best. Helping you digest a third shouldn't be a problem," Eugene paused and then continued, "Give me half a month, I'll contact some buyers. But you know the rules, for such a large amount, the price can't be too high."

"The price can be negotiated; the focus is on speed and confidentiality," Song Heping said. "Half a month is too long, ten days!"

"Ten days... Suka! That's too short!" Eugene thought for a while, gritted his teeth, and said, "Fine, I'll help digest seven billion in arms, but the usual rule of 15% commission applies."

"Get lost! Seven billion, and you want 15%? Eugene, when did you turn from a polar bear into a giant python from South America? Really opening your mouth wide! I'm only giving 10%, take it or leave it." Song Heping haggled, "This batch doesn't worry for buyers. I'm finding you because of trust and valuing your network resources. Don't be ungrateful; you know my temperament, I won't give you a dime of business if you piss me off!"

"Hahaha!" Eugene laughed heartily, "You're as good at business as ever. Alright, 10% it is, but I need you to provide detailed lists and storage locations."

"I'll give them to you tomorrow," Song Heping said. "Stay safe, it's very windy now."

"Always is, my friend," Eugene said. "You can count on me."

After ending the call, he returned to his temporary residence.

Just as he opened the door, the satellite phone vibrated again.

Song Heping glanced at the caller ID.

Unexpectedly, it was Yusuf.

"Yusuf." He picked up the call, greeting in Arabic, "My vice speaker sir, not at the reception dinner at this time, what do you want by calling me?"

"Song, glad to hear your voice."

Yusuf's voice sounded very oily with enthusiasm. In fact, Song Heping didn't like Yusuf's slickness, but there's no way; he's a politician, without being greasy would be strange.

"I hope calling you now isn't disturbing."

"Not at all," Song Heping walked into the room, turned on a simple lamp, "Tell me, what's up?"

"Actually, it's the Defense Minister who wants to see you. I met him at the dinner just now, he privately entrusted me to contact you," Yusuf said. "He said, if possible, please come to Baghdad these two days, and then I will accompany you to the Ministry of Defense, there is important business to discuss."

Song Heping did not answer immediately.

The Illigo Defense Minister personally inviting; this is very unusual.

"Can I ask what it's about?" he cautiously asked.

"It's about arms," Yusuf's voice lowered a bit, "The Minister is very interested in some equipment you have. You know, the government army is short of equipment right now, and the batch of aid originally promised by the US Army..."

Yusuf didn't finish, but the meaning was clear enough.

The batch of US Army equipment Song Heping reached an agreement with the White House was originally meant to be sold cheaply to the Illigo government.

Now that Walker is dead, the transfer process is chaotic, and the Illigo government probably sees an opportunity and wants to intervene.

"I understand," Song Heping said. "I'll return to Baghdad tomorrow. Specific time and place?"

"Great!" Yusuf obviously breathed a sigh of relief, "Tomorrow afternoon at three, Ministry of Defense Building. I'll personally meet you."

"See you tomorrow then," Song Heping said.