Chapter 31: Preparing for Departure

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“Then we’ll do as you suggested!”

After a brief moment of thought, Chef actually agreed to Song Heping’s proposal.

“Boss, how can you listen to him?” White Bear protested. “He’s just a rookie! He doesn’t know anything!”

Queen Yulia chimed in as well. “That’s right. My darling is absolutely correct. Mourner is just a rookie!”

Though Yulia and White Bear were a couple, calling him that did not seem particularly out of place.

In fact, whenever Song Heping heard Yulia call White Bear “my darling,” he could barely suppress the urge to laugh.

“Enough. I agree with Mourner’s suggestion.” Chef made the final decision. “Go get everything ready. We leave at eight sharp on Friday morning!”

“Boss…”

“That’s enough. Anyone who says another word is fired! If you recognize me as your boss, then listen to me!”

Chef’s resolute attitude thoroughly stunned Song Heping.

He had actually accepted his suggestion, which came as something of a surprise.

If Chef had rejected his opinion, Song Heping would honestly have been powerless and could only have carried out the original plan. After all, the grounds for demanding a change were not especially compelling.

The advantages of an armored Lincoln were its comfort, excellent ballistic protection, and the fact that it was less conspicuous than a military vehicle.

But that was only relative.

If two armored Lincolns were mixed into a convoy of Humvees, it would be tantamount to telling the enemy that important people were sitting inside those two vehicles.

Capture the leader and the rest will follow. Once an attack began, the Lincoln SUVs might well become the enemy’s primary targets.

Humvees, on the other hand, were armored military vehicles. If they had to flee, they could not blend into civilian traffic at all. The moment anything went wrong, they would stand out wherever they went.

Still, they had advantages of their own. Their ballistic protection was no inferior to that of the armored Lincolns, and they came equipped with roof-mounted weapon stations. In a desperate escape, the heavy machine gun above their heads would provide an extremely useful source of firepower. It might even be what kept them alive.

That was why Song Heping had told Chef that he was relying on instinct. He had not been lying.

Sometimes, on a battlefield, instinct was all you had.

There was an old saying in military science: no battle plan survives contact with reality without adjustment.

In other words, no matter how brilliant a military mind might be, and no matter how much intelligence one possessed, even the most meticulously crafted plan would encounter all kinds of unforeseen circumstances once actual combat began. Adjustments would always be necessary.

Thus, instinct formed an important part of decision-making when changes had to be made. Military ability was merely the foundation.

Song Heping felt that Chef was truly a remarkable man.

At the very least, he had not ignored Song Heping’s advice. He was willing to listen to a different opinion.

That was the kind of boss worth following.

With the matter settled, the next step was to purchase ammunition and equipment.

When Chef sent White Bear to buy ammunition, he also told him to pick up plenty of smoke grenades.

He said they were particularly useful when fleeing and that they could not afford to bring too few. Each man was to hang at least four from his tactical vest and carry another four in his individual tactical pack. They had to make sure they had enough, so nothing would fail them at a critical moment.

After that came rest and preparation while they waited for the day of departure.

Time passed quickly.

Before they knew it, departure day had arrived.

The night before, Song Heping suffered from insomnia.

Once again, he awoke abruptly from a dream, sitting bolt upright with sweat covering his forehead.

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The shipping-container room was pitch-black. All he could hear was the heavy breathing of Gray Wolf and Chef.

He had gone to sleep late in the first place. In the neighboring container, White Bear and the Queen had carried on until after one in the morning. The noise was so loud it sounded as though they were tearing the place apart—as if the world were ending and they had to use up every last round of ammunition before it was too late.

In the end, they drove Chef nearly to the breaking point. Unable to bear it any longer, he lost his temper and pounded hard on the container wall, cursing viciously and shouting for the two of them to keep it down. Only then did the noise subside somewhat.

White Bear and the Queen were a remarkable couple.

Song Heping had never asked whether they had fallen in love after joining the team or had already been carrying on together before joining the Musicians.

Either way, in Baghdad’s mercenary circles, he had never seen another couple like them.

There was a reason female soldiers were generally not assigned to frontline combat roles.

It was not because women were incapable. Rather, if a woman and a man fought side by side and the woman was wounded or killed, the emotional impact on the man could be enormous. It could lead to emotionally driven decisions and ultimately to defeat.

Female soldiers were sent to the front only when there was no other choice.

A romantic couple like White Bear and the Queen serving on the same team was practically unthinkable.

Only a boss like Chef would ever permit such an arrangement.

Since he could not sleep, Song Heping had no intention of trying again.

He checked his watch. The luminous dial showed that it was already four in the morning.

He climbed out of bed as quietly as possible, carefully gathered his equipment, and left the container. Outside, he found a place to sit.

The temperature in Iligo before dawn was not high—only sixteen degrees Celsius. Compared with the daytime, it was like two entirely different worlds. The temperature during the day could climb above forty degrees, turning the place into an oven.

Four hours remained before departure. Song Heping spread out a waterproof mat and began inspecting and organizing his weapons and ammunition.

In a place like Iligo, if you went out on an assignment during the day and returned after making even a single round, you had to clean not only your rifle but your magazines as well.

The sandstorms in this godforsaken place were fierce. Fine grains of sand could compromise the reliability of a firearm, and they could even clog the magazines, preventing the bolt from properly catching and feeding rounds and causing a jam.

A weapon jam in combat was a truly miserable thing. It could get you killed in a matter of seconds.

“What’s wrong? Can’t sleep?”

Whenever Song Heping could not sleep, Gray Wolf would appear.

Sometimes Song Heping could not help wondering whether Gray Wolf kept an eye on him every moment of the day. The man always appeared and disappeared like a ghost.

Especially since he had been a hunter before joining the military. Tracking and hunting were a hunter’s specialties, which explained why he walked so quietly—like a ghost without feet.

“Yes. I’m having trouble sleeping.”

Song Heping did not hide it.

“I’ve been waking up in the middle of the night these past few days.”

Gray Wolf sat down beside him and took out a metal tobacco tin decorated with the Eastern Orthodox Byzantine Cross.

He opened it, removed some tobacco and rolling paper, and expertly rolled a cigarette by hand. Then he held it out to Song Heping.

“Want one?”

Song Heping shook his head. “I don’t smoke.”

Gray Wolf did not press him. He lit the cigarette himself, drew in a deep breath, and exhaled a perfect smoke ring.

Then he said slowly, “Every rookie is affected psychologically after returning from their first real operation. Lately, you…”

He turned his face toward Song Heping.

“Have you been dreaming about the faces of the people you killed?”

Song Heping felt the hairs on his body stand on end.

Gray Wolf was right.

The faces of the dead…

Their eyes in the moments before death…

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Even after undergoing all kinds of psychological conditioning during his service, actual combat was different once his hands had been stained with blood.

He kept telling himself that everything was fine, that everything was fine.

But he simply could not forget. Whenever he closed his eyes at night, those images came uninvited…

“Yes.” He could only admit it. “It feels as though something is pressing down on my chest. I have trouble breathing.”

“Mourner, you can’t have a saint’s heart in this line of work. Even if you’re religious, you can always go to confession afterward, pray a thousand times before an icon, and ask for forgiveness. But in the real world, you cannot afford even a trace of pity. A mercenary without a moral burden is a qualified mercenary. Otherwise, you won’t be able to make a living at this. We enter this business to survive, and we kill to stay alive. In our line of work, there is no such thing as sparing an enemy. If you spare someone, it means they should never have died in the first place.”

Gray Wolf’s words struck Song Heping like sudden enlightenment, and the knot in his chest loosened considerably.

“Thank you, Gray Wolf.”

Song Heping meant it sincerely.

Gray Wolf smiled. “Your military skills are excellent. You’d be considered a capable hand in this business. Psychologically, though, you’re still a beginner. You’ll get used to it. Everyone goes through this.”

The two of them chatted idly by the doorway. Before long, Song Heping had finished organizing his weapons, and dawn had broken.

Chef got up to wash and groom himself. When he saw the two of them sitting there talking, he could not help scowling again.

“Why aren’t you brushing your teeth and washing your faces? Don’t stink up the VIP later! This is a major job. Whether we make a name for ourselves in Baghdad depends on today. Get yourselves together, and don’t disgrace the Musicians!”

Chef’s team had only five people, but he spoke as though he commanded an entire army. In terms of sheer presence, he lost nothing.

At exactly six, everyone set out.

At six twenty, they arrived at the hotel.

At seven thirty, the ISF personnel arrived as well.

Four armored Humvees, all fitted with American equipment—LAR-15 rifles equipped with factory M16 polymer handguards and Aimpoint Comp M4 sights. Some of the men used EOTech 512 holographic sights.

Every soldier wore Diamondback Tactical RBV Predator body armor and carried AN/PVS-7 night-vision goggles.

Chef went over to negotiate with the ISF commander, assigning vehicle positions and clarifying each side’s responsibilities according to the details of the security plan.

White Bear, however, stood nearby and cursed under his breath.

“Damn! Those bastards have even better equipment than we do!”

Then he moved beside Song Heping and lowered his voice.

“If anything happens on the way, and one of those bastards gets killed, remember to take their equipment when we leave.”

Song Heping’s eyes immediately lit up.

Oh?

That sounded like an excellent idea.

What he envied most was the night-vision gear.

There was no way he could afford something like that—at least not yet.

The last time he had seen a secondhand pair hanging in the shop owned by Harvey the profiteer, they had been priced at three thousand dollars. Chef had said Harvey was a shameless bastard, selling used equipment for more than the price of new.

Just as Song Heping was secretly calculating how he might loot the ISF soldiers if any of them died, the star of the day, Angel, finally arrived.

“This man will be responsible for my close protection today!”

The foreign woman pointed directly at Song Heping before Chef had even explained the security arrangements to her.

“Me!?”

Song Heping’s eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets.

Gray Wolf muttered, “Don’t tell me she’s taken a fancy to you?”

“Ha-ha-ha…”

White Bear stood to one side, desperately trying not to laugh, looking as though he were suffering from severe internal injuries.

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