Chapter 1962 - 1432: The Rage of the Defeated (Part 2)

"So we need to up the ante." Robbin's lips curled into a cold smile: "Industry exclusion is just the first step. And I never said we had to target him in Iraq Station. You know our capabilities; we're a global defense company with operations anywhere."

He didn't shy away from the others in the room as he spoke.

Blake gave a hum, indicating agreement.

Hansen nodded slightly. Old Tom put his glasses back on and said nothing.

Marco poured another glass of grappa, this time sipping it slowly, his eyes fixed on the clear liquid in the glass.

"And Curtis..."

Robbin looked at the man still playing with the lighter.

"Continue engaging with the demands from Siria. If Song Heping eventually caves under pressure and wants to sell off some sensitive equipment, you are still the first choice. If he won't... then we'll make him understand the consequences of refusing our industry alliance."

Curtis finally stopped what he was doing.

He closed the lighter and looked up, his eyes behind the glasses reflecting two cold lights in the candlelight.

"I have a question." He said, "If you go through with this, won't Song Heping retaliate? Based on what I know of him, he's not the type to sit and wait for death."

Robbin laughed.

It was a cold, calculating laugh.

"Then let him retaliate," he said. "As formidable as he is, he's just one defense company, we—."

He raised his hand, made a circle, his finger sweeping over everyone.

"We are the top contractors in the entire industry."

He turned back to the microphone and said to Lemont, "Did you hear that?"

"Heard it," Lemont's voice finally sounded satisfied, "but I must remind you, Robbin. Song Heping is very dangerous. In Mosul, I saw firsthand how he dealt with those who tried to scheme against him. If you're going to make a move, ensure it's a death blow. Give him no chance to strike back."

"I understand," Robbin said. "So we need patience. The first step is pressure, the second step is waiting, the third... is to close the net."

"Need me to do anything on my end?" Lemont asked.

"Not for now," Robbin said. "You just need to keep surveillance. If Song Heping makes any unusual moves, notify me immediately."

The call ended.

Robbin put down the phone and returned to the long table.

He looked at the exquisite, now-cold food on the table, suddenly grabbed a silver tray and slammed it to the ground!

"Bang—Clatter!"

The sound of breaking porcelain exploded in the room, shards flying.

Everyone was stunned.

Robbin panted heavily, his chest heaving.

A few seconds later, he took a deep breath, slowly straightened up, and adjusted the collar of his suit.

When he looked up again, his face had returned to a calm, business-elite demeanor.

"Sorry, I lost my temper," he said in a usual tone, even with a hint of apology: "Now, gentlemen, let's discuss the specifics of our next steps..."

A new round of conspiring began in the room.

Outside the window, the night was deepening.

8:47 PM.

A Toyota Land Cruiser drove out of the Green Zone's eastern checkpoint, merging into the night traffic of Baghdad.

The headlights cut through the darkness of the streets, illuminating the uneven road ahead.

Most of the small shops along the street were already closed, with only a few kebab stalls still lit, the charcoal burning with a dark red glow in the night, smoke and the scent of spices wafting with the wind.

Song Heping gripped the steering wheel, his eyes alertly scanning the front and sides, while his mind raced at high speed.

Every detail, every word, every expression in that room tonight replayed, analyzed, deconstructed.

Robbin's overly enthusiastic smile.

Blake's undisguised hostility.

Hansens cold calculations.

Old Tom's fake concern.

Marco's exaggerated performance.

And Curtis—

The one who looked the most professional, and the most dangerous "international trade expert."

And those who weren't present, but whose shadows lingered.

Like Lemont.

Song Heping was almost certain that tonight's setup, Lemont was one of the masterminds behind it.

That former CIA Iraq Station chief who had crossed paths and suffered losses in Mosul, would not easily let him go.

What do they want?

On the surface, it's that batch of sensitive equipment.

Stinger missiles, loitering munitions, high-end drones...

These hard currency among hard currency on the international black market.

But what's the deeper goal?

Set a trap to make him violate agreements?

Return him to the blacklist?

Completely destroy Musician Defense's foundation in Iraq Station?

All possible.

He suddenly found it laughable.

A mere Iraq Station chief thinks he can contend with him?

Utter madness.

If it weren't for the fact that his relationship with Simon is top secret, if that foolish Lemont knew the nature of their relationship, this foolish business wouldn't even exist.

Of course, this is just hypothetical.

The link between him and Simon must never be known by anyone, nor should it be publicized in any way.

Otherwise, Simon would be finished, and he would suffer enormous losses.

The Land Cruiser turned onto a relatively quiet street.

Song Heping opened his eyes, looked into the rearview mirror.

In the mirror, a white Toyota pickup followed behind, about fifty meters away.

That was the first team led by Jiang Feng.

Further away, you could see the shadow of another dark SUV, the second team.

These were the two backups arranged by Jiang Feng.

The two teams alternated in covering, not following too closely to attract attention, while ensuring a rapid response in any unexpected situation.