Mercenary Black Mamba

Chapter 239: Chapter 27, Episode 14: For Whom The Bell Tolls

Bonipas leaped to his feet. His wheeled chair tumbled backward.

Ugh!

Ariba and Claude, who entered the room, covered their noses in a hurry. There was a strong smell of cigarettes. The two men didn’t smoke. They didn’t understand why Bonipas would smoke a cigarette that smelled like fish. They didn’t know the reason why Bonipas was smoking the Gauloises.

“It’s Black Mamba.”

“Black Mamba?”

Curiosity crept up on Bonipas’ face. For someone who had predicted the ANO’s bombing terrorism, it was unexpected news. The tightest bow he’d pulled wasn’t Black Mamba but the Paris-Charles de Gaulle airport and the Opéra Bastille.

“There were over 1,000 ANO members in Ruman—”

“What is it!” Bonipas interrupted Claude, mid-sentence.

His heart lurched. The number of members in Ruman that the DGSE had predicted was 300 trainees and 100 veterans. 1,000 was equivalent to an airborne regiment. The Ruman plan itself was a pain, but now he should be worrying about his chances of survival since he had given the wrong information. If Black Mamba attacked him with his bioluminescent eyes, no excuses could make up for it.

“He destroyed them.”

The ashtray on his table went flying.

Crash—

The glass ashtray met its grand ending after hitting the wall.

“You damn b*stard, don’t you know how to get to the point? Tell the results first!”

Silence filled the room.

Confused, Claude and Ariba kept their mouths closed. Their cold-blooded boss, who was called the serpent, lost his composure and turned emotional whenever Black Mamba was mentioned. It was unfair, but he was their boss. The two didn’t understand the torment Bonipas had to go through because of Black Mamba. They also didn’t know about his Black Mamba phobia.

“Hm, he is worth the price. Befitting as France’s treasure and strategic weapon.” Bonipas sighed in relief.

The cell members who had invaded their country were nothing but branch members. Since Black Mamba had dug out their roots, they would end up dying on their own. As a result, his position strengthened.

“There are more important issues. Something’s wrong in Kaparja Valley. Black Mamba sent a message saying there’s a hydroelectric power plant, a strategic missile base, and more hidden biological and chemical weapons.”

“Is that true? How can there be a hidden Syrian base near a terrorist organization?” Blood drained from Bonipas’ face.

If the message was real, it meant Assad wasn’t just using the ANO.

“According to Black Mamba’s information, we assume that the ANO and Assad aren’t partners but a secret organization he had raised himself,” Claude said with certainty.

“Ughhh, that foxy b*stard, what the hell! I thought Assad’s actions were odd, but it seems like they’re resisting against France. F****** swine!”

There was nothing to doubt if it was Black Mamba’s information. The hydroelectric power plant was probably designed to power up the missile units and to build a biological and chemical weapons production factory for the long-term. No way could they stop Assad from nationalizing the oil fields. Bonipas collapsed on his chair, devoid of strength.

“If you intend to purchase, you can contact him.”

“Black Mamba said so, hm? Amazing, he’s an amazing person. Of course, we should buy it. Contact him immediately. Three pieces for the destruction of their hydroelectric power plant, their biological and chemical weapons storage facility, and their missile base.”

What fortune! Glee filled Bonipas’ face. He hadn’t asked for it, but everything was happening according to his wishes.

“Boss, three pieces might require your arbitrary authority to…” Ariba’s face shifted.

“Shut up. I can give him more than three, even 30 checks. I’ll figure out the rest. If it isn’t for Black Mamba, not even 300 or 3,000 would have cut it. It’s an emergency. Contact him before he changes his mind.”

“Yes, boss.”

As Ariba and Claude ran out of the room, Bonipas stroked his jaw.

“Damn, will my jaw be fine when he returns? Philip has a cotton fist, but that guy’s a nuclear weapon. Shockingly, 1,000 terrorists were hiding in Ruman. No, the guy who got rid of them is even more impressive.”

Again, he’d given Black Mamba the wrong information. It was obvious how he’d flash his bioluminescent eyes at him in anger. Images of Miguel, who had died from being turned into a lump of coal, and Colonel Tanshe, who had died with his intestines spilling out, appeared before his eyes. He felt a chill.

“He once said that all fights would disappear with the clink of gold coins, didn’t he? The more I think about it, the more it is an aphorism,” Bonipas muttered as he picked up the telephone.

Since he had already handed all information regarding the airport and the opera house to the Ministry of Interior, they should resolve it. Kaparja Valley was an issue that he had to immediately discuss with the president. He pressed the red anti-tapping button, then zero.

“Your excellency, it’s Bonipas.”

“Why is someone 10 times busier than me calling? Have those b*stards started?”

Mitterrand’s nervous voice traveled down the line. Even the president felt anxious about the large-scale public bombing.

“There’s a greater issue. We’ve received a coded message from l’Ange de la Mort. He said there is a hydroelectric power plant, a biological and chemical weapons storage facility, and a high-altitude missile base in Syria’s Kaparja Valley. There’s a risk of those terrorists bringing the biological and chemical weapons into our country.”

“Hm!”

The silence lasted for several seconds. He could vividly imagine the President’s shocked expression before his eyes. Several wrinkles would appear on his wide forehead and the ends of his long mouth. Biological and chemical weapons weren’t comparable to explosives. Bonipas waited on the telephone.

“You wouldn’t have picked up the telephone without some kind of plan, right?”

A solemn voice ran down the line about 10 seconds later.

“L’Ange de la Mort wiped out the ANO terrorists’ training center. We must move L’Ange de la Mort.”

“What? Hasn’t it only been four days since L’Ange de la Mort initiated the Ruman plan?”

“We cannot understand an illogical existence with common sense, your excellency.”

“He must have fought a great battle, would there be any problems? No, I believe that friend’s a freelancer, did he accept it in the first place?”

“L’Ange de la Mort completed his assignment by erasing Ruman. He even gave us important information as a service eppaye[1]. It seems like we need to prepare at least three pages to change his mind.”

“300,000,000 francs. Assad must have lost about 300,000,000 francs. On the other hand, France collected a profit of 30,000,000,000 francs. Is there any other way?”

Bonipas laughed silently. The president knew better that there wasn’t any other way. It was a formality to ask the opinions of the department head of intelligence and strategies.

“There are exactly two ways to get rid of Kaparja, your excellency. Either by using the ICBM or attacking by air. ICBM is an unreachable dream, and we can’t shove the Mirage into the Dvina and Berkut’s claws. The only way would be to use L’Ange de la Mort.”

Although the Mirage had great ground attacking abilities, it was weaker during air battles. The Mirage, with its weak radar detector, could only be a feast for surface-to-air missiles if it was launched.

The Mirage’s pros and cons had been distinctly revealed during the fourth Middle East war. While it had destroyed Egypt and Syria’s tank units with air-to-surface attacks, it mimicked a leaf in the wind with the surface-to-air missiles.

Mitterrand fully understood Bonipas’ words.

“Don’t worry about the money. We’ll use some of the emergency funds. I can’t leave Assad alone. He’s a betrayer. Try convincing your friend.”

“Of course, your excellency.”

“Oh, the Sahel land that your friend requested previously. I’m done talking to Habre. Whether he wants to raise scorpions or lizards, let him do whatever he wants. A gift shines when it comes with a bonus.”

“Thank you. L’Ange de la Mort is rather obsessed with land than money. He’d be very willing.”

Mitterrand looked at ease once the call was over. His heart had jumped in surprise, but he could somehow trust Black Mamba. France would have turned into an international laughing stock if it hadn’t been for that friend in Chad. He wondered if that person would bring back great results as he did before. 300,000,000 francs was the price of chewing gum compared to the national profit that France would receive.

The indicator light on his encrypted, compressed satellite transmitter blinked. The DGSE had replied. The machine sounded as he raised the small handset.

“We’re willing to buy them all. The offered price is three checks. We’ll pay the remaining in real estate.”

Beep—

The message ended.

“Real estate? Aha, I see what you b*stards are doing.”

Black Mamba laughed silently. They were making all kinds of gestures with a land that had already been a given. He could imagine Bonipas’ sly head at work. The land was his anyway, as long as he set up a fence in Chad.

“Jamal, what can you do with 30,000,000 francs in Syria?”

“I don’t know, sir. I can’t imagine. Won’t we be able to buy all of Aleppo’s markets?”

“Let’s go. It’s a job worth 30,000,000 francs.”

Jamal, who didn’t understand English, climbed to his feet with his luggage. Black Mamba had demanded 30,000,000 francs, but Bonipas had offered 300,000,000 francs instead. That was how sensitive he was to the situation in Kaparja Valley.

Ruman was still burning. The battlefield spread under the sun looked different from what he’d seen with night goggles. It was like crushed pomegranates. The pomegranate had been destroyed, and its seeds pulverized and burnt. The terrorist training center, which Claude had intentionally called Ruman, was now just crushed pomegranates.

Black Mamba shook his head. He’d accumulated even more wrongdoings before he could wash away his wrongdoings from killing so many people in the past. Now, he was accumulating more. That was the fate of Asura. Despite being a God, Asura was nothing but a creation that couldn’t escape the circle of life. It was him.

“Jamal, I’m going to destroy the hydroelectric power plant and the missile base in the valley. The main target is the facilities. There’s no need to kill the army, I suppose.”

“Please tell me what I need to do.”

“You’re not ready to move with me. Just do whatever you are capable of doing.”

“He ruh bos pede bot trevier![2]” Jamal mumbled.

Right. All he had to do was record his master at work, as evidence. He wanted to fly around with his master, but that was impossible. A human who interrupted the Azrael’s arrival was like a grasshopper being grounded to dust underneath a cart’s wheels. Filming the scene and gathering resources was his responsibility.

“I understand. I will record my master’s work carefully.”

Black Mamba checked his remaining weapons. There were four sets of 2,000g C-4’s, 30 grenades, 700 rounds of 7.62 millimeters bullets, and 600 rounds of 9 millimeters parabellum bullets. The close-combat weapon had around 300 darts left. The Barrett slung around Jamal’s shoulder caught his attention. Jamal had also gathered the 200 rounds of 12.7 millimeters bullets, which Bansiri had left behind. He recalled Ombuti, who had gotten him the Gorgon. Since he was using the Gorgon very well, there must be a use for that junk of a gun too.

Getting rid of the missiles was easy. All he had to do was infiltrate silently and guide the warheads’ explosions. There wasn’t a problem with exploding the hydroelectric power plant either. It would shatter with 20 or so grenades.

The most troublesome task was to get rid of the biological and chemical weapons. He did not know much about biological and chemical weapons. It wasn’t a situation where he could easily ask the DGSE, either. Just thinking about the power of the botulinum toxin made him tremble.

Since 1970, Syria has been developing biological and chemical weapons with support from the Soviet Union and Egypt. The DGSE had concentrated its surveillance on Egypt and Syria’s biological and chemical weapons. Black Mamba was certain that the closed-off cave, which Jamal had mentioned before, was their biological and chemical weapons storage facility.

Aside from the respiratory system, the Sarin and VX could also penetrate through people’s skin. If the gas was released, not only would he be affected, the innocent locals would be met with devastating results.

Even the Botulinum and Antrax bacterias were troublesome. Not only were their mortality rates high, but there was also a high risk of being contaminated again because of its strong resistance. It was likely that he would burn down the house, trying to catch a flea. There was no other way but to melt it in high temperatures. It was unfortunate that he had no more explosives to use.

“Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa, why don’t you consider attacking at night to reduce the number of casualties?” Jamal understood Black Mamba’s concerns immediately.

“Hm, night…”

He grew deeper in thoughts. The darkness was his world. The problem was the importance of Kaparja Valley. There was a secret terrorist training center, a missile base, and a biological and chemical weapons storage facility. It was a place with strategic importance. There wasn’t a chance that Syria would look over its explosion. Aside from time being a problem, the investigation team and reinforcements would come running soon.

“Do you know the formation of the Syrian Army around Kaparja?”

“I roughly have an idea. The Syrian Army created the military by merging the military structures of the Soviet Union and North Korea. There’s a lot of specialization units, and the armies are organized into brigades. The entire standing army should be around 270,000 in number while there are 400,000 reserve soldiers. Of course, the 120,000 Mukhabarat serve as their backup.”

Jamal removed a bullet from the Barrett’s magazine. He started drawing a map on the ground with the tip of the bullet.

“There’s an infantry battalion 10 kilometers ahead, in Dar Taizzah. It’s a basic infantry unit without any helicopter or tank power. The second nearest battalion is the fourth ammunition battalion, 20 kilometers north of Sharran. Two days ago, they were blown away by an unknown cause.”

“Huhu, I blew it apart.”

“Ah!” Jamal exclaimed shortly.

Well, an ammunition storage facility meant nothing if Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa wanted it gone.

“I heard the Muslim Brotherhood committed simultaneous terrorism two days ago. Is that also your doing, Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa?”

“Haha, yes. I made them fight the Mukhabarat to take their attention away from Ruman.”

“Oh, Allah!” Jamal exclaimed in admiration.

He truly was the God of war. Now he understood why the Mukhabarat, who were patrons of Ruman, couldn’t give them any supplies. They had been too busy fighting against the Muslim Brotherhood and minding their losses.

“Then the Mukhabarat won’t be a problem. Although the third armored brigade stationed in Sawran is the strongest, they’re acting as a strategic force to keep Turkey in check. They won’t pull out easily. The only battalion that would be a threat to you, master, is located here.”

Jamal drew a straight line towards the south-east. He pressed the bullet down on Smad, 75 kilometers ahead.

[1] After-service.

[2] Do as you should!

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