Mercenary’s War
Chapter 652 - 652 645 Does He Deserve to Be Called an Expert

652: Chapter 645: Does He Deserve to Be Called an Expert?

652: Chapter 645: Does He Deserve to Be Called an Expert?

None could answer Gao Yang’s question, only Raja looked at him strangely and whispered, “You don’t know who Camel is?”

Gao shook his head and said, “Nonsense, if I knew, I wouldn’t have chosen that name.”

Raja helplessly explained, “Well, you’ve really picked a notorious nickname.

Camel is a recently emerging bomb expert.

He started in Iraq, his background is very mysterious, but he’s pulled off several major stunts in the past few years.

Furthermore, he voluntarily teaches people how to make IEDs.

Besides those who’ve been trained by Camel, no one knows his origins; everything about him is a mystery.”

After finishing, Raja smiled and said, “Do you know why those people are so respectful to you?

It’s because Camel is indeed very famous but also very mysterious.

Nobody knows what he looks like, not even his ethnicity, so your lie is hard to expose.”

Raja thought for a moment and continued, “The only problem is your age.

I’ve heard that Camel is supposed to be in his fifties.

Only on that point does your appearance not quite match the image from the legends of Camel.”

Gao shrugged and replied, “Doesn’t matter, we’ll be out of here once the job is done.

Now, it seems our plan should go very smoothly.”

After a brief conversation, Rafael had already made three bombs and carefully attached C4 underneath the conference table.

He also placed C4 in two bedrooms, in spots where they wouldn’t easily be found.

He then signaled to Gao that the remote detonator was activated with a gesture and whispered, “Remote detonator is on.”

Gao nodded, and then loudly discussed how to attack Aleppo Prison before turning to Raja and saying loudly, “Go and call Ibrahim and the others back.”

Raja went down to the second floor and brought an eagerly awaiting Ibrahim back to the third floor.

Ibrahim, not bothering with pleasantries, urgently said to Gao upon seeing him, “Sir, have you figured out what to do?”

Gao nodded and smiled, “Yes, we will take stock of our supplies today, scout Aleppo Prison tomorrow, and then we can make a targeted plan.

If all goes well, I believe we can launch an attack on Aleppo Prison tomorrow.”

Ibrahim’s smile couldn’t be wider; of course, he was unaware that the target Gao and his team actually intended to bomb was not Aleppo Prison, but rather him and his headquarters.

After making idle chat with Ibrahim for a while, Gao gestured and said, “Time is tight, so we must act quickly.

Where will we be staying?

Oh, and I need a sizable space to work on IEDs—the quieter, the better.”

Ibrahim laughed and said, “Would you be satisfied with where those Turks were staying?

I think it would meet your needs perfectly.

The place where those guys you got rid of were staying is large.

If you don’t mind, I can speak to the Victory Front and arrange for you to stay in that yard.

I can take you there right now to check it out.”

Gao couldn’t be more satisfied.

The place Ibrahim referred to was the courtyard where they had parked their car, not far from the Free Syrian headquarters.

Ibrahim, eagerly accommodating Gao’s plan to bomb himself to death, made everything much too simple, so much so that Gao felt almost embarrassed to ask Polovich for a higher price—it was perhaps the only regret in his entire plan.

As Gao stood up, ready to leave with Ibrahim’s company, he saw a person hurry in.

After a few urgent words to Ibrahim, a group of people ascended to the third floor.

In the days spent in Syria, Gao had seen more big beards than he had in his entire life prior—and the newcomers were, unsurprisingly, all big-bearded.

Upon seeing the leader of the big-beards, Ibrahim forced a smile and said, “Let me introduce you.

This is Torbeyev, the highest commander of the Victory Front.”

Torbeyev wasn’t very tall, had a slight belly, and a big beard that covered half his face, with a black turban wrapped around his head.

Nothing about him stood out particularly, except for his uncommon red beard, which made him look affable when he smiled.

However, his eyes gave off the vibe that he might be a sinister man.

Spotting Gao, Torbeyev didn’t show the same reverence as the others but instead scrutinized Gao suspiciously before asking in a deep voice, “You’re Camel?”

Gao’s heart clenched.

It was clear that Torbeyev had doubts about his identity; if Torbeyev actually knew Camel, that could be very bad news.

Fortunately, Gao never let his answers reveal too much.

Gao smiled at Torbeyev and said enigmatically, “I am Camel, but whether or not I’m the Camel you’re thinking of, I really don’t know.”

Staying mysterious and giving ambiguous responses was an old tactic of Gao’s.

“The old trick seems to have failed,” Torbeyev said with a cold smile.

“Mr.

Camel is an elder, and moreover, he was born in the Middle East.”

This was a direct expose.

It seemed that Torbeyev really knew the true Mr.

Camel, or at least he had heard about him.

The fake name Gao Yang had made up on the spot had brought him convenience, but at this moment, it brought risk.

Gao Yang sighed, “Have you met Camel?”

Torbeyev didn’t speak; he just looked at Gao Yang with a cold smile.

Gao Yang sighed again, “Well then, it seems you understand nothing at all.

I have no intention of explaining anything.

I just want to resolve the situation with Aleppo Prison quickly.

You should know, things have dragged on too long here.”

Torbeyev replied coldly, “What you’re talking about has no direct relation to you impersonating Mr.

Camel.”

Gao Yang laughed, “Impersonate?

I told you, you understand nothing.

Yet, it seems you still haven’t realized the mistake you’ve made.

Please, why would I impersonate anyone, and what reason would I have to do so?

I am here to engage in the battle and to take down Aleppo Prison.

Tell me, what purpose would impersonating someone serve?”

Gao Yang’s words left Torbeyev speechless, because Torbeyev truly couldn’t see the necessity for Gao Yang and his companions to impersonate Camel.

Of course, he merely overlooked one fundamental issue: that Gao Yang and his group were not here for Aleppo Prison but to eliminate Ibrahim.

Torbeyev was at a loss for words, and Gao Yang didn’t give him time to think, especially not to let him suspect that he had ulterior motives.

“I’ve told you, I am Camel.

But I might not be the Camel you’re thinking of, though I might not be entirely different either.

Do you understand the implications of that statement now?”

After saying this to Torbeyev, Gao Yang smiled and added, “If you really knew Camel, then you would understand what I mean.

But if you don’t, I won’t bother to explain.

I am here to deal with Aleppo Prison.

Once Aleppo Prison falls, we will leave, so it doesn’t really matter how you interpret this.”

Looking thoroughly puzzled, Torbeyev asked, “Could it be that Camel is just a code name, not someone’s nickname?”

Gao Yang shook his hand, “Don’t guess wildly and don’t ask.

Knowing too much is not good for you, and certainly not for us.”

Torbeyev’s expression softened, but after thinking for a while, he promptly said, “Alright, setting aside your identity for the moment, I want to know if you truly are a blasting expert.

Please answer this clearly.”

Gao Yang shrugged his shoulders, “That I can answer definitively.

We did come here as blasting experts.

Of course, if necessary, we can assume other identities.

Everything depends solely on what is required to take down Aleppo Prison.”

Gao Yang deliberately spoke ambiguously.

Such answers were headache-inducing and nauseating; with every reply, many conclusions could be drawn, leaving Torbeyev’s head spinning.

However, the conclusion one arrives at oneself is definitely the easiest to accept.

After thinking for a moment, Torbeyev looked up and said, “The men you killed were contracted by me at a high price to quickly take down Aleppo Prison.

Those Russians, and Turks, they were from the Bulldozer Mercenary Corps, and they were blasting experts.”

Gao Yang just shrugged his shoulders without speaking, while Rafael sneered, “Experts my ass!

Them?

Calling themselves experts?

Can you tell me what else they can do besides piling up a heap of TNT and then setting it off?”

Surprised, Torbeyev looked at Rafael, but Rafael showed no intention of continuing, which left Torbeyev in thought for a short while before he waved his hand again, “Alright, for whatever reason, I won’t pursue the matter of you killing the Bulldozer Mercenary Corps.

As for you claiming to be Camel, I can’t verify, but I will get to the bottom of it.

I have a friend who studied with Camel, and he will arrive here soon.”

In the matter of the fake identity linked to Camel, Gao Yang couldn’t be completely unresponsive, so he feigned surprise, “Oh?

Who is it?”

After hesitating briefly, Torbeyev decided not to clarify just yet, instead choosing to speak as ambiguously as Gao Yang had, “A Chechen.

If you are Camel, or have any connection to him, perhaps you’ll recognize him.

He’s also a blasting expert.”

“Haha, another expert; why are there so many experts now?

The title really isn’t worth much anymore.

If you’re talking about Saif, then I can only say, does he even deserve to be called an expert?

Ask him if he dares to admit that he’s an expert.”

Rafael was speaking again, and this time Torbeyev was genuinely surprised.

His suspicious expression vanished as he looked at Rafael and said loudly, “You know him?”

Rafael dismissed it nonchalantly, “If you’re talking about that Saif, of course, I know him.

But don’t bother asking any more; isn’t he supposed to be coming?

Once he sees us, you’ll know exactly who we are.

Now put away your ridiculous suspicions; we don’t have time for riddles.

All you need to do is tell us what needs to be done to take down the prison.

For everything else, you don’t need to worry.” (To be continued.

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