Ten minutes later, Simon's helicopter stirred up a cloud of yellow sand, disappearing into the sky over Daguge.
The last trace of a formulaic smile faded from Song Heping's face, replaced by cold killing intent.
"Ungrateful bastards."
He muttered quietly.
This remark was not a personal assessment of Simon, but the ultimate disdain for the entire bureaucratic system of a distant super empire.
Do those politicians in the DC Special District really think they can make Song Heping submit as a pawn on their chessboard with a few empty promises and some negligible assistance?
If so, they're gravely mistaken.
He turned and returned to the command center, grabbing the red internal communicator on the table, deftly pressing the call button.
"Samir, Abu You, come see me immediately!"
The order was brief and direct, without any unnecessary words.
In just a couple of minutes, the heavy iron door of the command center was pushed open again.
"Boss!"
"Mr. Song!"
