Let Me Have You Translate That

In a Belgrade mansion, Kirov's cigar glowed brightly.

Dimitri connected the satellite phone to the external devices—one to the speaker to play the call aloud, and the other to a high-fidelity headset—and handed it to the translator he had found.

"Show me your 200% service spirit and professional attitude. This is a major client with high moral character and humanitarian sentiments. Prove to me that the fee I'm paying you is commensurate with your value."

The Russian gestured with his cigar to the translator who was sitting upright.

The tone was somewhat meaningful.

He added, "Believe me, you don't want me to ask to change the player."

The translator was Serbia, dressed in a sharp suit, with a meticulously groomed beard, tall, and fair-skinned—exuding the air of a white elite. He looked very reliable and would fit right in on Wall Street.

He bowed politely, as if he couldn't understand the other person's threat.

"Understood, sir, I am ready."

Kirov nodded, then leaned forward and said into the phone, "Brother, we can begin."

Kang De's voice rang out simultaneously from both the speakers and headphones. "Translated?"

"Yes, he will talk to you."

The Serbia white elite flashed a formulaic, polite smile and sang in fluent, near-perfect Mandarin: "Sir, I am Mali-Sele, it's a pleasure to serve you."

The esteemed gentleman replied, "Hello, Mali, I have something to say to this black man; could you translate for me?"

"Yes, please let him speak."

"Good."

Mali-Sele, Kirov, and Dimitri all listened intently.

Then...

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

The cry was so pitiful that Kirov and the interpreter were both startled, while Dimitri, who came from the Vympel, raised an eyebrow, seemingly realizing the other's predicament.

"Hmm..." Mali-Sele, being an elite translator, quickly calmed down. His expression remained normal as he tentatively asked, "I think... this is just a scream?"

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

Even more pitiful screams of pain followed.

But it only lasted a few seconds before turning into a low sob, and Kang De's voice rang out again. "Yes, I recognized it too, so please tell this black guy."

"If he wants to keep yelling, I'll skin him alive and leave him here to yell to his heart's content until he dies. I don't care if he lives or dies, because there are plenty of soldiers like him, and it's not difficult to catch another one. There will always be some willing black guys to talk. So, if he doesn't want that, he'll shut his screaming mouth and answer my question!"

Mali Sele took a deep breath and translated the ultimatum into English with perfect clarity and detail.

Gambia was historically a United Kingdom colony, and for a long time, English was the official language. It was later ostensibly abolished, but the King of Gambia, known for his rhetoric, never announced a new official language after abolishing it, which is quite puzzling.

In fact, English is still the official language of Gambia, and schools have always taught English.

The soldiers could understand it, of course.

Kirov's highly paid translator not only translated the language, tone, and context accurately, but also improvised with an impeccably standard London accent, portraying the ruthless Britain colonists' domineering and intimidating attitude towards the native inhabitants, as if transported back to the 18th century.

The Gambia soldiers were clearly intimidated.

I don't know which factor intimidated them.

"Very well, ask him where the China people here have been taken?"

Mali Sele translated the sentence.

The Black man stammered, "I... I don't know..."

"Oh, no need for translation, I understand that sentence."

Kang De said this, and then...

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

The screams were even more agonizing, and even Dimitri looked surprised, unable to discern what kind of punishment Kang De was administering, despite his extensive experience.

"... Tell him!" Before the translator could even form an expression, Kang De's voice rang out again, "I don't like this answer. Ask him if he has anything else to say or if he's forgotten anything! I'm giving him one last chance, otherwise I'll hang him out there, skin him alive, and then go find someone else!"

--same.

Kirov looked at Dimitri in astonishment.

Dimitri nodded to him.

The old Russian shuddered.

After Mali Sele translated the sentence, the black man wailed, "NOOOOOOO!"

This time, it was clearly not because of pain, but because of despair and fear.

The translator was considering how to phrase it when the Black man blurted out a string of gibberish in English.

"He said wait a minute! He said Major Oschatz knows! He doesn't know where the China were taken, but he knows who arrested them! It was Major Oschatz! The major arrested them!"

Perhaps it was the Black man's screams that were so genuine and heartfelt that the white elite translator was drawn into that atmosphere of despair and fear, and Mali Sele's voice also became more anxious and urgent.

Kang De asked, "Where is Major Oschatz?"

Mali Sele roared, "Where is fxcking Oschatz!"

After the Black man finished speaking, crying and shouting, Mali Sele translated, "The military camp north of Sangmili, the major is there! The major is there! I swear! He must be there!"

"Oh, good, good, thanks—I need to know the details of that base."

Mali Sele, the terrified Black man, spoke his mind without reservation.

"Let him take me there. Ask him if he's willing."

After the translation, a frenzy of "yes" immediately rang out on the phone.

"Mali? Thank you for your thoughtful and meticulous translation service. I'll call you back in a bit. Kirov, you found a very good person, thank you. Also, could you please find me a photo of Major Oschatz?"

"No problem, bro. Even if they're from Gambia, they have government websites. It's easy to find."

Kang De's calm words brought the translation exchange to a close. After the phone rang, Kirov and Mali both breathed a sigh of relief.

The translator immediately broke out in a sweat.

"Hold..."

Kirov wasn't much better off.

He waved his hand. "Dimitri, pour him a glass of wine, I'll have one too."

After finishing his sentence, the arms dealer patted his chest and let out a long sigh, "Damn it, I knew it, this must be a ruthless big shot..."

Meanwhile, Kang De buried the two guard dogs that had been protecting the house but had been attacked by the black man.

Then they covered Lao Hei's face with a cloth and carried him away from the company's premises.

After leaving the city, he summoned Iron Son and put Old Black in the passenger seat; this was the guide.

"Tell me," Kang De said, "Which way."

He had already built up enough of a violent impression in the other person's mind; the burly black man huddled in the driver's seat like a little girl, sobbing softly.

Kang De glanced at him and immediately started frantically pointing the way, "Sir, this way!"

The Humvee started up, bypassed Sangmili, and headed east.

According to Lao Hei, that place was originally a military camp of the Comora. It is said that when the Gambia army arrived, the Comora garrison fled at the mere sight of them. Now the camp has been occupied by Gambia and is occupied by about three hundred soldiers. Of course, it doesn't mean there are three hundred people in the camp. These three hundred people are stationed there to monitor the security and traffic of Sangmili and the surrounding towns, especially now that many people are out having fun.

Kang De frowned.

The invading army of Gambia numbered about a thousand, while the Comora defense forces numbered over nine hundred. The two sides were evenly matched, but war obviously cannot be calculated in terms of numbers, especially since Gambia was the aggressor. If they were not careful, they could easily get caught up in a troublesome counterinsurgency war.

Even with his limited knowledge of warfare, he knew that it was rather insane to allocate one-third of his troops to guard a single area under such circumstances.

Brother, you only have a thousand men.

But Gambia actually did it.

Comora has two more "big cities" like Sangmili.

Have they already won? Is that why they dare to be so reckless, even splitting their forces?

However, this kind of problem was clearly beyond the comprehension of a Black soldier.

Therefore, Kang De did not inquire further.

Major Oschatz definitely knows.

About an hour later, the military camp came into view. Kang De looked through his binoculars and saw that it was indeed a military camp, with proper walls and fences, large permanent barracks that looked like warehouses, and a nice white two-story building, which was said to be the residence of Major Oschatz.

I've found out.

Kang De looked at the Black man, and the Black man looked at Kang De.

Then he said calmly, "Bye, Nger."

The Humvee's door opened automatically, and the black man, his face filled with excitement, leaned forward, trying to jump out. The next moment, a hand pressed down on his head, snapping it open 180 degrees.

The body was thrown out of the car like a rag doll.

Kirov has already sent over the photo of the Black major.

Kang De glanced at the guy a few times, carefully memorizing his appearance, then took the Lynx rifle from the back of the machine, covered his face with a scarf, and stretched his body.

The Humvee's engine roared as Horus asked, "Father, are you going to sneak over there?"

"Why?"

Kang De checked the magazine and casually said, "Don't you understand? Stealthily approach him, hold a gun to his head, and it'll be hard for him to realize what's happening, hard to make him afraid, and hard to get him to cooperate willingly. I don't want to waste time, and I don't want to bother interrogating or threatening him, so..."

He loaded the long, large magazine with a click.

"Let's storm in, kill everyone in front of him, and then question him."

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PS1: Second update, 3000 words...

PS2: Damn, I've been so diligent lately, I'm almost on the update rankings -- where are the votes! Where are the razor blades! Hand them over!