Chapter 210: The Syria-Ruman Plan

“Damn. I can’t get used to it.”

Black Mamba grabbed his ear, which was still ringing in pain, and stood up. His sensitive ears hadn’t been able to withstand the air pressure within the airplane, which took form upon landing.

Air training was done below 1,000,000 feet high. Back then, he hadn’t known that going above 1,000,000 feet would bring about deafening sensations and unbearable pain.

He pressed his ears with his palm and compressed the air. Slowly, some of his hearing returned. Sensitive ears weren’t always good. Exceptional symptoms appeared when he was unbalanced physically, causing even more sensitivity. However, that didn’t mean he had to use a ship, which would take several days.

“Those damn b*stards, they simply can’t see me be comfortable, can they? They should order me around to a lesser degree.”

The small discomfort unfolded into a complaint. It wasn’t the type of complaint that a salaryman who attended work only two to three times a year should make. Korean salarymen who suffered from increased workdays and overtime work hours would have frothed at the mouth and criticized him.

“Act!”

The military police captain saluted in greeting. When an army of military police dressed in suits rushed out to make a row, Jeanne and Bonuru’s eyes grew wide. They became even more curious about the yellow King-Kong’s identity.

After losing a huge opportunity, Bonuru’s eyes were filled with disappointment. She wasn’t given a chance to approach, so what could she do? The man who was like ice didn’t even give her a chance to carry the smallest bags.

That damn b*stard!

Bonuru swallowed her curse. Now wasn’t the time to curse and regret. Flashy words were coming out of the ice-like man’s mouth.

“Captain, grab those two women.”

Black Mamba motioned at the blue eyes and burnt skin with his chin.

“Oui!”

The captain didn’t even ask. He’d been assigned by the higher-ups from the headquarters to follow the VVIP’s orders.

“Bind those two. They might run away,” he added another order for their arrest.

“Oui!”

Four military police guards ran towards them and clasped handcuffs around their wrists. Jeanne and Bonuru’s faces turned into the shade of a pig’s liver at the sudden attack.

“Agh, what are you doing?”

“Let go. I’ll formally report you!”

Blue-eyes and burnt-skin shrieked around. It was only after their stomach had gained a punch that they fell silent. The captain turned around and looked at Black Mamba.

“They released classified information and undermined my authority with racist slurs. I’m disappointed that such beings are working in the Ministry of Home Affairs. Find out everything regarding their past activities. A drum-worth of dust should come up. Everything regarding their past work should be investigated, starting from the Policy Planning Division to the Arms Recovery Division. I’ll personally check their status after my mission is complete.”

“Oui, the prisoners won’t see the sun until you come back, special military advisor, sir.”

“Hm, you understand things very well. You can take the merit for their capture and future charges, captain.”

Black Mamba patted the captain’s back. The captain’s face grew bright.

“Officer, put them in the Military Police Department’s solitary confinement. There will be no meetings granted.”

A cold gaze burrowed into the women’s back as they were dragged away roughly. It was Jeanne’s misfortune and the beginning of Emil’s happiness.

[In Paris’ Rue Saint-Dominique, No. 14, DGSE headquarters.]

“Is this my first assignment in four months?”

Black Mamba looked up at the seven-floor building. The special military advisor’s office was located at the Special Integrated Command Post. It was created to conceal Black Mamba’s identity. There was no reason to attend work at all. His true office was located at the DGSE’s main headquarters.

“Bienvenue, Black Mamba, ca va?”[1]

A man who looked like dried pollacks reached out for a handshake. He was the vice-head of operations, Bonipas. He was the man who had fooled the Ratel team and shoved them into the alligator’s mouth, and the Santa Clause who had gifted Black Mamba with great presents.

In his mid-50s, Bonipas was as cold-blooded as his appearance. Unlike usual, his face was accompanied by a forced smile, which was grotesque. He had no choice but to be cautious since he had suffered under Black Mamba’s hands before.

Black Mamba shook Bonipas’ hands awkwardly while looking at his glassy eyes. He remembered his dead comrades every time he saw the man.

“Enchanté de vous connaitre.”[2]

Bonipas’ eyes grew narrow at the simple greeting, as though he was smiling. Bonipas issued him the orders. It had the signatures of the minister of the Department of Interior, Pione, and the Director of the DGSE, Lagos.

“Allow me to introduce Mister Ordo, the GIGN military police director of the Department of the Interior.””

A man in his 40s, who looked as tough as bamboo, reached out his hand.

“Enchanté. Je suis Brais Ordo.”[3]

“Black Mamba.”

He replied plainly and ended their brief greetings lightly. The edges of Ordo’s eyes were raised, but he didn’t make a move. According to France’s organized structure, the Department of Interior was as powerful and widespread as the US’s Department of State. Its exact name was the Ministry of Internal Affairs, Foreign Provinces, and Regional Affairs.

The director of GIGN was under the Department of Internal Affairs and presided over 38 organizations and 420 members of the GIGN. The GIGN special forces were famed for its specialty in suppression. His rank was of a colonel’s, but his actual rank was of a general’s.

Black Mamba was a meager major in the Department of Defense. On the surface, Ordo was the king, and Black Mamba was the servant. The only reason Ordo was unable to make a move was that their places had been switched.

Black Mamba’s rank and position were extremely unbalanced. His rank was that of a mercenary sergeant. His position was the special military advisor, and only three people in the country could command him. They were the president, the minister of the Department of National Defense, and the director of the DGSE.

It was a position higher than his superior, the director of the GIGN, and similar to that of the deputy minister of the Planning and Coordination Department of the Ministry of Internal Affairs. His real abilities were more fearsome than his titles or position. He didn’t want to touch the mad dog rumored to have impulsively crushed people. Anyway, Ordo’s mood turned sour from their first meeting.

Bonipas pressed on the interphone’s button. Soon, a sharp-looking, 40-years-old man stepped inside the room. He had the face of a pollack and wore thick glasses. He was the Nakdong River’s crucian carp for sure.

I wonder how the crucian carps and the villagers are doing?

All the humans of DGSE tasted like bland rice. He had automatically judged all their members negatively after a bad first impression.

“This is manager Claude, a friend of mine from the Department of Foreign Operations.”

Black Mamba simply nodded. He wasn’t a clueless second-rank private anymore. He was a major and the special military advisor, ranked as a colonel who could sit across a general and drink coffee. He wasn’t a soldier who could be led around the nose by a mid-level boss of a spy organization anymore.

“Let’s head to the meeting room.”

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When Bonipas clicked on a remote, the bookcase behind the table spun around. An elevator door appeared in its place. It was like a scene he had seen several times in movies.

Whirrrl—

The elevator descended for a very long time before it stopped.

Ding—

“We’re 175 meters underground.”

Ordo and Claude flinched at Black Mamba’s comment. Bonipas only nodded.

“Amazing!”

“There are many things to be surprised by. Lead the way.”

Strength seeped out of Claude’s tight shoulders. Black Mamba was known as an untouchable figure and a mad dog among the higher-ups of the DGSE.

His nickname was understandable once his past actions were traced. Colonel Tanshe of the Airborne Regiment had his limbs crushed and died in pain with his stomach sliced open. The manager-in-charge, Miguel, had been burned alive. His next-in-line, Landre, had 100s of his joints broken and his senses destroyed, which led to half-paralyzation. In the end, he had handed in his resignation and left the intelligence department.

Black Mamba was then acknowledged as the mad dog who didn’t discriminate between friend or foe, the Azrael, and the worst weapon on record. No one amongst the DGSE managers wanted to take over Landre’s position. In the end, the low-ranking manager, Ariba, took up the position as though he was forced.

The managers’ pain didn’t stop at that. Manager Valvoue, who was sent to N’Djamena, had been finished off. After he had his chin shattered and his right wrist broken, Valvoue left the intelligence department with the excuse of acute PTSD.

They didn’t know when the mad dog would strike once more. The mad dog wasn’t just a mad dog, but a horrifying b*stard that could kill people with a simple graze. Claude was extremely nervous.

Zzzzing—

The thick gold-plated doors opened softly on both sides. The thickness of the door alone seemed to be over one chi. Several monitors and machines filled the 50-pyung space.

“Only second-tier workers with access can enter the intelligence operational room.”

“It’s a great facility. Do you also tap?”

Black Mamba looked over the glass door into the room. There were 100s of soldiers with headphones over their heads, attached to monitors.

“Of course. We’re at a level that supports an entire city, although lacking, compared to the United States of America. Currently, we’ve raised the dials due to the simultaneous terrorist attacks.”

“Claude, we don’t have enough time,” Bonipas rushed him.

Claude briefly summarized the situation. Firstly, he explained the terrorist explosion that took place on the Champs-Élysées’ Rue Marbeuf in April of ’82 and its connection to the recent chain terrorist attacks.

He continued the explanation by addressing France’s position, who was at this point, being cornered by both sides. Various points were covered, which included the fact that they couldn’t send large-scale forces to Syria, a sovereign state, the threat of provoking the Soviets who were supporting Syria full-time, and the immense numbers and arms of the terrorist organization.

“So, you’re asking me to get rid of something that the entire GIGN couldn’t get rid of? You want me to wipe out the armed terrorists and break their training grounds to the point that it can’t be used again?”

Black Mamba glared at manager Claude with the eyes of a chicken that had just eaten a scorpion. The information didn’t differ much from the information he had obtained from Bellman. He didn’t like their attitude of glossing over major details. Claude flinched. He felt as though the stench of blood was surrounding him.

Damn, mad dog, why’re you aiming me?

Mister Ordo coughed at the uncomfortable feeling.

“Yes. We’ve analyzed the special forces’ battle 20 times with the Technical Division. According to our analysis, we decided that only the special military advisor can break through this situation. We’re impressed by the advisor’s subterfuge and close-combat abilities. The advisor’s entire skillset is comparable to the airborne forces’ regiment.”

“Huhuhu, what a compliment.”

Black Mamba laughed emptily. France’s Airborne Regiment had around 1,000 people. Could he go against 1,000 people? If he attacked with hit-and-runs as he did in Dombrey forest, it was possible.

Claude started up the projection. The screen landed on Cyprus, which floated in the middle of the blue Mediterranean before zooming in towards northern Syria, below Turkey.

“This is Syria’s Aleppo. It is the second-largest city in Syria following Damascus. It’s a city full of cultural heritage sites due to its long history.”

“Just speak to the point. You wouldn’t have called me to tour the Mesopotamia heritage site, right?”

The screen was pulled once more at his cutting response. The deep, dark, multi-colored river and the remains of a building appeared so vibrantly he thought he could grasp it.

“36 kilometers north-east of Aleppo city, is the Kaparja Valley in Halab’s province. There are remains of a ruined castle inside the valley from the Byzantine Empire, near a place called Der Aman. That is where the terrorist organization trains themselves. According to our investigations, the terror was backed by a faction of Palestine’s terrorist organization called the ANO[4].”

“ANO? Ddugural!” Black Mamba cursed in Korean in a low voice.

In summary, the terrorists were cell members of the Black September Organization and the RAF, and their supplier was the Black September Organization’s training grounds in Syria.

With a terror supplier near Syria’s city, the support of Syria’s policies in both big and small matters, and the power that the Black September Organization held, it was obvious that Mitterrand, Pione, and Bonipas would tear their hair apart.

When he had been training in Deuxieme Rep, he had learned that the number one terrorist organization was the Black September Organization. The officers referred to them as the bully among all terrorists.

The bully of terrorists, ANO, was an extremely radical terrorist organization created by Sabri Khalil al-Banna. Al-Banna was a terrorist organizer from the PLO. He was better known as Abu Nidal than Sabri Khalil al-Banna and was the stereotypical evil terrorist leader.

Al-Banna had rejected Arafat’s moderate stance in 1974 and had established the Fatah Revolutionary Council, also known as ANO. ANO became the leading terrorist organization under the “Black September Organization,” which kept its identity hidden.

Alongside Hamas and Jihad, ANO was one of the three major Arab radical terrorist organizations. ANO had committed over 100 terrorist attacks in Central Asia, USA, UK, France, and Israel, with around 1,000 members officially sacrificed. The non-official number, including the deaths of civilians, was predicted to be way over the estimate.

There was a rumor that its partner organization, Black September Organization, was founded with the Soviet’s aid, but it was never confirmed. However, there was enough room for doubt with the Soviet’s continued financial aid to Iraq and Syria. Hussein and Assad had worked as Brezhnev’s front guides, after all.

Syria and the ANO were like a crocodile and a crocodile bird. Deconstructing the Black September Organization, which fell under the protection of Syria’s best secret police, wasn’t an easy matter. Although, they wouldn’t have called him in the first place had it been easy.

“The RAF’s the feather, and the ANO’s the body. Syria gives them their foothold while France is being beaten up,” Black Mamba summarized easily.

Ordo nodded his head.

“Right. The ANO’s terrorist training center is also receiving RAF’s new recruits. Their officers are Syria’s secret guards and the People’s Republic of North Joseon’s officers. We call this place Ruman.”

“Ruman? The Ruman from Sagan’s poems? Ruman is also known as pomegranates in Arabic. It seems like the GIGN employs people based on their cultural knowledge,” Black Mamba mocked.

[1] “Welcome, Black Mamba, how are you?”

[2] “Nice to meet you.”

[3] “Nice to meet you. I am Brais Ordo.”

[4] Abu Nidal Organization.

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