Even if both sides are so-called allies, the interests of Britain and the United States in Africa are not entirely aligned, and there are even certain conflicts in so areas.
The face of the head of intelligence analysis appeared ghastly pale in the screen's cold light.
"Their technical level is extrely high, sir. The 'Ghost Protocol' level's bounce network, like rcury spilling, has erased all traces exceptionally cleanly. Our cyber counterattack forces attempted to trace it but encountered multiple layers of interference and traps, with indications that... the opposition counter-invaded two of our peripheral nodes as a warning."
He swallowed hard.
"What's even trickier is the spread. Several independent investigative journalists known for digging up governnt scandals have already obtained a more detailed 'clue package', its contents... more lethal than what's publicly disclosed on the deep web, directly pointing to the 'collateral damage' and human rights issues caused by our cooperation with Song Heping in Sena. A few intelligence brokers with CIA backgrounds are also fanning the flas, and fragnted 'evidence' is rapidly fernting within specific circles."
"Eye of the storm..."
Hammond muttered, his fingers unconsciously tapping the cold tabletop.
The enraged near-out-of-control roar of Ms. M still echoed in his ears.
Vincent's "concerned" phone call, more like a naked insult and threat.
The Aricans freezing support is just the first step, what's next?
Criticize us at the United Nations?
Spread unfavorable intelligence about Britain in Africa?
Or even...
Secretly supply blood to Song Heping, letting that rcenary beco their tool to cleanse disgrace?
Every possibility sent shivers down his spine...
The heavy oak door silently swung open.
A figure stepped in strides, dressed in a neatly pressed SAS camouflage uniform, with a prominent colonel insignia on his shoulder.
Colonel Blake Wood, code-nad "Bulldog", the SAS commander in charge of this operation.
He was of burly stature, sporting a very short crew cut, with a faint scar on his cheek and eyes as sharp as a hawk's.
Following him was a middle-aged man with graying hair, wearing gold-rimd glasses, exuding scholarly elegance but with a touch of shrewdness—Hopkins, the Director of Africa Affairs at the Foreign Office.
"Hammond."
Blake Wood's voice was deep and powerful: "All personnel and equipnt for the airborne operation are at the highest readiness level, with the weather window in the target area in northern Sena optimal in 48 hours. My n are waiting in the African base, itching not to watch the headlines!"
He pulled out a chair and sat down with a soldier-like efficiency, his gaze fixed on Hammond, "Tell , will this damned dia storm turn my guys into fixed targets on the shooting range?"
Director Hopkins leisurely sat down, took out a handkerchief to wipe his glasses, his tone calm but carrying undeniable weight: "The Foreign Office is under unprecedented pressure. The Pri Minister's office questioned us three tis this morning. The 'concern' notice from the U.S. Departnt of State, its wording severe, is rare in the past decade. The representative of the AU presidency just summoned our ambassador to the AU, hinting that the 'leaked intelligence' severely damaged Britain's image committed to peace and the rule of law on the African continent."
He paused, eyes behind the lenses becoming sharp, "We are losing the moral high ground, Hammond. Every minute of delay provides ammunition to our opponents, weakening the legitimacy and international support of our actions. The Lumar faction's outposts in northern Sena are being gradually eroded by the Isis governnt forces, ti is not on our side."
Hammond felt his temples pounding.
Blake Wood's agitation was like fire, Hopkins's pressure like an iceberg, and he was caught in between, repeatedly seared and squeezed.
He stood up abruptly and walked to the giant electronic map.
The area representing the Sen Republic was highlighted, especially the vast northern region marked densely with symbols of resources, the "Rift Valley Corridor" zone.
"Pause?"
Hammond's voice suddenly escalated, carrying a tone of despair, he turned sharply, his gaze like a tempered blade, fiercely sweeping across Blake Wood and Hopkins's face.
"Vincent that old vulture wants us to pause! Song Heping this bastard did this to make us hesitate! Once we withdraw, do you know what will happen?"
He forcefully jabbed his finger at the location of Sena on the electronic map, his fingertip almost piercing through the screen.
"The Aricans will rush in like sharks slling blood! They will support proxies, they will do whatever it takes to control this resource! The core interests we've operated in Africa for years will be swallowed by them completely! Reset to zero!"
His chest heaved violently, his gaze swept over everyone, carrying a sort of near-desperate madness: "As for the leak? It's a disgrace! But disgrace can only be cleansed by victory! Wiping out Song Heping and his ragtag militia completely cleanses the sha! Nail him on the pillar of 'terrorists,' those recordings will just be the ravings of a madman before death! International opinion? Once we seize the leadership of the Sena situation, restore order and 'security' to Sena, with a few well-designed 'humanitarian aid' shots, opinion will naturally shift! History is always written by the victors!"
Colonel Blake Wood's tight jawline slightly relaxed, a fla of bloodthirst ignited in his eyes, a professional soldier's yearning for battle and absolute belief in victory.
Director Hopkins pondered silently for a mont, his fingers gently tapping the table, weighing the balance between political risks and imnse gains.
Finally, he spoke slowly, his voice restored to usual calm: "The risk is great, but... the strategic interest is greater. The Foreign Office will initiate the highest level of crisis public relations plans, fully counteracting negative impacts. But the operation..."
He looked at Blake Wood, saying word by word: "Must succeed. And fast! Swiftly! Give no ti and justification for any external forces to intervene!"
"Then let's do it!"
Blake Wood stood up swiftly.
"Operation 'Iron Hamr', execute according to the highest intensity protocol! Objective: eliminate the 'Ghost', dismantle its ard forces, ensure the Lumar ard forces break free from the Isis governnt forces' encirclent within 72 hours and advance towards Butare, seize the capital Butare within a week!"
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