London, by the Thas River, deep within MI6 headquarters.
The command center, codenad "Eagle's Nest," was brightly lit. On the giant electronic screen, high-definition images from the "Heavenly Eye" spy satellite occupied the central position.
In the image was the valley that had just experienced a massacre. Corpses were everywhere, smoke lingering, like a precisely marked, just extinguished miniature volcanic crater.
On a side screen, a flashing dot was moving steadily northward along a preset retreat route, its target directly heading towards the small oasis marked as "Kurtan" on the map.
Ms. M stood at the front of the command platform, her silver hair ticulously tied at the back of her head.
Her face remained as stoically hard as always, like a carefully polished marble statue. Only her sharp eyes, like those of an eagle, behind her glasses showed a barely noticeable contraction of the pupils when the satellite images switched to the tragic scenes of the valley.
"Commander, urgent communication from Captain Don, highest priority."
A young intelligence officer, wearing a headset, reported.
M did not turn, her gaze still locked on the screen at the light representing Song Heping.
"Patch it through."
Captain Don's hoarse, restrained violent voice imdiately ca through the speakers, with the unique night wind of the desert in the background: "'Eagle's Nest'! The target has just massacred nearly three hundred GNA soldiers and seized all water supplies! Coordinates have been sent! He's now fleeing towards Kurtan Oasis! I'm requesting imdiate updates on the target's real-ti position and surrounding activities! My unit will pursue at full speed! Repeat, requesting real-ti satellite guidance!"
M picked up the special communicator, her voice steady without a hint of emotion, yet containing undeniable authority: "Captain Don, intelligence received and confird. The target's movents are being continuously tracked, and information will be synchronized to your tactical terminal. Maintain open communication channels and await further instructions. 'Operation Throat Cut' is not over yet, but exercise caution, the target is extrely dangerous and... cunning."
She deliberately emphasized a barely noticeable pause on the word "cunning."
"Understood! Awaiting guidance! Over!"
Don's voice, carrying forcibly suppressed urgency, cut off communication.
The command center returned to a silence dominated by the low hum of electrical currents.
M put down the communicator, her fingertips lightly tapping the cold edge of the control panel.
Kurtan...
Is it a trap?
Or does he truly believe it's a place for respite?
She needed a broader perspective.
Just then, a middle-aged intelligence chief quickly walked through the bustling operation stations, heading straight to M's side, holding a thin paper docunt.
He said nothing, simply handing over the docunt while slightly leaning in to report quickly in a volu only the two of them could hear: "Commander, Northern Darfur, an urgent encrypted ssage from 'Nightingale' (a high-ranking MI6 undercover agent in Sudan), verified at the highest level."
M took the docunt, her eyes rapidly scanning the few lines of brief yet shocking cipher text:
"Musician corps assembling significantly in Northern Darfur. Observed large-scale chanized units (approximately battalion-sized) and a significant number of ard personnel (estimated total over 4,000 ) moving along traditional border-crossing routes heading northwest (into the heart of the Sahara Desert). Well-equipped, with clear intentions, suspected to reinforce 'Ghost.' Movent poses a significant threat."
"Musician" corps!
Four thousand people!
Well-equipped!
Reinforcent!
Each word was like a heavy hamr, striking hard on M's heart.
Her fingers holding the paper instantly tightened, her pupils began to shrink. On the screen, the light representing Song Heping continued to move steadily towards Kurtan, while at this mont, to its southeast, near the Sahara Desert by the Darfur region, those over four thousand rcenaries undetected by satellite might be trudging tirelessly like a pack of beasts, converging towards Song Heping!
Kurtan Oasis was likely no longer the SBS team's target but had beco a predetermined slaughterhouse center!
If Don's over a thousand strong GNA unit, primarily composed of pickups and light infantry, was pinned down at Kurtan Oasis by Song Heping's pack, and subsequently encircled by these four thousand wolf-like "Musician" rcenaries from the flanks or even the rear...
It would be a complete disaster!
M had no doubt Song Heping would do just that.
Analyzing this individual's tactical thinking in the past, he would definitely do just that!
If the intelligence from "Nightingale" was accurate, the SBS team alone wouldn't even be enough to sate the opponent's appetite!
The SBS casualties were already a significant loss, and if the entire GNA force along with more elite SBS mbers were also compromised, while exposing Britain's frail support in Libya...
The repercussions would be enough to trigger a tsunami on Downing Street!
A cold shiver instantly shot up her spine.
For the first ti, a clear crack appeared on the facade of her prized composure.
No!
Don absolutely could not be allowed to charge in blindly!
The real-ti images from the reconnaissance satellite remained on the screen, but its overhead ti was limited.
To gain more accurate intelligence support, to locate the movents and trajectory of those thousands of "Musician" rcenaries' defense forces, she needed stronger support.
M abruptly raised her head, her voice firm and decisive: "Get connected to Langley imdiately! CIA Director Vincent's direct line! Top encryption level! Hurry!"
Ti was like a noose, tightening.
She needed the Aricans' eyes!
Needed their vast array of satellites, especially those over Africa, to provide seamless surveillance!
Only the CIA's real-ti intelligence could allow her to clearly see the precise location and speed of the "Musician" forces, to determine whether there was still ti to withdraw Don, or...
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