In the shadows on both sides of the canyon, which had been peaceful like a graveyard just a mont ago, countless scarlet tongues of fire suddenly erupted!
The roar of light and heavy machine guns, the whine of assault rifles, and the dull impact of sniper rifles instantly wove a web of death covering the entire assembly point area!
"The firepower is too intense! At least a company level!"
Sergeant Wilkins rolled in the explosion's smoke and dust, shouting hoarsely, "Machine gun nests at three o'clock high ground! Suppress them!"
Bullets, like scorching hail, crazily hamred the rocks the SAS mbers used for cover.
Ricochets emitted sharp whistles, tracing lethal streams in the darkness.
A team mber tried to change position, but as he leaned out, a precise sniper shot tore through his neck, blood spraying in an eerie green under night vision.
"It's the Hunter!!"
Mc Millan's pupils constricted sharply, his mind flashing to the briefing before the operation, which included all information on key mbers of the "Musician" defense.
Among them, a sniper nicknad "Hunter" left a deep impression on him.
For so reason, as soon as his teammate was hit, he thought of that troubleso figure.
He plunged to the ground as a string of 7.62mm machine gun rounds viciously hamred the rock he had been leaning against, scattering debris.
"Group A! Suppress the three o'clock high ground! Group B! Group C! Establish crossfire! Call for air support! Hurry!"
Mc Millan roared into the throat mic amidst deafening gunfire, while his L119A2 in hand, with precise burst shots, suppressed enemy figures attempting to flank.
He saw the figures moving opposite—extrely professional, well-coordinated, fierce and accurate firepower, definitely not ordinary rcenaries!
They were certainly the elite combat forces from the "Musician" defense as shown in the data—South Arica Special Operations Platoon!
"Deep Well! Deep Well! 'Chair' ambushed! Alpha-Seven coordinates! Encountered 'Cobra' main force and elite special operations unit! Heavy casualties! They know our location! Intelligence leaked! Request urgent fire support!"
Mc Millan shouted into the satellite communicator while counterattacking, his voice distorted by anger and urgency.
---
London, "Deep Well" command center.
A piercing alarm and the ominous blinking red light indicating 'Chair' squad's attack coordinates shattered the underground fortress's gravity.
Lady M stood in front of the massive curved screen, her ash-gray figure like frozen ice.
On the screen, the blue dots representing Mc Millan's team were surrounded by dense red hostile tags; the signal strength fluctuated violently.
"Connect with Mossad! Highest priority!"
Lady M's voice was like ice tempered by fire.
A few seconds later, Yager, the head of the Middle East operations at the Tel Aviv Mossad command center, appeared in the encrypted video window, his well-defined face carrying a hint of sarcasm.
"Lady M, disturbing you at this late hour, what can I do for you?"
Yager's voice was unhurried, with the Middle East situation map from the Mossad command center wall in the background.
"'Chair' squad was ambushed at the designated assembly point 'Gravestone'! The enemy is the elite special operations unit from 'Musician' defense! Yager, where exactly is your 'Alpha' group now?"
Lady M's questions ca like rapid-fire shots.
Yager leaned back slightly in his high-back chair, ice-gray pupils showing no surprise, only a certain all-knowing indifference.
"Oh? You stepped into a trap?"
He shook his head gently, a hint of undisguised sarcasm at the corner of his mouth.
"Very unfortunate. However, I reminded you long ago. Lady M, your MI6 intelligence network might seem more transparent than a sieve in the eyes of so 'friendly nations'. The CIA likes to plant ears in allies' gardens, this is nothing new. Who can guarantee there's no other 'gardener' besides the Arican?"
Lady M's face instantly turned ashen: "Now is not the ti to shirk responsibility! The 'Chair' squad needs support!"
"Support?"
Yager spread his hands, appearing composed, "Apologies, our 'Alpha' group is in the crucial phase of the 'Final Gaze' operation, cannot be distracted, besides, Song Heping's ability to ambush you indicates sothing…"
His upper body suddenly sat up straight, slightly leaned forward, eyes fixing on the screen.
"There's a mole on your side, possibly the operation plans leaked."
Lady M's expression went grim: "I'm not calling you for cold sarcasm or a lesson on confidentiality; if you waste my ti here, I'll directly contact your director."
"Tut-tut. Don't rush."
Yager relaxed again, spoke with a tone of confidence under control: "Rest assured, everything is according to the original plan—or rather, in 'our' plan."
He leaned toward the cara, voice lowered with cold confidence, "Our 'Alpha' group has successfully infiltrated near the target. As for your 'Chair'... unfortunately, they beca the bait to draw fire, although not deliberately arranged, the results seem favorable?"
He glanced at another screen showing a clear flight path map: "Additionally, to ensure Song Heping's complete downfall and 'assist' your troubled allies, four F-15I 'Thunder' heavy fighters from my Air Force's 69th 'Hamr' Squadron took off from Ramat David base five minutes ago, carrying precision-guided munitions, rushing at full speed toward the Northern Darfur airspace. Estimated arrival ti... Well, should be enough to deliver a 'gift' to their enemies before 'Chair' is completely crushed."
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