The situation here is drastically different.
The "Garage" is a crucial CIA contact point and equipnt storage location outside Mosul City, manned by two field agents (codenad "Technician" and "Apprentice") who have undergone basic combat training.
They had also received orders to heighten alertness and obtained vague warnings of a potential network incident through encrypted channels.
When three vehicles full of 1515 ard personnel ca hurtling in, "Technician" was on sentry duty at a concealed observation point on the roof.
"Enemy attack! At least fifteen n! Ard vehicles!"
He growled into the radio while grabbing the M4 carbine by his side.
"Initiate ergency procedures! Destroy the docunts! Prepare to break out!"
"Apprentice" responded from downstairs, swiftly stuffing flammable papers into an iron barrel to set them on fire, and then dashed towards the prepared off-road vehicle.
A fierce firefight erupted instantly!
"Technician" occupied a vantage point on the roof, suppressing the militants trying to charge into the yard with precise short bursts.
Bang! Bang!
A gunman, who had just jumped out of the passenger seat of a pickup, fell to the ground.
Ratatatat!
The machine gunner on the ard pickup began to frantically spray the roof with bullets, sending brick debris flying everywhere.
"Apprentice" attempted to ram the off-road vehicle, reinforced with steel plates, through the repair shop's back gate to escape, but a 1515 pickup barged in head-on!
Boom!
The two vehicles collided fiercely!
"Apprentice" was left dazed from the collision, but he reacted swiftly, pulling out a pistol and firing repeatedly at the approaching enemy outside the window!
Bang!
Bang!
A militant trying to pull open the car door was hit in the chest and collapsed.
But the disparity in numbers and firepower was overwhelming.
More militants flanked in from both sides, and a torrent of bullets rained down on the vehicle, sending sparks flying and causing spiderweb-like cracks in the bullet-proof glass.
"Technician" tried to provide cover from the rooftop but was heavily pinned down by the machine gunfire and couldn't raise his head.
An RPG-7 rocket sped towards the main building of the repair shop, trailing a tail of flas!
Boom!!
A loud explosion, a part of the roof collapsed, and flas soared into the sky! The figure of "Technician" disappeared in the blast and smoke.
Without fire support, "Apprentice" found himself in dire straits.
The car door was forcibly pried open, and multiple gun barrels were pointed at him.
He emptied the bullets in his pistol and was ultimately dragged out of the car like a stray dog, violently beaten, and tied up.
Critical equipnt and so undestroyed docunts inside the repair shop fell into the hands of the 1515.
The bloody cleansing storm spread like an uncontrollable plague across the Northwest of Illinois at a terrifying pace and in the most brutal manner.
So agents were dragged out of their hos in their sleep; others had their warnings intercepted while trying to send off last-minute alerts; so, like "Hyacinth" Sarah, chose honorable suicide; more, like "Oil rchant" Masood, were low-level inforrs swiftly executed in despair and without understanding; occasionally, with tough nuts like the "Garage," a brief yet intense firefight broke out.
The intelligence network in the Northwest ticulously built by the CIA over many years and at great resource cost suffered a devastating, near-paralyzing blow, severely weakening its strength in just a matter of hours.
CIA Langley Headquarters, Central Command Center.
The atmosphere felt like an icy cave. When the initial sporadic anomaly reports and lost contact signals began filtering back through extrely fragile and delayed backup channels, Vincent clung to a slim, wishful hope that it was only a localized accident or communications glitch.
But as the avalanche of bad news—death confirmations, safe houses overrun, intense firefights, targets captured, informants executed—from various places and sources finally converged on the command center's big screen, piecing together a terrifying picture of the entire Northwest network being systematically, intentionally, and efficiently torn apart, crushed, and obliterated, Vincent's face turned deathly pale, beads of cold sweat ford instantly on his forehead, and his fingers trembled slightly out of control.
"Mosul... 'History Teacher' confird dead in the firefight, the safe house was completely destroyed, equipnt lost..."
"Tal Afar... 'Hyacinth' confird suicide by poison at a checkpoint..."
"Sinjar area... At least five key informants publicly executed..."
"Intense firefight occurred at 'Garage' safe house outside Mosul, communication lost, 'Technician' possibly killed in action, 'Apprentice' possibly captured..."
"Inspection intensity at all major routes leading to the border is unprecedented, at least three more teams attempting to evacuate have lost contact..."
"Secondary network nodes like Bashka and Tal Far have completely lost all contact signals..."
"Sir... We're... We're losing the entire Northwest network! Systemic collapse!"
A senior analyst reported with trembling voice and an ashen face, as if reciting an obituary.
Vincent felt his mind go blank, his ears buzzing, as if struck directly by an invisible heavy bomb.
He took a sudden step back, leaning heavily against the cold tactical console, barely managing to support his weakening body.
Only at this mont did all the clues, all the anomalies, all the doubts finally connect cruelly and clearly!
Airstrike failure...
The anomaly at the canyon site...
The entire Keller Squad's mysterious disappearance...
That list of unknown origin...
Song Heping's abnormally bold capture.
His entire operational logic...
All of it, the goal was never rely simple escape or shallow revenge!
Song Heping's true target all along was this invaluable intelligence network, the lifeblood and eyes of the CIA in Northwest Illinois.
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