Song Heping didn't pause at all, imdiately picking up another encrypted phone, the connected signal pointing to the far end of another continent - Africa.
A concealed private security training camp in the Sen Republic of Africa.
The scorching sun baked the land, and the air was filled with the scent of dust and sweat.
As the encrypted satellite phone rang at a specific frequency, Hunter had just unscrewed his water bottle for a sip. His expression tightened, gestured to his assistant beside him, and swiftly moved to the quiet shade.
"Boss."
Hunter's voice was deep and steady.
"There's an urgent mission for you to take on, the target is a smuggler at a place called Narendra in Goa, White Elephant Country. He's blocking the way and needs to be eliminated."
Song Heping's voice was unwavering as he directly issued the order, "You go personally, select the most capable people to handle it cleanly. I will provide you with the target information. This matter requires absolute secrecy, complete it and withdraw quickly without leaving traces."
"Understood. What is the priority of the mission?" Hunter asked.
"Top priority. Move out as soon as possible."
Song Heping added, "The target is currently on high alert, ans need to be clean and swift, the plan must be thorough."
"Received. I will set out with people imdiately."
There were no additional questions, only absolute obedience and execution.
As a sniper by trade, Hunter's working style was never indecisive.
Twenty-four hours later, Hunter appeared at the international airport with two top snipers he had personally trained.
They looked no different from ordinary business travelers or vacationing tourists.
Hunter himself assud the alias "Mark," with docunts showing him as the manager of a Singapore travel consultancy company.
He wore sunglasses, a slightly flashy casual shirt, and carried a backpack that seed filled with travel brochures and sunscreen, his face displaying the slightly weary expression of a business person.
He selected two snipers, one codenad "Violinist," who was slim, taciturn, carrying a backpack with a professional cara and telephoto lens, posing as a photography enthusiast; the other codenad "Drumr," was sowhat burly but always wore a simple smile, dressed in a T-shirt with cartoon prints, looking like an ordinary young man out for fun.
Their passports showed they were from Malaysia and South Korea respectively.
These passports ca from the technical departnt of the "Musician" company, each had genuine entry and exit records and corresponding visas, enough to handle routine checks.
After a long flight, the plane smoothly landed at Goa's Dabolim Airport.
The hot, humid sea breeze mixed with the scent of curry and spices greeted them, surrounded by bustling tourists from various countries, creating a joyful ocean of colorful saris and beach shorts.
The three passed through customs smoothly, the officer lazily stamping them through after casually flipping through their passports and vacation hotel bookings, their attention already drawn by the scantily clad female tourists in the queue behind them.
They checked into a dium-sized vacation hotel in the coastal area.
The choice was due to the large number of tourists, high mobility, not easy to attract attention, and it's not far from the area Narendra frequents according to Zayed's information.
Hunter and Drumr shared a standard room, Violinist had a room to himself, for necessary mutual support if needed.
The check-in process was simple and quick, the receptionist's smile was standard, attention evidently not on these extrely ordinary-looking Asian tourists.
Upon entering the room, Hunter's first task was to draw the curtains, leaving only a gap, then used a matchbox-sized professional device to quickly scan the entire room, confirming no eavesdropping or spy devices. Drumr mutually checked the door lock and windows.
This is a standard procedure for a professional military person every ti they arrive at a new place.
For the first two days, they really behaved like ordinary tourists.
Hunter changed into beach shorts and flip-flops, wore a straw hat and sunglasses, wandered the streets with a tourist map, occasionally entering a café sitting for half a day, yet his gaze sharply swept the surrounding streets, traffic caras, and potential sniper points.
Violinist, carrying a cara, mingled among various attractions, the telephoto lens seemingly aid at scenery and architecture, was in fact asuring distance and angles.
Drumr lounged on the beach, playing beach volleyball with a couple of European backpackers. Beneath his honest smile, he noted the patrol patterns of beach police and the locations of nearby security kiosks.
anwhile, they received detailed data about Narendra from Zayed using encrypted devices and cautiously collected supplental information using complex relay software in a public network environnt for cross-verification.
On the third day, the real reconnaissance began. They rented an inconspicuous local white sedan, starting remote observation on Narendra's group company's headquarters - an eight-story glass curtain-walled building located in a relatively bustling business district, and his luxury mansion in a wealthy area - a seaside villa with high walls, electric grids, and nurous caras.
The situation was as severe as the data Zayed provided, even more so.
Narendra clearly knew he was engaged in a life-and-death war with Zayed, and his security asures were extrely tight.
His daily routine was extrely regular to the point of rigidity - at 10:15 AM, the convoy departs from the mansion to the company; at 6:00 PM sharp, the convoy returns from the company to the mansion.
Besides this, he hardly made public appearances recently, all entertainnt and social activities were entirely canceled.
The biggest trouble lay in his convoy.
Every trip consists of six identical black rcedes S-Class sedans, forming a moving fortress of steel.
These vehicles had professional armor modifications, both the body and glass could withstand light weapons and even 12.7mm caliber rifles' shots.
The convoy would drive directly into underground garages upon departure and arrival, roll-up doors closing quickly, making it impossible for outsiders to discern which car Narendra was in from outside.
Before and after the convoy were two Toyota Land Cruisers with at least eight ard bodyguards providing escort.
Hunter and his team took turns driving, observing at various points and using different vehicles over four consecutive days, resulting in no gains.
Unable to determine the vehicle carrying the target ant the aning of long-distance sniping was lost; though the convoy's route was fixed, it traveled through bustling areas, moving quickly, tightly guarded, making roadside bombings or forced stops extrely high-risk and likely causing many civilian casualties, drawing serious attention from the appropriate authorities, which entirely contravenes the principle of "secrecy."
"Boss, the target's turtle shell tactics are very successful."
On the seventh night, in the hotel room, Violinist reported with a very low voice while wiping the cara lens, speaking with usual calm.
"The vehicle's bulletproof level is very high, based on the fuzzy data Zayed provided and our observation calculations, even a .50 caliber Barrett M82 using standard ammo would be extrely difficult to effectively penetrate its side windows or windscreen from a long distance. Unless using specialized armor-piercing incendiary rounds or shooting at the engine compartnt or tires from an extrely close distance, but such actions would exponentially increase our risk of exposure."
He paused and added, "Moreover, we still haven't been able to confirm which car the target takes each day."
Drumr, who was doing push-ups nearby, calmly added, "Storm the underground garage or company? The risk is too great. The opponent has a large number of bodyguards, with unclear firepower, and we are unfamiliar with the area. Once a firefight occurs, it cannot end quickly. Local police and Narendra's reinforcents can arrive swiftly. This doesn't et the boss's requirents for 'secrecy' and 'quick withdrawal.'"
Hunter, standing in the shadow on the balcony, looked at the distant contour of Narendra's company building, still illuminated by a few lights in the night, frowning intently.
Ti was ticking away, and Song Heping was still waiting for results at the secret camp in Persia.
He couldn't wait indefinitely.
But this Narendra protected himself like an iron barrel, almost impeccable.
Even as an experienced veteran, he found himself surprisingly like a cheetah confronting a tortoise, unable to get past the hard shell.
He took a deep breath of the humid and stifling air, turned back into his room, and took out the encrypted satellite phone.
It was ti to ask the boss for assistance.
Not seeking a direct solution, but rather for so...
inspiration.
He trusted Song Heping's strategic mind, which always manages to perceive the situation and find unconventional breakthrough points.
The phone quickly connected, and Hunter briefly reported the current predicant - the target's movents were extrely regular but heavily fortified, the convoy composed of many vehicles making the target's riding position indiscernible, and the vehicle's high bulletproof levels made roadside attacks with assault rifles and the like highly unfeasible.
"Boss..."
Hunter's tone carried a hint of barely noticeable anxiety.
"The target's turtle shell is too hard, conventional thods can't rapidly take effect. I need a new angle or... a bit of inspiration. I'm thinking, you can surely give a hint, right?"
He handed the problem over to Song Heping, who was at the eye of the storm in Illiguo.
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