Just when Petrovsky was burning with anger over losing the target's trail, the atmosphere in the room instantly dropped to freezing point—
"Command point calling assault team! The drone has detected a new heat signal!"
The urgent voice of "Signal" exploded in the encrypted channel.
"Suspected target found at the base of the north wall of the building, close to the ground level, entering an underground bunker!"
Almost in the sa second.
Hunter's calm but noticeably faster confirmation also ca from the eastern highland: "Under the grass at the base of the north wall are loose planks, soone is entering. Tall and slim build, wearing a light shirt, matches the features of Orwell in the intel! Requesting instructions!"
Underground bunker!
Indeed an old spy, three burrows like a cunning rabbit, already prepared the escape route!
"All units head to the north side of the building! Repeat, imdiately head to the north side!"
After issuing the order, Song Heping imdiately asked, "Hunter, Cold Blade, report the shooting angle! Can we prevent him from fully entering?"
Cold Blade imdiately responded, "The angle is very bad! The entrance structure creates a blind spot, most of the target's body is obscured by the entrance edge and dense weeds... I'm trying to find a possible shooting window..."
"Bang!"
Before he finished speaking, the unique gunshot of the VSS Vintorez silent sniper rifle rang out once.
But the channel was soon filled with his frustrated report, "The target was startled and quickly slipped inside! The entrance is closing!"
"He's inside! The entrance is completely sealed!"
Hunter's voice of confirmation followed, with a touch of helplessness.
"Damn it!"
Petrovsky cursed under his breath inside the building but did not hesitate in his actions.
"Assault team, follow ! To the north!"
He waved his large hand, leading the team mbers who had just cleared the interior downstairs, crashing through the broken back door, quickly circumventing to the north side of the building.
With the precise guidance of the drone and sniper, they imdiately found the heavy board that almost blended into the surrounding ground color, but with a fresh friction mark on its edge under the unusually dense cal thorn near the wall base.
The board looked exceedingly sturdy, with heavy tal hinges embedded along its edge.
"Here it is! Thunder God, it's up to you! Blow it open for !"
Petrovsky shouted at the board, his tone assertive.
"No problem."
Thunder God responded, stepping forward, kneeling on one knee, his palm swiftly brushing across the board's surface, assessing its material and thickness, and checking the structure of the lock and hinges, his brows furrowed tightly.
"Boss, this thing is thick hardwood, possibly lined with steel plates inside. Regular cutting effect of detonation cord may not be enough. We need shaped charges or at least increase the charge for the blast..."
"There's no ti to be precise! Use the most powerful thing you have on hand, set the charge as quickly as possible!" Petrovsky urged, watching the ti.
"Alright."
Thunder God no longer hesitated, quickly pulled out a block of C4 explosives already pre-shaped and its matching detonation cap from the side pocket of his heavy tactical backpack.
He skillfully began shaping the explosives, preparing to attach them to the critical stress points of the board's lock and hinges.
Just as he completed the charge setup, his finger was about to press the remote detonator button—
"Boom!"
A muffled explosion, like underground thunder, suddenly ca from beneath the board!
The sound wasn't loud, but the transmitted vibration was extrely strong, as if it directly struck the soles of everyone's feet.
Imdiately afterward, the ground beneath them trembled slightly, and the heavy board shook violently, a puff of blue-black smoke filled with intense gunpowder and dust sll burst out from the gap at its edge.
"Damn! What did he blow up down there? Does he want to completely seal off the entrance?"
Petrovsky staggered half a step back in surprise from the sudden explosion, cursing.
"That's not right..."
At the command point, Song Heping quickly analyzed the drone aerial footage and the power and effect of the explosion, making a more accurate judgnt instantly.
"He's not trying to seal off the entrance! This explosive force isn't enough to completely collapse the reinforced tunnel. He's destroying the other end of the tunnel or causing a collapse to block our pursuit route! This isn't an underground safe house, it's an escape route leading outside the building!"
Having reached a judgnt, he imdiately adjusted the operational direction.
"Hunter, Cold Blade, imdiately expand the search range! Signal, elevate the drone, use the entrance as the center, with a radius of two hundred ters, no, three hundred ters! Thoroughly scan all areas north and northwest! Focus on checking any possible concealed exits—abandoned wells, livestock dens, independent shrubs, any unnatural protrusions or cracks on the ground! He must have erged sowhere else!"
"Understood! The drone is ascending, expanding the scanning range!"
Signal imdiately responded, maneuvering the drone to soar like a falcon, its cara scanning this Gobi from a higher angle and wider scope.
The next few minutes felt endlessly long and torturous for every mber of the Ghost team spread around the highlands and courtyards surrounding the target building.
The sound of the wind seed more audible, and every second of waiting felt like an agony to the nerves.
This capture operation emphasizes quick in and out, once ti is delayed, the ensuing variables are unpredictable, the danger level rises exponentially.
The sniper's high-powered scope and observation lens, along with the drone's electronic eye, ticulously scanned every inch of the northern wasteland, leaving no unusual detail overlooked.
Ti seed to stretch.
Finally—
"Report!"
Suddenly Hunter's relieved voice ca through the channel: "Target found! Approximately one hundred ters directly north of the building is a well-disguised abandoned wellhead, the covering has been moved away! Target Orwell just climbed out! He's escaping towards the northwest wasteland on foot! Just him alone! Repeat, target Orwell has appeared, fleeing on foot!"
The drone footage quickly locked and transmitted the live image—a disheveled middle-aged man in a wrinkled white shirt with hair like a ss of grass, climbing out of what looked like a dry well, glancing in panic at the direction of the safe house, not even bothering to brush off the dust from his body, hands and feet scrambling, stumbling towards the desolate depths of the Gobi, resembling a sand rat spooked out of its nest by a falcon.
"Does he plan to run across the Gobi on those two legs? He's truly scared out of his mind!"
Through his observation lens, Naxin at the firing point saw the scene and couldn't help but mutter under his breath.
"Pursue everyone! Try to capture alive!"
Without any hesitation, Major Petrovsky lunged towards the north side like a tiger spotting its prey.
The other SSO mbers followed closely behind, like arrows shot from a string, instantly rushing out of the yard in a skilled skirmish line formation, chasing at full speed towards the direction Orwell was fleeing.
These special soldiers, who had undergone extre physical training, far outpaced soone like Orwell, an intelligence agency operative, on the flat Gobi.
Orwell was clearly flustered, carrying so minor injuries. Extre fear and poor physical condition made him stagger, struggling across the pebble-strewn and thorn-filled Gobi, painfully slow.
But the direction he chose was slightly uneven, causing minor visual disturbances for his pursuers.
"He can't run far."
Song Heping calmly watched the real-ti tracking footage stread back by the drone at the command point and confidently said to "Hunter": "Hunter, give him a warning, make him stop."
"Understood."
"Hunter" responded steadily. After brief aiming—
"Bang!"
A bright and crisp gunshot shattered the relative silence of the wilderness.
"Hunter's" SV-98 sniper rifle spat out a burst of fire.
A 7.62x54mm R bullet whistled sharply, precisely hitting an empty spot less than five ters in front of Orwell.
Puff—
Dirt sprayed up in a noticeable column of dust.
Desperately running, Orwell was scared stiff by the nearby shot, letting out a shrill scream, collapsing with his legs giving out, knees buckling, instinctively wrapping his hands around his head, curling up like a ball.
"That guy stopped and surrendered."
"Hunter" chuckled: "He knows he can't escape."
Within seconds of Orwell collapsing, "Iron Hamr" and "Angel" swiftly flanked from both sides.
The two worked seamlessly, one quickly pressing his knee against Orwell's back, the other skillfully pinning his arms behind him, fastening his wrists tightly with a high-strength plastic cable tie, then similarly binding his ankles.
The entire capture process was clean and swift, taking no more than ten seconds.
"Target controlled! Repeat, target Orwell has been captured!"
Soon, Orwell was dragged back like a heap of mud to the smoke and blood-stained two-story building.
His gold-frad glasses had long disappeared sowhere, his face stained with dirt and sweat, and his dirty white shirt was torn open, revealing his pale trembling skin beneath due to fear.
The previous facade of calm belonging to the "White Helts" leader had vanished, leaving only the most primal fear of violence and death.
He knew very well who these people were.
He also knew their ways.
And he understood whom they detested.
Major Petrovsky chose to conduct the interrogation imdiately in the room upstairs, which had just witnessed a fierce gunfight and explosion.
The room was a ss, the choking sll of gunpowder still lingering, with bloodstains visible on the walls and floor, the pungent scent of blood worming into everyone's nostrils like a snake.
In Song Heping's view, Petrovsky had chosen the location wisely.
This room itself was a potent psychological pressure.
"Tie him to the chair!"
Petrovsky casually grabbed a dirty bedsheet tugged from the bed and forcefully wiped nonexistent dust from the barrel of his V-AR rifle, his movents unhurried yet carrying an oppressive intensity.
"Iron Hamr" found a reasonably sturdy wooden chair from sowhere, rudely pressing the limp Orwell onto it.
"Shadow" used high-strength plastic cable ties he had brought to firmly fix Orwell's wrists and ankles to the chair legs and armrests, ensuring he couldn't move.
"You... you can't treat like this! I am... I'm protected by international law... I'm with an NGO..."
Orwell tried a final struggle, his voice sharp and distorted from extre fear, barely coherent.
"International law?"
Petrovsky seed to see the most amusing thing in the world, snorting lightly before sneering, casually tossing the dirty bedsheet, used to wipe his gun, onto Orwell's face, interrupting him.
"Here, I am the law."
He leaned in, his face almost touching Orwell's, the icy blue eyes devoid of any human emotion.
"Tell , those weapon-grade chemicals, where are they hidden?"
"I... I don't know what you're talking about... what chemicals..."
Orwell's gaze flickered, trying to evade the terrifying eyes, making a last stand of resistance.
Petrovsky was tired of his nonsense, straightened up, and gestured to "Iron Hamr" with a look.
"Iron Hamr" nodded without expression, taking out a prefilled syringe and a small bottle of clear liquid from a small, unmarked tal box he carried.
He skillfully inserted the needle into the bottle neck, drew a small amount of liquid, expelled the air, and the fine needle tip glinted coldly in the dim light.
Standing by, Song Heping slightly furrowed his brow.
He knew this was about to get brutal.
What's in the syringe wasn't important, only that it was certainly unpleasant to have it injected.
Whether it was a truth serum or poison was unknown, but also irrelevant...
Not at all important...
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