Just as Rod sat in the armored vehicle imagining himself reaching the border to ambush Song Heping, who was fleeing in panic from Siria, several spiderweb-like cracks suddenly appeared on the windshield in front of him.
"Contact! Contact! Contact!"
The radio erupted into chaos instantly.
Bullets rained down on the vehicle like a torrential storm, thudding loudly against its body.
Fortunately, the SUVs used by the "Watcher" unit were high-grade armored vehicles, and bullets from standard assault rifles and light machine guns were nothing more than tickles to them.
Rod calmly issued a command: "Scatter! Scatter! Find cover and advantageous positions!"
"I see them, about a hundred ters ahead, on the hillside! Not many, likely just two attack teams!"
Rod took a glance ahead after hearing this.
Sure enough, he spotted a few flashes from muzzle fire.
The number of muzzle flashes could approximate the size of the enemy force.
Rod, a veteran soldier with rich experience, needed only a glance to confirm that his subordinate's report was accurate.
The enemy consisted of just two teams, each occupying separate high ground positions.
Do they really think this setup is enough to take down?
He imdiately concluded that the ambushers weren't sent by Song Heping.
After all, with Song Heping's level of intelligence, he wouldn't make such a ridiculously stupid move.
If they were planning an ambush, they should have deployed forces to the front and back, ford a pincer, and trapped him here. That's what should have happened, like the ambush outside Baghdad's suburbs.
The mory of that last ambush still made Rod's liver quiver.
"This definitely isn't the 'Musician's' defense force! This is likely so local militia from the area. Brothers, show them your skills and take out these scattered rabble—we have more important things to do!"
Rod was brimming with confidence.
Dealing with a few militia stragglers was hardly a challenge.
What annoyed him most was that soone so ignorant would waste his ti at such a critical mont.
"Check behind us to see if there's anyone ambushing us from the rear! Keep an eye on the back!"
What worried Rod most at the mont was the rear.
But he quickly received a subordinate's reply: "No, I don't see anyone behind us."
"Then let's hit them head-on…"
Before finishing his sentence, a 40mm rocket launcher shell shot out from the right side and slamd directly into the rear compartnt of an SUV.
Boom—
Even an armored SUV was no match for a 40mm shell, capable of piercing through lightly armored personnel carriers.
A fireball erupted into the air.
The explosion shattered the confidence they had just managed to build.
"RPG!"
"They're on the right!"
"Damn it! Where the hell did they co from!?"
"Take them out!"
The convoy quickly realized the severity of their situation.
Suddenly, enemies had appeared on the right side of the convoy, launching a fierce assault.
Even worse, the ambushers were equipped with light anti-armor weapons like rocket-propelled grenades.
"Go left! Go left! Circle behind the hillside on the left!"
Rod responded imdiately.
But before he could finish his command, another RPG shell erged from the left side and destroyed an SUV that had just turned its nose around.
Chaos erupted in an instant.
Rod noticed that the enemy fire from the front seed to have stopped.
He wasn't naive enough to believe that his opponents were showing rcy or had run out of ammunition.
The enemies up front were moving from their original ambush positions, likely advancing and preparing for a full assault.
Rod was baffled as to where the enemies on the left and right had erged from.
Every mber of his team carried night vision equipnt—if soone had been hiding within just a few dozen ters on the flanks, they should have easily spotted them.
The dramatic turn of events made Rod realize that the ambushers were no ordinary adversaries.
Their shooting skills and tactical coordination revealed them to be an elite ambush team made up of seasoned battlefield veterans.
"Break through the left! Secure the hillside and call for reinforcents!"
By now, continuing toward their original mission of ambushing Song Heping was out of the question.
Surviving was the priority!
The mission was supposed to be covert, but with the team trapped in this dire situation, Rod had no choice but to desperately call up the chain of command and request military aid.
Although the military had always had a distaste for the CIA, and resented their clandestine operations right under their noses, there was no chance they'd leave them to die now.
A large coalition force was deployed in the direction of Mosul, including A-10 "Warthog" attack aircraft. If they dispatched even a single Warthog, these ambushers wouldn't last fifteen minutes before being sent to et God.
The convoy charged toward the base of the hillside on the left, under a rain of bullets.
Rod roared over the radio: "Dismount! Spread out! Clean out these bastards!"
He was no cowardly commander.
He was the first to push his door open, ready to charge out.
As long as they reached the base of the hill, the terrain could provide cover from the frontal attackers.
The left side had the weakest firepower.
That ant fewer enemies were stationed there.
Breaking out from this side was the best decision.
Turning back wasn't an option.
The enemy had RPGs and was clearly prepared for this.
The longer the SUVs remained exposed, the higher the chances of everyone perishing under rocket fire.
Bang—
Just as Rod stepped out of the car and moved no further than his second step, a 7.62mm sniper bullet struck him, throwing him onto the ground.
Rod's vision went black, plunging into endless darkness.
He struggled to get up, but his limbs refused to respond.
He felt sothing spraying out from his neck.
He instinctively tried to block it with his hand, but his arm only rose halfway before dropping back down, powerless.
He lay on his back, gazing at the stars above.
So clean…
Life was draining rapidly from him.
Soon, he saw the blurred face of a teammate hovering above him.
It was too fuzzy to make out who it was.
His vision was rapidly deteriorating...
What a miserable end.
Rod realized he had been hit in a major artery, causing massive blood loss and the rapid shutdown of his bodily functions.
Death was closing in by the second.
"Captain! Captain!"
He barely heard the teammate shouting aloud at him.
"Don't sleep! Don't sleep!"
The teammate seed to be trying to lift him up, but just as he managed to raise Rod halfway, a bullet struck the poor fellow, taking him down.
"Sniper…"
Rod whispered his final word before his head lolled to the side, lifeless.
Ten minutes later, the gunfire ceased.
Dozens of black shadows appeared around the hill, closing in from various directions.
Song Heping walked over to Rod's lifeless body, crouched beside him, and began rummaging through his tactical pack and pockets.
Every last shred of intel was collected, leaving no clue unchecked.
As he searched, Song Heping looked up at Jiang Feng and said, "Get clear images of all their faces. Collect the intel as fast as you can, and let's move out imdiately. We have no ti to waste—I'm not sticking around to get pounded into dust by the US Army's planes."
A South Arican rcenary kicked one of the corpses on the ground violently, venting his frustration from the events back in Gelashuk Town tonight.
Jiang Feng cautioned him, "Don't kick the dead. Show so respect for your opponent."
Then he began photographing each corpse.
Another ten minutes passed, and the site was void of any movent, leaving only corpses scattered on the ground and bullet-riddled SUVs in their wake.
Ten minutes later, two A-10 "Warthog" attack aircraft roared overhead at low altitude.
The pilots scanned the ground through their onboard systems and reported over the channel: "Support Unit 2 has arrived on-site. No survivors—all deceased. Requesting ground teams for cleanup."
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