48 hours later.
The heatwave condensed into a transparent curtain among the ruins of the ancient castle. Through Major Yager's binoculars, the ancient buildings not far away were as silent as a tomb.
But he dared not continue the attack.
Only six were left.
They had launched two attacks since the night before, but neither had been successful, costing them two lives.
As a Mossad operations director, Yager had never encountered such a tricky problem—Song Heping and his people inside the building evidently had gained water and food, and even taken guns, bullets, hand grenades, and claymore mines from his dead subordinates.
This allowed them to make a stubborn resistance, enough to withstand the attacks of Yager's few remaining n.
Although he had his n deployed around the riverbed, tightly besieging Song Heping.
It was like a tiger catching a huge turtle, with the other side retreating into its shell, leaving Yager helpless.
Song Heping was obviously determined to wear him out.
It was a matter of seeing who could last longer in the desert.
He tried to contact and communicate with the rear.
But he received no promises—two "Black Hawks" had been lost and last night's operation was difficult to replicate. The Egyptian Army on the Sinai Peninsula seed to sense sothing and had strengthened their surveillance and defense of the coastline.
The headquarters ordered them to wait.
To wait for the right opportunity, another team would be sent to support.
But according to the weather forecast, this would take at least three days, waiting for a thunderstorm, the best weather for secret operations.
After all, on this land, rain was hard to co by.
Staring at the desolate ancient building complex, Yager's molars ground together with a tooth-aching sound—just eight hours ago, that damn Chinese man had used a captured HK416 assault rifle to shatter the skull of his best assault team mber.
Seeing his best subordinate fall into a minefield and his body blown into the air, Yager nearly collapsed.
But, an even more severe problem awaited him.
"Major, Group B has only 300 milliliters of water left."
The operator's cracked lips oozed blood, and the life-monitoring system on the tactical tablet showed that two team mbers' body temperatures had exceeded 39 degrees Celsius.
Yager tore open the velcro on his collar. Under his desert camouflage uniform, there was an old wound from the Gaza Strip, now throbbing hot right at the heart.
He wanted to rush in and tear Song Heping to pieces.
eting this Oriental was the worst nightmare of his life!
Now, he faced the dilemma of either launching an assault to take the building or staying here until he died of thirst...
It was a difficult situation.
"We need to take so action, otherwise we'll just die here. Now they are inside and we are outside, we are suffering more than they are..."
Yager looked at the sky.
Though it was dark again now.
The scorching scene of the sun during the day was still vivid in his mind.
Song Heping and the others had roofs over their heads, sheltering them from the sun.
He and his subordinates, on the other hand, could only build makeshift tents with waterproof blankets on the scorching sand to avoid being roasted like pigs under the burning sun.
"Major, the place is filled with mines... we can't..."
An operator moistened his cracked lips and voiced his thought with difficulty, "We might as well retreat to the seaside..."
"No retreat! The mission isn't complete! Mossad's assault team doesn't have unfinished missions!"
Yager roared, his eyes bloodshot.
The high temperature and lack of water, combined with several tactical failures, had driven him into a frenzied state.
Any ntion of retreat or leaving deeply offended his nerves.
"We must launch one last attack. Either they die, or we perish!"
As each word squeezed out through his clenched teeth, the few surviving Mossad assault team mbers could hear Major Yager's teeth grinding.
Under the do of the ancient building, Sara's moans echoed eerily off the stone walls.
When Jiang Feng shone his tactical flashlight on the wound, a swarm of sand fleas poured out from the rotting bandage.
"Quick, give the silver sulfadiazine gel, her temperature is very high, it seems she's infected."
Song Heping shook out the captured dical bag onto the stone platform. The vacuum-sealed bag with Hebrew print glowed coldly in the moonlight: "And the thrombin powder."
Antonov's thick fingers gripped the surgical forceps, sending heavy nasal breaths over the wound. The cal-hide rope in Sara's mouth instantly went taut.
Suddenly, the HK416 assault rifle fired outside the old castle, the warhead exploded in a fan-shaped shower of rubble at the observation deck's gap.
Song Heping dived, instantly seeing Yager's figure flashing across a sand dune over a hundred ters away. The Hebrew man's deliberate exposure of his position was like both an outburst and an invitation for Song Heping to return fire.
"He's calculating the ballistic adjustnts."
Jiang Feng, sitting on the ground, disassembled his assault rifle into parts and wiped the sand-dusted springs with cal oil. The HK416, this precise assault rifle, was less durable than the AK in desert sands, delicate indeed.
The second bullet interrupted him, precisely penetrating the stone crack and leaving a fist-sized dent where Antonov had just been sitting.
"It seems they're starting to attack!"
Jiang Feng quickly reassembled the gun, shouting a warning.
Sara lay on the ground, convulsing violently, then began to vomit heavily.
The woman was in high fever, in a critical condition.
Being injured in the desert could easily be fatal.
"Give four minutes!"
Song Heping tore open the hemostatic gel's sealed cap, the latest field first-aid product issued by the Daishe Bird Special Forces expanding into pink foam in Sara's abdominal cavity.
Hiss sss—
Bullets entered the building, hitting the do and shaking loose a few pieces of rock.
Looking up through the cracks, Song Heping saw Yager's figure when the sand shrouded the moonlight.
The Mossad commander stood at the edge of the minefield, drawing a throat-slitting gesture at him with his rifle, backed by several corpses—those who hit the mines yesterday and the ones he had shot during attacks these days. The bodies were bloated into eerie olive green in the continuous forty-degree heat over the past two days.
At 3:17 AM, creeping 30 ters from the building along the riverbed, Yager threw out the last two stun grenades—reaching this point was possible because, for the past two days, his assault team had used their lives to pave a safe passage through Song Heping's ambushes.
Just the final 30 ters left to break into the building!
Bang—
Bang—
The explosion's infrasound waves caused the old castle's foundation to tremble violently.
"Charge!"
For the last 30 ters, Yager had decided to gamble with his life!
Judging the probability of mines from his gut feeling, he led the charge, aiming to reach the ancient building's entrance within the brief monts the shock bombs had bought.
If he reached there, he was confident he could kill Song Heping.
With each step of the charge, Yager felt his heart pounding several tis more intensely.
His scalp tingled, and so did his face.
Caused by the tension and massive blood rushing to his head.
Thirty ters.
A few seconds.
A life-and-death decision.
"I'm coming!"
The entrance to the ancient building was right before him.
Yager suddenly realized his luck had turned.
He had made it all the way without triggering a single mine!
"Follow my steps!"
Pressing himself against the wall by the entrance, he roared to his subordinates.
"Get here and kill them!"
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