Cairo.
Ten o'clock in the evening.
For a capital city, ten o'clock is just the beginning of the nightlife.
But in the Old Town of Cairo, it's different.
There aren't many entertainnt facilities in the Old Town. The officials have always said they want to build a new city because the original old city has beco too crowded. Most of Egypt's land is desert, and only the Nile River Valley and so small coastal towns are suitable for living. Many people have flocked to Cairo in search of work, making the old city increasingly overwheld.
Senid sat restlessly at his desk.
The desk lamp illuminated the desk in front of him, which was covered with several counterfeit docunts, his forgery tools, and a computer.
This was not Senid's ho.
Years of making counterfeit docunts had brought him considerable profit.
With the money he earned, Senid bought a three-story small building for his family near the wealthy district, while the old house in the Old Town, with only two rooms and a living room, was his private purchase, used as a workspace.
After all, a technical bureaucrat from the Border Managent Bureau secretly making counterfeit docunts to sell fake identities sounded quite fantastical.
If his superiors found out, he would really need to wash up and prepare to bend over in the prison shower.
Not only his superiors.
If his wife knew that the money for buying the house and car ca from his illegal black market dealings, what would she think? How would his children see their father?
So, renting an old suite to use as a workspace was the best solution.
As to how Mossad found him despite his years of caution, Senid had spent three full days just forming a vague idea.
Over the years, he sold counterfeit docunts, often working for intelligence agencies from various countries. For various reasons, these agencies needed to find local experts in forgery for so of their missions.
Egyptian passports were still quite valuable in Africa, making them in high demand.
And in the field of Egyptian forgery, Senid was undoubtedly an expert.
But next to the water, your shoes are bound to get wet.
The relationship between him and Henry was known to British military intelligence, and possibly leaked through other channels.
Even if it didn't leak through other channels, maybe there were Mossad agents within British intelligence.
Don't be fooled by these bastards calling each other allies on the surface. Behind the scenes, Mossad or M5/M6 wouldn't let their guard down over so fake allyship.
Maybe that's where the problem lies.
He ripped out a page from an original docunt—this docunt was genuine. He just needed to replace that page, add prepared pages, apply the watermark along the spine, cover the security codes ticulously under a magnifying glass, and et the standards of aging and authenticity.
Once everything was complete, he would enter the "new identity" into the system's database, making it easy to buy plane tickets and travel abroad with the counterfeit passport.
But today, Senid could not calm down.
Peeling off the photo page on the docunt was a very delicate task. If he made a mistake, rough edges would appear, visible under a magnifying glass, noticed by skilled border agents.
To make it flawless, his hand had to be steady.
This was a sophisticated skill.
Senid's hands were shaking.
After more than ten minutes, he ultimately failed.
Frustrated, he tore up the failed docunt and threw it into the trash can, pulled a cigarette from the pack next to him, lit it, and took a few deep drags before freezing.
After hesitating, he got up slowly and cautiously tiptoed to the bed, lifted the curtain slightly with two fingers, and carefully observed outside.
The narrow street below was quiet, with a few white plastic garbage bags swaying in the wind, floating up and down, twirling around.
Looking west along the street, Senid finally saw the old car. The car doors were closed, and he couldn't see inside.
But Senid knew it was a Mossad agent's car, because previously, when things went wrong, they put him in a sack, stuffed him into the car, drove to a secluded spot by the Nile River, dunked him repeatedly, threatened his wife and children, and his future.
These bastards!
Senid didn't like Hebrews at all.
The two countries had deep historical grievances.
But he had to lower his head.
Mossad had thoroughly investigated his secrets.
Death did not scare him.
But he had risked so much for his family, for his children. If Mossad destroyed all this, he would have nothing left.
He believed these ruthless Mossad agents would do it, so he, known for his professional ethics and craftsmanship, capitulated.
Strangely, despite admitting everything days ago, the Mossad agents still followed him everywhere.
Even at work, they watched him.
Shouldn't they have taken the information he gave them and ambushed that China man Song Heping by now?
Given this, what value did he still hold?
He really wished Mossad would treat him like a fart and let him go, forget him.
But things went against his wishes.
Mossad continued their relentless surveillance.
Sotis, they were so blatant about it, as if to threaten him openly.
What were they planning to do?!
The car door suddenly opened, and soone got out, holding a cigarette pack and lighter, subconsciously glanced towards his workshop, confird the light was on, then moved to a dark corner of the alley to smoke.
Senid quickly let go of the curtain, pressing himself against the wall.
Mossad was ruthless.
Killing him would be as easy as snapping fingers to them.
Senid admitted he was a coward.
After a minute, he couldn't resist his curiosity and wanted to see if that guy was still outside. Maybe he should go ho early.
With these bastards around, he couldn't work!
Cursing inwardly, he peered out through the curtain again.
"Huh?"
Seeing the street, Senid couldn't help but mutter.
"Where did he go?"
He mumbled to himself, opening the curtain wider to see the area below.
Usually, there would be a Mossad agent there.
Two groups, four people, watching him every day, seemingly without sleep...
But this ti, he couldn't see the agent below either.
"Strange..."
After observing for a while, Senid felt bored.
He closed the curtain, returned to his workbench, picked up his tools, and suddenly paused.
After contemplating for a few minutes, he decided to pack up and go ho.
Staying here was aningless.
Maybe Mossad had retreated.
They got the information they wanted, achieved their goal, and perhaps they really did treat him like a fart, not needing to silence him.
Maybe...
Everything had co to an end.
Quickly, Senid packed his things, put everything on the desk into the safe, stuffed his tools into his briefcase, turned off the desk lamp, walked to the door, turned off the room's light, opened the door...
As the door opened, a shadow flickered in front of him.
Soone rushed in, making Senid stagger.
"I've told you everything, please spare !"
Frightened, he blurted out his plea, thinking the Mossad agents had co to kill him.
Bam—
The door slamd shut.
"It's over..."
Senid lanted inwardly.
This ti, he wouldn't need to worry about the prison shower; he could head straight to the crematorium.
Mustering his courage, he peeked open his eyes to see the gun barrel just two ters away.
Click—
The room light ca on.
Seeing the intruder clearly, Senid gasped.
"It's you!?"
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