One hour later, in the briefing room.
The twelve mbers of the "Watcher" team sat fully ard in the tiered seats, wearing the latest tactical gear, communication headsets on their heads, each with a serious and focused expression.
Jasper stood in front of the 3D projection of the Yen map, the laser pen's red dot stopping at the position of Aden Port, his fingers lightly tapping on the table, as if pondering sothing.
"If my speculation is correct, Song Heping is likely already ashore in Yen," Jasper's voice was resolute: "However, the local area is currently in a state of large-scale unrest, with waves of protests causing massive chaos. The conflict between the northern Slippery forces and the governnt army also provides cover for our actions. At this ti, no one would care if a few foreigners die in the chaos, so it's a good opportunity for us to take action, no doubt."
Morris raised his hand, "What's the rule of engagent?"
"The Yeni governnt has secretly agreed to our small-scale counter-terrorism operation."
Jasper pulled out a blurry photo, showing Song Heping with several Arabs in a group photo. He pointed to Song Heping in the photo and said, "The target is suspected of providing military intelligence support to terrorist organizations, and the president has signed an 'authorization to kill' order."
Simon, leaning against the wall, suddenly interrupted, "What if he wants to surrender?"
The entire room fell silent, all eyes focused on Jasper.
Jasper's lips twitched, "Song Heping will not surrender. But in case that happens..."
He looked around the crowd and then said solemnly, "The top priority is to ensure that drone data doesn't fall into enemy hands. Understood?"
The team mbers nodded in unison, their eyes revealing a steadfast resolve.
Jasper knew they all understood the true aning of these words—leave no one alive.
"Operation code na 'Bone Saw'." Jasper turned and spoke to all the personnel, "With the current chaotic situation in Yen, no one knows when their flights might be shut down. You need to pack up and prepare to depart imdiately, bring your diplomatic credentials, and et at Aden International Airport in six hours. Dismissed!"
After the team mbers left, Jasper was alone in the briefing room. He walked to the window, gazing at the night outside.
He picked up the printed screenshot from the table—a snapshot of Song Heping disguised as an engine operator. A hint of ruthlessness flashed in his eyes.
Jasper used a lighter to ignite it, watching the flas engulf Song Heping's face, as if venting hatred toward this enemy.
When the fla was about to scorch his fingers, he released it, and the ashes fell into the tal trash can.
"This ti I won't let you get away," he murmured, his voice filled with determination.
He didn't notice a shadow retreating quietly from under the door of the briefing room.
At the corner of the hallway, Carlson was coming with a pile of docunts, seemingly preoccupied with sothing important.
Simon stopped him, "I need a backup of the action plan."
Carlson frowned, "Jasper said it's top secret—"
"I just talked to him." Simon smiled, showing the Deputy Commander's badge on his security card.
The technician hesitated for a mont but handed over the tablet, "Please return it within an hour. I need to do the final mission upload."
"Of course."
Simon took the data pad. After seeing Carlson leave, his smile disappeared.
He quickly operated the data pad, copying the entire operation route and plan to his own phone, then deleted the transfer record.
After finishing, Simon headed for the elevator and pressed the button to the ground.
Inside the elevator, he quickly dialed a number not saved in the contacts.
"The data has been sent to you, check it carefully," he whispered into the phone, "Hunter has two groups... yes, besides the official team, there are Satan's people... be careful, wait for my further instructions, and don't act recklessly."
Before the elevator doors opened, Simon had already hung up the phone.
He adjusted his tie, quickly walked through the embassy lobby, and headed to the black SUV in the parking lot.
In the car, the "Watcher" team's gear bags were neatly arranged, Simon tossed his own duffel bag on top, opened the door, and sat in the front passenger seat.
He turned around and handed a USB drive to Morris, "Morris, here's the operation plan and contingency backup data, keep it safe."
This was normal procedure, and Morris, suspecting nothing, took the USB drive, placed it in a waterproof bag, and put it into the pocket of his tactical vest.
At dusk, the "Blue Agate" freighter quietly sailed into the waters outside Aden Port, the distant city shrouded in an eerie orange-red mist, with occasional bursts of flas rising high.
Captain Hassan adjusted the binoculars' focus, swearing, "By Allah, the whole city is burning!"
Song Heping took the binoculars, a complex emotion flashing in his eyes.
The docks of Aden Port were crowded with refugees, several fishing boats were burning brightly, and further down the streets, a black mass of demonstrators surged like a tide, riot police's armored vehicles overturned like toys.
There were boats on the dock, and people were rushing toward the freighter, seemingly wanting to board and evacuate.
Many ships were leaving the port now, but entering the harbor's path was deserted, with only the "Blue Agate" being particularly conspicuous.
"The Arab Spring," Nura whispered, "Yen has erupted too."
The freighter's radio suddenly blasted a piercing Arabic broadcast, an impassioned voice endlessly repeating, "The people have awakened! The dictator shall fall!"
"Do we still dock?" Hassan asked, wiping sweat from his forehead.
Song Heping's gaze swept over the harbor, his expression firm and resolute.
"Dock, there's no turning back now," he decided. "Hassan, leave the port imdiately after we disembark."
There were no dispatchers left at the port, so Hassan could only lower the lifeboat into the nearby sea area and use it to ferry Song Heping and the others ashore.
"Song, are you sure you want to go ashore here?"
Song Heping nodded, unwilling to answer such trivial questions.
After all, the worst fear of any commander is indecision. Once a decision is made, one must move forward without hesitation; hesitating would only cause major mishaps.
Aden Port before dusk was like a boiling pot of tar, chaotic and dangerous.
Song Heping, Nura, and Antonov, carrying their pre-prepared independent journalist IDs, went ashore.
Antonov carried a cara, Nura wore a cap with a CNN logo, and Song Heping hung a long-focus lens cara around his neck. The three blended perfectly into the chaotic dia crowd.
Six hours later, at the cargo area of Aden International Airport.
An unmarked Gulfstream III jet slowly ca to a halt, its engine hum gradually fading.
The "Watcher" squad mbers exited the aircraft, with team leader Morris approaching a local informant who had been waiting—a small man wrapped in traditional Arabic robes.
"Target location?" Morris got straight to the point.
"I checked all the cargo ships that arrived at the port from last night until now and found the one you were looking for."
The informant handed over a tablet: "The freighter 'Blue Agate' docked just half an hour ago, but..."
He pulled up the port's surveillance feed, scrolling to a specific tifra, then pointed at the image of Song Heping and his team leaving the port gate: "They've been out of the port for less than thirty minutes."
On the screen, Song Heping, Nura, and Antonov could vaguely be seen exiting the gate, just as they ran into a protest march. The three swiftly pulled up their Arab scarves to cover their heads and faces, blending quickly into the crowd.
"Damn it!"
Morris cursed.
Just a little more!
Just a little!
If he had arrived here an hour earlier, he might have intercepted Song Heping near the dock.
He uploaded the coordinates to the team mbers' tactical tablets.
"Split into three groups to track," he ordered, "Rember, prioritize the Asian male target; the other two can be let go if necessary..."
The order had just been given when Jasper's voice ca from behind.
"Morris, wait!"
"Sir, what is it?"
Morris turned to look at Jasper, who, at this mont, was holding a phone, frowning at the information on it.
A mont later, joy spread across Jasper's face, and he actually smiled: "I know where they're going! Co on, get in the cars imdiately and head to the port as fast as you can!"
"Yes!"
Everyone promptly hurried to the SUVs parked not far away, quickly boarding them and, under the informant's guidance, sped away from the airport.
But no one noticed that the silver USB drive in Morris' tactical vest was sending encrypted pulse signals every five minutes.
Five kiloters away, on the rooftop of an abandoned warehouse in Aden Port.
A few n dressed in Arabic robes but fully ard ford a circle, their eyes revealing a cold and determined look.
"The signal is locked. Those 'Watchers' will lead us to the target."
The team's leader—a man with a black eyepatch over his left eye—grinned as he stared at the tracker in his hand and the occasionally blinking signal source: "Rember, no one gets away except the Boss."
"Understood, boss."
The n beside him echoed his command without hesitation: "No one gets away except the Boss."
A few minutes later, they all left, vanishing down the warehouse's fire escape.
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