Twenty minutes later, the SUV gets closer and closer to the abandoned refinery.
Simon taps his fingertips rhythmically on the steering wheel.
In the rearview mirror, Mark and Andy are checking their magazines, the handguns in the quick-draw holsters on their bulletproof vests gleam coldly in the moonlight.
"Sir, should we bring anti-armor weapons?" Andy leaned forward and asked.
"Bring more shock bombs."
Simon exhales a smoke ring, his gray-blue pupils slightly contracting behind the smoke.
"Song Heping likes to play dirty."
The SUV rolls over the gravel road, and the twisted outline of the refinery gradually becos clear.
Distant gunshots echo sporadically.
Simon glances at the GPS next to the dashboard, only one kiloter from the refinery gate.
"We should get out of the car."
He silently smirks, flicking the cigarette butt out the window.
After finishing speaking, he parks the car inside the woods by the road, checks his bulletproof vest and the chamber of his handgun, pushes the car door open and gets out.
Mark and Andy follow him out, holding guns as they walk to the front of the car, looking towards the refinery while adjusting their binocular night vision devices.
Thump—
Thump—
The muffled sound unique to the silencer explodes continuously.
Andy's back head bursts into blood, Mark clutches his throat and kneels to the ground, dark red foam pours out from between his fingers.
"Sorry, brothers."
Simon enters Mark's sight like a drifting cloud overhead.
"Why...?"
Blood has flooded into Mark's trachea, his voice is muffled and strange, his eyes filled with surprise and shock.
He can't believe that his boss shot him from behind.
"Bla your bad luck—"
Simon looks at the dying Mark expressionlessly, his finger gently presses the trigger again.
Thump—
A tongue of fla spurts from the silencer of the P226 pistol, after the brief muffled sound, a bullet hole appears in the center of Mark's forehead, slowly oozing blood.
"Ah..."
Simon sighs, takes out a miniature communicator, puts it on, and starts calling: "Wild Wolf, this is Hunter, report the situation and location here."
"'Watcher' is in a bad shape, 'Satan' A Team is attacking."
A middle-aged man's husky voice cos from that end.
"It's lively here, the target is fierce, trap mines are set in the passage and buildings in the factory."
"He's tough to deal with..." Simon presses down the earpiece, "You can start now, clear the obstacles quickly."
"Understood."
After the brief conversation, Simon slowly walks toward the factory area.
A few hundred ters ahead, several gun flashes suddenly appear in the darkness.
He imdiately ducks behind a tree, staying still to listen to the intense gunfire and the cries from "Watcher" and "Satan" A Team.
His plan is progressing steadily.
This is his biggest gamble.
Success, high hopes fulfilled.
Failure, no burial place.
He has great confidence in the "Wild Wolf" squad he's secretly nurtured.
In recent years, no one has been able to hide secret funds better than the station at Illigo.
From the Second Gulf War to now, CIA agents have been using large amounts of cash to bribe everyone from the political arena to the military to local tribal ard leaders in Illigo.
This money is transported from the United States in containers, spending freely.
As for how the accounts are done, it's simple—just do it any way.
No one will ask those bribed generals or local ard leaders exactly how much money CIA gave, and how much funding and ammunition they received.
Not to ntion that many of those who took the money back then are now dead.
Dead without proof.
Simon's "Wild Wolf" squad is ard and trained with secret funds, including local militants in Illigo, forr governnt army Special Forces mbers, and even Chechen terrorists.
The initial purpose of this squad was for dirty jobs.
So jobs even CIA itself doesn't want to touch.
Sending such a secret squad with no written record to handle it is the best.
They are almost equivalent to dead soldiers.
This is also the tradition of CIA.
Any intelligence chief with so position within the CIA system has so secret projects.
These projects are beyond even the president's knowledge, many aren't even known by the director himself.
Not knowing is good.
Not knowing ans if sothing goes wrong, there won't be any official acknowledgnt, and the only contact person is Simon, absolutely single-line contact, leaving no trouble.
Not knowing makes it clean.
Using it against his colleagues now, Simon finds it very satisfying.
So satisfying.
Ten minutes later, the mid-tone male voice with a touch of husky flavor from the "Wild Wolf" squad leader cos through the headset again.
"Group A controls the high point on the south side, Group B is clearing the remnants of 'Satan'. "
The hoarse response blends with gunfire.
"Boss, Jasper moving in your direction."
"Leave him alive."
Simon pulls out the P226 again, the barrel glowing matte in the moonlight.
"I need bait."
Outside the refinery, Jasper's tactical boots step into the pool of blood.
Corpses are everywhere.
In less than ten short minutes, the situation took a sharp turn.
Originally, he was still organizing the remnants of "Watcher" and the "Satan" A Team to launch a new round of attacks inside the refinery against Song Heping and others, and finally regained his footing after communication was cut off.
Unexpectedly, a group of mysterious people suddenly appeared from nowhere, they even knew each team mber's hiding spots, their precise strikes as fast as lightning.
In a few minutes, the small squads of "Watcher" and "Satan" were completely wiped out.
There is an internal mole!
At this mont, Jasper has already realized that there is a mole within his organization.
Connecting it to the previous communication cut, such a situation can only happen if there was a problem with the temporary command post in the safe house, otherwise, this kind of low-level mistake wouldn't occur.
Everything was fine before he led the team out.
Simon now just wants to escape.
Escape back to the safe house.
A figure suddenly appears ahead.
Jasper and Kobe quickly raise their guns to aim.
Kobe recognizes the person, excitedly shouts: "Deputy Director!"
Hmm...
Right.
The person in front is Simon, the deputy director of this special operation.
Seeing Simon, Jasper also breathes a sigh of relief.
"Simon, there's trouble here..."
Thump—
Before he could finish, Simon suddenly raises his hand and fires.
Kobe's head bursts open, and he falls backward.
"FUCK!"
In a flash, Jasper seems to understand everything.
He raises his gun too, but the barrel which had originally lowered couldn't match Simon's gun speed aid toward him.
Thump—
Thump—
Thump—
The first bullet hits Jasper's gun-wielding hand.
His handgun drops to the ground.
The second bullet hits the left joint, where there's no bulletproof vest protection.
Both hands are wasted.
The third bullet hits the right knee.
Jasper falls with a thud.
"Ah—"
The intense pain makes him scream.
"Traitor! You're the mole!"
Simon reaches him with the gun still aid at Jasper's forehead.
"You know rather late, it seems."
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