Butare, early morning.
The sky wasn't fully bright yet, and the city was still in the dim light of dawn.
After a night of fierce fighting, the rebellion sparked by the rebel militia was temporarily suppressed, leaving bullet holes on both sides of the city streets, and so cars reduced to fras were still emitting blue smoke.
A Toyota pickup truck delivering fresh at trudged through the hazy morning light, its rusty wheels rolling over the pothole-ridden streets of Butare City, each jolt making the carriage groan under its weight.
The headlights cut through the lingering night fog, illuminating the occasional silhouette of patrolling soldiers by the roadside.
Inside the cab, Amina gripped the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles were white, sweat beading on her dark brown forehead.
Ahead, the high walls of the President's Mansion were faintly visible, with the searchlights on the sentry post sweeping back and forth like the pupils of a one-eyed giant.
Inside the truck, the temperature was climbing rapidly.
Song Heping could feel sweat trickling down his spine, soaking every inch of his governnt army uniform.
His back was pressed against the cold tal partition of the carriage, his nostrils filled with the nauseating stench of raw at—from the beef and lamb.
The space inside the partition was exceedingly cramped, and Collins was pressed against him like a conjoined twin, his heavy breathing on the back of Song's neck like a warm, wet snake sliding.
"Two hundred ters more."
Amina's lowered voice ca from the cab, trembling almost beyond audibility.
The vehicle suddenly braked sharply.
Outside ca the rough shouts of the guards and the tallic clanging of guns being loaded.
"Papers!"
A hoarse male voice yelled, "Today all vehicles going in and out must undergo strict inspection!"
The few people hiding in the partition began to breathe heavily.
If they were discovered, unable to see outside, a salvo from the other side could easily end their lives.
Bang—
The carriage door opened.
Soone stepped into the carriage roughly.
A flashlight beam pierced the gaps of the carriage like a sword, illuminating floating at particles in the air.
Song Heping placed his index finger lightly on the Glock 17's trigger, and his heartbeat slowed terrifyingly.
It was a skill he had mastered in the Special Forces: tuning the body to the calst state before killing.
Collins's muscles tensed.
Song Heping gently nudged him with his knee, giving a silent warning: not yet.
If they opened fire now, at most they could take down four guards at the checkpoint, but the entire kidnapping operation would fail.
Amina's voice suddenly rose several notches: "Officer! These are Angus steaks prepared for the President's breakfast! If we delay any longer, they'll spoil!"
Though the woman had seed sowhat nervous before, her current performance was impeccable—the typical mix of sycophancy and urgency of a small vendor, quite convincing at this mont.
"You see, here's a note from the logistics departnt..."
The silence lasted for an agonizing minute.
The soldier who had climbed into the carriage had evidently stopped checking, turning back to loudly complain to his colleagues below the vehicle: "Hurry up! I can't stand the sll here!"
Perhaps Amina's long-term supply of ingredients to the President's Mansion led the guards to recognize a familiar face.
Finally, the flashlight beam moved away.
Footsteps exited the carriage, eventually disappearing at the vehicle's rear.
"Get in quickly!"
The leading officer shouted impatiently at Amina, "Go straight to the kitchen, don't wander around the courtyard! During this lockdown period, if you don't want to get shot, best to stay in the kitchen and not move!"
"Thank you, Officer! Thank you, Officer!"
Amina, as if granted amnesty, repeatedly thanked and bowed.
The engine roared back to life.
As the truck slowly passed the checkpoint, Song Heping glimpsed through a crack a guard speaking into a radio, while another was pensively watching them leave.
"Damn, my heart almost jumped out just now," Collins exhaled deeply, "We've successfully completed the first step."
Song Heping did not respond.
His gaze was fixed on his watch: 05:47.
Eleven minutes until Hassan's feigned attack operation.
If we can't effectively lure away the Presidential Guard, then our attempt to kidnap Noel will face exponentially greater resistance and danger.
The pickup truck's reverse alarm screeched, piercingly loud in the silent morning.
Song Heping observed the unloading area through a small gap: two guards stood ten ters away under a palm tree, smoking, their AKM assault rifles casually hung over their shoulders.
The younger one was chatting with soone from the kitchen, sporting a silly grin, while the older one yawned sleepily, looking like he hadn't fully woken up.
"Thirty seconds."
Song Heping's lips barely moved, but Collins received the signal.
They simultaneously adjusted their posture, muscles tensed like leopards about to strike.
According to plan, Hassan's operation was about to comnce.
BOOM—
Suddenly, a series of thunderous explosions echoed from afar, followed by gunfire like popping corn and the wailing of sirens.
Hassan's militia had launched a diversionary attack right on ti at the administrative center area, less than a block from the President's Mansion.
The flas from the explosions reddened the eastern sky, startling a flock of egrets from the President's Mansion garden.
The guards leapt up as if shocked by electricity.
The younger one fumbled with his walkie-talkie, with hysterical voices imdiately transmitting: "Attention all units! Explosions have been reported in the direction of the Parliant building, repeat — an explosion has occurred near the Parliant building close to the President's Mansion, I can see flas!"
"All units, attention, there's gunfire with the militia near the outer periter, looks like they're attacking the President's Mansion, everyone except patrol posts and sentries should gather at the main entrance imdiately!"
The older guard grabbed his companion's arm: "Let's go! The commander is summoning everyone!"
They stumbled and ran towards the direction of the heaviest gunfire, not noticing the suspicious truck, completely forgetting they were supposed to be monitoring the unloading.
"Now!"
The inner latch of the compartnt was pulled, and the panel was gently pushed open.
Song Heping slithered out of the truck like a snake.
Collins followed closely, his tactical boots making a slight squelching sound on the damp concrete.
Jiang Feng and the Ferrari followed right after...
Amina slumped in the driver's seat, her lips murmuring so kind of prayer, her trembling finger pointing to a small door beside the kitchen: "There... there shouldn't be anyone there, it's the service stairs..."
Song Heping didn't waste ti comforting her.
He moved quickly along the wall, the brass badge on his governnt army uniform glinting coldly in the morning light.
This counterfeit uniform obtained from the black market was enough to fool the eyes of ordinary soldiers—if they got a chance to look closely.
Entering the small door, it led directly to the kitchen.
The kitchen was filled with the scent of cinnamon and coffee, with several people in chef uniforms busily working inside.
On the stainless steel counter lay half-cut fruits, and a whisk splattered with egg yolk still swayed slightly.
"We have entered safely."
Climbing the stairs in the passageway to the corner of the second floor, Song Heping pressed the earpiece to notify Hassan.
His voice was nearly drowned out by the roar of a huge exhaust hood.
Hassan's response was accompanied by intense gunfire: "We've reached the western street side of the President's Mansion, engaged in firefight with them!"
"Make a bigger scene, so they send more n over."
After he spoke, Song Heping took out the hand-drawn map of the President's Mansion and pinned it to the wall, marking a spot with a laser pen: "The communication room is on the eastern side of the second floor, we need to cross the entire central hall. We'll split up. Collins, you and Ferrari head to the communication room to cut off all their external communications; Jiang Feng, you co with to find Noel, he should be waiting in his room for breakfast."
The group checked their guns, ensuring they were all loaded and ready to fire, then began climbing the stairs.
The service stairway was covered with worn-out Persian carpet, each step producing an ominous creak.
Just as they reached the second floor, before they could open the door to the corridor, they heard ssy footsteps and shouting outside: "... the outer periter unit needs reinforcent! The opposition is launching a frenzied attack on St. Mark Street, and they've set the surrounding buildings on fire! They're requesting we send armored units for support imdiately!"
Song Heping stood still against the gilded wallpaper until the fully-ard guards swept past the corridor like a hurricane.
"Move fast and start the counterattack now."
He raised his hand to start the tir.
The others raised their hands to reveal their watches as well.
Everyone synchronized their ti.
"Ten minutes."
He looked at Collins and Ferrari.
"Once you've sabotaged the communications room, take out the operators inside and co find us imdiately."
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