Song Heping kept his right hand on the Glock 17 at his waist as he stepped onto the shaky stairway of the apartnt building.
The concrete steps were littered with cigarette butts and dried phlegm stains. The air was filled with the spice aroma commonly found in the streets and alleys of Cairo. The door at the end of the third-floor corridor was ajar, and a sliver of dim yellow light seeped through the crack.
"Utekin?"
Song Heping pressed against the wall, knocked on the door, and whispered in Russian, signaling Jiang Feng and another teammate behind him to spread out.
A few seconds later, the old wooden door made a creaky sound as a bald Slavic man appeared at the door, a faint scar at the corner of his left eye looking especially nacing in the dim light.
"Song, you're seven minutes late."
Utekin looked at his watch and then peeked down the hallway.
Seeing that Song Heping's n had secured the corridor and staircase entrance, he stepped aside, making way: "Co in, there's no ti."
The apartnt was perated with the mixed scent of vodka and gun oil.
The dining table was scattered with a few satellite photos and a laptop playing surveillance footage.
Song Heping noticed a tactical backpack piled in the corner, and — two corpses covered with sheets.
"Your people?" Song Heping raised an eyebrow.
"No."
Utekin took a large swig of the drink, his Adam's apple rolling fiercely: "GRU's 'cleaners', found this place two hours ago, sneakily watching below my building."
He lifted the sheet, revealing two bodies in civilian clothes. The neat bullet holes at their temples showed expert execution thods.
"I had to deal with them in advance."
Song Heping crouched to inspect the bodies, pulling out an officer's ID from one of their pockets — Sergei Petrov, GRU Third Special Operations Group.
His pupils slightly contracted; Zhaoyi Valley had sent their elite assassination team.
"If they found this place, it ans this eting point is not safe either. We don't have much ti."
Utekin pulled the tactical backpack from the corner, placing it beside himself, and said: "If I wasn't worried that changing the location would make you suspicious, I'd have already run."
"What's the situation with the cook?" Song Heping went straight to the point.
Utekin pulled up the map on the computer; the satellite images of Ashala Town were covered in red markings.
"Three days ago, we received a direct order from the Ministry of Defense, demanding Wagner cooperate with Silia Governnt Army to reclaim the oil fields near Ashala Town."
His fingers tapped on the keyboard, the screen switched to the battle plan.
Zhaoyi Valley personally promised to provide Su-34 air cover and S-400 air defense systems to deter NATO air forces in the northern regions, preventing them from carrying out large-scale bombings on Wagner and Silia coalition forces.
The screen suddenly displayed a blurry video: dozens of Wagner soldiers fleeing in the desert, NATO jets screaming overhead, napalm turning a whole sand area into a sea of fire.
The scene on the screen was brutal, the screams even surpassed the sound of explosions.
"No air support, no air defense system."
Utekin's voice trembled with anger.
"The cook led a hundred and fifty n into the oil field area near the town, engaging with rebel forces, then NATO's F-15s arrived. They slaughtered our people like target practice, but our country's military turned a blind eye. The cook made multiple ergency calls with no response..."
Song Heping's heart suddenly sank.
Leaving Moscow imdiately was the right choice.
Russia is just a big swamp.
The upper echelons are rotten to the core.
The Silia war involves Russia's outports and naval bases in the Middle East, as well as power projection and radiation, geopolitical interests earned through years of the Forr Soviet Union's managent. Yet people like Zhaoyi Valley ignore national interests for personal gain...
Dealing with people like this...
Song Heping wouldn't even say he's unwilling a thousand tis but genuinely despises such garbage from the bottom of his heart.
At least he hasn't done anything overseas to harm the interests of his own country for years; that is the bottom line.
One must have a holand; the holand is one's root.
"How many people are left now?"
Song Heping asked Utekin, suppressing his anger.
"Thirty-seven Wagner, plus over a hundred Silia Governnt Army remnants."
Utekin pulled up the latest thermal imaging, the faint light spots flashing on buildings in the town center.
"This is intelligence I got from the Russian Army's intel departnt through my connections. Zhaoyi Valley knows Wagner's people aren't all dead yet, but stubbornly refuses to send troops, claiming rescue cost is too high. Now the cook and others are hiding in the underground oil depot and school basent, surviving on previous stockpiles, but NATO bombards three tis a day—"
Suddenly, the sound of glass shattering ca from downstairs.
Song Heping and Utekin simultaneously dashed to the window — three unmarked black off-road vehicles screeched to a halt in front of the apartnt building. Over a dozen fully ard shadows quickly dispersed.
"Damn!"
Outside, Jiang Feng's voice shouted through the radio.
"Old squad leader, it's GRU! They—"
The communication was abruptly cut off by fierce gunfire.
Song Heping's reaction was as fast as lightning.
He flipped the dining table for cover while cocking his pistol.
Utekin had already kicked open the wardrobe, pulling out two AK-12 assault rifles, tossing one to Song Heping.
"Backdoor!"
Utekin pointed to his room.
"There's a passage inside!"
"Jiang Feng, bring everyone back, use the back door!"
Song Heping shouted towards the door.
After all, when they ca, due to cross-border security reasons, they did not carry automatic rifles, only Glock pistols.
This kind of firepower is difficult to handle more than a dozen well-trained GRU agents.
"Retreat! Retreat!"
Jiang Feng shouted at the special ops team mbers guarding the stairwell.
The group quickly retracted, but at the instant the last mber entered, the corridor erupted with dense gunfire.
Thud thud thud—
Thud thud thud—
It was the sound of weapons fitted with silencers being fired.
Sawdust flew around the door edge.
The last mber grunted, as if struck sharply by sothing, and instantly fell, crashing into the room.
"Lift him, move out!"
Song Heping commanded Jiang Feng to evacuate imdiately, while holding an AK-12 assault rifle against one wall, retreating into the adjacent kitchen.
Utekin also grabbed his backpack, tidied up the table, and withdrew into a small nearby room.
Heavy military boots clattered from the stairwell.
The two exchanged tactical hand signals from a distance, coordinating their upcoming maneuvers.
Thud thud thud thud—
Whiz whiz whiz whiz—
Suddenly, nurous bullet holes appeared on the door.
Soone outside was frenziedly firing inside.
The door was thin as paper against submachine gun rounds, bullets penetrated the interior, sending scattered items across the table jumping, and shattering the cup into a ss of glass.
The unluckiest were those two GRU agents who had beco corpses, as they were "baptized" again by bullets from their own comrades, making the mortician's job at the funeral ho much more challenging.
Inwardly, Song Heping counted down, waiting for the mont the bullets stopped outside, then swiftly extended his assault rifle from the kitchen and unleashed a barrage at the door.
Da-da-da-da—
Da-da-da-da—
"Argh—"
A cry of agony ca from outside the door.
Sothing fell heavily, shaking the floor.
Then voices could be heard outside, seemingly surprised, shouting retreat commands in Russian.
Soon, silence resud outside the door.
Clang—
A shock bomb was tossed in from the battered wooden door.
Song Heping imdiately turned, withdrew behind the kitchen wall, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and opened his mouth wide.
Boom—
The first shock bomb exploded.
Song Heping felt sothing rush in from the kitchen door; the deafening noise made his ears buzz.
Fortunately, the wall shielded him from direct harm, otherwise he'd certainly be in a daze now.
Song Heping was very experienced in handling such situations.
Back during the selection training for the 203rd unit, the instructor would throw these things into the barracks every morning, calling them "wake-up bombs."
Clang—
As the second shock bomb landed on the living room floor, Song Heping followed suit by throwing out the ready hand grenade.
The sound of the shock bomb hitting the ground masked the sound of the hand grenade landing.
Two different models of bombs rolled into the living room, stopping on the floor.
Boom—
The second shock bomb thrown by the GRU agents exploded first.
The agents outside took the opportunity to break down the door...
Soon, the foremost agent scread: "Hand Grenade!"
Everyone withdrew hastily.
It was already too late, though.
Boom—
The hand grenade erupted in a dazzling flash.
The massive force blew the foremost agent away, smashing him against the wall.
The explosion's released steel column made the remaining agents suffer excessively.
Each was hit by at least a few, if not dozens of steel pellets.
"Ah—Suka—Suka—"
The agents on the ground began to scream miserably.
Song Heping extended his assault rifle for another bout of sweeping fire, granting them a quick physical departure, and the living room fell silent.
Utekin watched Song Heping's seamless execution of lethal maneuvers, couldn't help but give him a thumbs-up.
He now understood why the cook said to seek help from this China person across the way if anything happened...
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