Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 720 No matter the cost
No wonder Song Heping looked at Nura a few more times.

Because the Middle East has hot weather and is an inland area with large temperature differences, the local beauties all have high noses and deep, big eyes.

The beauties here usually have big eyes with a special pupil color, and they have high nose bridges, are petite and cute, and have high looks.

"Boss Song, staring at a woman like that is very offensive here."

Noura pulled the veil back up over her face.

Song Heping suddenly remembered some legends he had heard before.

A woman's face here is also a kind of private property. Except for her father, brothers and relatives, she is not allowed to reveal her face to outsiders.

"Ah... I just know that people are attracted to beautiful things. I'm a normal man, so this is normal."

Song Heping did not avoid the fact that he had indeed looked at her a few more times, nor did he hide his admiration for the beauty.

"You're really good at talking, Boss Song." Nura didn't seem angry. "It seems you're good at coaxing women."

Song Heping immediately shook his head: "No, I am definitely more familiar with guns than women. If I really knew how to coax women, I wouldn't be single now."

"Giggle-"

Noura couldn't help laughing.

Several subordinates standing by were a little confused.

This female leader of hers is notoriously cold-blooded and ruthless, and never smiles.

what is it today?
She actually smiled at a strange man she just met.

"Come on, Boss Song, follow us. I can take you out of the desert and into North Africa. But don't forget the deal between you and me, otherwise..."

She raised her wheat-colored fingers and made an elegant throat-slitting motion on her neck, as if she were slicing a knife across a chicken's neck.

The underground command center of Mossad headquarters on the outskirts of Tel Aviv.

Dazzling red alarm lights flashed in the corridor, and hurried footsteps approached from afar. Technical Director David Cohen pushed open the heavy blast door, his shirt soaked with sweat.

"Director, there's something wrong with Major Yager's positioning chip." His voice trembled. "The signal disappeared in the El-Arish Desert. The last coordinates are here."

A holographic map unfolded in the center of the command room, a red dot of light flickering. Mossad Director Amir Levin stood before it, his back like a statue.

The intelligence chief, known for his ruthlessness, was now staring intently at the flashing red dot.

"Someone destroyed their communications equipment," he said suddenly. "It's an expert who knows how to completely disable the chip."

Cohen quickly tapped on the keyboard, calling up a set of data. "According to the last information record we received, the last message sent back by Major Yager shows that they were engaged in a high-intensity battle. The intensive gunfire lasted for about 15 minutes, and then..."

His voice stopped abruptly.

"Go on." Levin's voice was as cold as ice.

"Then all transmissions ceased." Cohen swallowed. "And according to the biochips on the team members, the temperature rose rapidly for 15 minutes, reaching 300 degrees Celsius, after which the chips stopped working... This temperature change only occurs when a body is incinerated."

There was dead silence in the command room.

All agents in the Technical Department stopped working.

His hands hovered over the keyboard, and he didn't type any more, for fear of making even the slightest sound.

Levin turned slowly, his eyes bloodshot. "Pull up Major Jager's vital signs data for the last three hours."

The holographic projection switched to a string of jumping numbers.

Heart rate, blood pressure, body temperature. All data began to fluctuate abnormally three hours ago and finally returned to a straight line.

“Send out a search party.” Levin’s voice was thick with suppressed anger. “I want a scene report within 24 hours.”

Twelve hours later.

In the El Arish Desert, dark clouds covered the sky. The clouds towards the Mediterranean Sea were getting thicker and thicker, and thunder could be faintly heard.

Four Black Hawk helicopters stopped in front of the wreckage of the two crashed helicopters. Ropes were dropped, and the commandos landed and quickly spread out into a defensive formation.

after an hour.

In the open space in front of the ancient building, Ilan Katz, the leader of the Mossad search team, squatted down and picked up a silver ring from the ground. They had just lost a member of their team to get here.

There are minefields everywhere here.

It took them a full hour to cross this mixed minefield.

In fact, they have saved a lot of effort.

Because there were footprints in many places here before, and landmines in many places were triggered.

This saved them a lot of time.

"It's Major Jager's ring." He murmured to himself, his eyes becoming sad.

Then he said into the communicator: "A lot of burn marks were found, and"

His voice suddenly stopped.

There were many charred corpses scattered on the sand.

Although it has been burned beyond recognition, the remaining equipment and body features confirm that this is the Yager team.

"Everyone was killed." Katz's voice trembled. "Bedouin footprints were found at the scene. It's probably from a smuggling group. And..."

He squatted down and picked up a deformed shell with tweezers. "This is a bullet shell from a Lee-Enfield rifle..."

His eyes fell on Major Yager's body, then he reached out and scratched his bones a few times. Finally, he had no choice but to take out the dagger, picked out a deformed bullet from the cervical vertebra, and held it in his hand to examine it.

"And the bullet of the Ying-77... How could it be this kind of rifle..."

Ying 77 is the common name of the Lee-Enfield rifle.

Because the caliber of this gun is 7.7 mm, it is commonly known as British 77.

Katz could never imagine that the well-equipped Mossad team leader actually died from an outdated rifle that was older than him.

Far away in the command room in Tel Aviv, Director Levin slammed his fist on the console.

The holographic projection showed the images sent back from the scene: charred corpses, deformed bullet casings, Bedouin footprints, and a set of clear fingerprints.

“Song Heping.” Levin gritted his teeth as he uttered the name. “And that Bedouin bitch, Noura.”

He turned to face everyone in the command room. "Activate the highest level of pursuit. Contact all our resources in North Africa. I want the heads of these two men."

Meanwhile, somewhere in North Africa.

In a dim basement, a man with a scarred face was cleaning his AK-47. Suddenly, the satellite phone on the table vibrated. He glanced at the caller ID and a grim smile appeared on his face.

“Saka, Abdul.”

He picked up the phone.

“Two million dollars.”

A voice processed by a voice changer came from the other end of the phone.

"For the lives of two people. The Bedouin leader, Nura, and a Chinese man named Song Heping."

Abdul's eyes lit up: "Where's the deposit?"

“The money has been transferred to your account in the Cayman Islands,” the caller said. “Remember, we need to confirm the kill. We need a photo and fingerprints.”

After hanging up the phone, Abdul whistled.

Soon, a dozen fully armed mercenaries gathered in the basement.

"Guys," he said, shaking the satellite phone in his hand, "big business is coming."

At this time, on the edge of the Arish Desert, Song Heping was riding on a white camel, following Nura's camel caravan through the "Diamond Corridor".

He didn't know that a net of death was slowly tightening.

(End of this chapter)