Middle Eastern tyrants

Chapter 186 Everyone Will Face Their Own Ending (Part 5)

Prince Muhammad sat in the administration hall, surrounded by his confidants.

The leader's secretary, Aziz, is reporting on the progress of the investigation: "Based on the radio seized from the bloodshed in Daman and the identity of the maintenance worker involved in the assassination, we have followed the clues and discovered a group of suspicious 'outside tourists'."

Aziz handed the list to Muhammad and then said, "They hold passports from countries such as Corvette, Masr, and Surya, but when we verified with the relevant departments in these countries, we found that the real owners of these passports had never left their own countries; their identities had been stolen."

The findings of this investigation speak for themselves: only Mossad has the capability and motive to forge identities on such a large scale.

At this moment, Suchaman bin Abdulaziz Al Saud, the commander of the special operations force, stepped forward. As the head of the dual-command version of the KGB, he was directly responsible to the royal family and was one of the few elite troops that Prince Mohammed could directly mobilize in Riyadh.

“Your Highness,” Suchaman said directly after saluting, “we have located the hiding places of most of the suspects and are ready to launch a large-scale arrest operation at any time.”

Prince Mohammed looked at him and asked a crucial question: "Can you guarantee the accuracy of the arrest?"

“We’ll take them into custody first, then interrogate and screen them…” Suchaman explained.

"So how many people do you plan to arrest? Dozens, or hundreds?"

Before Suchaman could answer, Prince Mohammed clapped his hands and said to the door, "Please come in, I have brought you helpers."

The door opened, and several men dressed in pristine white traditional robes walked in.

The middle-aged man at the head of the group had sharp eyes that seemed to see through people's hearts, and he exuded a unique majesty and composure characteristic of desert nobles.

"This is Samir bin Rashid, the current head of the Rashid family," Prince Mohammed introduced.

Suchaman was taken aback: "You are His Highness Amir's father-in-law?"

Samir's face twitched slightly. The Rashid family was previously known for their unique abilities and ancient reputation, but now they were more often seen as relatives by marriage to the legendary general Amir.

Suchaman realized he had spoken out of turn and his tone became very respectful, "With your and your people's help, our actions will surely be twice as effective."

He knew that the Rashid family possessed special talents in certain areas that were difficult for outsiders to understand.

With the added connection to His Highness Amir, any lingering resentment he might have had vanished instantly.

Prince Mohammed also said, "Thank you for your trouble."

Samir looked at the prince and shook his head: "Your Highness, there's no need to be so polite. We are family."

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Enakhem is a veteran Mossad agent.

"Dr. Arielle, this way please." The nurse respectfully led the way for the gentle and refined internal medicine specialist.

“Thank you, Sarah.” Enakhm smiled and nodded, his Arabic so fluent that there was no trace of an accent.

"Ariel Ben Walid" was his disguise. In the eyes of his colleagues, he was an outstanding doctor with superb medical skills and a kind demeanor. No one would have guessed that he was actually a top agent from an enemy country.

He even infiltrated the king's medical team.

The security system that the Shuangzhi royal family was so proud of was full of loopholes in Enach's eyes.

After the previous assassination attempt on Prince Mohammed failed, Enakhm did not believe that his plan had any flaws; he could only say that the target was extremely lucky.

In addition to assassinating Prince Muhammad, he also orchestrated the bloody conflict in Daman and instigated further antagonism between the two factions.

Enachim scoffed at the empty talkers in Tel Aviv, considering them a bunch of idiots, but that didn't stop him from executing orders flawlessly.

Today, he will complete a legendary operation that will be recorded in the history of Mossad.

— [Assassination of King Shuangzhi].

Enachme felt a little disappointed. His only regret was that this operation might be so perfect that no one would know it was his masterpiece.

When it was time for the routine check-up, Enachme and the nurses pushed a cart to conduct the King's medical examination.

They passed through several heavily guarded areas along the way. When they reached the door, "Dr. Arielle" seemed to suddenly remember something and said to the accompanying nurse, "Excuse me, I think I left a soothing medicine in the preparation room. Could you please go and get it? It's in the blue refrigerator."

The nurse nodded. After dismissing the nurse, Enachme pushed open the heavy doors of the King's bedroom alone.

His identity as a doctor serves as a natural cover. He will then use a high-purity opioid extract to inject into King Shams' veins, mimicking signs of heart failure.

Furthermore, modern autopsies (in the 1970s) primarily detect metal or cyanide poisoning, and since opioids degrade naturally within a few hours, autopsies would not detect any abnormalities.

Such a perfect assassination plan made Enachme even feel like an artist.

However, when he entered the dimly lit palace and his eyes adjusted to the light, he suddenly froze in place.

A man stood beside the king's bed, his hand hovering over the king's oxygen mask.

The two locked eyes, and the atmosphere froze instantly.

As a skilled agent, Enachem recognized the man!
He had seen this man more than once!
He quickly recalled the normal way to respond.

Upon seeing him, the man immediately withdrew his hand, took two steps back, and asked, "Routine medical check-up?"

“Yes.” Enachheim nodded and pushed the cart forward.

He is "Ariel bin Walid," a member of the royal family, and a key member of the royal medical team who was sent abroad for many years of study and training.

The man nodded, showing no intention of leaving. He stood behind Enachm, saying nothing.

Enachme could feel a tangible gaze hovering behind him.

Enachme had no choice but to pretend to examine the king. At that moment, he was startled again—the king's eyes were open, and he was looking at him clearly.

At this moment, he couldn't help but think to himself:
Why did the man reach out to remove the king's oxygen mask?

"Why exactly?"

The king looked behind him.

In that instant, Sandra suddenly understood: the man had also come to kill the king!
They're actually in the same industry!
The palace was deathly silent, save for the rhythmic ticking of medical instruments. Two assassins and a dying king created an eerie and tense balance.

Enachme calmly took out the sedative and even flicked the syringe.

"What is this for?" the man behind me asked.

Based on his expertise, Enachham wrote: "This is a specially made soothing balm that will help His Majesty fall asleep peacefully and facilitate the body's recovery."

The man didn't answer, which meant he tacitly agreed.

Without hesitation, Enachm skillfully and precisely injected the sedative into the king's jugular vein. Throughout the entire process, the king remained silent, but his eyes made Enachm feel uneasy.

As the tranquilizer was administered, the king's muscles relaxed.

Enachmer did not stop what he was doing until he had injected the entire vial of opioid extract. This sedative would act directly on the opioid receptors in the central nervous system, producing a strong analgesic and sedative effect.

For the victims, they will quickly enter a state of relaxation and coma, and eventually their breathing will stop without them realizing it.

In his heart, he said to King Shams, "Your Majesty, rest in peace. It will soon be over. Consider it as me helping you end your suffering."

From the injection to respiratory failure, it will last several minutes, enough time for Enachheim to gracefully exit the scene.

After completing the task, Enachme put away his tools without glancing at the man behind him, as if the man didn't exist at all.

He turned around, maintaining the composure expected of a doctor, and quickly left the palace.

Only after leaving the palace did Enachme feel a wave of fear wash over him like ice water, and his palms were sweating.

He thought of the man's actions.
And the king's final gaze.

"Damn it. These Twin Warriors have gone mad. What on earth are they planning?"

A fear far deeper than mission failure gripped Enach's heart.

(End of this chapter)