"They want us dead!"
Utekin slammed his fist on the railing.
"Isn't it obvious?" Song Heping made a quick decision: "Tell the captain to dock at the abandoned pier on the west side of the port. There shouldn't be any formal inspection there."
"Already told him," Jiang Feng nodded, "but he's worried the water might not be deep enough."
"Then we'll swim to the shore," Song Heping said decisively. "Notify everyone to prepare combat gear, there's bound to be an ambush at the port. Don't underestimate those idiots' intelligence. Even if we dock at the official port, they'll find an excuse to label us terrorists."
"Alright, I'll go tell the captain."
Jiang Feng turned and headed to the cockpit.
"Rescuing the cook this time is a big risk, Song, you..."
Utekin saw that Song Heping seemed to have been prepared long ago, as if he understood something.
Even without him, Song Heping would go.
"Do you think I'm the kind of person who would abandon my brothers?"
Song Heping looked at the former GRU major in front of him with a grin.
"Your GRU doesn't have a tradition of abandoning comrades, right?"
Utekin was stunned.
He couldn't answer this question.
After all, the ones hunting them down now were his own former special forces unit.
"They want us dead!"
Utekin slammed his fist on the rusty railing, oblivious to the blood oozing from his knuckles.
In the distance, the flickering lights of Latakia port resembled the eyes of a lurking beast.
Song Heping squinted, the sea breeze laced with the smell of gunpowder stinging his nostrils.
This was no ordinary sea breeze—the air in Syria was always filled with the lingering dust of war.
"Isn't it obvious?" he drew out a tactical knife, carving a deep mark on the deck, "Chasing us from Cairo to the Mediterranean, Zhaoyi Valley is out to exterminate us."
Jiang Feng suddenly lowered his voice, "Henry managed to get some intel from MI6..."
He handed a tablet to Song Heping.
"Thermal imaging shows an ambush behind the crane at the dock." The green glow of the night vision goggles reflected on his tense face.
"At least six identified, in tactical formation, classic crossfire ambush circle."
"Can you trust the British?" Utekin immediately objected.
Jiang Feng sneered, "When you can't even trust your own, how can you not trust the British?!"
"Regular troops wouldn't be so sneaky."
Song Heping jabbed the tip of his knife into the nameplate of "Artemis".
"Tell the captain to circle around from behind the abandoned tanker on the west side. The water is deep enough there, and—"
He suddenly fell silent as the distant roar of rotors approached.
Three Mi-24 Hind helicopters swooped over the port like vultures, their searchlights turning the sea surface ghostly white.
Utekin yanked the dog tags from his neck and stuffed them into his boot—a GRU insignia that could betray his identity.
Once, he took pride in it.
Now, he felt ashamed.
"Swim to the shore."
Song Heping gestured toward the cabin, "Jiang Feng takes Team A to infiltrate from the three o'clock direction, I'll go with Utekin from nine o'clock. Remember—"
He scanned the bloodshot eyes of each team member, "This is not a drill; behind every stone in Cilia could be a gun aiming to kill you."
Now, he had only Jiang Feng and three other special forces team members with him.
The "Artemis" didn't dock at Latakia port but instead sailed to a beach roughly forty kilometers from the port, anchoring offshore.
Now, they were still at least five kilometers from the coastline.
For this kind of infiltration, Song Heping was well-versed.
The countless infiltration drills he had undertaken were finally put to use.
"We'll dive across now."
Song Heping signaled with a tactical hand gesture, Jiang Feng and the other special forces team members disappeared into the water like ghosts.
"Can you dive?"
After Jiang Feng and the others vanished, Song Heping turned to Utekin standing beside him and teased, "Does the GRU have diving training?"
"I'm fine!"
Utekin felt insulted.