London, MI6 Headquarters, Lady M's Office
The rain was still falling, pattering against the bullet-proof glass window, leaving winding trails of water that blurred the gray skyline outside.
Lady M held a cup of tea that had long since gone cold, feeling the chill from the porcelain against her fingertips.
She stood before the enormous screen, her silhouette appearing somewhat lonely.
On the screen, vague thermal imaging captured by high-altitude reconnaissance satellites played out a "solo drama" that completely overturned everything she had known in her decades-long intelligence career.
The solitary, white-hot spot representing a human figure was like the eye of a storm, surrounded and squeezed by hundreds, thousands of restless red spots symbolizing hostility, pinned to the knife-edged cliffs of Gelbi Mountain.
Tiny flashes representing gunfire lit up and extinguished around the white spot continuously and densely, like a swarm of infuriated bees stinging madly.
Each flash meant a deadly burst of fire, and as each flash faded, a few of the approaching red spots would suddenly dim and disappear.
Lady M knew well what that meant.
Each disappearing red spot signified the end of a life.
Watching as thousands surrounded a mountain yet failed to take it down.
Even someone as composed as Lady M, the top intelligence chief, couldn't help but be moved.
"One person…"
M's voice was as low as a murmur, almost swallowed by the rain outside.
Her well-maintained face uncharacteristically lost its usual calmness, her brows furrowed, and her deep eyes were turbulent with waves of emotion.
A slightly fearful thought crossed her mind—was she too rash in betraying Song Heping.
"Song Heping… what is he doing exactly?"
The chief analyst stood nearby, his expression equally grim, a touch of unease in his voice: "Ma'am, all intercepted signals and satellite images indicate the former Vakner squad members and the Silia government army contact with him have disappeared. He… he appears to have deliberately exposed himself, putting himself in this… fatal position, acting as bait."
"Bait?!"
M turned sharply, her keen gaze cutting into the analyst like a surgeon's scalpel, filled with incredulity.
"Using himself as bait? Pinning Buckdadi's thousands of main forces on the mountaintop? At the cost of being torn apart?"
Her speech was rapid, carrying suppressed anger and deeper confusion.
Soon, she shook her head again.
"Song Heping isn't a madman! He's the most calculating and adept at weighing pros and cons in this era! This doesn't make sense! Absolutely doesn't!"
This seemed too much like suicide, but based on her understanding of Song Heping, this guy would never commit suicide!
She stepped quickly back behind her large desk, her fingers tapping unconsciously and rapidly on the smooth mahogany surface, producing a dull and anxious "thump, thump" that was extraordinarily clear in the silent office.
Anxiety, like cold vines, wrapped around her heart, tightening more and more.
What is he aiming for?
To create a chance for Utekin and them to live?
The cost is too great!
In exchange for a few mercenaries?
Song Heping isn't that "noble"!
To deplete the living forces of the 1515?
How much can he deplete alone?
A drop in the ocean!
Or perhaps…
He calculated that the Americans would intervene?!
This thought split the fog like lightning, causing M's heart to jolt!
Using others to do the dirty work?
Driving the tiger to swallow the wolf?!
If this is really the case…
Song Heping's nerve is too great! He considers himself as part of the bait too!
"Contact all our informants in Silia and Illiguo! Top priority!"
M's voice was resolute, even carrying a tension she hadn't acknowledged herself.
"I need to know the real-time situation of Deir Ezzor, Ashala Town, especially the US Military Base and CIA liaison station! Any commotion, any unusual movements, report immediately!"
She seemed to have grasped a lead, hidden in the mist, and now she had to employ all intelligence reconnaissance capabilities to see the whole picture of this chess game in the fog clearly!
After issuing the orders, her gaze returned to the screen.
That solitary white spot continued to flash, move, and counterattack tenaciously amidst the surging red tide.
Every move followed the most treacherous, deadliest path.
Every counterattack was precise as if it were a programmed routine, shockingly efficient.