The ground was rough terrazzo, somewhat slippery.
They passed through a storage area lined with metal shelves on both sides, stacked with boxes of canned goods, flour, cooking oil, and some cleaning supplies.
Occasionally, they caught a glimpse of one or two figures in white chef uniforms flashing by the distant passageway entrance, but no one paid attention to this silent "delivery team."
At the end of the storage area, at the door of a room marked "No Entry Without Permission," Adil swiped a card once more to open the door.
This room was colder than the corridor, like a large cold storage ante-room.
There were no windows inside, just a lonely fluorescent tube, emitting a faint buzzing sound and stark white light.
A corner of the room was piled with some idle shelves and broken plastic baskets, with a bizarre smell of aged frozen meat and dry spices mixing in the air.
Adil shut the door behind him and quickly walked to the far end of the room, pulling out a half-used large military duffel bag from behind a pile of discarded cardboard boxes.
"Quick! Change here."
He tossed the travel bag in front of the group, speaking rapidly:
"The bag contains four sets of work uniforms from the TV station's Technical Maintenance Department, light gray coveralls with the station's logo and 'Technical Department' on the chest. Corresponding work badges and universal access cards are also inside, with the photos changed to match your documents, but the names and information are of actual low-level technicians from inside the station who should be off today, so you won't run into them."
He glanced at his wristwatch:
"You have seven minutes to change, then head out here, turn left to the end, and take the service elevator to the second floor. On the second floor, turn right out of the elevator and follow the 'Broadcast Area' signs. The control room for Studio Two is halfway down the corridor. The General will show up at the control room door at precisely 6:55. You must reach the nearby equipment room before then and conceal yourselves."
Song Heping had already squatted down and unzipped the travel bag.
Inside were neatly folded four sets of light gray coveralls, the fabric thick, well-worn from frequent washing but somewhat old.
Above the left chest pocket of the coveralls, sure enough, was the Erbil TV Station logo and "Technical Department" in Kurdish.
Beside them were four plastic badge holders, containing work IDs with photos and barcodes and a blue universal access card.
Everything needed was fully equipped.
Though Tor Khan was not the most decisive, his efficiency was unquestionable.
"Where's Rashid now?"
Song Heping picked up a set of coveralls, quickly stripping off his greasy blue jacket while asking.
Adil leaned against the door, listening intently to the sounds outside, answering swiftly:
"According to the internal schedule and what the General knows, Rashid's convoy should arrive at the TV station's underground private garage around 6:50. He will take a dedicated elevator straight to the third floor, entering Dressing Room One, where there are dedicated stylists and makeup artists at his service. At precisely seven, he'll leave the dressing room and walk to Studio One on the same floor. From the dressing room to the studio is a main corridor about forty meters long."
"What about the security detail?"
"Inside the dressing room, there are two of his personal bodyguards, likely handpicked and trusted from the Security Forces, highly skilled. On either side of the main corridor, six guards are stationed, three per side, spaced apart. These are core members of the Rashid Security Forces, well-equipped and highly alert."
"Inside the studio?"
"Inside Studio One, besides the field staff, at least twenty plainclothes agents are arranged among the 'invited audience.' On either side of the podium, there is a guard with a firearm. Inside the control room, there's a director and two technicians, all Rashid's people, ensuring the broadcast content goes exactly as he wishes."
Adil paused, then added critical information:
"However, the General has already made arrangements. At 7:00 exactly, when Rashid leaves the dressing room heading to the studio, the General will, under the guise of a 'final safety check before going live,' request entry into Studio Two's control room with two guards whom he absolutely trusts. The people in the control room have no reason to refuse this 'reasonable request.' Once inside, the General will take control of the people inside."
Song Heping had already changed into the light gray technician's coveralls and was attaching the work badge to the left chest pocket.
The coveralls were slightly large but more convenient for concealing weapons and movement.
He inserted the Glock Pistol, with the silencer removed, into a specially designed holster on the inside of the coveralls, additionally strapping a dagger to each of his lower legs.
The movements were skilled and precise.
"We need to control Rashid on the path from the dressing room to the studio."
Song Heping straightened up, adjusting his collar.
"Is there any blind spot in the surveillance or cover on that twenty-meter main corridor?"
"Yes."
Adil seemed prepared, pulling out a folded paper from his jacket pocket, unfolding it.
This was a hand-drawn, somewhat rough but clearly marked floor plan.
He pointed to a section of the third-floor corridor:
"Here, about fifteen meters right after leaving the dressing room, there's a recessed wall space with a large fire equipment cabinet inside, containing fire extinguishers and hoses. That recess, and the cabinet itself, will create a visual blind spot about two meters by three meters, precisely avoiding the direct view of the nearest cameras in front and behind. However—"
He looked up, severe eyes meeting Song Heping and the others:
"You must execute the ambush and subdue everyone in the extremely brief moment Rashid and his eight guards pass through that blind spot. You can't fire a shot; the sound of gunfire will cause massive reverberations in the closed corridor, sure to alert the people in the studio. Nor can they have any chance to sound the alarm. Ideally, the entire process shouldn't exceed fifteen seconds. If surpassed, either the patrol personnel possibly at the corridor's far end or those at the studio entrance may notice something amiss."
"Fifteen seconds."
Jiang Feng had already changed clothes, inserting a sharp tactical dagger into the hidden scabbard in his coverall's sleeve.
He checked the scabbard's retainer, then raised his head, his face still expressionless, only his gaze becoming sharper and more focused, like two cold stars.
"That's enough time."