Two days later.
Major Najif, the commander of the Suicide Squad at the fireproof factory, had been restless these past few days.
He felt the pressure.
Since Sadam was arrested in Tikrit, he hadn't had a good night's sleep.
As the situation in Mosul gradually became clearer, Najif had made preparations to relocate, and he had already contacted the organization in Rubat to transport the gold to the southern desert.
Regardless, Gaiala was no longer safe.
"Major, it's time for dinner."
A subordinate came and knocked on his office door.
"Alright, I'll be there soon."
He looked at his watch, and it was already six in the evening.
It was getting dark.
As he stepped out of his office, he surveyed his surroundings.
The corners of the factory's walls all had fixed sentries.
His subordinates were all dressed as civilians, but they hid guns under their robes.
His gaze swept over several buildings.
He could vaguely see small rooms on the rooftops, similar to watchtowers.
Those were machine gun posts, all manned with heavy machine guns.
These little watchtowers had all been added by his orders.
His goal was simple, to conceal the machine gunners from aerial reconnaissance.
Even if US Army reconnaissance planes flew overhead, they would only see a factory still in operation, nothing else.
All the sentries were in place.
Najif's restless heart settled a bit.
He walked to the cafeteria at a leisurely pace.
This factory area was a closed-off world.
Apart from a small fraction of the Suicide Squad members who were on rotational leave, the other two hundred people lived in this factory area, because it was well-equipped with dormitories, office buildings, and warehouses. Not just two hundred people, but even a battalion's strength of troops could be accommodated.
Meal times were the happiest moments.
The food in the cafeteria was very good.
Because they were not short of money...
Of course, with so much gold, how could they be short of money?
Before transporting the gold here, Najif had someone melt three gold bricks into bars and sold them off at different black markets.
The funds from that sale were still not completely spent.
Rebuilding the army, organizing a counterattack...
Now, it seemed, hope was becoming more and more elusive.
As the commander of the squad guarding the gold, Najif had already considered embezzling it for himself.
Currently, Illiguo was like a battleground for warlords, with local armed factions controlling different areas. Those capable and with anti-Sadam backgrounds had joined the stationed US Army and the interim government.
For someone like him, a former member of the Revolutionary Guard Suicide Squad, joining the new regime was impossible, but organizing an armed force to operate along the borderlands and claiming a small kingdom could make for a comfortable life.
At the table, his subordinate brought him some food.
Bread, mutton, soup...
The soup smelled good and inviting.
He took a sniff.
Mutton soup.
Najif couldn't help but take a big sip.
It tasted good...
He grabbed the bread, wrapped some mutton with it, and stuffed it into his mouth, eating messily with oil dripping everywhere.
As night slowly fell.
In a building far away on the fifth floor, Song Heping sat in front of a spotting scope, peering through a high-magnification lens at the activity inside the fireproof factory.
He saw people coming out of the cafeteria, stretching and yawning.
Then the guards began to change shifts.
6:30 PM.
The guard change always happened at this time during meals.