Although in a desperate situation, Song Heping and his companion couldn't help but be amused by the Antonov in front of them.
A Da Maozi speaking Russian-accented Chinese, with a slight Northeastern dialect, instinctively carries an element of humor when he curses.
"Where is Sara!?"
Song Heping suddenly remembered the Sara who had taken him out of Beirut.
"In the chaos just now, I don't know..."
Jiang Feng then realized Sara was missing.
"Weren't you in the cabin?" Song Heping was somewhat angry. As a professionally trained veteran, Jiang Feng should have been looking out for his own people in such moments.
"I..."
Jiang Feng couldn't find the words.
The situation earlier was too critical, he had never experienced such panic.
The plane would start leaking immediately after stopping on the water surface, and without escaping in the shortest time, there would be a life-threatening danger.
Song Heping felt his tone was a bit harsh.
No one can be expected to stay calm during such crucial moments.
"Forget it..."
He sighed, feeling a wave of guilt.
After all, Sara was in this task because of him and Jiang Feng.
He lowered his head and glanced at his watch.
Dawn was approaching.
At the moment he wasn't most worried about whether the few of them could drift ashore or be rescued at sea.
What worried him most was whether Mossad or the CIA would realize he wasn't dead and continue to persistently send agents to pursue them.
After all, this time he had slapped the faces of both Mossad and the CIA hard.
If they managed to escape and survive safely, both Mossad and the CIA would be laughed at by everyone who knew.
In the midday sun of the Eastern Mediterranean in July, sunlight poured onto the sea surface like molten steel.
Eight hours had passed since the crash.
Undoubtedly, the sea surface near the Sinai Peninsula felt like a huge oven.
Song Heping squinted his eyes, seeing the edges of the supply package starting to curl up—this PVC material should withstand temperatures up to 120 degrees, yet it was curling under prolonged exposure.
"Three o'clock direction ahead!" Jiang Feng suddenly shouted.
Song Heping quickly looked towards the direction he indicated.
He saw a piece of white flotsam drifting on the sea, with someone lying on it.
It seemed to be a woman.
"Sara!"
Song Heping judged the person's identity from their clothing.
"Jiang Feng, give me the rope!"
There was a rope about ten meters long on the supply package, which was used to secure supplies on the plane, but it snapped during the crash and fell into the sea along with the supply package.
At this moment, a rope was indeed needed.
"Sara!"
Song Heping shouted towards the drifting object.
"I'm Song!"
The person lying on the flotsam moved, seemingly hearing Song Heping's shout.
"Over here!"
Ignoring his dry throat, Song Heping shouted: "Can you still swim?!"
Sara finally located the sound, turning her head.
She saw Song Heping, but looked very weak, simply shook her head slightly and then lay still again on the wreckage.
"The rope!"
Jiang Feng had already prepared the rope.
Song Heping estimated the length, roughly twelve meters.
Not enough.
There was at least a distance of over forty meters to Sara.
"I'll go down to save her. You wait till we get closer, then throw the rope and pull us back."
"Okay."