It's no wonder Song Heping took a few extra glances at Nura.
Due to the hot weather in the Middle East and the significant temperature differences as an inland area, local beauties often have high nose bridges and deep-set eyes.
Women here typically have large eyes with unique pupil colors, coupled with high nose bridges, being petite and adorable with high beauty.
"Boss Song, staring at a woman like that is considered very offensive here."
Nura pulled her veil back up, covering her face.
Song Heping suddenly remembered some legends he had heard before.
The faces of women here are considered private property and should only be exposed to their fathers, brothers, and close relatives, not outsiders.
"Ah... I just know that people are attracted to beautiful things. I'm a normal man, so it's completely natural."
Song Heping didn't avoid admitting he took a few extra glances, nor did he hide his appreciation for beauty.
"You really know how to talk, Boss Song." Nura didn't seem angry. "It seems like you know how to sweet-talk women."
Song Heping immediately shook his head. "No, I'm much more familiar with guns than women. If I were good at sweet-talking women, I wouldn't still be single now."
"Hehehe—"
Nura couldn't help but laugh.
The few subordinates standing by were a bit stunned.
Their female leader was known for being ruthless and cold-blooded, rarely smiling.
What's going on today?
Smiling at a stranger she just met.
"Let's go, Boss Song. Follow us, and I can take you out of the desert to North Africa. But don't forget our deal, or else..."
She raised her wheat-colored finger and elegantly made a throat-slitting gesture on her neck, like wielding a knife against a chicken's neck.
On the outskirts of Tel Aviv, Mossad Headquarters underground command center.
Dazzling red alarm lights flashed in the corridor, and urgent footsteps were heard coming closer. Technical Director David Cohen pushed open the heavy blast-proof door, his shirt drenched in cold sweat.
"Director, Major Yager's positioning chip is showing abnormalities." His voice trembled slightly. "The signal disappeared in the Alish Desert, with the last coordinates here."
A holographic projection map unfolded in the center of the command room, a red light flashing. Mossad Director Amir Levin stood before the map, his silhouette like a statue.
This iron-willed intelligence chief stared intently at the flashing red dot.
"Someone destroyed their communication equipment." He suddenly spoke. "An expert, who knows how to make the chip totally ineffective."
Cohen swiftly typed on the keyboard, pulling up data. "Based on our last information record, Major Yager's last transmitted message indicated they were in a high-intensity firefight, with intense gunfire lasting about 15 minutes, then..."
His voice abruptly stopped.
"Continue." Levin's voice was as cold as ice.
"Then all information transmission ceased." Cohen swallowed hard. "Based on the biological chips on the team members, the temperature soared dramatically for 15 minutes, reaching 300 degrees, after which the chips stopped working... such temperature changes only occur when bodies are burned."
The command room fell silent.
All the technical agents froze.
Hands suspended over keyboards, no one dared make a sound.
Levin slowly turned, his eyes bloodshot. "Pull up Major Yager's last three hours of vital signs data."
The holographic projection switched to a series of fluctuating numbers.
Heart rate, blood pressure, body temperature... all data showed abnormal fluctuations starting three hours ago, finally converging to a straight line.
"Dispatch a search team." Levin's voice carried suppressed fury. "I want a field report within 24 hours."
Twelve hours later.
Alish Desert, dark clouds covered the sky, clouds thickening toward the Mediterranean, thunder faintly audible.
Four "Black Hawk" helicopters hovered over the wreckage of two previously crashed helicopters, ropes dropped, and commandos descended, quickly forming a defensive formation.
An hour later.
In the open space before an ancient building, Mossad search team leader Ilan Katz squatted down, picking up a silver ring from the ground.
To reach here, they had just lost a team member.
This place was riddled with mines.
Passing through this mixed minefield cost them an entire hour.
They had actually saved some effort.
Footprints left by others had already triggered many mines.
Saving them lots of time.
"It's Major Yager's ring." He murmured, his gaze sorrowful.
Then, speaking into his communicator, "Found extensive burn marks, and..."
His voice suddenly stopped.