Chapter 36: MQ-1 Predator

The armored Lincoln was indeed a luxury vehicle. Song Heping drove it with Angel toward the dam. It was a fine car, handling smoothly—the best one Song had ever driven.

Upon arriving at the dam, he pulled over. The surroundings were pitch black. Song scanned the environment from inside the car and said to Angel in the back seat, "Stay in the car. I’m going out to take a look. Do not get out until I tell you to."

Perhaps it was because she had no one to rely on here but Song, but Angel didn't make a fuss as she usually did. Instead, she nodded obediently, as docile as a kitten.

"Okay, I’m counting on you."

Her sudden politeness caught Song off guard. It seemed this foreign girl wasn't stupid; she knew when she could afford to make a scene and when she couldn't.

He stepped out, closed the door, and looked around. The moon hung high, casting a clear radiance over the ground. Visibility was decent, which relieved Song slightly. A night that was too dark would be at a significant disadvantage for him.

*Night vision goggles.*

He thought of that expensive piece of gear again. He would have to get his hands on one when he returned. It was truly a necessity for combat.

He peered toward the dam but saw no one. Song pulled out his binoculars for a closer inspection. There was only the wind and the trees; no people. *Did we arrive too early?* He checked his watch. It was exactly eight o'clock.

"VIP call, are you all in position?"

"Gray Wolf in position."

"Cook and White Bear in position."

"Queen in position."

"It’s too quiet here. Have you spotted anything?"

Gray Wolf replied, "Nothing on my end."

Cook reported, "There are people at your five o'clock position, about a dozen of them."

Queen said, "Across the dam, at the eleven o'clock position, there are two enemies. Likely snipers."

Song Heping put away his binoculars. Without night vision, they were useless. He noted the general directions of five and eleven o'clock. If things went south, he would need to find cover immediately to ensure the enemy snipers didn't take out Angel. However, those two positions were opposite each other, creating a pincer effect. His choice of cover would have to be precise, or he wouldn't be able to stay safe for long.

His gaze fell on the top of the dam. The edges were lined with concrete barriers about a meter high, forming a protrusion that could shield them from the lines of sight at five and eleven o'clock. The only remaining concern was the front. How many men Mr. J was bringing onto the dam was the critical variable.

Suddenly, a few black dots appeared on the yellow earth across the dam, moving toward it at high speed. Song quickly raised his binoculars to observe the moving targets.

He realized what they were: two SUVs and a pickup truck. Someone seemed to be standing in the bed of the pickup. The convoy stopped at the entrance of the dam, and several men got out to stand guard. After a brief delay, one man emerged from an SUV.

"Attention, they have arrived." Cook’s voice came through the earpiece.

"I see them."

Before Song could finish his sentence, the door of the armored Lincoln behind him opened. Angel stepped out, holding a satellite phone. "Mr. J called. He says to meet him on the dam."

Song hurried over, blocking Angel’s front. "Are you sure it’s him?"

"It’s him!" Angel’s eyes sparkled with excitement. "That’s his voice!"

Song scanned the area to the left, right, front, and back. He understood that since they were going to meet, there was no way he could shield Angel from every potential sniper’s line of sight. No security plan was foolproof. Whether something went wrong—whether they died—would be up to fate.

"Let's go. Let's see him."

Song eyed Angel, checking her bulletproof vest and helmet. Satisfied, he stepped aside. Angel took the lead, and he followed a meter behind her to her right—neither too far nor too close. He had to ensure he could reach the VIP in a heartbeat.

The distance was only a little over a hundred meters, yet it felt incredibly long.

"Cook, Gray Wolf, White Bear, Queen, we are moving to the center of the dam. I’ll leave the rest to you."

"Don't worry," Queen sounded confident. She was four hundred meters from the opposite bank. Song had estimated that if her marksmanship was good enough, she could take out the snipers instantly.

"Zang, remember, if anything happens, pull Angel behind the concrete barrier immediately. I’ll handle the ones at five o'clock."

"Understood."

The distance closed. Song and Angel reached the dam and walked about fifty meters before seeing the opposing party. They were less than two hundred meters apart. Song counted seven people. The leader, a tall man in a mask and robes, carried no visible weapons, while the others held assault rifles. It was clearly Mr. J.

Although Song was extremely cautious, he felt Mr. J was sincere. Arranging a meeting in such a place was, in itself, a gesture of good faith. On the dam, not only was Song at risk, but the other side was as well. If they tried to kill him and Angel, Mr. J would be equally unable to escape Queen’s SVD sniper range. By doing this, Mr. J was signaling to Angel that he was sincere.

Just as Song and Mr. J drew closer, high in the night sky at three thousand meters, an MQ-1 Predator drone—armed with two AGM-114 Hellfire missiles—glided silently overhead.

The high-definition reconnaissance camera beneath its nose continuously transmitted footage via a Ku-band satellite data link back to the drone control center in the Lighthouse Country, thousands of miles away, and synchronized it to the screens at the Green Zone Joint Special Operations Command Center.

"Target identified!" a member of the ISA team shouted excitedly, turning away from the screen. They had been tracking Mohammed Saif for quite some time. Ever since the invasion of Iraq, Saddam had disappeared, and so had Saif. Intelligence suggested they were both hiding in northern Iraq, but their exact location remained unknown.

The drone's footage was quickly magnified, and snapshots were captured. The focus landed on the masked man in robes walking at the front of the group. The screenshots were quickly divided into close-ups of different features—overall build, face, neck, hands, legs, waist—and fed into the analysis system.

The computer performed a rapid comparison against all data on Saif in the Lighthouse Country’s intelligence database, analyzing estimated age, bone structure, physical profile, height, and weight. Finally, the system popped up its conclusion:

"65% match rate."

"65% match!" the team member said. "Not high enough to confirm!"

Brown’s expression sank.