Two days later, in the afternoon.
Useta Republic border, at the frontline command post of the U.S. Green Berets task force.
"FUCK!"
Major Jason Claude slammed the satellite phone onto the metal table, sending ripples through the liquid in the nearby coffee cup.
Outside the tent, the African noon sun baked the sand, heat waves distorting the distant view.
"It's that damn Chinese guy again."
He unbuttoned the top of his tiger-striped camo shirt, revealing his sun-red neck.
On the tactical tablet, intelligence just delivered by the department displayed a dossier photo of Song Heping—a sharp-eyed Asian face.
According to the latest intelligence reports, the key target on the U.S. terrorist list, Song Heping, likely entered the Sena Republic and plans to organize a government army counterattack in the near future.
Counterattack?
Jensen was somewhat enraged.
Why!?
A defense company daring to meddle in international affairs, intervening with the White House?
