48: Good luck, gentlemen.

"Tell him I need a SEAL team, the most elite kind. Have them get to Baghdad as fast as possible."

"Just tell him I have a big fish here that needs them to help reel in."

"Yes, sir!"

Liam didn't hesitate for a second and immediately turned to carry out the order.

Noah sat back down in the chair, crossed his hands, and looked out at the night view of Baghdad.

"The ghost of Bolivia..."

"Let me see what on earth you really are."

Late that night.

A C-130 transport plane landed silently in a deserted village on the outskirts of Baghdad without alerting any radar.

The cargo door opened.

Ten heavily armed, burly men exuding a fierce aura quickly filed out and disappeared into the night.

They were the U.S. Navy SEAL Team Five.

An ace unit specialized in high-difficulty decapitation, infiltration, and capture missions.

The team was led by Captain Lucas.

A tough guy who had survived countless missions.

Half an hour later, in an inconspicuous safe house, Lucas met Noah.

"Mr. Noah."

Lucas was concise and didn't waste words.

"I've brought the men. What's the mission?"

"Welcome to Baghdad, Captain Lucas."

Noah pointed to the map and documents spread out on the table.

"Your target is named Kian. We suspect he is an agent for a super arms dealer."

He pushed Kian's photo over.

"He is currently in the penthouse suite of the Babylon Rotana Hotel. This is the hotel's floor plan, along with all the surrounding surveillance points and security deployments."

Lucas and his team gathered around, studying the documents with focused gazes.

Their expressions didn't change at all, as if they were looking at a regular menu.

"Fifteenth floor, only one main elevator and two fire escapes."

"Ten police officers and four bodyguards on the perimeter, all in plain sight."

"We can rappel from the roof to storm in, or infiltrate through the fire escape."

The team members discussed in low voices, quickly constructing several operational plans.

After listening, Lucas looked at Noah.

"We need to conduct a field reconnaissance."

"We will send people over tomorrow during the day. The operation will be at night."

"Understood."

Noah nodded.

"I have only one requirement: take him alive. Bring him to me in one piece."

"Understood."

Lucas picked up the photo and stuffed it into his pocket.

"Once the mission is complete, we will evacuate immediately."

"Very good."

Noah smiled with satisfaction.

"Good luck, gentlemen."

The next afternoon.

In a café opposite the Babylon Rotana Hotel.

Lucas was wearing a casual suit and sunglasses, looking like a businessman visiting the area, leisurely drinking coffee.

His gaze, however, swept across the hotel entrance opposite from time to time, committing every person entering or leaving and every passing car to memory.

An hour later, he put down his coffee cup and got up to leave.

Back at the safe house, the operational plan was optimized again, and every possible contingency was taken into account.

"Operation at 10:00 PM."

Lucas looked at his team members and issued the final order.

"Split into groups, check equipment, and synchronize time."

"Operation codename, 'Fisherman'."

"Move out!"

In the presidential suite on the top floor of the Babylon Rotana Hotel.

Kian was holding a glass of red wine, standing in front of the huge floor-to-ceiling window, overlooking the scenery of Baghdad.

One of his companions, also a subordinate of David, was sprawled on the sofa, looking very comfortable.

"Brother Kian, things here are finally settled."

"The final payment from Saddam has been cleared, when are we going back to Bolivia?"

The companion stretched.

"To be honest, I don't want to stay in this godforsaken place for even one more day. It's more comfortable on our own turf."

Kian swirled the red wine in his glass and chuckled.

"What's the rush?"

"The boss's instructions are to clean up all loose ends."

"Once things in The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia are on the right track, we will naturally go back."

He took a sip of wine, his eyes filled with a hint of longing.

"Seriously, I really miss the sunshine in Bolivia."

"When we go back this time, I'll definitely ask the boss to give us a long vacation so we can enjoy ourselves properly!"

He had no idea that a massive net woven of death and conspiracy was quietly tightening around him in the night.

Several inconspicuous civilian cars parked in the shadows at the street corner of the Babylon Rotana Hotel.

The car doors opened silently, and several dark figures quickly merged into the night, their movements clean and efficient, without a single wasted motion.

Lucas made a gesture.

Two team members immediately broke off from the team and found an excellent Sniper spot on the building opposite the hotel.

The cold muzzles, viewed through night-vision goggles, locked onto every window on the fifteenth floor.

"Sniper in position."

"All units, report status."

Low responses from the team members came through the headsets.

"Team A in position."

"Team B in position."

"Very good."

Lucas lowered his voice and, leading the remaining team members, crept silently toward the side door of the hotel like hunting cheetahs.

There were two patrolling police officers on the hotel perimeter, smoking cigarettes and chatting listlessly.

They didn't notice at all that the shadow of death had already descended upon them.

Lucas emerged from the shadows with astonishing speed.

With one hand, he covered the policeman's mouth, while the military dagger in his other hand precisely slashed across the man's throat.

There wasn't even a chance to struggle.

The other policeman had just realized what was happening when he was taken out by a team member who sprang from behind Lucas using the same method.

The entire process took no more than three seconds.

There were no gunshots, only the slight thud of two bodies falling softly to the ground.

"Perimeter cleared."

Lucas whispered into the headset and then led the team into the hotel lobby.

There were also two guards in the lobby, dozing off against the front desk.

"Pfft!"

The suppressed pistols made two muffled sounds.

Two bullet holes instantly appeared on the foreheads of the two guards; they slid under the desk before they could even groan.

Everything was terrifyingly quiet.

"Team B, clear out the remaining security forces downstairs, then come up and rendezvous," Lucas ordered.

"Copy that."

He himself took four team members and headed straight for the fire escape.

Their goal was clear: the fifteenth floor, presidential suite.

Inside the presidential suite.

Kian lay on the bed, but he couldn't fall asleep no matter what.

He kept feeling restless, and his eyelids wouldn't stop twitching.

"Damn it, what's going on..."

He sat up irritably and poured himself a glass of water.

His companion was already sleeping like a log in the room next door, snoring like thunder.

Kian walked to the window and looked at the quiet street below; the feeling of unease grew stronger and stronger.

This was a beast-like intuition honed after wandering on the edge of life and death countless times.

Suddenly.

His ears twitched.

From the stairwell came a sound of footsteps, extremely faint yet incredibly clear.

It wasn't one person; it was a group of people!

And the footsteps were steady, the rhythm uniform; they were definitely professionals who had undergone strict training.

Kian's pupils contracted sharply.

"Damn! Something's wrong!"

He didn't hesitate for a second, lunging to the bedside table and pulling out a loaded pistol from underneath.

At the same time, he kicked open his companion's room door.

"Get up! We have a situation!"

His companion was also an old hand; after being awakened, he didn't waste a word, rolling out of bed to grab his gun.

Kian didn't turn on the light; instead, he held his breath, pressed himself against the back of the suite door, and aimed his gun at the outside.

The footsteps were getting closer and closer.

Then they stopped at the door.

The entire hallway was quiet enough to hear a pin drop.