Chapter 1268 - 1096: The Predator Behind

Just a few minutes before Zayed's luxurious vehicle left "Kali Night"...

Across the busy intersection from the nightclub, an inconspicuous white Toyota Fortuner was parked in the shadows.

The windows were tinted dark, making it nearly impossible to see inside from the outside.

Song Heping sat in the driver's seat, tearing open the wrapper of a giant burger, eating slowly.

A cup of iced cola sat in the cup holder beside him.

His choice of McDonald's was not for the taste, but for the most fundamental consideration of survival—he had heard too many "legendary" stories about street food in the White Elephant Country, and during a mission, any non-combat attrition, especially due to weakness from gastroenteritis, was unacceptable and extremely foolish.

Standardized, high-calorie fast food was the safest and most reliable energy source at the moment.

His gaze pierced through the car window, across the bustling traffic and crowds, and precisely locked onto the dazzling entrance of "Kali Night".

He was waiting, like a rock blended into the night, calm and patient.

At 9:40, the target appeared.

Zayed came out surrounded by a group of burly, alert bodyguards.

He seemed in a good mood, with a satisfied smile on his face, patting a confidant on the shoulder and saying something, causing his subordinates to burst into laughter.

He didn't immediately get into his conspicuous black Land Cruiser but instead gave some instructions to the head bodyguard, then walked with two personal bodyguards towards a more low-key black Mercedes sedan.

"Changing location?"

Song Heping felt a slight stir, putting down the half-eaten burger, his fingers silently resting on the steering wheel.

Almost simultaneously, he noticed two cars—a gray Honda and a white Maruti Suzuki van—that had been idling further away in the nightclub parking lot; as Zayed's Mercedes started, their headlights turned on, and they slowly drove out, neither too close nor too far, following behind.

"There's a tail."

Song Heping's eyes instantly sharpened.

The figures in those two cars were blurry, but it was clear they were all male, their movements exuding a deliberate restraint and stealth.

This didn't seem like Zayed's own security procedure.

His cheetah-like intuition told him that Narendra's assassins might be in those two vehicles.

It seemed letting the watchers go was indeed the right choice.

As predicted, that guy did not report his capture and the full disclosure of his intentions to his superiors.

Hehe.

Human nature.

This is human nature.

Using human nature to predict is astonishingly accurate.

Without hesitation, Song Heping quickly started the engine, and the car slowly left the intersection.

He maintained a safe distance from the target, slowly merging into the traffic, following behind the two suspicious vehicles.

A three-way chase quietly unfolded under the dazzling lights of the Goa night.

Zayed's Mercedes sedan didn't head to any of his residences or offices but drove straight to a famous five-star luxury hotel by the seaside avenue—"Crown Pearl".

The vehicle drove directly into the entrance of the underground VIP parking lot.

The two trailing vehicles hesitated slightly, not following into the VIP passage, but instead took a half turn, entering through the main parking lot entrance open to the public.

Song Heping chose neither entrance, but parked the car at a roadside spot outside the hotel where he could observe the main parking lot exit and also catch glimpses of movements at the hotel lobby's side door.

He needed to judge the intention and route of these people.

About ten minutes later, he saw the doors of those two cars open, and a total of eight men got out.

They took several black, long athletic bags and backpacks from the trunks of the Honda and Maruti, moving swiftly and looking around cautiously.

One of them seemed to say something on a walkie-talkie, and then the group quickly headed towards the staff elevator entrance directly leading into the hotel's interior.

Suspiciously, a person dressed in a hotel manager's uniform seemed to have been waiting there, exchanged a few words briefly, then used his access card to swipe open the elevator, letting the eight men in.

"An inside man..."

Song Heping's pupils contracted. Indeed, Narendra's influence runs deep, penetrating even such a luxury hotel's interior.

These people taking the staff elevator could avoid most of the surveillance and security checks in the hotel lobby, directly entering the inner floors.

Their target was undeniable—Zayed, who had just checked into the hotel.

Song Heping immediately picked up his phone and quickly searched for the floor information of the "Crown Pearl Hotel".

The top-end presidential suite was on the 30th floor.

Someone like Zayed would only choose there.

Time is running out!

He didn't know which floor the assassins would emerge from the elevator, nor did he know exactly how they would launch their attack, but every second of delay decreased Zayed's chances of survival.

Song Heping swung the car door open and pulled out the black duffel bag from under the passenger seat.

He hurriedly took off his jacket, revealing the Level III bulletproof vest he had worn beneath, and inserted two additional ceramic plates into the chest and back slots.

Then, he holstered the Glock 17 pistol under his right rib, with spare magazines tucked on his left waist.

Finally, he unzipped the duffel bag, took out the two M18 smoke bombs, and shoved them into his jacket pocket. After taking a deep breath, he strapped the specially-made "guitar case" on his back and swiftly headed toward the hotel lobby.

He couldn't take the staff passage; it was too conspicuous and might run into the opponent's backup or informants.

Now, he needed to get as close as possible using normal routes.

Entering the magnificent hotel lobby, Song Heping lowered the brim of his hat, avoiding the reception area, and walked naturally towards the guest elevators like a regular visitor.

His eyes scanned the surroundings quickly, ensuring there were no obvious threats while memorizing several exits and the locations of the fire escapes in the lobby.

At the elevator area, he noticed all button panels leading to the floors above the 20th were locked behind covers, with a notice beside them: VIP key card required for activation.

"As expected."

He smirked coldly and pressed the button for the 19th floor without hesitation.

The elevator ascended steadily, numbers flashing by. In these short dozen seconds, his mind raced as he mapped out his route—find the fire escape on the 19th floor and speed up ten flights to the 30th floor. The assassins might take the staff elevator, potentially faster, so every second counted.

"Ding!"

The elevator reached the 19th floor.

As soon as the doors opened, Song Heping slipped out like a ghost.

The hallway, covered in thick carpet, absorbed his footsteps, leaving it empty and silent.

Swiftly observing his surroundings, his sharp gaze immediately locked onto the green "EXIT" sign on the wall not far away.

He quickly moved forward, pushed open the heavy fire door, and stepped into the concrete-structured emergency stairway.

Inside, the stairway was dimly lit, with a mix of dust and disinfectant smell.

Without a moment's pause, Song Heping took a deep breath and began sprinting upward.

His movements were swift and light, minimizing the sound of his footsteps, yet his speed was great, taking several steps at a time.

The "guitar case" on his back swayed rhythmically with his motion, as if the MP7 inside was eager to roar.

Ten floors, eleven floors, twelve floors...

He counted silently, maintaining steady breathing through deliberate control, though his adrenaline surged, heightening his senses to the extreme, ears tuned to any slight noise above or below—aside from his own hurried yet suppressed footsteps and breathing, only the distant hum of the air conditioning system could be heard.

...

Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!

He stopped outside the fire door on the 30th floor, chest slightly heaving, forehead beaded with sweat.

He didn't immediately push the door but instead placed an ear against the cold metal panel, holding his breath to listen.

Dead silence.

Highly unusual.

The presidential suite floor, even late at night, should have hotel staff or at least the murmurs and patrol steps of Zayed's bodyguards.

Song Heping's nerves tightened abruptly.

His right hand retrieved the Glock 17 from its holster, checking the safety and chamber, while his left hand gently pushed the fire door open to a crack.

The hallway was carpeted with even thicker, luxurious material, softly lit, and still deserted.

A heavy scent of blood mixed with gunpowder faintly drifted from the right side of the corridor.

He slipped out, sticking close to the wall, moving silently like a gecko.

His keen eyes scanned the area, soon spotting a lavishly decorated suite door slightly ajar not far to the right, with a dark, sticky drag mark on the expensive carpet extending inside.

He cautiously approached, the smell of blood growing stronger.

Through the gap, he saw two black-suited figures from Zayed's bodyguards lying inside on the floor.

One lay face-up with a bullet hole in the forehead, the other face-down, blood seeping wide beneath, staining the carpet with a dark pool.

A single, precise kill, clean and efficient, the work of a professional hitman.

The assassins had already cleared the outer perimeter!

Song Heping's heart sank heavily.

Almost simultaneously, from the corridor further right, near the elevator lobby, he heard faint, deliberately muted footsteps and the sound of metal friction, rapidly approaching!