On the night when Song Heping and his mercenary team dismantled the Sam-6, a tense and clandestine operation quietly commenced in distant Alexandria Port under the influence of money.
At midnight, the roar of a private jet engine tore through the silence of a private airstrip outside Cairo.
Toby Papadopoulos's Gulfstream G650 landed on the runway like a tired yet focused metallic giant bird.
The cabin door opened, and air carrying the dry heat unique to the desert edge rushed in.
Toby, not waiting for the gangway to be fully stabilized, stepped down swiftly, wearing a well-tailored dark suit that couldn't hide the fatigue of long-distance travel, yet his gaze was as sharp as a blade tempered by fire.
A black bulletproof Land Rover had been waiting for some time, its engine humming quietly.
The driver, a local, was silent and taciturn, only nodding respectfully as he quickly took Toby's simple luggage.
"To the Nile Palace Hotel, quickly."
