The guard took it, first glancing suspiciously at Adil in his military uniform.
Adil stood beside him expressionless, his gaze fixed in the distance as if none of this concerned him.
Only then did the guard lower his head and pick up a palm-sized handheld scanner.
The device emitted a red light, scanning the magnetic strips on the four IDs in sequence.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
Four short prompt tones.
Then, he scanned the pass.
Afterward, he raised his head, his gaze sweeping through the car again.
This time, his eyes paused a moment longer under Song Heping's lowered hat brim, at the stubbled face of Little Masoud.
His brows slightly furrowed.
His finger moved towards the walkie-talkie hanging on his shoulder.
The air inside the car froze instantly.
Song Heping's right hand, tucked in his pocket, gripped the gun handle tightly.
In the trunk, Jiang Feng's fingers pulled the trigger of the assault rifle hidden at the bottom of the basket.
