Two days later, Baghdad Green Zone.
Six in the morning, the sky was just beginning to lighten, the orange-red dawn painted the skyline across the Tigris River.
Song Heping stood by the window, holding a cup of coffee that had long gone cold.
His gaze pierced the bullet-proof glass, surveying the scant pedestrians and vehicles on the street below.
"You're really set on leaving today?"
Jiang Feng's voice came from behind, full of worry.
Song Heping turned around, a faint smile appeared at the corner of his lips: "Walker gave the 'Frost Raven' team two days. Today is the deadline. If I don't show up, they might change tactics; I can't let their efforts go to waste."
"But it's clearly a trap." Jiang Feng walked up to him, sighed, and said, "From Baghdad to Mosul, there are at least three to four ideal ambush spots. If we don't know where the 'Frost Raven' will strike, it's like walking through a minefield blind."
