"Elena, what's the situation on your end?"
The leader of Operation Sphinx asked calmly.
"Caplimo took the bait, but he still seems a bit uneasy. Just when he was about to cave, he suddenly changed his tune," said Elena, the blonde beauty.
"That man's already knee-deep in Maya's trap. It's only a matter of time before he spills. As soon as he gives up the location of any one of his colleagues, there's no going back," said Emma, the chestnut-haired woman.
"The problem is, we're out of time. The CIA's already sniffing around these people."
"Maybe we should just let the CIA take them. Wouldn't that eliminate the threat they pose to us?"
"Hah. I wouldn't trust those CIA idiots. That agency leaks like a sieve—what if something slips through the cracks? And besides, the U.S. is our ally for now, but who knows what'll happen down the road? Better we handle this ourselves. It's safer."
"Then what do you suggest?"
"How about we send Elena to seduce him directly? Caplimo seems genuinely infatuated with her."
"You've got to be kidding me," Maya snapped, her stunning face full of displeasure. "So he falls for Elena, and I'm just some toy to him?"
"Oh please. Don't act like that's not the truth."
...
While the Mossad's female operatives debated how best to eliminate Caplimo swiftly—
Caplimo, in his secluded villa, received two unexpected guests.
"Relax. We're not here to hurt you. Just thought you should know a few things," said Gordon, casually lounging on the sofa across from a visibly tense Caplimo.
Behind Caplimo stood a tall man in a casual suit. One hand rested heavily on Caplimo's shoulder, while the other twirled a sharp dagger between his fingers with unsettling ease.
Caplimo's eyes stayed locked on the blade, anxiety growing by the second. If this guy's hand slips… that knife could—
"Who the hell are you people? What do you want?"
Despite the sweat pouring down his forehead, Caplimo managed to keep his voice steady.
Gordon slowly reached into his black briefcase and pulled out a stack of documents. "I'm here to help you. Maybe you should take a look at this."
Caplimo hesitated, then took the folder. The first page made his breath catch—it was a familiar face, almost too beautiful to be true.
Elena?
His heart dropped. He quickly scanned the contents of the file.
Beads of cold sweat formed on his forehead.
He flipped through page after page, recognizing more faces—Emma. Maya.
"How do I know this stuff is even real?" he demanded, tossing the file aside and glaring at Gordon.
Gordon smirked. "There's more." He pulled another envelope from his briefcase and handed it over.
Caplimo opened it—and froze.
Hussein's signature?!
His expression shifted from fear to shock, and then relief as he read through the letter.
"So you're... allies? Thank God. I almost ended up betraying a colleague because of this mess."
"Feel like getting a little payback?" Gordon's smile turned razor-sharp.
...
Knock knock knock! Knock knock knock!
"Who is it?" A-Rad called out suspiciously.
"Delivery for you," a woman's voice answered from the other side of the door.
The feminine tone lowered A-Rad's guard. He opened the door a crack. "What delivery—"
Pfft!
Two women dressed as delivery couriers sprang into action—one sprayed him in the face, while the other snapped the chain lock with bolt cutters and stormed into the apartment.
A-Rad howled, clutching his eyes, stumbling backward.
The two Mossad operatives charged in. One slammed the door shut, while the other pulled a hammer-like metal baton from her chest holster and lunged.
Screams echoed through the apartment.
Moments later, A-Rad sat slumped on the floor, gasping. His eyes were swollen, almost almond-shaped from the spray.
Both women lay unconscious—one with her neck twisted unnaturally, the other knocked out cold.
A brown-haired man tied up the unconscious agent with a rope, while two others stood nearby, laughing.
"Chris, you really screwed up this time. Too bad we couldn't bring our phones—your face looks like a Halloween mask. I'd have taken a picture for posterity."
"Good thing it was only pepper spray. If it had been acid, you'd be a goner."
Of course, this wasn't the real A-Rad—the man they ambushed was actually Gordon's operative in disguise.
"Those damn sluts. When I get back, I swear I'm gonna make them pay," Chris growled.
Then he turned to his companions. "Frank, help me to the bathroom. I can't see shit!"
One of them helped Chris up.
The other said, "If you're thinking of getting payback, there's only one left. John was too rough—the one who sprayed you? He snapped her neck. Shame. She'd have fetched a nice price in Africa."
"Africa? South America would be better—tribal leaders there are loaded."
"You'd actually trade with warlords? Gordon would beat your head in."
"Exactly. Boss gave a direct order—no trafficking in women or drugs."
"Fine, forget it. Gems and gold from those tribal leaders sound good enough anyway."
"Let's get her to talk first. She might know something useful."
Just then, Gordon entered with two more men.
The brown-haired man looked up. "The other floors taken care of?"
"Both done," Gordon nodded. "John, what happened here?"
"One dead, one alive." John pointed to the bound and unconscious agent on the floor.
Gordon couldn't help but click his tongue. "John, you motherfucker... You really are a sick bastard."
...
Meanwhile, in the villa across from Caplimo's—
"The second team still hasn't checked in. It's been three hours."
"With Caryll's skills, taking out one scientist should've been easy—unless... Damn! Something's gone wrong!"
"Pack up! We're leaving!"
Inside, the female operatives rushed to gather their gear—but it was too late.
Bang bang bang!
Several oddly-shaped grenades crashed through the windows.
"Grenades! Get down!"
The eight operatives immediately scattered, diving for cover.
But these weren't ordinary grenades—they were flashbangs.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
In seconds, the room spun. The women staggered like drunks, collapsing one after another.
Masked black-clad figures burst through the doors.
The fight was over in moments.
Despite their training, the women had lost the advantage. Their attackers were elite too.
One of the masked men pulled out a phone. "Gordon, all eight women are down. Alive."
...
On the outskirts of Paris, at a rural farm—
The same scene played out.
Soon, several black crates were loaded into vans.
The vehicles vanished into the twilight.
...
Back at Caplimo's villa—
The man himself was long gone. Only Gordon remained.
A few minutes later, his phone rang again.
"The farm's cleared too. Two dead, six alive."
Gordon ended the call, then tossed the SIM card into a cement mixer and flipped the switch.
The machine roared to life.
He let out a long breath.
Ever since I started working for the boss, life's gotten a whole lot more... exciting.