"I'm sorry, but is it a letter from my family?" Ensign Loire walked into Hanst's room with a tray in his hand.

"Oh, it's my brother, he's serving in the armored forces, and here's a picture he sent." Second Lieutenant Hanst picked up a photograph placed next to the envelope and motioned it to the French second lieutenant.

"It's a handsome guy, are we going to eat here or ......," asked Loire, lifting the tray.

"Oh, just put it on this table, thank you, Loire."

Hanst stood up with some embarrassment, removed the chair that had been placed on the side of the table, and made way for Loire.

"There's nothing good going on in this place, but the wine is pretty good."

Loire rested the tray on the edge of the table, and Hanst helped him place the plates with the food on the table.

"It's better than camping outside, I'll go get a cup." Hanst set up his knife and fork, and then walked to the four-legged cabinet where the water bottle was placed in the doorway.

It is a very common North African village, where most of the villagers make their living by herding cattle and making handicrafts, and because of its location on the side of a trade road and the availability of clean water, caravans often stop here to recuperate.

The village elders were very knowledgeable, so they simply scraped together some money to build an inn by themselves, providing food and lodging services to some merchants with good economic conditions, and at the same time peddling the village's specialties and some tools and supplies that must be carried on desert trips to passing passengers.

"Are the captives settled?" Hanst placed a glass of water in front of Loire.

"It's all settled, Sergeant Wren and three soldiers are guarding the prisoners, and they're on duty tonight." Loire unbuttoned his napkin and shook it in the air, then tucked a corner between his collars.

"Hold on one more night, and we'll be able to reach Lucien Station tomorrow, this time the soldiers and sergeants are very happy, and we're going to give them a few days off when we get back." Picking up the bottle, Hanst loosened the wire clasp on the top of the bottle and pulled out the cork stopper.

"It smells good, I don't know what it tastes like." Hanst poured a glass of wine for the Loire.

"Don't worry, I've drunk this wine, you'll remember the taste. Hanster, how are you going to write this report? Loire struggled with his knife and fork to cut the bacon on his plate.

"Report truthfully, some soldiers have performed well and should be commended." Hanst filled his glass with red wine, recorked it, and set it aside on the table.

"Hey, you know that's not what I mean." Loire put down his knife and fork and picked up a piece of hard bread from the bread blue.

"You mean the Italians and bandits?" Hanst also reached for a loaf of bread and placed it on his plate, then reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out an iron plaque and placed it on the table.

"This is the baron's identity card, and you've heard the bandit's confession, it's a lot more complicated than we thought." Hanst picked up a napkin and wiped his hands, then reached out and broke the bread.

"Talk about your opinion, I believe you have figured out some doorways, and I have been thinking about this in my head all the way, if I don't understand the truth, I won't be able to sleep at night." The French lieutenant stroked his beard, trimmed from his upper lip, and shoved a piece of bacon into his mouth.

"Then you can drink two more glasses, you're right, this wine is really good, it should help you get a good night's sleep." Hanst put down his glass, crumbled the omelette with a fork, and spread the egg mixture on the bread cubes.

"Don't do this, Hanster, I know you already have the answer in your mind, for the sake of how well our cooperation has gone this time, tell me what you have discovered." Loire swallowed the food in his mouth and looked at the German lieutenant with a flattering look.

"Okay, okay, it's okay to tell you, anyway, in the end you're going to have to sign your name on the mission report." Hanst said with a crouton cube in his hand and a helpless expression.

As the German lieutenant told the French about his discovery, he could not have imagined that more than a hundred kilometers away from them, in an inn in the Libyan coastal town of Shaankh, several mysterious figures had gathered to talk about the same thing.

"Bashir failed, but in the end there were no serious consequences, there is still room for redemption, and now the superiors want to know if things can still go according to the original plan." A man with an Arabic turban covering his face whispered.

"This idiot almost messed everything up, and now that his identity has been revealed, what are we going to do with him next." A man in a suit and a red Turkish felt hat said angrily.

"He didn't reveal his true identity, and the other party only discovered his disguise at most." It was an emaciated old man wearing a black priest's robe.

"There is no point in discussing this now, and I also think that at present, we should come up with a plan first, how to deal with this trouble, whether to move him to hide elsewhere, or simply send him back to China." It was a tall, muscular man, wearing a washed, somewhat whitish blue cloth shirt with sleeves rolled up high, and a conspicuous red scar on his muscled forearm.

"If you decide to send him away, you have to be fast, the Italians will soon notice that something is wrong, and eventually they will find out about Bashir's head." The masked man said.

"How many days do you think it will take?" The strong man asked.

"A week at most, no later, and don't forget Baron Anthony's true identity." The masked man tugged at his Arab robes.

"Hell, I warned Bashir not to be reckless, not only did he fail to fulfill the orders of his superiors, but he also lost an armed force that he had managed to build." The Turkish hat slammed the table hard.

"What's the use of saying this now, besides that Mehannaid is not as reliable as it seems, and we have provided some ammunition and money anyway, and he has repaid us a lot of what we have looted, and it has not caused any damage." The priest was reassured.

"Mehannaid and his team have been providing me with information on the movements of the French garrison, and have collected for me a large number of confidential information on the equipment and personnel of the French army, and his value is more important than all of you think." The Turkish hat forcibly suppressed the dissatisfaction in his heart, and said in a blunt tone.

"But now, after years of hard work, I was screwed up by a self-righteous bastard, and I took the trouble to introduce him to Mehanaid's team, and this is how he repaid my trust in him, this brainless pig, I asked my superiors to intervene in the investigation and deal with this matter seriously."

"How to deal with it seriously, you can talk about it." The priest finally sank his face.

"I doubt al-Bashir's loyalty to the organization, and it is likely that he has been bought by the French." The Turkish hat said with a straight face.

"You! How dare you say such a thing, you know what it means..."The priest's face changed when he heard this, and he looked at the Turkish hat with a frightened expression, as if he had met this colleague for the first time.

"Comrade Lorenzo, you are responsible for what you say, this is not something to joke about, you know it may affect all of us..."The strong man's expression also changed, and he said to Lorenzo with a serious expression, if others were careful enough, they would find that his arm hanging at his side was trembling slightly at the moment.

"Well, I think Comrade Lorenzo's opinion has some truth, after all, there has been a precedent, we can't let go of any suspicious clues, I order Bashir to find a secret place to be detained first, and how to investigate and deal with it will be left to the higher authorities to decide. I will submit the minutes of today's meeting. Now that we've decided that way, let's move on to the previous questions. The masked man tapped his fingers on the table.

Hearing the masked man's words, the priest's face suddenly turned pale, and he looked like a dead man.

"Comrade Burka, what is your attitude? Bashir's problem has been investigated and handled by his superiors, and you must not forget your own identity and position, do you have any opinion on my decision? The masked man said gloomily.

"No opinion, I resolutely obey the arrangements of my superiors, Comrade Grove." The priest hurriedly lowered his head in obedience, and at the same time wiped the cold sweat from his forehead with his sleeve in an embarrassed manner.

"Well, in fact, you don't have to worry, I personally believe in your loyalty to the motherland. Well, I don't want to talk about these issues now, but I just want to know whether the task given to you by your superiors can be completed, and we must get what the Frenchman has, and I can tell you now that this is an order from Moscow. ”

The masked man, Grove, stood up, walked over to the wooden window, pushed it open and pointed to the rows of adobe flat-roofed houses outside that glowed in the scorching white sun.

"Are you going to stay in this kind of place for the rest of your life? I don't have that intention. ”

Grove left the window, strode over to the brawny man, and patted the other man's arm.

"Comrade Petro, I believe you should have the same thoughts as me, your wife and two children are in the country, and they are always looking forward to your return. I also have a wife and children, and I don't want to stay here for five or six years and then come back to my family with nothing but the smell of camel urine. Groff didn't wait for a reply, he walked over to Lorenzo again.

"I know you've put a lot of effort into this, but I think you're also well aware that this is not the right place for a man to make a career. A gifted and capable intelligence agent like you should be transferred to Europe, to France, to Germany, to England, to the United States, to any post of importance to the great Motherland, instead of wasting your time in this worthless colony of sand and camel dung. With that, Grove pressed Lorenzo's shoulder hard.

Finally, the masked man walked up to the priest, looking at the other man with a look of disillusionment, he shook his head and did not speak, although he could not see the expression on Grove's face at the moment, but his body language had clearly indicated something.

This Comrade Burka has been identified by Grove as the scapegoat for this incident, who makes this old guy usually like to put on an old look, and does not take him as the leader of the group in his eyes. And this time it happened that there was a problem with the personnel he personally developed, Grove knew that throwing out a grassroots personnel like Bashir would not satisfy his superiors, and Burka's identity and rank were just right, and I heard that this old guy had some old connections in China, so he could just let the guys above use it to make some articles.

"Comrades, this is a great opportunity to show our abilities in front of the higher leadership in Moscow, you will not believe how many comrades envy us. If we are able to complete the tasks assigned by our superiors this time and satisfy our superiors, comrades, I think you should be able to imagine what awaits you, and that honor, status, and everything will be placed in front of us.

Do you want to transfer back to China to reunite with your wife and children? Want to get out of this stinking hell? Want to erase the stains left in your archives? It's all up to you to do this time, and now I'm going to ask you one last time. Whether the tasks assigned to you by your superiors can be completed as planned? Grove walked over to the window and turned to inquire, the piercing eyes of the Arab turban scanning the faces of his men.

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I finally completed the update as promised, thank you for your understanding and encouragement.

The small theater has also been updated, subscribed yesterday Readers of that chapter can go and refresh it.

Asking for a monthly pass, a recommendation ticket, and a click at the beginning of the month is the biggest motivation for the author to write. (To be continued.) )