Gonzalez sat in the meeting room of the Pasto City Department of Administrative Security building.
Three minutes earlier, the meeting had just dispersed, but he hadn't left yet.
The setting sun streamed into the room, the distant sky blood-red, the clouds on the horizon a deep crimson.
This was a sunset glow.
It signified that there could very likely be a heavy rainstorm tomorrow.
The Tame Region had been experiencing torrential downpours these past few days; it seemed Pasto City was also affected.
Gonzalez had only been appointed as the Chief of the Operations Organization Department for three months, and his visit to Pasto City was for an inspection tour; this place was the command center of the Intelligence Bureau in the southern region, and it was the first stop on his tour.
In front of him lay the latest intelligence brief.
Basically, as someone in his position, he would receive intelligence briefings from all over the place every day; according to his level, even if an anti-terrorist or combat operation within Colombia didn't involve the Intelligence Bureau, a briefing would still be sent to him.
"What a bunch of useless fuckers."
After reading the fresh, hot-off-the-press briefing, Gonzalez's mouth twisted into a disdainful sneer.
The Army Special Forces had launched a raid operation called "Stranglehold," targeting the ELN armed group's leader Morins; the operation unfolded in a jungle near the Tame Region. The briefing reported that, based on insider intelligence, they had pinpointed Morins' location, then mobilized an army battalion and five AGLAN Special Forces contingents to attack in the early morning, three days ago, launching a surprise assault on an ELN camp in the jungles of the Tame Region.
The outcome of the operation seemed impressive at first sight, with over a hundred ELN fighters killed or injured, and more than thirty captured.
But such a brilliant record led to a rather darkly humorous outcome—Morins had escaped.
And with him, a man who had turned from arms dealing.
When Gonzalez first saw the briefing about this operation, he hadn't yet come to inspect Pasto City and had laughed like a pig in his office after reading it.
Morins' escape meant that the operation was a complete failure; no matter how many ELN fighters were killed, the score was zero.
"Serves them right!"
That was the first thought that crossed his mind at the time.
Normally, the Intelligence Bureau would be involved in such operations and, as the newly appointed Chief of the Operations Organization Department, he could have used this operation to add a feather in his career cap.
But unexpectedly, the military took action on its own, not bothering to contact him or request his cooperation at all.
Gonzalez knew very well the subtleties involved.
The military was guarding against him!
They felt the Intelligence Bureau was not secure, fearing intelligence leaks that could lead to the failure of the operation!
Look!
What a bunch of idiotic shitheads!
They dared to snub him just like that.
Therefore, Gonzalez wasn't planning to get involved in this mess; let the military clean up their own disaster!
Whoever provided them with intelligence support now would be an idiot!
Having read today's briefing, which mentioned that Morins and the arms dealer hadn't been caught yet, but instead, the AGLAN Special Forces had lost a squad, with seven deaths.
Heh.
Serve you right for acting so high and mighty!
He closed the file, stood up, and walked out of the meeting room.
The secretary had been waiting outside the door; he handed the file to her, then pressed his hands forcefully over his head, straightening his hair as if he were rolling out dough.
Recently, Gonzalez was seeing a barber every week to get tidied up, getting his hair to the point where not even an ant could stand on it.
Being new to the position, he had to be conscious of his image.
"The car is waiting downstairs, sir," the secretary reminded.
"Mmhmm," Gonzalez muttered, not even lifting his eyelids.
Perks!
This was all about perks!
When he had been the Deputy Head of the Intelligence Analysis Department, he never got this level of treatment.
He went downstairs and surely enough, his official car was waiting at the entrance.
It was a BMW sedan, with an off-road vehicle parked behind it, and several Intelligence Bureau agents standing by.
They were in charge of his security.
Gonzalez got into the car, and as the driver gently pressed the gas pedal, the BMW glided out of the portico and into the courtyard of the Administrative Building. It soon left through the gate and then turned right onto Simon Street.
Seated in the passenger seat, the secretary turned slightly to remind his boss, "Sir, Director Pitman has already made an appointment to meet with you at Rose Restaurant on the third floor of the hotel at seven o'clock tonight."
"Mmhmm," Gonzalez hummed with his eyes still closed, making a nasal noise that served as a response.
These local branch officials only wanted to privately invite you to dinner to discuss funding matters.
The Bureau always had a budget every year, and operations funding was very substantial; naturally, the directors of each local branch wanted a bigger piece of the pie.
Now that he was visiting this time, the local Intelligence Branch Director Pitman certainly wouldn't miss this opportunity.
At that moment, the car had left Simon Street and turned left onto Sixth Avenue.
The sun finally set, and the light dimmed on the streets as the windows of many buildings began to shine with light.
Bang—
Without any warning, as the BMW crossed an intersection, a cargo truck from the right side slammed into the middle of the BMW.
The immense impact spun the BMW around 360 degrees, several times over, flinging it more than ten meters before it finally came to a halt against the roadside railing...
Hiss—
After the radiator broke, hot water sprayed out, clouding the car windows with steam.
Dizzy and seeing stars, Gonzalez was now utterly dazed. The impact had sent him flying to the heavens, his soul nearly leaving his body.
Thankfully, it was a BMW—and a bulletproof one at that. Despite the massive hit from the truck, the car hadn't flipped or fallen apart; it just had parts of its body caved in.
In his confusion, he heard gunshots.
A gunfight?
Gonzalez's hairs stood on end.
In a place like Colombia, attacks on officials were not unusual.
The drug traffickers had the audacity to attack police and administrative officials; there was nothing they wouldn't dare to do, and then there were the anti-government armed forces, who always retaliated after being hit.
Gonzalez thought back to the operation in the Tame Region.
He instinctively suspected it was an attack by the ELN fighters.
But he couldn't help cursing in his heart again.
"That damn operation belongs to the Army, why are they attacking me?"
I'm from the Intelligence Bureau, damn it!
When his soul finally returned to its place and he felt less dizzy, Gonzalez turned his head sharply and looked through the rear window for the SUV.
He hadn't bothered to look until now, but when he did, he was scared out of his wits.
The SUV's doors were open, and several bodies were scattered around, which seemed to be his own men.
It appeared that these Special Forces bodyguards had tried to exit the vehicle to fight back, only to be killed the moment they stepped out.
In less than twenty seconds, all five agents in the SUV had met their maker.
"Oh! My God!"
Gonzalez let out a scream.
"Drive! Drive now!"
He began to urge the driver.
The driver frantically pressed the ignition button to no avail.
The car had been damaged by the impact and couldn't start.
"Elby, quickly start the emergency rescue procedure!"
"Sir, I'm on it."
The secretary's hands were trembling as he pressed the numbers 999 on a communication device inside the car.
It was an emergency rescue procedure.
In the Intelligence Bureau, every VIP car is equipped with a special communication device that is part radio and part phone, linked to a satellite antenna on the vehicle.
There's an emergency program inside that, upon entering the numbers 999 and pressing the start key, sends out a signal linking to the local police and center of the Intelligence Bureau, informing the authorities of an emergency.
Not ten seconds after the secretary sent out the signal, a few figures appeared outside the car windows, seemingly looking into the vehicle.
But the windows had been specially treated, making it impossible to see inside from the outside.
Gonzalez lowered his stance and slowly slid onto the floor of the back seat.
A very tall assailant approached and smashed a gun butt against the rear window.
Crack—
A white spot appeared on the window.
But it hardly budged.
The secretary, visibly nervous and pale, asked, "Could they be from the ELN...?"
"Don't be scared!"
Gonzalez, seeing the small white spot, suddenly felt reassured.
"Our car is armored! They won't break through! Just hold on for ten minutes, and someone will come to save us!"
Under normal circumstances, the police would arrive in ten minutes.
The big guy who had been smashing the window seemed to realize it was an armored vehicle and turned to leave.
Gonzalez heaved a sigh of relief; he cautiously propped his body up from the floor, wanting to check the situation outside the window.
As soon as his eyes reached the level of the window, suddenly, the window shook violently.
Ratatatatat—
A number of spiderweb-like large white marks appeared on the window.
Soon, a large portion of the right side of the rear window turned white.
The attackers were using assault rifles to attack the window, but the bulletproof glass blocked them, preventing any penetration.
Gonzalez roared through the window, "Come on, bastards! Is that all you got?! Hahaha!"
He laughed loudly, as if to bolster his own courage.
But his laughter didn't last long.
Because he noticed that the bullets from the outside hadn't stopped at all; they were hitting the window like raindrops, concentrating on the same spot.
The bulletproof glass was made of composite layers with bulletproof adhesive in the middle.
However, it would shatter and come loose under sustained fire.
After approximately three magazines' worth of firepower, the window still hadn't broken!
"I'm going to buy shares of BMW tomorrow..."
Gonzalez wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, muttering to himself, "Damn good quality!"
Bang—
Just as Gonzalez was praising the bulletproof quality of the BMW, something heavy suddenly smashed against the window.
At first, he couldn't see what it was, but then it became clear.
An sharp metal object had pierced through the already shattered glass, appearing in Gonzalez's line of sight like an intruder.
"A fire axe!"
Gonzalez exclaimed the name of the tool, and his scalp immediately went numb.
The thug outside was using a fire axe to chop at the window.
The bulletproof glass that had already been cracked by bullets was held together only by the tough adhesive layer, preventing it from falling apart. Now, as it was being hacked, a small hole gradually appeared.
However, it still seemed very difficult to make a hole large enough to get through.
Gonzalez felt a sense of salvation from desperation.
He looked at his watch.
Two minutes had passed.
Just hold on for another eight minutes, and he was sure to be rescued!
About thirty seconds later, the hole in the window expanded to roughly 5 centimeters.
Gonzalez quickly grabbed a bulletproof vest to shield himself, crawling to one side of the car door and curling up against it.
He was terrified that the attacker would shoot inside.
Bullets could ricochet inside the cabin, causing fatalities just as well.
But what came wasn't a bullet.
Thunk—
A small object fell into the car through the hole in the window.