Zuvala was just an ordinary harbor town in western Libya at this time, the capital of the later Renigate Hums Province. At this time, all residents totaled only more than 3,000 people.

This is a standard Mediterranean fishing port. The water along the coast is shallow and covered with coral reefs. The small port cannot dock with large transport ships.

Finally, the local fishery resources are still abundant. The Mediterranean is equally generous to everyone. A large number of natural sponges grow at the bottom of the shallow sea nearby, which was a very intimate resource at that time. Although artificial sponges had begun to enter the stage of mass production at this time, some of the characteristics of natural sponges cannot be replaced by those artificial products.

The fishermen and sponge collectors here take a simple wooden boat to sea every morning, and they don’t return until the sun sets in the evening, and exchange their hard work for money from the acquisition merchants. This kind of ordinary life is day after day, year after year.

Although it faces the sea, freshwater resources are not abundant. The groundwater is only enough for residents to use on a daily basis and cannot meet the irrigation needs of agricultural fields. The local environment cannot plant crops such as rice, which is very suitable for the growth of olive trees. Therefore, olive plantations of large and small are covered with olive plants, and hundreds of tons of high-quality olive oil are produced here every year. In addition to a small amount for consumption by locals, most of them are transported to the Italian local market.

The town cannot be self-sufficient. Most of the residents' daily supplies and food need to be imported from the outside world. The sponge and olive oil industry has brought many business opportunities here, which has also led to the prosperity of the town. However, with the influx of traders and workers, the security situation here has become a bit complicated. The local Italian police are just stumbled, and most of the time they rely on the local clans themselves to handle the affairs on the ground.

Julian entered Zuwara in a donkey cart carrying vegetables and eggs. The vendors who drove the car delivered fresh ingredients to the two restaurants in the town on time every day.

The French carried out careful disguise in advance, and I believe that Abdul would not be able to recognize him when he stood in front of him.

The encounter at Loire Springs made him more alert, especially when Abdul told him that there were Germans in the cavalry team, he was almost certain that his whereabouts were once again exposed, and the target of these cavalry searching should be himself.

Because Julian was not with the guide, the cavalry did not make things difficult for Master Abdul's disciples. After verification, they simply handed over the seized luggage and camels to the Moroccans. The cavalry did not even search the items in the luggage carefully. Perhaps they felt that the old and young didn't look like smuggling merchants. Julian knew that if these people were a little serious, they could find many items carried by Europeans, but now it is meaningless to say that these are, Julian regarded it as another miracle given to him by God.

From the moment he set out from Paris, he had encountered too many accidents along the way. He had already acted very low-key, but for some reason, some troubles would always come to him automatically.

Julian knew very well how important the documents he carried were. When he crossed the French mainland, he was nervous all the time.

He always felt a pair of mysterious eyes behind him monitoring his every move, but no matter how many times he changed the route and how many learned escape methods he had used, he could never get rid of the tracking of this gaze. He even thought that he might have been nervous, probably because of excessive mental stress. However, after he secretly boarded a fishing boat across the Mediterranean and set foot on the land of North Africa, the gaze that had always been like a bone-bearing gangrene suddenly disappeared. Only then did he realize that what he felt before might not be an illusion.

It was obvious that his mission was no longer a secret, and someone inside the organization must have leaked the news. What happened later proved his judgment. The local liaison officer in Nice told him that some core members of the organization in France were arrested one after another, and his identity might have been exposed, and even the underground network of the organization in North Africa was no longer secure. The French might launch a search on them at any time.

The liaison officer said that if he hadn't been waiting for his arrival, he would have already figured out a way to transfer it. Finally, the man gave Julian a piece of paper with a name and an address, and asked him to arrive at that place within fifteen days and connect with the person on the paper, and the other party would tell him what to do next.

Following the man's arrangement, Julian arrived at the small border town of Turkish Nice and hired two local guides to try to sneak across the Libyan border. Everyone knew what happened later, and finally, Julian arrived in Libya safely.

But when he headed to his destination and entered a border town, the indescribable feeling appeared again, and then it was like an experience in France. Even though he was on the desert wasteland, the feeling of being watched did not weaken at all.

"This is a natural spy. He can feel that someone is monitoring him. He rarely encounters such a keen opponent. Generally, this goal is the most difficult to deal with." On the roof platform of a two-story building in Zuvala Town, a man in a gray Arabian robe, holding a telescope, was observing Julian sitting in a donkey cart.

"There is no difficult target for me, they only have a life-and-death difference. The information says that this person was once a sergeant in the French Army and received some basic military training. Such targets cannot pose a threat to me at all." The man who spoke was wearing a gray-white suit, a flat straw hat, and a sniper rifle wrapped in strips in his hand. He was observing Julian with a scope, pressing firmly against the Frenchman's head.

"No suspicious people were found around him, and it seems that no one was following him." The man in the robe said in a deep voice.

"This is good news. When he arrives at the scheduled location and joins the No. 3 target, our mission will be completed." The sniper's eyes left the scope, and he picked up a telescope to check the situation on the surrounding roof.

The basic living conditions of Zuvala residents are pretty good. Many families have built adobe flat-roofed houses unique to North Africa. However, families with good status and economical status will add two floors to the roof, while most people live in bungalows.

It was the morning, and most of them went to workshops or went to sea. There were not many pedestrians on the street. There were a few Papar women wearing beautiful scarves walking by the street with small trailers equipped with water jugs, and a few local idle men sat around the shadows of buildings and chatting. This was a very ordinary day in this small town in North Africa. No one would think of a foreigner hiding in the donkey cart in front of him, and no one would think of two other foreigners coming from the street. Now they were squatting on the roof of a building hundreds of meters away and monitoring the street.

"The Italian Military Intelligence Agency is going crazy this time. I can even imagine the expression on Major Giordano's face. This is Mussolini's order! Do you know, Mussolini!" The sniper shook his index finger, imitating the tone of the Italian intelligence officer.

"Haha, you really have the talent in this area. If you don't do this one day, are you interested in developing in the film industry? I know a few very famous directors." The man in the robe smiled and joked with his colleagues.

"I don't have this kind of idea. I like my current job very much. It's both nervous and exciting, and I can also get a big salary." The sniper put down his telescope and picked up his rifle again.

"Now he has arrived at his destination and is waiting for the third target to appear."

"Note that a car is coming to the east, and the sign is an Italian military police." The sniper reminded in a low voice.

"Damn, these guys never ran out at this time, I hope nothing went wrong." The man in the robe quickly adjusted the focal length of the telescope.

"What should we do now?"

"Wait a little longer, Target No. 3 may appear at any time." The man in the robe said calmly, holding the telescope.

The round-headed Italian Fiat car drove along the street, not very fast, maybe the fuel quality was wrong, the engine exhaust pipe was pounding and black smoke was sprayed out, the body was painted with colorful camouflage, and a huge white military police logo was painted on the radiator on the front of the car.

Julian was climbing off the donkey cart at this time. A wooden cage containing several hens fell on him, causing a large amount of chicken feathers and chicken shit to be stained on his Arabian robe. The smell of steaming under the sun was suffocating.

"Thank you very much, Allah blesses you." Julian stuffed a banknote into the vendor's hand, then shook hands and said goodbye.

When Julian turned around and found the military police, the car with yellow and green camouflage had already stopped in front of him.

"Stop." A military policeman called in the window.

"Come here, don't look at the next to you, you are the one who calls me!" The military policeman sitting in the driver's position hooked his fingers at Julian.

"Allah gives you peace, sir." Julian suppressed his nervous mood and saluted to the other party with fear.

"I have never seen you, where did you come from? Do you have any documents?" The chubby Italian military policeman asked loudly with his hands against the car window.

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Chapter completed!