“What could possibly be in a place like this?”
Salman complained as he looked around. They had gone from Irkutsk to Moscow, and then straight to the outskirts, all without stopping, chasing after the armory Taekjoo insisted existed. But when the two finally got there, there was nothing. There weren’t any roads in the area, much less street lamps. Taekjoo gave no explanation but simply told Salman to follow him.
It didn’t take long for them to stop in front of a shabby building. Salman stared blankly, then let out a laugh of disbelief.
“This isn’t it, right?”
Taekjoo raised the metal roll-up door, crushing the last trace of hope Salman was clinging to. Dust rose into the air as soon as they stepped inside, triggering a fit of coughing.
Taekjoo left the sneezing Salman behind and swept the floor with his flashlight until he found the small gap he was looking for. He slid his hand in and slowly lifted it the way Zhenya had. Dust rose once again, clouding their vision before settling back to the ground. Sure enough, a set of stairs appeared.
The way down was dark. Nothing was visible. Taekjoo led the way. Salman, perplexed, glanced left and right before carefully following him. Their slow progress made it feel like the stairs never ended. At last, their feet touched solid ground, but it was still dark.
Taekjoo started walking away from Salman. Just as Salman was about to hurry after him, the lights clicked on. Salman saw they were in a study. However, no books were in sight, only a rotary telephone. Disappointment crept over him.
“You brought me all the way here just to show me this?”
Taekjoo walked past the incredulous Salman and approached the telephone. Taekjoo rarely forgot anything he’d observed carefully—including the password Zhenya used. Still, everything would be futile if Zhenya had visited recently and changed the password, wary of Taekjoo. Even so, Taekjoo had a feeling that wasn’t the case.
3, 9, 1, 6.
Taekjoo slowly turned the dial through each number. He turned the dial to the final number, five, then let it spin back on its own. He heard the familiar mechanical sound. Salman flinched at the noise, his disappointment turning to alarm. He drew his gun, quickly scanning their surroundings.
The empty bookshelves in the study slowly turned one by one, and Salman blinked in confusion. Taekjoo was indifferent—more than that, he looked rigid.
“—shouldn’t have underestimated me.”
Taekjoo muttered under his breath as he examined the state-of-the-art weapons before him. He gathered all the rifles and pistols, passing them to Salman. Next, Taekjoo swept up the explosives, including the TNT.
At that moment, he noticed something blinking. He turned around and saw a surveillance camera flashing a red dot. Taekjoo didn’t hesitate to flip it off, then smoothly aimed at the glossy lens and pulled the trigger.