Chapter 221: Hitting the Vital Point
The killer's intuition told Muhsin that something was wrong. There were people coming and going on the street, but that vague gaze pricked his skin like a needle.
He is an experienced killer and he would stare at his target like this before carrying out a mission.
Muhsin turned around without saying a word, but just as he turned around, a figure suddenly appeared in front of him.
He was horrified and subconsciously raised his hands to cover himself.
"Poof!" There was a slight sound, and the gunshot hit the target.
Silencer! Muhsin, who was shot and fell to the ground, showed an extremely terrified expression.
Mumbai gangs never use silencers because they don't have the conditions and they are too expensive.
Most of them used homemade revolvers, which were cheap and loud enough.
Every time the target hears a loud gunshot, his legs become weak with fear. The killers enjoy bringing fear to the big shots.
But compared to the roar of the revolver, the killer himself is more afraid of the muffled sound of the silencer.
That not only means that the other party is well-equipped, but also means that he is being targeted by more experienced colleagues who are eager to kill him.
When is a silencer used?
To ensure the target's death, you can fire a few more shots without worrying about disturbing passers-by.
Muhsin was shot in the abdomen and struggled to get up.
Poof! He was shot in the right leg again and fell down.
He tried hard to pull out the pistol from his waist and fight back, but blood spurted out of his arm.
The revolver he had just touched fell to the ground, and Muhsin's face showed despair.
Not all killers are fearless. They are afraid and terrified just like ordinary people.
They have their own lives, families and friends, so it would be more appropriate to call them gunmen.
Muhsin has a fiancée and is about to get married. He is even preparing to retire.
Everything happened in a flash, and many passers-by on the street didn't notice it.
Anil squatted down and held Mohsin's head with his hands, like a doctor treating a patient.
"Who gave you the order?"
"Who are you?" Muhsin's chest heaved violently. He had never seen this person before.
"The person you were going to kill." Anil scratched his chin with the muzzle of the gun.
Muhsin was confused at first, then suddenly realized, "Sul."
"Who gave the order?" Anil repeated.
"I told Dubai a long time ago that the easiest way would be to just shoot. Now... we're in trouble." He was bleeding from his abdomen and blood was oozing from the corners of his mouth.
"Dubai." Anil understood that his master's guess was correct.
"Shakir will not sit idly by and watch this provocation. Merchants are all lambs," Muhsin laughed, a gloating laugh.
He had realized this as early as when he joined the gang, that it was only a matter of time before he died on the streets.
But he has no regrets, because after his death his family will at least receive a pension of one lakh.
And if he was hit by a car and died, his family would not get a penny.
Joining a gang is like buying an insurance policy for your family. This is why Mumbai gangs are endless, and this is the way out for the young people at the bottom of Mumbai.
Anil covered Mohsin's mouth with a handkerchief, then put the gun to his chest and pulled the trigger repeatedly until the magazine was empty.
He stood up and left, and the men who were responsible for keeping watch around him also withdrew.
Muhsin's body lay on the ground. After a long time, blood-red liquid slowly crawled out from under his body and onto the road.
Passersby began to scream and flee, but no one came forward to watch the excitement.
India is not like developed countries, where killers don't have to worry about the bodies. They just kill and then leave.
Anil did not return to South Mumbai immediately, he had somewhere else to go.
Dana Club was opened by a retired herdsman.
It looks ordinary, but in fact it is frequented by gang members.
They not only knew Muhsin's whereabouts, but also his social circle, his family, and his hobbies.
The club is near Grant Road, where Ron's first apartment in Mumbai was located.
It was not an area where herders gathered, but Anil still had no intention of going there directly.
He found a public telephone booth on the side of the road and dialed a number.
Stanley and another partner were playing cards out of boredom, waiting for Muhsin to join them.
Something unexpected happened during the operation a few days ago, and they had to ask Dubai for further instructions.
He is the mastermind behind the entire operation team, and no one else is qualified to contact Dubai.
Stanley used to be a killer, but later retired and was mainly responsible for planning work.
Mohsin is also on this path, and he is already twenty-five years old.
The average age of a gang killer is between eighteen and twenty-six years old. If he is over twenty-six, he will no longer be an executor, but will move behind the scenes, provided that he can live to see that day.
Stanley looked up at the time and saw that Mohsen seemed to be late.
Suddenly the owner of the bar called him and said there was a phone call for him.
Stanley was puzzled, but he walked over and picked up the phone.
"Playing cards is bad for you, man."
"Who are you?" Stanley asked alertly.
"Mohsin probably can't go. You don't have to wait for him anymore."
Stanley immediately hung up the phone and told his partner, "Go!"
They came out of the back door of the club, turned into the alley, and froze in place after taking a few steps.
There were four or five people standing silently in front with guns in their hands. They wanted to turn around, but their retreat was blocked.
Stanley and his partner tried to touch their guns, but with a few "puff, puff" sounds, both of them were shot in the leg and arm respectively.
"Who are you?" He asked, suppressing a cry of pain.
"Why are all the opening lines the same?" Anil chuckled and walked over.
He patted Stanley's face with his hand and looked him over.
"Are you young Rajan's men?" Stanley guessed that the Rajan gang and the Daud gang were hostile to each other.
"Little Rajan?" Anil was stunned, then shook his head, "I don't know him."
“Then you are.”
"Oh, we're good people."
Stanley didn't say anything. He felt that the people in front of him were playing a trick on them.
"You are their leader and can contact Dubai, right?" Anil asked.
"Who are you?"
"Two days ago you were both hunters, but now your identities have simply been swapped."
Stanley's eyes widened; this answer was totally unexpected.
Isn't he a businessman? Why is everyone here in the American style?
"Let's go, let's make a phone call and talk to Shakir."
"You have no idea what you are about to face?" Stanley exasperated.
No one paid him any attention, and they were gagged and shoved into the van.
Half an hour later, the location changed to Bandra area.
Anil handed Stanley an international calling card, pointed a gun at his head and forced him to call Dubai.
The moment the call was connected, Stanley said a few words, but the microphone was quickly snatched away from him.
Anil simply said, "Dr. Sur, asked me to say hello to you."
After hanging up the phone, he waved and left with his people.
Yes, gone.
Leaving behind the injured Stanley and his partner, he left.
They looked at each other in disbelief, thinking that they would not be able to escape today.
After surviving the disaster, the two men had no time to celebrate and limped away to escape.
Just as I stood up, a few more policemen suddenly appeared in front of me.
They smiled maliciously, as if they had been waiting for a long time.
Bandra, that's AJ's territory.
Anil returned to the fort area and reported what happened to Ron.
Of course, the killer cannot be left alive; he must be eliminated.
Ron did not personally deal with the other partners, especially Stanley.
It would be more valuable to leave him to Ajie for interrogation. Besides, his identity as a businessman is not suitable for him to be stained with too much blood.
Killing the killer is understandable.
If the scale of the fight expands, not to mention the subsequent troubles from the gangs, other people will also be wary of him in the future.
Dr. Sur is a good man after all. It's okay for him to show his skills occasionally, but he can't become a violent person completely.
He was not foolish enough to start a full-scale war with the Dawood gang, which had thousands of thugs in Mumbai and was difficult to defend against.
The most effective way is to pinch it at the vital point.
After listening to Anil's story, Ron immediately made a satellite call to Vinod who was far away in Dubai.
He planned to visit Aggie again later, but just half an hour later he received an international long-distance call.
"Dr. Soul, right? You're the first person who dared to shoot at the Daoud Gang!"
"What does the sand in Dubai taste like?" Ron knew who the other person was without having to guess.
"You are so arrogant. You dare to speak to me like this."
"Why, you sent a killer to find me, and you expect me to welcome him in respectfully?"
"We didn't intend to kill you. If you had just paid the protection fee, nothing would have happened. But you missed a good opportunity."
"It turns out I don't need anyone's protection, especially from someone so far away in Dubai."
"Kid, I know where you live."
"What a coincidence! I know where you are too. Sheraton Hotel, room 714, right?"
The voice on the other end paused, with some surprise, "Do you have anyone in Dubai?"
"I suggest you look at the door of the room." Ron chuckled.
Shakir winked at his men, and soon the door opened, revealing a pizza box.
The men checked carefully, fearing that there might be dangerous items like bombs inside.
"Don't worry, I'm just reminding each other." Ron seemed to know everything.
Shakir got something, a bullet.
"You're so brave!"
"I can't stand being threatened, and I can't stand things happening outside my control. I can mobilize thousands of people throughout the Gulf countries, and hundreds in Dubai alone."
"I admit you surprised me."
"Don't bother me. I'm not interested in your business."
"Let Stanley go, and I won't pursue this matter further."
"I'm not interested in killing people. They're still where they are. As for whether he can escape the police, that depends on his ability."
Ron hung up the phone.
The Exiled Godfather, Shakir.
The name is quite intimidating, but the effect is greatly reduced after adding the word "exile".
Exile, a stray dog.
His travel agency business over the past two years has not been in vain. At least tens of thousands of people have gone to the Persian Gulf countries through Vinod.
They come from all over India, from Maharashtra to Uttar Pradesh and Bihar.
Vinod has gathered a group of subordinates. This business cannot be done without help.
The Persian Gulf countries are surprisingly chaotic, so it is extremely easy to get some arms.
You can buy a weapon like the 56 punch at an ordinary grocery store on the side of the road.
You can buy one for a few hundred riyals, which is ridiculously cheap.
Vinod has no shortage of guns and no shortage of people to shoot, so it is even easier to deliver a bullet.
If that Shakir was sensible, he would forget about this matter. Otherwise, Ron would not mind making the second-in-command of Dawood disappear.
The gangster story is almost over. Who's next? The palace?
Ron stood up and decided to go to Aggie's place before starting his plan.
(End of this chapter)
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