Chapter 137 Terrified (Bug Fix): One Corpse After Another
Since transmigrating into the book, Wang Xiao has encountered the dark muzzle of a gun twice, each time with great force.
But this was the first time in both her past and present lives that she had ever seen a bullet leave a hole in her head.
It wasn't a gunshot headshot from a game, but a real headshot with blood streaming from between the eyebrows.
For a moment, she seemed to be frozen in place, as if someone had struck her mute spot. She couldn't move or get up.
A vague voice in her mind urged her: Take a look, at least see who fired that shot.
She looked up and saw the thugs across from her. They were equally dumbfounded, at a loss for what to do, as if the scene had frozen in time.
The voice urged her again: "Look back! He's standing right in front of you getting shot; it must have come from behind. Look back."
But she froze.
A tremendous fear gripped her heart.
She couldn't move; she stood there like a wooden stake.
She didn't know whether it was Lyuba or Xiao Gao who pulled her arm to hide behind her, nor did she know who was blocking her way.
She didn't even notice the luxury BMW that had appeared not far away. It had no license plates, the window was open, and behind the dark muzzle of a gun, a well-trimmed mustache on the face of a gunman with a smug smile.
Then, in the next second, his smile froze.
Because he also had a dark hole in his head.
Gunfire erupted suddenly, and before the driver could even instinctively step on the gas to escape, his tire blew out.
Then, figures ran around, and Wang Xiao felt herself being dragged and pulled, and finally she was carried back to the sanatorium in a princess carry.
The room was filled with screams, all of them men's shouts.
It's not that the men are particularly timid, but rather that their female companions are all babies.
Whether it's a doll or a household robot, their programs don't include a feature to scream.
The staff at the sanatorium were generally older and were clearly better able to cope with the vicissitudes of life than the playboys.
They just kept making the sign of the cross on their chests, muttering, "God, God."
Even after finishing his prayers, the dean didn't forget to bring Wang Xiao a cup of hot milk with sugar so she could calm down.
The door was opened again, and the police came looking for eyewitnesses.
Those already inside the house when the shooting occurred were unaware of what was happening and only vaguely heard gunshots.
A police officer asked, "Why didn't you go out to check when you heard gunshots?"
He was immediately rebuked: "Dear police officer, could you please tell us, in Moscow right now, which neighborhood doesn't get gunshots?"
Ha, what a joke.
Americans, Europeans, and all capitalist countries feared at the moment of the Soviet Union's collapse that countless communists would leave the former Soviet Union and spread their ideas around the world, establishing new revolutionary bases.
But the truth is they were overthinking it.
Those who escaped were mostly members of the Mafia, and their criminal methods were so outrageous that even the world's oldest and most powerful Mafia organizations were taken aback.
What's even more amazing is that they always manage to find a steady stream of funds and enough weapons to arm an army.
While Hong Kong gangsters were still wielding broadswords and American mafia were still searching for guns everywhere, Russian underworld recruits were already carrying rocket launchers and using them.
When even veteran Mafia members have to call Russian newcomers "daddy," what can the people of Moscow do besides become numb to the sound of gunfire?
Expecting the police in front of them to protect the peace of their homes? That's a joke.
Having probably heard too many sarcastic remarks, the police officer didn't get angry. Instead, he turned to Wang Xiao and the others and asked, "So, what about you, ma'am? What did you see?"
"Hey! Stop!" Ivanov rushed in, blocking the policeman's path. "Don't further agitate an innocent lady. She's terribly frightened; she needs quiet. She can't take any more stimulation."
"But you killed the gunman you're talking about." The policeman's voice rose eight octaves, as if he were enraged. "Do you know how much trouble this will cause us?"
Before Ivanov could even speak, members of the nearby doll club started shouting, "What, aren't you going to kill that kid on the spot so you can secretly let him go?"
The policeman was so angry that his face turned a deep shade of liver, but he couldn't refute the playboy's accusations convincingly.
There have been instances where the police arrested a criminal suspect and then nothing happened.
Ivanov stepped in to smooth things over: "Officer, we were forced to defend ourselves. You should understand that Tian was holding a gun, the muzzle pointed at us. If we didn't fight back, we could all be dead under his gun in the next second."
The police officers frowned and whispered something to each other.
Then Lyuba helped Wang Xiao to the next room, which was supposed to be a smoking room, but its real purpose was to be a place for the nouveau riche to have a detailed discussion after they had gone into the alley.
Now, this place has become an interrogation room, the kind used for group interrogations.
As Wang Xiao passed by the thugs who came to extort money from him, he smelled the stench of urine.
She didn't laugh at the other person because she was just as frightened. The reason she didn't wet her pants on the spot was probably because she had just gone to the toilet before leaving the house.
She sat on the soft sofa, and a plump waitress brought her dessert. Her elderly mother comforted her, "It's alright, my child, God will bless us."
Wang Xiao mechanically stuffed the berry pie into his mouth.
Russia is covered in forests, and the forests of Moscow are also full of all kinds of berries. In the summer, people pick berries to make jam and dry them. This pie has both jam and dried fruit in it, sweet and sour, and is also coated with cream. It must taste delicious.
But she couldn't taste it; her tongue was numb, her taste buds were on strike. She just mechanically ate the pie one bite after another.
The thug, reeking of urine and who had previously threatened to make the sanatorium look bad, rambled on, "Fairness, we just want fairness. This sanatorium is stealing our business. Dolls, those damned dolls are making it impossible for our lovely girls to live. We're just here to get justice."
That makes it sound like they're modern-day Robin Hoods.
The truth is that all gangs, regardless of size, are fundamentally engaged in controlling prostitution, drug trafficking, car theft, and extortion.
The area occupied by this gang of thugs is frequented by prostitutes, and everyone has to pay them protection money.
After the doll club became popular, they believed that this area should be under their control, and the dolls should also pay protection money.
That's why they came to demand justice.
Oh my God.
They were just ordinary petty thugs, not some powerful gangsters, and they never expected to encounter something like this.
It scared him so much he peed his pants.
Just to clarify, he didn't wet his pants because he was so scared by the banker getting shot in the head.
As a petty thug, having experienced the turmoil in Moscow over the past few years, even though he and his companions haven't killed anyone yet, it doesn't mean they haven't witnessed people being shot.
The most exciting thing about getting a headshot is that it's so thrilling that it leaves you momentarily stunned.
In fact, although he was frightened at the time, the first emotion that came to his mind afterward was a secret pleasure.
You rich and powerful people who looked down on everything, now you're getting your comeuppance.
Unexpectedly, his smile vanished before it even appeared on his face, replaced by shock.
Because the people from the sanatorium drew their guns and fired two shots, the assassin who had been grinning smugly behind the car window was instantly killed by a headshot.
real.
The gang leader couldn't resist. Before he even realized it, his lower body felt hot, and then more liquid started dripping onto the ground, which quickly froze into ice.
Only one sentence echoed in his mind: You've come to the wrong place; this isn't where you'll get the money.
It turns out the security guard was telling the truth.
He felt that the two shots actually hit him.
The police had no sympathy for his mental state and directly tried to scare him: "So, you're in charge of the drugs in this area, right?"
The thug was startled and shook his head vigorously, denying it outright: "No, no, we don't touch drugs."
The police officer pressed him suspiciously, "Not touching?"
Currently, drug trafficking is the most profitable of all underworld businesses.
In fact, almost all gangs use drugs to control prostitutes and make them obedient. And more than half of the women who use drugs end up in prostitution.
Even prostitutes who originally did not touch drugs often become addicts after entering the profession, with more than half of them becoming addicts.
This is a vicious cycle.
The thug got anxious and shouted, "Foreign exchange! Importing drugs requires foreign exchange; they don't accept rubles. Really, we don't have any foreign exchange."
So there are entry requirements for this industry, and he's completely out of the running.
Wang Xiao continued eating the pie, one bite after another. Strangely enough, the sweet and sour pie tasted bitter to her.
However, she cherishes food and doesn't waste it; even if she can't finish what she has in her hand, she will finish it first.
The police officers nearby were questioning other club members.
They had just arrived at the nursing home when the incident occurred and witnessed the entire incident from the entrance.
They're standing at the sanatorium right now, of course.
Are you kidding me? They've just shot and killed someone in public. If the sanatorium doesn't take action, who will dare come here again?
Of course we had to fight back; the gunman was still holding a gun.
Sergei retorted, "His gun moved; he was aiming at the next target. I had no choice but to fight back."
The police officer countered, "Wasn't he the one who was about to put his gun away?"
"Can you stop joking?" Sergei sneered. "Don't tell me, officer, you don't know Viktor. He's from the elite NKVD. Everyone knows he's a sharpshooter; a shot to the forehead is his signature move. What, officer, do you want a few more bodies at the scene to prove he wasn't just about to put his pistol away?"
The police officer in charge, seemingly annoyed, rudely interrupted him: "Alright, please sign here. Sir, if you think this statement is fine, please sign here."
After reading it, Sergei signed his name.
The police then concluded: "Alright, sir, please come with us to the police station."
"Bail," Ivanov said grimly. "How much bail do you need? I'm requesting bail now."
The door was hurriedly pushed open from the outside, and the lawyer, who was almost out of breath from running, rushed to the police. He took two breaths before he could speak: "Bail, I request bail for my client."
The club members joined in the commotion, shouting, "Hey, what does this mean? Are we just supposed to stand here and wait to be shot?"
The police officer, having reached his limit, finally roared, "Firearms! Illegal possession of firearms! Do you really think that anyone other than police officers and soldiers can carry guns so openly?"
He has been holding back for a long time.
These guys are better equipped than their police.
A resident of the nursing home immediately retorted, "That's because you can't protect us law-abiding citizens."
The policeman roared, “The Mafia are a thousand times better equipped than us! They have fast cars, sophisticated weapons, fax machines, direct-line telegraphs, computers—they have everything. What do we have? Nothing but passion, courage, and a sense of justice.”
What's worse, he finds it hard to talk about. The Russian mafia today is unlike any other mafia in the world.
Ultimately, the latter are marginalized members of society, generally lacking education and skills. They are not ostracized by mainstream society, and in fact, none of them want to go down the dark path.
However, the Russian mafia, especially the newly emerging and popular gangsters, are mostly from the elite units of the Ministry of Internal Affairs or the KGB. They are highly skilled and some are even instructors of ordinary police officers.
They are well-versed in all reconnaissance and counter-reconnaissance techniques, and they have their own channels to obtain the most advanced weapons.
How can a police force with outdated equipment, meager salaries, and severe manpower shortages cope with such a powerful and terrifying enemy?
His shout startled everyone.
The playboys who had been mocking the police suddenly fell silent, each as quiet as a chicken.
“Then I will also request bail.” Ivanov didn’t care about the details and only emphasized, “Every citizen has the right to guarantee their own personal safety.”
Then something absurd happened.
If Sergei is to be released on bail, then first he should go to the police station.
But Ivanov, or more specifically, everyone present, was worried about Sergei being taken away alone.
They worried that they might not even make it to the police station before being shot in the head.
Because the assassin Victor was no ordinary person, the reason he dared to kill so brazenly was not only because he was a recognized sharpshooter with superb fighting skills, but more importantly because he had connections in both the legitimate and criminal worlds.
He has Russian mafia bosses as his backers, and the Brotherhood of St. Petersburg (whose name suggests a mafia organization) is his external support.
What's even more amazing is that his former colleagues from the elite unit of the Ministry of Internal Affairs also helped him.
Such a rising star in the underworld was taken down with just two shots. If there were no follow-up reaction, it would be a joke.
Ivanov immediately agreed that he would accompany Sergei to the police station and then bring him back safe and sound.
He suggested that Wang Xiao go with him, because splitting up now would be more dangerous.
So far, although the driver who came with the assassin has been spared, he claims to know nothing and repeatedly insists that he was only temporarily called in to do the work.
This is also in line with the style of the assassin Victor.
To avoid being betrayed by those around him, he always assembles temporary teams when taking on jobs. He gets paid per job, which is safe and convenient.
As a result, no one could guess why they suddenly attacked the banker, Cidane.
Did Victor originally intend to kill Cidane himself when he received the order, or did he randomly choose the unfortunate banker as his target as a warning to others?
Don't forget, Cida Enko was shot between the eyebrows when he was facing Wang Xiao directly.
To put it simply, if Wang Xiao were taller, or if she had a habit of wearing high heels, the gunman wouldn't even need to move the gun to shoot her in the back of the head.
As for why they targeted her? Who wanted to kill her?
That's hard to say.
No successful business owner avoids offending people.
Moreover, the Russian mafia is more inclined to target foreigners.
It's not because they have a chivalrous spirit and don't bully their own people.
Rather, they perceive foreigners as synonymous with wealth. Furthermore, foreigners are unfamiliar with Russia, and there's no KGB closely monitoring the movements of every foreigner entering Russian territory. This makes it easier for the mafia to successfully attack, rob, and abuse foreigners.
Ivanov could think of these concerns, and Wang Xiao, as the person involved, was certainly even more aware of them.
Without saying a word, she gulped down the rest of the sweet milk, wiped her mouth, and stood up: "Let's go."
Once the bosses made a move, the guests at the sanatorium followed suit.
Some people followed without hesitation. Some thought it was too dangerous to stay in the sanatorium, while others were curious about how the police would treat Sergei and wanted to get the inside scoop.
Some people hesitated for a while before deciding that it was safer to stay in the nursing home.
After the shooting, Ivanov called in a bunch of burly men.
As for the composition of these guys, whether they are security guards or gangsters, it depends on who pays them for this trip.
Don't find it unbelievable.
In 1990s Moscow, or even around the world, this kind of thing was commonplace.
Even in many places during this era, more than half of the fishermen had also worked as pirates and bandits; what unrealistic fantasies could the general public still have about the world?
Enjoy this expensive service to the fullest.
After all, security companies these days don't charge low prices. Wealthy businessmen who want personal security services can pay as much as $20 per hour.
Even though not all the guests at the sanatorium had left, the convoy of cars speeding onto the road still formed a long line in the deep night.
That's right.
After this ordeal, the gentle and peaceful dusk that Wang Xiao used to experience when she went out has now turned into a harsh and cold night with howling winds.
Wang Xiao glanced subconsciously at the entrance of the sanatorium, where a person had been lying, blood gushing from their forehead.
But now, there's nothing left, nothing can be seen.
It wasn't because someone cleaned up the crime scene.
Instead, the snow and wind of Moscow's winter easily concealed everything.
Police escorted the criminal suspects ahead, followed by a long procession of luxury cars, creating an eerie spectacle.
Embarrassingly, the police station's old car, which had apparently exceeded its service life by some time, suddenly stalled halfway into the city.
Even with the wind howling outside, Wang Xiao could hear the police officers roaring.
What can we do?
The police car was as dilapidated as this winter night in Moscow. What could the police do but patch it up and make do?
The main selling point of the domestically produced cars in Russia is their ability to be manufactured.
No matter what malfunctions or problems occur, as long as you keep hammering and cracking, eight or nine out of ten times you can get back on track.
It's just that this takes a bit long.
I wonder if it's because the weather is too cold and the days are too hard, that the police cars also want to retire early.
The police tried for a long time, but still failed to start the fire.
Even the playboys who were originally sitting in their cars watching the commotion couldn't resist sticking their heads out to look.
It's so cold, this damn weather.
Why don't we just leave this broken-down car here? Let's squeeze in and make two cars available for the police to use. It's better than us just sitting here waiting.
The police wanted to maintain their dignity, but reality wouldn't allow it, so they had no choice but to accept the citizens' kindness with a heavy heart.
To make matters worse, when they took the siren off the police car and tried to put it on the newly borrowed vehicle to mark their special status, the damn siren stopped working.
Oh no, this is terrible.
This messed-up world couldn't get any worse.
"Let's go, let's go," Ivanov urged. "Let's hurry to the city."
If this continues, I don't know when it will end.
His friend was already waiting for him next to the police station, bringing him the freshly issued employment certificate.
The person hired was not Ivanov, but Sergei, who was illegally carrying weapons.
Oh, with this certificate, he is legally allowed to carry weapons.
Because two of the 120 security companies currently operating in Moscow have been granted the right to carry weapons.
This employment letter is from one of those companies.
If you ask why Ivanov and his men didn't say so earlier, and why they had to go through all this trouble?
Ahem, because even when he left, Ivanov, the boss, was unaware of this loophole.
He had been making calls on his mobile phone the whole time, and he had just found a way through a friend, so he put it to use immediately.
The police officer, increasingly annoyed by the urging, restarted the Mercedes with a grim expression.
Because he was unhappy, when an oncoming car turned on its headlights, the policeman sitting in the passenger seat cursed the entire family of the oncoming car.
However, the car coming from the opposite direction was also quite arrogant. The window was open, and a dark gun barrel was sticking out from inside.
The car happened to stop under a streetlamp, and Wang Xiao looked up and saw the muzzle of a gun.
Her heart felt like it was about to burst, her heartbeat pounding so hard it felt like it was going to explode.
Ivanov muttered to himself, "Something's not right, it's towing a cart."
From their position, they could see the Russian-made Zhiguri sedan, towing a Mercedes-Benz behind it.
It's not that a beat-up car can't tow a luxury car, but rather that they were driving towards the suburbs.
The towed cars are usually those that have broken down. There is a 24-hour auto repair center about five kilometers away from where they came from.
Why do they do the opposite?
Even a layman could see the oddities, and the professionals, the police, naturally noticed the strangeness as well.
The police got out of their car and, in turn, pressed their guns on the other person: "Don't move, we're the police. What's going on with the car behind us?"
The driver, who had been so arrogant just moments before, started cursing and ignored him, refusing to move an inch.
The police had no choice but to inspect the Mercedes themselves.
Some daring playboys have already rolled down their car windows and leaned out to look.
Ivanov and his group were lucky, as they were positioned just wide enough to see the open car door clearly.
He even brought a telescope to share with Wang Xiao.
However, Wang Xiao soon regretted his impulsive action.
Why would she be curious about what secrets the Mercedes-Benz might hold?
The telescope clearly captured a group of figures, or more specifically, whether they were corpses stuffed inside the Mercedes.
One, two, three—three corpses in total.
"The trunk!"
A roar came from outside: "There are four more corpses behind."
This Mercedes was actually a hearse, containing seven bodies.
Every body was riddled with bullet holes; the deaths were extremely gruesome.
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Regarding the chaos in Russia at that time, there are references such as the article "Moscow Does Not Trust the Police" in the 1993 Z2 issue of the magazine "Society", as well as numerous reports about the Russian Mafia at that time. There are too many to list them all.
The Russian mafia was indeed very powerful back then. Thank you to all the little angels who voted for me or watered my plants between 2024-02-02 07:38:19 and 2024-02-03 07:11:28!
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