red moscow

Chapter 3150

Seeing the man lying motionless in a pool of blood, Gulia and Chekalov gripped their pistols tightly, fingers on the trigger guards, and cautiously approached him from two different directions. The street reeked of smoke and dust, and the distant sounds of commotion could be faintly heard, but their entire attention was focused on the prone body. Gulia's steps were light and steady, her eyes scanning every inch of the ground around the man like a hawk, wary of any possible traps or counterattacks; Chekalov, on the other hand, flanked from the side, his gun always pointed in the man's direction, his breathing slow and controlled.

The first thing Gulia did upon reaching the man was to kick away the submachine gun that had fallen nearby; the gun struck the curb with a sharp clang. Then she did something that left Chekalov speechless—without hesitation, she bent down and pulled the trigger twice more in quick succession, aiming at the man's head. Bang! Bang! The gunshots were particularly piercing in the empty street due to the close proximity; both bullets accurately pierced the man's forehead, splattering blood and brain matter onto the asphalt. Even if the man was feigning death, these two shots were enough to kill him instantly.

Having done all this, Gulia straightened up without changing her expression, exchanging a deep, knowing glance with Chekalov beside her, as if confirming that the threat had been completely eliminated. Then, carrying her still slightly warm pistol, she quickly ran back to the black sedan, poked her head into the open door, and said to Sokov, who was slumped in the seat, "Comrade General, the assassin has been taken care of. You are safe!" Her voice was steady and firm, carrying a professional calmness.

Upon hearing Gulia's words, Sokov slowly sat up and brushed the shards of glass off his clothes. His face was somewhat pale, but his eyes remained sharp. He first glanced at the corpse outside the window, then turned to the driver sitting in the front seat and noticed that blood was gushing from the driver's right shoulder, soaking the dark military uniform fabric. He quickly said to Gulia, "Gulia, the driver seems to be wounded. Please treat his wound."

Gulia replied, "Yes, Comrade General!"

She then went around to the driver's side and opened the somewhat deformed car door. Carefully supporting the driver's arm, she helped the burly man, pale-faced and clenching his teeth, slowly out of the car and let him sit down by the wheel. She took bandages and disinfectant from the first-aid kit in the car, and skillfully cut open the driver's clothing at the shoulder, preparing to clean and bandage his wounds.

The gunfire and explosions had already alerted the nearby patrols. Several patrols, belonging to the Ministry of Internal Affairs and the garrison command, hurried over from both sides of the street, their boots clattering rhythmically on the pavement. The first to arrive was a patrol from the Ministry of Internal Affairs, about six or seven men. The second lieutenant leading the patrol ran nervously to Chekalov. Upon recognizing Chekalov as an officer from the Ministry of Internal Affairs, he saluted and asked politely but urgently, "Comrade Captain, what's happening here? We've heard intense gunfire."

“While our vehicle was moving, this man suddenly jumped out from the roadside, first throwing a grenade at us, then opening fire with a submachine gun,” Chekalov said to the patrol captain, pointing to the mangled body on the ground. “But we’ve already killed him. Take some men and search the area thoroughly to see if any of his accomplices are lurking around.” His tone was authoritative, as he pulled his badge from his pocket and handed it to the lieutenant.

“Yes, Captain.” The lieutenant took the identification and glanced at it quickly, then at the car’s license plate—the prominent NKVD number made him straighten up immediately. He realized that someone important must be inside, so he quickly turned to his men and ordered, “Everyone spread out! Search the buildings and alleyways on both sides of the scene, keep watch, and report any suspicious persons immediately!” The men responded and quickly split into several groups, advancing into the surrounding buildings and shadowy areas, the click-clack of guns echoing throughout. The lieutenant himself stayed with Chekalov, awaiting further instructions, his eyes occasionally sweeping over the damaged car and Gulia bandaging the driver’s wounds.

The second patrol rushed to the scene, led by a tall, imposing lieutenant from the garrison command, his face serious and vigilant. They saw a lifeless body lying in the center of the street, and a car riddled with bullet holes not far away, its shattered windows scattered across the asphalt, reflecting a glaring light in the bright sunlight. The lieutenant quickly scanned the chaotic scene, a sense of urgency rising within him. He hurried to Chekalov and asked politely but slightly nervously, "Comrade Captain, have you been attacked?"

Chekalov turned to face the lieutenant, his expression calm and resolute. He nodded and replied in a firm and measured tone, "Yes, Comrade Lieutenant." He pointed to the corpse on the ground and added, "The assassin who attacked us has been killed. Now, have your men disperse and follow the comrades from the Internal Affairs Department to search the vicinity to see if any of his accomplices are still hiding." His gaze swept over the soldiers behind the lieutenant, his tone revealing an unquestionable authority.

But no sooner had Chekalov finished speaking than he heard Sokov's voice behind him: "Captain Chekalov!" Sokov slowly stepped out of the back seat of the car, his steps steady, dressed in ordinary civilian clothes, but his expression carried an invisible intimidating power. He calmly said, "Even if the assassin had accomplices, they would have fled long ago upon seeing so many of us arriving. I think we shouldn't let our comrades do anything futile."

Hearing Sokov's words, Chekalov paused slightly, then nodded in agreement. He turned to the lieutenant, his tone softening but still decisive: "The search is no longer necessary. You set up a perimeter here and wait for the relevant personnel to arrive and inspect the scene." He waved his hand, signaling the patrol to cease their search preparations and focus on maintaining order at the scene.

The lieutenant's face showed surprise when he saw a man in civilian clothes emerge from the car. His eyes widened slightly as he wondered: Who is this person? Why would an officer from the Ministry of Internal Affairs obey him so readily? Could he be a secret official from a higher level? The lieutenant was filled with questions, but he didn't ask further. He silently directed his soldiers to set up a perimeter, while occasionally glancing at Sokov, trying to find clues in the details. The atmosphere on the street grew tense. The soldiers quickly moved in, sealing off the surrounding area and awaiting the arrival of specialists.

"Comrade Captain!" Sokov approached Chekalov and reminded him, "The driver is injured. Please arrange for an ambulance to be called for him. Also, our vehicle has been damaged and cannot continue our journey. Could you please arrange for a new vehicle as soon as possible?"

“Yes, Comrade Deputy Commander!” Chekalov nodded in response. “I will obey your orders without hesitation and will arrange the relevant matters as soon as possible.”

(End of this chapter)