Starting from South America, speeding through the world

Chapter 79 Airborne
Matvey Karashenko sat behind his desk, lost in thought.

He had been there for almost forty minutes, and no one spoke, no one bothered him, and no one needed him.

Sunlight streamed in obliquely through the window, passing through the yellowed glass that had been stained by smoke, and falling on the spread-out official documents.

Heat was emanating from the old-fashioned radiators, but the room was still not very warm.

The mottled dark red marks are still there.

That's where Olena collapsed four days ago.

Twenty-two years old, recently graduated from university.

He had a somewhat ambiguous relationship with his former superior, Kovalenko.

As a result, the two of them ended up dying together.

Fortunately, her head wasn't suspended like the others.

Blood splattered on the filing cabinet, and someone later tried to clean it with bleach, but it didn't get clean at all.

Therefore, after that, every officer passing by the outer room would deliberately avoid looking in that direction.

But Matvey kept staring at that spot.

He wasn't particularly brave; he was just curious.

I'm curious how long this mark will last.

"Kalashnko," just then, the messenger's voice rang out, "the colonel requests your presence."

Matvey stood up and habitually straightened his collar.

He stopped in front of the door, raised his hand and knocked, and heard a voice from inside say, "Come in."

Matvey pushed open the door and entered.

The indoor temperature was much higher than where he had been before.

The floor was spotless, two newly opened file boxes were piled in the corner, and a new command chart was pasted on the cabinet door.

The newly appointed colonel stood by the window, his back to him, staring down at the street outside, seemingly lost in thought.

Good morning, sir.

"Sit down," Leonid Yefremov said without turning his head. "Sit down and we'll talk."

Matvey nodded and sat down in the chair opposite the desk.

The desktop was clean, with only two folders on it, dark green in color, with the corners pressed neatly together, and even the pen caps were tightly fastened.

"How long have you been in this position?" The colonel finally turned around, his eyes falling on Matvey.

"Eight years, sir."

"When I was the deputy brigade commander, I was in charge of the brigade's administration and logistics."

“That’s good,” Leonid pulled out a chair and sat down opposite him. “You’re familiar with the affairs, processes, connections, and existing resources here, so the arrangements can be made faster.”

As he spoke, he pulled a form from the folder beside him and handed it over:
"This is the material allocation plan that I personally signed and sent back to the military region for approval yesterday afternoon. The items in Warehouse No. 5, Workshop No. 7, and Communication Module Warehouse No. 3 need to be transferred."

Matvey took the document, and as soon as he opened it, a slight thought crossed his mind.

He recognized the numbers.

More accurately, he recognized the application.

This is not new content—it is an "emergency resource transfer" request that was sent to the brigade headquarters a few weeks ago.

The submitter at the time was Oleg Stepanovich, an officer who was very close to the "Vek-Trans" company.

Matvey recalls that after Kovalenko reviewed it, he immediately relegated it to the lowest category, "deferred discussion."

"Are these... related to that batch of supplies that was previously denied approval?"

“Yes.” Leonid’s gaze remained unchanged. “The documents are now complete, the approval has been granted, and the stamp is on the last piece of paper.”

"Including the Defense Material Service, the Southern Theater Storage and Transportation Bureau, and the Kherson Municipal Engineering Safety Coordination Center."

Upon hearing this, Matvey flipped to the approval page. Sure enough, every column showed the latest date, and the last row of printed stamps still had slight ink smudges.

The documentation is fresh out of the oven and hasn't even dried completely yet.

"This batch of equipment will be transferred before this Friday. The transport contractor code is 003-VT, and the equipment will be delivered to the South District transit warehouse."

Matvey read the code aloud in a voice so soft it was almost inaudible.

Leonid thought for a moment and decided to explain further:

“I know you may have heard some ‘rumors’ before.”

"But I want you to remember one thing: we are in a very special period right now."

"The country is still in turmoil, the borders are unstable, and resources cannot be delayed or waited for."

Upon hearing this, Matvey immediately adopted an understanding demeanor and stopped asking questions.

He certainly knew what "003-VT" meant.

It's a logistics company that was just registered a few months ago. Even a fool could guess who's behind it.

But Leonid did not want to end the conversation there.

He became more interested and asked, "Do you know who's behind all this?"

Seeing that his new boss probably wanted to show off his connections, Matvey simply pretended to be clueless and said, "I don't know, sir."

Leonid smiled with satisfaction. "Of course you don't know; this isn't a level you should be aware of."

He leaned back in his chair and continued, "But you should be able to tell that I can sit here—"

"It's not because my file is particularly impressive, but because I know who I need to please."

A perfectly timed hint of surprise appeared on Matvey's face.

Nonsense, this person was parachuted in.

Even the term "parachute in" is not accurate enough.

From nomination, review, brigade recommendation, theater approval, to the National Defense Resources Agency issuing the appointment document, it took no more than 48 hours.

In today's system, even a truck repair application cannot be approved in 48 hours.

Moreover, the changes in the past two days have gone far beyond that; it can be described as a complete reshuffling.

“Sign it,” Leonid said, raising his chin. “You don’t need to think too much about it. There will be many more of these kinds of things in the future.”

Matvey remained silent and quietly wrote his name after the person in charge.

Leonid smiled with satisfaction, seeing that he was very sensible.

"Your colleagues speak highly of you; you are mature, steady, and know when to stop."

“As you see fit, sir,” Matvey replied.

“Very good.” Leonid nodded, took out a notepad with the brigade headquarters stamp from the drawer, placed it under the documents, and handed it over: “Then I have one last task for you.”

"Yes."

Matvey took it with both hands, and after only one glance, he realized that this was not an official transfer order, but a "pass" with the military seal on it, without a specific issuing authority.

Leonid then spoke:

"Someone from the security bureau has instructed me to go find Vladimir Hanin; he will give you the surveillance footage from that night."

"Sir, I remember that on the 8th, the record was taken using Security Room B. There should be two copies, one working cache and one emergency copy."

Upon hearing this, Leonid's eyes showed even more admiration: "You're quite professional."

"Don't worry, they've made arrangements, and they'll give you the original pack and all the copies they have."

"Finally, you'd better get some fuel before you come to me with your stuff."

(End of this chapter)