Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 855 The Eastern European Mystery
The tram tracks in Bucharest at midnight gleamed coldly in the rain.

Ferrari turned up the collar of his black trench coat, and the espresso in his coffee cup was already cold.

On his fifth pass by St. Stavros Cathedral, he finally discovered that his pursuer had made a fatal mistake—the man in the leather jacket had bought Pravda three times from the same newsstand.

He stopped at the abandoned dock on the banks of the Danube, his right hand hanging naturally at his side, ready to draw his knife at the slightest movement and attack.

The man didn't stop, and slowly walked forward along the cement brick path beside the river railing, still holding the Pravda newspaper that had given him away.

He realized he was being watched ever since he got off the plane last night.

Ferrari suddenly realized that he was indeed taking a great risk by coming to Eastern Europe despite Henry's objections.

But he had no choice but to do it.

This trip was for her sister, Katrin.

Everyone has a weakness.

Even a wise and composed man like Ferrari is no exception.

Ferrari's Achilles' heel is its family.

Ferrari realized early on that he was the only man in the family and had to shoulder the responsibility of supporting the family. His father’s early death made him realize that he was the only man in the family and had to shoulder the responsibility of supporting the family.

So Ferrari has been working part-time to support his family since he started college.

He has a brilliant mind, and making money is not difficult for him.

His younger sister was eight years younger than him, and six months after her birth, their father died in an accident.

Therefore, Kathleen did not experience much fatherly love.

For her, her brother Ferrari was like a father.

Being relied upon by his sister and mother is not a burden for Ferrari; he even finds it very fulfilling.

Ferrari couldn't sit still after his mother called him a few days ago to tell him that his sister Katrin had gone missing.

The distance between the two is getting closer and closer.

Ferrari is very clear about the principles of tracking.

If the target stops, you cannot stop immediately either.

That would make you stand out like a fly on a bald man's head.

The best approach is to maintain your pace and walk forward casually, handing over the tracking target to a nearby accomplice to take over the pursuit.

Clearly, this man also resorted to this method.

Before long, the man arrived beside the Ferrari.

He kept his eyes straight ahead, as if he were just an insignificant passerby, not even glancing at the Ferrari.

But it was precisely because of this that Ferrari determined that the other party was a stalker.

In such a quiet, sparsely populated area, any normal person would glance at a stranger standing by the river, holding a coffee and staring at them.

They didn't even look at it.

This indicates that there is a ghost.

Oil slicks floating on the water reflected the neon lights, cutting the man's reflection into distorted blocks of color.

Just as the man and the Ferrari passed each other, the Ferrari suddenly turned around and threw its coffee cup.

The instant the scalding liquid splashed onto the stalker's face, his knee had already slammed into the man's stomach.

The man's face was smeared with hot coffee, and before he could even react and his eyes were stinging, Ferrari delivered a solid knee strike to his chest.

"vomit--"

He immediately bent over, curled up on the ground, and began to vomit.

Ferrari pulled a Makarov pistol from his lower back.

The wear marks on the grip indicate that the owner was left-handed, and all the 9mm bullets in the magazine had been filed down to sharp points—a common torture method used by Balkan gangs.

Gangster?

The intelligence Henry had gathered for him earlier flashed through his mind.

Intelligence suggests that his sister Katrin's disappearance may be related to the local gang.

She came to Romania to investigate the human trafficking activities of local gangs, hoping to write a news feature on the subject.

The human trafficking business in Eastern Europe originated in the 1980s and 1990s. Before that, most of the local gangs were involved in smuggling.

For example, cars, appliances, and even cigarettes.

At that time, because the Cold War had not yet ended, some goods from Western Europe were in high demand in the underground black market of Eastern Europe, and could usually be sold for several times the price.

After this smuggling route was opened, it gradually evolved into assisting in illegal immigration.

Gang members transformed themselves into human traffickers.

Later, the Cold War ended, the Soviet Union collapsed, and the economies of many former CIS countries collapsed, leaving their countries in a state of disrepute. In contrast, beautiful Eastern European women emerged.

As a result, a large number of young girls from Eastern Europe were smuggled to Western Europe with the help of gangs to work in the sex trade.

Romania's unique geographical location has made it a crucial hub connecting smuggling routes between Eastern and Western Europe.

With the emergence and eastward expansion of the European Union, the introduction of the Schengen visa rendered human smuggling a thing of the past, and the business gradually declined.

Although business was sluggish, the underground human trafficking business in Western Europe remained booming.

The perversions within those old Europeans, and even the wealthy in America, are growing day by day.

Keeping sex slaves has always been a private favorite among men in the elite circles of the Western world, much like drugs, which they are obsessed with.

Where there is demand, there will naturally be a market.

When fewer Eastern European girls volunteer for this profession, then enticement and trafficking follow.

Karina came to investigate this news genre.

To conceal her identity, she even took a job at a dubious modeling agency—these so-called modeling agencies were actually backed by gangs who used ostensibly talent scouts to find targets. With their silver tongues, they lured naive Eastern European girls into signing them as professional models, easily trafficking them to various parts of the world. But clearly, Catherine was careless; according to her mother, she lost contact with her less than three days after arriving in Romania.

The mother, who had no idea that her daughter had been kidnapped by gangsters, received a mysterious message a few days later, only to find out that her beloved daughter had fallen into the hands of thieves.

She reported the case to the police, but the Italian police told her that such transnational cases would require a long wait to be processed. After all, in Europe, where bureaucracy is rampant, coordinating police forces from different countries to solve a kidnapping case is more difficult than climbing Mount Everest.

It would be more reliable to ask the Italian police, who can't even effectively deal with thieves around the Colosseum in Rome, to solve this kind of case; they'd be better off going to church and praying to God for help.

In desperation, the elderly mother had no choice but to turn to Ferrari.

Although she hadn't seen her wandering son for several years, he still sent money to her account from somewhere in the world every month—he still cared about his mother.

When Farah smashed the man's right ankle with the butt of his gun, the scream startled a flock of pigeons in the shadows.

"Tell me, who are you?! Why are you following me?"

Ferrari pressed the deformed bullet into the wound, and the man convulsed and screamed.

“I’m a member of the Skull Gang. I don’t know why I’m following you. I’m just following orders. Our boss told me to follow you.”

Perhaps because the pain was so intense, the guy spilled everything out like beans from a bamboo tube.

Ferrari snorted coldly.

In the face of a professional mercenary like himself, the tolerance of a small-time gangster is as fragile as a piece of wet toilet paper, bursting at the slightest touch.

"Who told you my whereabouts?"

Ferrari continued to press for answers.

"I don't know, I don't know. I'm just a nobody. All I know is that you're here to rescue people..."

Cold sweat poured down the man's forehead, whether from the fear of having a gun pointed at his head or from the pain of a bullet lodged in his wound, it was hard to tell.

Ferrari thought what this guy said was true.

Lower-ranking gang members can only follow orders and do odd jobs.

They won't know high-level secrets.

"One last question. If you don't behave, I'll blow your head off and then throw your body into the river to feed the fish, understand?"

"understand……"

Where is my sister currently being held?

"..."

The man's eyes flickered, and he did not answer immediately.

He soon experienced the consequences of his dishonesty.

Ferrari then began shoving the bullet back into the wound that had been opened by the butt of his gun.

"Oh—I'll tell you! I'll tell you! Warehouse 17 in Constantine Harbor. It's probably there! I'm just guessing, girls are usually locked up there!"

The answer made his pupils shrink slightly; that area was a restricted zone for unloading cargo from gang smuggling ships.

Ferrari was certain the guy wasn't lying, so he swung his hand and smashed the butt of his gun into the guy's temple.

The man immediately lost consciousness, his head lolled to the side, and he fell to the ground, never to move again.

Ferrari searched the man, taking out his ammunition and other items, and then took out his wallet, using his phone to take pictures of the identification documents inside.

He now knows a place where his sister might be imprisoned.

But he needs help.

I am not Song Heping.

If Song Heping were here, that would be great.

He alone would definitely dare to go straight to the gang's headquarters and castrate their boss.

And myself...

Ferrari gave a wry smile.

For the first time, he felt somewhat incompetent.

In the past, at the company, I always boasted about my smart brain, saying that I made a living with my brain.

This time, he suddenly realized that strong limbs were actually very useful, and that strong military skills were more effective than a clever brain in certain situations.

After taking his things, Ferrari got up and left in a hurry.

Now he has to find the contact person.

Tonight is the agreed meeting time.

This contact was arranged by Henry. If all goes well, he can provide him with weapons and even hire people to help him find some capable individuals.

Looked at the watch.

It's 8:30.

The agreed time was 10:30.

Ferrari now needs to find a contact person immediately.

Katrin has been missing for almost a week.

A girl falls into the hands of a gang...

Ferrari simply couldn't bear to think about it.

After walking a short distance, bright lights shone from behind.

He turned around and saw a taxi, so he quickly reached out to flag it down.

"Go to 172 Luke Street."

Ferrari turned up his collar, obscuring half his face. He glanced at the rearview mirror and gave the driver an address.

(End of this chapter)