Starting from South America, speeding through the world

Chapter 83: Having evil intentions
The fireplace crackled, and the aroma of burnt firewood slowly filled the room.

The room wasn't very bright; only a single brass lamp was lit.

The curtains were drawn tightly, and a thin layer of frost had formed on the glass windows.

Mikhail stood at the door, one hand still on the doorknob, his heart pounding faster than usual.

This was certainly not the first time he had met with Igor alone.

But tonight is different from usual.

He leaked a copy of the telegram.

He also told Boris about the three nuclear bombs.

Utter betrayal.

Perhaps Igor had already sensed it, but hadn't yet acted on it.

But he couldn't escape now; otherwise, if he alerted the enemy, everything would be meaningless.

"What are you standing there for? Sit down." Igor glanced at Mikhail, his eyes devoid of any particular emotion.

Mikhail nodded, trying to keep his breathing steady.

As soon as he sat down, Igor got straight to the point: "Make preparations now. If everything goes well, you'll be able to take over the port of Nikolaev soon."

"What?" Mikhail didn't react for a moment.

He had imagined many different ways to start, but this was the one he hadn't expected.

Igor seemed amused by his expression and repeated, slowing down his speech, "Yes, you heard me right, Nikulayev Port."

"Isn't that place already under Boris's control?"

"A few months ago? Yes. The Port Authority and the Security Office were all replaced."

So, in which form are you planning to use it?

"To be precise, it was taken over by the national security department; I just needed to create an opportunity."

"What kind of opportunity?" Mikhail asked tentatively.

"An event sufficient to warrant SBU intervention."

At this point, Igor glanced at Mikhail and casually added, "After that, just as I promised before, the South will be yours. Of course, you can start now if you wish."

Mikhail was slightly taken aback.

A strange, indescribable feeling welled up inside me.

The opportunity finally came.

But it arrived too late, and too coincidentally, so coincidentally that it left people at a loss.

He had waited a long time for this day, enduring countless vague promises and subsequent delays.

He thought Igor had long since given up, or at least no longer trusted him to manage the situation.

So he took a gamble, crossed the line, and handed over everything he should and shouldn't have hidden.

But now?

Igor acted as if nothing had happened, abruptly pushing back all the things he had longed for.

Mikhail felt a tightness in his chest, but showed nothing on the surface, simply replying naturally:
"Understood, I will arrange for someone to handle the documents and settlement matters."

Igor did not respond.

After a moment, as if remembering something, he added, "Oh, right, there's another interesting story."

Mikhail looked up at him and immediately became wary again.

“A new face will appear in this operation, a very interesting young man.”

"What do you mean?"

“It’s the one who handled the Kherson incident,” Igor said casually. “You should have heard Lyosha mention him—Fahd.”

Mikhail's eyelid twitched almost imperceptibly.

He had certainly seen the photos of the scene: blood, heads, severed limbs, and a declaration nailed to his face.

More than once.

It always returns to my mind late at night, becoming a recurring nightmare.

Because he knew very well that if he were ever exposed and lost his stance, his fate might not be any better than theirs. It might even be worse.

They were adept at navigating both sides, while he was a complete traitor.

A chill ran through Mikhail, but he showed no sign of it, and said smoothly:

“Alexei told me his story.”

He paused, then asked, "Has this person's background been investigated?"

“I’ve checked,” Igor said.

"The results of it?"

"Nothing at all."

"It's not 'cannot be found,' but rather—'does not exist.'"

"The only bank account he had was opened by Yuri not long ago."

Mikhail frowned. "Then why did you let him participate in such an important operation?"

“I don’t care about people’s past, Misha. What matters is where he stands in the future.”

"And the port operation was a test."

"What if he messes it up?"

Igor smiled but did not answer directly:
“Господьзабываеттех,ктонебылдостоинсвоегокреста (The Lord will forget those who are not worthy to bear his own cross).”

The air was silent for a few seconds.

Mikhail sat there, feeling a tightness in his throat.

He stretched his shoulders slightly, as if to relax, or perhaps to prepare to leave.

“If there are no other arrangements, I still have a few transfer lists to process,” he said.

“Stay for dinner, Misha,” Igor suddenly said.

Mikhail instinctively wanted to find a reason to refuse, but then he heard him continue:
“Alexei was there too. He said he hadn’t seen you all week and asked me if you were avoiding him.”

Igor's tone was slightly teasing. "I told him you were busy, but he obviously didn't believe me."

Upon hearing this, Mikhail hesitated for a long time before finally nodding in agreement: "Then I'll stay. We'll talk about the rest tomorrow."

“Okay.” Igor smiled slightly, got up and returned to his desk. “You can go downstairs first. I have some things to take care of. I’ll come back later.”

Mikhail said nothing more, got up and walked out.

There were no outsiders in the house at this time.

The lighting was dim, and the glass panes embedded in the metal chandelier swayed slightly, as if disturbed by a breeze that seemed to have come from nowhere.

Several oil paintings hung on the wall, their colors rich and deep, depicting hunting dogs, fields, and frozen lakes, paired with deep red wallpaper.

Standing at the bottom of the stairs, Mikhail looked up and thought for a few seconds.

Should we notify Boris?
Remind him, even with a vague hint, that something needs to be done over there.
No, it's too early.

Boris is such a useless piece of trash. He's too cautious. He was intimidated by Igor's previous counterattack and has become even more careful and hesitant.

He and his damn allies always wanted to be the last one to leave the table.

Avoid getting blood on your hands, don't take sides, and don't expose yourself prematurely. It's best to wait until everyone else has finished fighting before taking your share of the meat in the pot.

Clues about nuclear weapons, though valuable, were not enough for him.

That's too big, so big that we can pretend we're still "assessing the risks".

It's also too abstract, so abstract that we can postpone the decision and continue spouting the nonsense of "cooperation first".

He needs to be hit hard.

Only when the pain is severe enough will you truly panic and realize that you're already on the menu.

At that time, he would lower his head.

They proactively knocked on the doors of Israelis, seeking additional protection and support.

They were even willing to give up some of the chips they originally wouldn't have given up.

That is where the transaction begins.

(End of this chapter)