Perfect Mission Chapter 19 - Counterattack (2)

Chapter 19 – Counterattack (2)

 

Many first-time clients struggled to find Nikolai at Busan Port, especially in the fishing vessel area. He told them the name of his ship but not its exact location. Jo Gyeongcheol, too, had spent over an hour searching during his first transaction, cursing up a storm.

Despite the hassle, Nikolai was indispensable. No one else could procure firearms as quickly and cheaply as he could. Officially, Nikolai was registered as a Russian king crab boat owner, but in reality, he was a mid-level boss in the Bratva, the Russian mafia. He helped smugglers and North Korean defectors enter Korea and, as in this case, smuggled weapons.

He made a fortune from the king crab business, but that money went to the organization. He made his personal income through these under-the-table dealings. The reason he didn’t count the money on the spot was that trust was paramount in the arms trade. Shortchanging someone would guarantee retaliation. In other words, unless you wanted out of the arms trade in Korea, you had to pay the full amount.

Junho walked briskly towards a ship moored at the edge of the harbor. He saw another ship owner inspecting his vessel but ignored him. That man was on Nikolai’s payroll, keeping an eye out for unauthorized personnel and reporting any suspicious activity.

Junho boarded the ship, opened the engine room, and retrieved an old, worn blue suitcase. It looked at least twenty years old. He placed the suitcase on the deck and opened it, revealing a sleek black hard-shell case and a package of ammunition.

The lock on the case wasn’t engaged yet. He opened it, and there it was: a Remington MSR sniper rifle, disassembled, nestled snugly inside. Imagining its beautiful form fully assembled, Junho couldn’t help but grin.

He closed the case, put it back in the suitcase, and left the ship. He’d arrived empty-handed, but now he was dragging a blue suitcase, a slightly incongruous sight at the port. But it didn’t matter. There were no CCTV cameras in this area, and he was disguised, so he didn’t have to worry about being seen.

Since he was by the sea, Junho called a taxi, went to a public restroom, removed his wig and makeup, took a slightly blurry selfie, put the wig back on, and waited for the taxi.

His Busan “business trip” was a complete success.

“To Busan Station, please!”

Junho felt a sense of satisfaction, thinking about the treasure in the taxi’s trunk.

 

***

 

Hanil Technology Co., Ltd., Cheongdam-dong.

“Are you just going to keep waiting?”

Mortar’s question made the bald man clench his jaw.

“Can’t you think of anything?”

Under the bald man’s murderous gaze, Mortar tapped his fingers on the coffee table and raised his voice.

“I’ve never seen that guy before in my life! You know I don’t have any fat pigs like that among my contacts.”

The bald man, having watched the CCTV footage of the real estate agent and the man visiting Jo Gyeongcheol’s villa, knew Mortar wasn’t entirely wrong. The man did seem a bit too heavy for an agent. For those constantly walking a tightrope between life and death, failing to manage their weight was like wearing a sign that said, “Kill me.”

The problem was that the man’s actions were too natural and bold for a non-agent. This wasn’t about acting skills. It required innate confidence and experience.

“He’s not Gorilla…”

The bald man had never seen Gorilla’s real face, but he’d encountered him once during a mission. Gorilla was slim and agile, slightly taller than Mortar. The man in the CCTV footage was different, starting with his height.

The person they had killed, assuming he was Gorilla, had a similar build and demeanor to the Gorilla he remembered, which was why he’d trusted the information.

“He must be connected to Gorilla somehow.”

“You damn idiot, tell me something I don’t know!”

The bald man, exasperated, scratched his face.

“…I apologize.”

“Stop stating the obvious.”

“Yes, sir.”

The bald man knew that time wasn’t on their side. Before “that person” returned, he had to have something to show for his efforts, whether it was Gorilla, the Gorilla imposter, or the Daewon Chemicals data. If he faced “that person” empty-handed, he shuddered to imagine the consequences. He’d probably have to kill his family painlessly with charcoal briquettes before taking his own life.

Just then, his phone rang. Seeing the caller ID, he answered with trembling hands.

“Yes, Director. You’re coming? When… in a week, you say?”

He clenched his fist and stared at the calendar.

 

***

 

Back in Seoul, Junho practiced assembling and disassembling the sniper rifle until it became second nature. The Remington MSR was designed for .338 Lapua Magnum cartridges but was versatile enough to handle other types of ammunition. It boasted high accuracy at long ranges, over 1,000 meters, and could be equipped with a silencer, greatly increasing the sniper’s survivability. It was an excellent sniper rifle for urban environments.

More importantly, it was a beautiful weapon. Just holding it made him feel like he owned the world.

“Crazy bastard… I must be losing my mind.”

Junho, sitting in the middle of Seoul with a sniper rifle and live ammunition, grinning like a fool, felt like he was in a dream. But the cold, metallic feel of the gun reminded him that the day he’d use it was fast approaching.

Now that he had the equipment, it was time for the final preparations. Junho took the remaining 10 million won and prepared to go out. Disguised as he was in Busan, he headed to Seoul Station.

He wasn’t going to Seoul Station to travel elsewhere; it was his destination. He was looking for someone.

“Ugh…”

Junho walked slowly through Seoul Station, taking in the familiar stench of urine. He used to pinch his nose in disgust, but after his experience as a semi-homeless man, reeking of urine himself, it didn’t bother him anymore.

‘There are too many people… and he’s one of too many…’

Junho wasn’t looking for a specific person, but a homeless man in his late thirties to mid-forties. Someone who hadn’t been homeless for long would be ideal. Someone whose clothes weren’t too dirty, someone who looked relatively clean compared to the other homeless people.

Surprisingly, such a person wasn’t easy to find. After searching for a while, he finally found someone suitable. A man in his early forties wearing glasses, with a despairing look on his face, as if he were contemplating suicide.

Junho approached the man and squatted down.

!!!

The man, startled, looked up. He looked around cautiously and asked,

“Who…?”

“I have a proposition for you.”

“What are you…”

“Shut up and listen.”

The man in his early forties froze under Junho’s cold gaze and low voice.

“You can ask questions after I’m done talking. Understand?”

“…”

“We’re going to make a deal. You can refuse if you want, but listen to me first.”

As the man wondered what Junho was up to, Junho pulled out a 50,000 won bill.

“We’ll make our first transaction. It’s simple. I’ll give you 50,000 won, and you go to a nearby sauna and wash up. After that, I’ll give you another 100,000 won as a sign of successful completion. What do you say?”

“…”

The man’s eyes widened. He probably thought it was a scam, but the 50,000 won bill in front of him made him wonder. Perhaps Junho was just trying to help someone in need? But Junho’s cold eyes and forceful tone suggested otherwise. He was confused.

“I’ll count to five. If you refuse, I’ll find someone else. And just so you know, I have more than one transaction in mind.”

The man gulped and asked, “If this isn’t the end, could the future transactions involve something… unfavorable for me?”

“Nothing in this world is free. But I promise you it’ll be better than your current situation, which is hopeless. I’ll start counting now. Five, four, three…”

“I’ll do it.”

He snatched the 50,000 won bill before Junho could finish counting. He stood up, looked down at Junho, and asked,

“Should I get a haircut too?”

Junho chuckled. The man was quick-witted.

“Good idea.”

“Give me two hours.”

“I’ll be waiting at the Starbucks upstairs. Exactly two hours.”

The man nodded and left.

Junho sat in the cafe and quietly read a book. He’d bought it at a small bookstore he saw on his way to Seoul Station. He wasn’t particularly interested in the content. He preferred games to books and didn’t even like martial arts novels, which were popular. He found images more engaging than text.

But Jo Gyeongcheol liked books. He read not only light novels and fantasy but also history, philosophy, and other non-fiction.

Perhaps that’s why Junho had felt compelled to buy a book, a history book, no less, a subject he’d never cared about.

“Hmm…”

He leisurely read, waiting for the time to pass, and strangely, he felt good. A spy reading a book and sipping coffee while planning a mission? He hadn’t even done anything yet, but he felt a thrill. The book was surprisingly engaging.

‘Why didn’t I know this was so enjoyable?’

He was even surprised by his own thoughts. Had his reading comprehension and absorption improved?

He looked up and saw the homeless man, now clean and neatly dressed, sitting across from him. Junho checked his watch. The man was exactly ten minutes early.

“You’re not late.”

“It would be foolish to be late in situations like this.”

Junho took out 100,000 won and handed it to him. The man quickly pocketed the cash and waited expectantly for Junho’s next words.