2. New Mission #16
Zhenya handed Taekjoo something right away as if he’d expected Taekjoo to question him. It was a document envelope folded in half. Taekjoo snatched it and checked what was inside right away. It was a copy of old news articles and a list of names. It listed dozens of names in both Russian and Korean.
Taekjoo scanned the list, then moved on to the articles. They were all obituaries containing information about deaths—whose, when, and how. The names were all familiar.
Taekjoo got suspicious and checked them out again. His eyes widened. Most of the names listed in the obituaries were also written on the name list he had in his other hand. Zhenya proceeded to explain.
“People who participated in developing Anastasia—they’re all dead now.”
“Why did they die?”
“Why, indeed?”
Zhenya returned the question, his lips curving into a small grin.
The expression was cheeky, like teasing a little kid.
Taekjoo had an idea, but he needed confirmation.
He couldn’t believe that was the reason, but his doubt kept him from thinking of any others.
He kicked the tip of Zhenya’s shoe, urging him to stop smiling and spit out the answer.
Zhenya did answer Taekjoo’s question eventually, but only after enjoying and taking in the alarmed look on his face.
“Anastasia is a killing machine with unprecedented destructive power, along with an equally unprecedented level of classified information. Everybody talks about it, but most of them don’t even know what kind of weapon Anastasia is. They’re scared of something they don’t even know. Or, perhaps,
they’re scared of it precisely because they don’t know what it is. Maybe that very mystery is Anastasia’s true power. But the talk would be different once its development ended. Once development was complete, those involved would return to their lives,
and someone might reveal the truth about this elusive weapon. It’s not an ideal scenario, right? Because Anastasia must be the source of fear now and forever.”
Taekjoo scrunched his brows. He didn’t have to listen till the end to know where this was going. Zhenya nodded, confirming Taekjoo’s suspicion.
“Slaughtered. Every single one of them. So that no one could reproduce the same weapon ever again.”
Taekjoo was speechless. These people weren’t killed because they were rats or traitors. They were killed to ensure they’d never even get the chance to become one.
Taekjoo looked at the list of names again, feeling baffled. But he found something wrong and raised a question.
“But—”
“Yes, despite the killing spree, there were those who managed to survive.”
The name Bogdanov was on the list too, but they were not dead.
They were alive and well. While most people involved in the creation of Anastasia were dead, the Bogdanovs survived.
What did this mean? Taekjoo kept piecing the information together to figure out the answer.
Then, he suddenly looked up at Zhenya with an expression like he’d been hit by a truck. A smile spread across Zhenya’s lips.
The Bogdanovs joined the development of Anastasia.
Everyone involved in making the weapon was killed—except for the Bogdanovs.
The Bogdanovs might have been the ones who eliminated all the researchers and developers.
They had the motive: to monopolize the ownership of the ultimate weapon.
To deter anything similar from ever being made again.
Zhenya glimpsed at Taekjoo’s serious face.
“Has it changed your mind about the party?”
“It’s a lion’s den, and I’m going in unarmed and alone.”
Taekjoo shook his head, feeling sorry for himself.
If what Zhenya had said was true, then the Bogdanovs most likely knew where Anastasia was.
The problem was the state Taekjoo was in.
The party was set for the following day.
Even if Taekjoo reached out to headquarters through Zhenya, resources wouldn’t arrive in time.
But at the same time, Taekjoo couldn’t simply go in unprepared.
“HQ people weren’t born yesterday. We have backup resources. Let’s go.”
Zhenya grinned and stood up. When they stepped out of the diner after paying the bill, a drop-top was waiting for them. It looked as sleek as its owner. Taekjoo stopped and stared blankly. Zhenya had to practically fold him into the passenger seat.
About half an hour into speeding on the road, high-rise buildings became sparse, and areas grew less populated as well. What could possibly be in an area like this? Just when things were getting too suspicious, the car stopped.
“Out.”
Even as he did what he was told, Taekjoo kept checking around the surroundings.
There was nothing in sight. No garage, no parking space, nothing.
Only a decrepit, old building stood. It was a bookstore, as far as its sign said.
But there weren’t any customers. The store must have closed business a long time ago.
Taekjoo was full of doubts as he followed Zhenya, who walked ahead without any hesitation. He pulled up the shutter and went into the building. Taekjoo followed him into the unlit building.
Zhenya opened another door inside, then disappeared into a dark staircase.
Taekjoo followed him carelessly and nearly tripped.
He could’ve given Taekjoo a heads-up that there were stairs ahead, but he just wasn’t a considerate person.
Taekjoo swallowed his complaints and used the wall to guide himself down the steps he couldn’t see at all.
Finally, his feet stood on flat ground. It was so dark that he still couldn’t see a thing, but he could feel the thick layer of dust. With every moment, a whirl of dust tickled Taekjoo’s nose.
But there was something strange. If this really was the storage of a bookstore, then there should be books stacked. Still, the place lacked the distinct smell of old books and paper.
In a minute, something clicked, and the light came on.
“...?”
The light was just enough to make things out, though the room remained dim overall.
Taekjoo squinted his eyes and slowly looked around.
It didn’t take long for him to figure out the reason behind the eerie strangeness.
All four walls of the basement were lined with bookshelves, but not a single book was to be found.
There was only an old telephone placed in the middle of the bookshelves.
Why did Zhenya bring Taekjoo all the way here?
Taekjoo’s questions—and frustration—were mounting when Zhenya stepped toward the telephone.
He slowly turned the dial on the phone. 3, 9, 1, 6, 5.
After the final turn to 5, the dial returned to its original position.
There came a sudden beep of a machine from somewhere.
The empty bookshelves groaned as they shifted their body and slowly turned, kicking up layers of dust into a swirling storm.
Taekjoo’s eyes itched, forcing him to shut them.
When he opened them again, the dusty old bookstore basement was gone.
In its place stood sleek steel cabinets, filled with all kinds of firearms, advanced gear, and neatly arranged compact explosives.