3. The Nuclear Man #3
Why? Because as long as the mafia funded the government, they weren’t seen as enemies of the government, but as brothers.
The Bogdanovs were the living proof of this unwritten arrangement.
Prior to Vissarion Romanovich, the Bogdanovs held no significance in either politics or capitalism.
It was only after the fall of the Soviet Union that they began to soar.
This was a time when new oligarchs were rapidly emerging.
It was also a period when the underworld mafia was brimming with crime and outlaws.
They took advantage of the shifting socioeconomic landscape to extend their influence into political and economic spheres.
It might be a stretch, but everything would make sense with one assumption: the Bogdanovs shared roots with the mafia.
This would explain everything, including why the family had tread lightly and laid low until the 90s.
It would also explain why Psikh Bogdanov was referred to as Russia’s living, breathing weapon—the nuclear man.
He was born into Russia’s ruling elite, yet had ties to the mafia underworld at the same time.
He became the bridge that connected the two diverging streams of the economy, facilitating communication and exchanges between them.
Did this mean he also led the research and development of Anastasia? Was this how Morgan died—after reaching this conclusion and approaching the maniac? Although Taekjoo had no solid evidence, he was beginning to piece together circumstantial clues.
Taekjoo’s mind was racing, running through one hypothesis after another. Then, a voice suddenly called him back to reality.
“Your tray is empty,” Zhenya noted.
He was right. There were only empty glasses on the tray.
Any proper waiter would’ve rushed back to the kitchen before running out of drinks.
It was to maintain the class of the banquet.
Taekjoo had been so absorbed in Zhenya’s story, he’d lost track of time.
He looked at the hallway to the kitchen and found the butler earlier throwing loaded glances at him.
“I should get back.”
“You’ll want to hear the rest of this before you do. Just earlier, I saw Psikh Bogdanov going upstairs, with Alexei Perov and Yuri Reppin right behind him.”
Alexei Perov and Yuri Reppin—the Ministers of Defense and Foreign Affairs, respectively—were having a secret meeting with Psikh Bogdanov. Taekjoo had to find out what it was about.
“I’ll cover you, just make sure to keep your radio on.”
Taekjoo was about to hurry back to the kitchen when Zhenya added quietly. His tone was strangely bright, as if he found all of this entertaining. Taekjoo wasn’t sure if he should trust someone whose next moves he couldn’t predict. Taekjoo shook his head and walked across the main hall.
“Wait.”
Taekjoo was about to pass through, pretending like nothing was wrong, when the butler stopped him. He raised the tray to shield his face.
“Have you forgotten the guidelines? Please be quick on your feet on behalf of the master.”
“Yes, I’ll make sure to do so.”
“If I were you, I’d stop wasting time and get moving.”
He was the one who had stopped Taekjoo, and now he was scolding him for not moving fast enough.
Taekjoo calmed down his short temper and passed through the hallway, his steps closer to a run than a walk.
Back in the kitchen, the place was still ringing with the head chef’s yelling.
The very moment the waiters put down the empty trays, they were sent back outside with a new one, heavy with food.
Taekjoo’s empty tray was also snatched away as soon as he stepped into the kitchen.
He quickly scanned the area. In one corner, he spotted a large mound of food waste.
It had been left unattended so long that it had grown into a small tower.
While the other waiters were getting yelled at by the head chef, Taekjoo quietly approached the counter.
Each station chef was busy at their own post.
They were busy with prepping, making, and garnishing their assigned dishes.
If the sauce wasn’t placed properly at the final stage of garnishing, then the dish went straight to the garbage.
By now, the trash wasn’t just overflowing—it was flooding onto the kitchen floor.
According to the floor plan, there was an exit behind the ingredients storage room that led to the backyard. Garbage was usually handled in places out of sight. The backyard was the perfect place for it.
Taekjoo lifted the heavy garbage bin. Everyone in the kitchen was busy with their own thing.
No one had the luxury of checking out what anyone else was doing.
Taekjoo circled widely around the counter and made his way toward the storage room.
There was a small door to the side right across from him.
The lock was on the side where Taekjoo was, making it effortless for him to go out.
The real problem lay in the tight security on the other side.
Just as he had expected, the moment Taekjoo opened the side door and stepped out, a guard approached to stop him.
“State your purpose.”
“Oh, the garbage—if I don’t take it out now, the head chef will blow up.”
The guard looked at the garbage, then at Taekjoo, then back at the garbage again.
It didn’t take long for his eyes to drift behind Taekjoo, into the storage room, and finally into the kitchen.
The guard could hear the head chef’s hysterical screaming and yelling.
Nodding at Taekjoo, he gestured for him to go through.
Taekjoo nodded in thanks and walked toward the dumpster.
As he emptied the bin into the dumpster, he quickly scanned the building.
If the two ministers and Psikh Bogdanov were having a secret meeting, it was unlikely to take place on the first floor, given that the party was being held there.
And, of course, there were still plenty of other rooms to consider, even without factoring in the entire first floor.
Taekjoo, studying the overall structure of the residence, fixed his eyes on a room at the end of the third floor.
All curtains were drawn for the night—except in that one room.
Taekjoo had no idea why, but he felt uneasy to simply ignore it.
It would be prudent to check it, even if it were a quick sweep.
Taekjoo sketched out a rough route in his head. There were too many eyes inside. He concluded it would be better to act outside. The backyard wasn’t heavily guarded. The building’s shadow stretched that way, offering perfect cover. However, Taekjoo had to take care of the guards first.
Taekjoo took the empty garbage bin and headed back to the storage room. The same security guard was still patrolling the area. He glanced back at Taekjoo without suspicion. And that was his time to go.
“—Argh!”
Taekjoo yanked the bin over the guard’s head. Instinctively, the guard raised his gun, even as his vision was obscured. However, Taekjoo kicked his hand. The gun flew into the air and landed squarely in Taekjoo’s hand.
The guard got the bin off his head, but right at that moment, Taekjoo punched his face.
The man held onto his nose, letting out a heavy groan.
His nose seemed to be broken. Taekjoo, frowning as if in pain, struck a pressure point, ensuring the guard lost conscious.
Then, he flattened against the wall to hide himself beneath the shadow of the building.
Taekjoo looked around. No one seemed to have noticed anything suspicious.
All that was left for him to do was get to the upper floor. He had two options: descend from the roof using a rope, or climb up from the ground. Lucky for him, the ornate exterior wall offered plenty of handholds. The front of the estate was heavily guarded, but the back was left clumsy, thankfully.
Time to go up. Taekjoo rolled his sleeves up and revealed his watch.
He pointed his wrist toward the roof and pressed a button on the side of this watch.
Immediately, a string of nylon wire shot through the air and latched onto the building.
Taekjoo gave it a firm tug to ensure it held.
The wire must have hooked onto something as it pulled taut.
He pressed the side of his watch again, activating a small machine that began winding the wire, lifting him upward.
Placing his weight on his left arm, he scaled the wall with the agility of a rock climber.
He slipped a few times, thanks to the smooth soles of his dress shoes, but there was a bigger problem ahead.
The pull of gravity grew stronger the higher he went.
His watch gripped his wrist tightly. He wouldn’t be surprised if his left wrist ended up dislocated like his right.
The nylon wire was the kind used for catching bluefin tuna.
It would not break easily—although there was an exception to everything.
Even the toughest wire could fray if it kept brushing against sharp golden ornaments, putting its endurance into question, which was exactly the situation right now.
Taekjoo heard a sound like a bowstring being flicked. At the same moment, his left arm—wrenched so hard it hurt—suddenly felt free.
“...!”
He was gonna fall. Taekjoo squeezed his eyes shut, anticipating the crash to the ground. His vision went black, and his entire body curled up reflexively, every sense on edge. His hair stood on end, but the expected impact never came.
Taekjoo slowly opened his eyes and saw that his body was barely hanging in the air. Just when the wire snapped, he was able to hold onto a window on the third floor. Below him, the severed wire lay limp on the ground.
Taekjoo sighed out of relief. It was a close call, though still nothing compared to the time he nearly fell from a 360-foot skyscraper.
Taekjoo waited for the tension to ease his muscles and nerves after the intense moment.
Then, using only his own strength, he pulled himself up through the windowsill.
He held his breath and scanned the room.
Taekjoo let out a sigh.
He couldn’t hide his disappointment. The last room on the third floor was empty, making all his efforts futile. The room seemed to have been empty all this time.
Taekjoo looked to the side to check out the other rooms.
Given the sheer size of the manor, each room was huge, and it wasn’t easy to move to the right next one.
Could he find the two ministers and Psikh Bogdanov within the time limit?
Taekjoo was feeling apprehensive, but then he heard a buzz in his ear.
- Hey. Where are you?