3. The Nuclear Man #4
Zhenya’s voice followed the buzz. Only then did Taekjoo remember the earpiece in his ear. He perched himself on the windowsill to catch his breath.
“Wasting time left and right.”
- If you’re done having fun, listen carefully.
What do you mean—Taekjoo was about to ask, but he stopped when he heard the door creak open.
Then came the sound of it closing again, echoing through the spacious room.
Taekjoo had no idea what was going on. Still, he held his breath and focused on the movement inside the room.
The voices were softer than the sound of the door shutting, but Taekjoo could still make out part of the conversation.
Taekjoo picked up on multiple voices—at least three, by his estimate. Filtered through the earpiece, the voices sounded slightly distorted. That made it difficult to tell whether Psikh Bogdanov was among them. He decided to listen more to their discreet conversation.
- How is the SS-29 progressing?
- We’re still waiting for Sonchev’s approval. He’s looking for an expert to fix it. Judging by how he skipped today’s party, it seems to be keeping him busy. He said he’s gonna give us a call soon, so let’s wait and see.
- What does North Korea say about the issue?
- They didn’t expect this to happen. The issue never came up during experimental trials.
A smile spread across Kwon Taekjoo’s lips.
In Russia, when something was named in the form of SS followed by two digits, then it mostly referred to ICBM, intercontinental ballistic missiles.
For example, the official name of Satan, the most formidable ICBM during the Soviet era, was SS-18.
Therefore, SS-29, the subject of the current conversation, was very likely to be a nuclear weapon as well.
And the “Sonchev” mentioned was a Slavic mafia.
That meant a nuclear weapon named SS-29 was now in the hands of the Sonchev group.
And naturally, the mafia had close ties with the Bogdanovs.
Otherwise, there was no way that a rendezvous like this would happen in the Bogdanov residence.
What was more, North Korea seemed to be involved in the development of this weapon. Could SS-29 be Anastasia?
- Are the Americans moving yet?
- No, they’re still quiet. We took care of their rat, so they’d have a good idea of what’s going on here. But it hasn’t changed a thing for them. They don’t even have the balls to come and retrieve the body.
Were they talking about Morgan? A Russian nuclear weapon in development, a North Korean intervention, American vigilance, and a dead spy. Every piece fits the puzzle. Yet, it was all circumstantial. There was no concrete evidence.
The conversation paused, and the door cracked open and shut again. Did a new speaker join them? Taekjoo was doing guesswork when Zhenya gave him an overview of what was going on.
- Bogdanov just left the room to take a call.
Ah—Taekjoo nodded but then tilted his head in confusion. He’d been focused on the wiretapped conversation too much to ask this question earlier, but where was Zhenya right now? How could he know what Psikh Bogdanov was doing in real time?
“How do you know that?”
- A lady named Olga offered to show me around the upper floors. Didn’t see a reason to say no. So, I followed her and planted a bug in the door knob of the room where they’re holding their little meeting right now.
Olga would be Vissarion Romanovich’s youngest daughter. Olga Vissarionovna Bogdanova.
At this point, Taekjoo became more curious about Zhenya than about Anastasia. Who exactly was he, to get invited to a party like this? How could he roam freely inside the tightly guarded Bogdanov manor?
“And where are you right now?”
- Surveillance security in the basement.
“Doing what?”
- Watching. Them—
Zhenya paused, then added in the amused tone.
—and how you nearly somersaulted your way to your grave on the third floor.
Taekjoo could hear the laugh in his tone. He glanced around, looking for something. And soon enough, he found what he was looking for—a surveillance camera in the corner of a wall. Taekjoo raised his middle finger at the camera. Laughter came from the earpiece.
Zhenya, still chuckling, teased him.
- Why are you there anyway?
Taekjoo stayed silent—he had no excuse to offer anyway. Taekjoo checked his watch. It was almost three o’clock in the morning. Psikh left to take a call. What kind of call could possibly take precedence over his mission? The conversation Taekjoo had heard earlier filled his mind.
“The call Psikh went out to answer, was it from Sonchev?”
- Who knows. I don’t think it’s a bad idea to check it out.
I remember seeing a telephone at the end of the second-floor hallway earlier when I was getting a tour of the mansion.
There’s another one in Bogdanov’s office too.
The two phones are on separate lines, of course, meaning someone has to be physically present in the office to answer and overhear the call.
“But you’ll patch me, right?”
Taekjoo asked, glancing downward. The end of the second-floor hallway—it wasn’t that far from where he was. All he had to do was open the door of the room right below. He’d still have to be aware of the guards, but getting to the telephone itself didn’t seem like a problem.
- Sure, as long as you could get to the phone from where you are in eight seconds.
Zhenya must’ve already bugged the line. Now, it was all about the right time. Taekjoo would have to get to the phone in eight seconds and pick up the receiver at the exact same moment Bogdanov picked up the one in his office. Easier said than done—one wrong move, and he'd be neck-deep in trouble.
Taekjoo nodded at the camera. Then, he suddenly took out a piece of chewing gum and popped it in his mouth.
Taekjoo stepped on the windowsill and stood up.
He felt the flat wall pressing against his back, as if urging him to go.
He couldn’t afford to strap himself with safety gear.
Eight seconds was never a long time, to begin with.
Kwon Taekjoo sucked in his breath and leaped toward the ground.
As he fell, he grabbed onto something. It was the second-floor windowsill. His joints, starting from his fingers to his wrist, all the way to his elbow, felt sore from the impact. But Taekjoo clenched his jaw and pulled himself up. Three seconds flat.
- Impressive.
Zhenya watched and chuckled, clearly entertained. Taekjoo was out here, almost dying trying. Meanwhile, his ass of a partner was snickering in front of a monitor.
Taekjoo chose to ignore him and pulled out a lighter.
It looked like an ordinary lighter—nothing special.
But once he flipped the cap back and pulled the flint wheel, a thin, long pipe came out.
Taekjoo bent it to make a 7, then lit the lighter.
A spark flashed at the end of the pipe. First, Taekjoo stuck the gum he was chewing on the window.
Then, with the gum at the center, Taekjoo drew a circle using the pipe lighter.
When he was done, he gently pulled the circle part of the window by holding on to the chewing gum.
The circular piece of glass came off silently.
After placing the glass gently on the windowsill, Taekjoo slipped his hand through the hole and unlatched the window, which opened with a soft click. He scanned the room and went inside.
Silently and quickly, Taekjoo approached the door.
He put his ear against the surface and listened for the world on the other side.
It was quiet. He pushed open the door, careful not to make a sound, and came out.
He looked to his right, and at the end of the hallway, there was a coffee table.
The telephone Zhenya mentioned sat above it.
Taekjoo moved smoothly toward the phone when Zhenya started speaking again.
- I’m gonna give you a sign—don’t miss it.
Taekjoo nodded, his hand now placed on the receiver of the phone. Zhenya began the countdown.
Tri. Taekjoo steadied his breath.
Dva. He looked back once more to check that no one was there.
Odin. And with that, the fingers tightly wrapped around the receiver.
- Pick it up.
And Taekjoo did, without a moment’s delay. But all he heard was silence. Nothing but silence came from both the receiver and the earpiece. Not a single hint suggested that someone was on the other end of the line. His lips felt dry.
The silence dragged on.
Did he mess it up? Taekjoo dearly held onto the receiver, waiting to hear whatever sound.
Then, as if his silent prayer had been answered, Psikh Bogdanov’s voice came through.
- Impeccable timing. We were just talking about it.
- I just finalized the deal with them as well.
- So, what now?
- North Korea’s gonna send over an engineer.
- Good, good. And did they say when?
- Tomorrow, right away. The engineer will be in Moscow in two days.
- They better make sure he doesn’t have a tail with him, unlike the last time.
- The man’s gonna be disguised as a Chinese tourist this time. Even the Americans would have a hard time noticing anything.
- We’ll see. Keep me updated.
- Yes, sir.
The call ended. They spoke in deliberately vague terms, avoiding any names—meant only for each other to understand. It showed just how cautious they were, which gave Taekjoo the confirmation he needed.
Taekjoo remained still, waiting for Bogdanov to hang up first. But just then, a sharp, screeching noise blasted through the earpiece.
“...!”
A surge of pain shot through his head, sharp and unbearable—as if it might burst open.
Taekjoo dropped to his knees, clutching his head.
He tore out the earpiece, but the sound had already taken root, ringing in his ears and through his skull.
Cold sweat broke out across his skin. A shiver ran down his spine.
The sudden shock flipped his world upside down.
His heart pounded, his chest heaving. Taekjoo didn’t know why the earpiece had gone haywire, but one thing was clear—the noise had been loud enough for Bogdanov to hear.
BANG. BANG. BANG BANG. BANG.
And when it came to gut feelings, Taekjoo was never wrong. He heard shots fired right outside the residence. The radio commotion must have revealed Zhenya’s location as well. Taekjoo had to conceal himself first.
“Damn it.”
Taekjoo could barely get up. His legs felt weak.
He ran down the hallway, his hand still supporting his aching head.