NOVEL NEXT Chapter 567
The city center veiled in mist within the desert is breathtakingly dreamlike.
The beige-toned stone building, dripping with sweat, is an apartment from the 40s. Rugs that have lost their pile, a worn-out telephone in the corner of a room, and a fabric sofa with tears here and there lay scattered in disarray.
When the wind blows, the outdated curtains release the dust they have held onto, and the old rug, just like the ones you see in grandma’s house, emits groans of protest and murky breaths.
A sickly yellow light flickers across the windows, creating a gloomy atmosphere.
Giorgi, who stood before the broken telephone, covered the receiver with his hand and looked up.
“…The information agent from the local police confirmed it. A gunshot was reported early in the morning from an apartment near the slums, and a foreign corpse was found there.”
“Have they identified the body?”
“They say the identity is still unconfirmed, but they believe it’s a Caucasian, a man in his 40s to 50s.”
As Sandor, who was loitering inside the residence, caught Oksana, who was preparing biscuits in the kitchen, their eyes met.
Meanwhile, Kiril, waiting by the window as if expecting someone, turned his face with a complex expression and approached the man who occupied a corner.
“Thank you for coming such a long way. Let’s disperse for now.”
“Does that mean the operation is canceled?”
A man, burly and clad in shabby padding, asked.
Kiril responded with a sigh that was not quite a sigh.
“…Understood.”
At the man’s gesture, people who had been casually with their arms crossed began gathering their belongings one by one, folding a short stock and laying it on the floor, stacking magazines and cartridges neatly on top.
Once they strapped the gun cases over their shoulders, they stood up. The members of the Operations Team from the Imperial Guard HQ held identification and communication devices handed to them by the support staff of the 6th Department and, after leaving a note saying, ‘We will lie low in this residence for a few days,’ exited the apartment.
“……”
The once bustling apartment quickly fell silent.
After a contemplative pause, Ekaterina slowly leaned her head against the old sofa and closed her eyelids.
*
Failure.
The unique identifier ‘Domoboy’ did not show up at the meeting point.
After evading his tail, he was ultimately discovered as a corpse in some apartment in the slums.
Cause of death: gunshot.
A bullet to the back of the head penetrated the skull and exited above the eyebrow, cutting off his breath.
Why did Domoboy flee? Who killed him?
No one could answer those questions. With the subject deceased, there would be no way to uncover the truth surrounding his death.
The reasons were a mystery.
*
That afternoon, Petrogard was beautiful.
Ekaterina found herself back here, just as she had left, completely broke. Her empty hands gripped the tiny handle as she passed the immigration office.
Clunking along, the sensation of her luggage shaking left and right as it brushed against the cobbled terrain was vivid. The subtly uncomfortable vibrations continued until a teammate took over the handle.
“Team Leader, what happened?”
One of the investigation team staff, who came to greet her, laid down a lead in hopes of offering consolation, but the answer never came, contrary to expectations.
Sitting silently in the back seat, Ekaterina didn’t utter a word, and neither did her subordinate as he held the steering wheel.
The team leader.
No, now a manager, the former superior didn’t seem in the mood to entertain silly jokes or chitchat about recent office happenings.
As the official car began speeding down the tarmac, the Information Investigation Officer, who had come to meet Ekaterina from HQ, awkwardly broke the silence.
“While you were away on your business trip, the company atmosphere has greatly changed. You will find out soon enough, Manager.”
The double agent’s escape plan had fallen through.
Zigmund was shot dead, and the confidential information he was supposed to deliver had left no trace behind.
Operational failures are not new, but this case represented a painful loss for the Imperial Guard HQ. They had failed without even having the chance for a proper interrogation; there had never been a more perfect failure.
“We’re trying to find out why the defector from the Royal Intelligence Department was killed, who did it, and how. With the help of the members from Department 2 over there.”
“……”
“However, since the investigative command authority lies with the Republic of Ashtistan, we don’t anticipate anything coming up soon. Right now, every investigative agency, from the Law Enforcement Corps to the Security Council, is in total disarray.”
Zigmund’s death sparked many changes—mostly in negative directions.
A senior official from the enemy’s Information Agency was found dead in the middle of the capital, and it was a gunshot death at that.
Given that the intelligence lines had no idea he had even entered the country, disputes over accountability were bound to break out.
The Law Enforcement Corps purged many of the intelligence department’s personnel, which was the result of shifting blame onto another agency, and their “hot potato” strategy seemed to work at first glance.
However, the moment the filth they had pushed overseas for decades was publicly exposed.
It was as if the goddess of victory, who momentarily posed in their favor, finally shut her eyes.
“They say the office staff down below is a war zone. I wonder how they managed to munch down so much…. Tsk.”
Muttering to himself, a team member suddenly glanced at the rearview mirror. Ekaterina was still silently staring out of the window.
“Where could they have slipped? Did the disgruntled company go off and report the Security Council?”
“Must’ve just had bad luck.”
“……”
A sigh, possibly from someone, drifted softly.
Ekaterina, who had been looking out the window, relaxed her clenched jaw.
Before they knew it, they had arrived at their destination.
A building that solemnly overlooked Zherzhinsky Square.
The main office of the Imperial Guard HQ came into view.
*
“So that’s how it is.”
When the lengthy debriefing concluded, Director Ilya began in a grave tone.
He had already seen the report that came from Shizuya four days ago. It served to announce Zigmund’s obituary while simultaneously reporting a failed mission.
Ekaterina, who had authored the report, was now facing Director Ilya.
“Unbelievable news. It’s haunting that a legendary man, who had troubled us all like a nightmare, would pass so simply.”
Known for his rare emotional expressions, Ilya was famously difficult to read.
However, today he seemed slightly sad.
Sitting at his desk, he mumbled to himself before suddenly falling silent.
Without even tearing the plastic off, he set the report down beside an untouched blue cigarette, pouring himself a drink from the bottle of red-labeled ‘No. 21’ vodka floating with shattered ice, taking a sip.
“……”
Ekaterina recalled that Zigmund had a preference for certain brands of cigarettes and alcohol.
No. 21 vodka, a designation reserved for the royal family. A glowing representative of Franjiya.
The faded report from the Imperial Guard HQ detailed Zigmund’s likeness to No. 21 and Golouaz Caporal. With the familiar script accompanying it.
Ilya opened his mouth.
“They found these cigarettes at the crime scene.”
He pointed to the blue cigarettes on his desk. Ekaterina knew that Director Ilya was a strict non-smoker.
Nodding slightly, Ilya continued naturally.
His voice carried a hint of weariness.
“Seems he smoked to his heart’s content at the end.”
The Golouaz Caporal was gently pushed aside, and a droplet rolled down the glass as No. 21 was poured in.
“……Zigmund was the most steadfast believer I’ve ever seen among all the information officers I’ve known. He was a man who might delay having children for the sake of his country or spend his life away from that same country if it conflicted with his conscience.”
Gulping the drink down in one go,
Director Ilya filled his glass anew.
“Others might think he sold out classified information for money, but at least Zigmund was someone far beyond such triviality.”
“……”
“We didn’t just lose a defector; we lost a friend.”
Ekaterina said nothing.
It wasn’t because of the failure of the operation. Behind many achievements of the Imperial Guard, many more failures existed.
Nor was it the death that ushered sorrow. Victory and defeat always come at a cost, and blood is merely one of those costs.
While the deaths of thousands could birth a great empire, the deaths of millions were nothing but a mere statistic.
However, the death of one individual is an unfathomable tragedy for someone.
“It’s foolish that he chose to walk down the road to his own death—completely un-Zigmund-like.”
His words sounded like a sigh. No lengthy dialogue was necessary.
“Ashtistan has gotten a lot noisier. Ever since the exposure, the Law Enforcement Corps has been cornered. It seems Commander Darius’s situation will be quite precarious.”
Or perhaps it was already at a point where nothing could be done anymore.
“If the top commander of the Law Enforcement Corps, Darius, goes missing, the Republic won’t be able to carry out its hardline policies. I’ve heard rumors that desert friends are already lurking around the entrance of the Abas Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Whoever’s behind it seems to have something up their sleeve. Before long, western envoys will come looking for Shizuya.”
Be it an internal political struggle within the Republic of Ashtistan or incitement by foreign intelligence agencies, Ekaterina didn’t care a bit.
That wasn’t what was important.
“There are many strange aspects to Domoboy’s death.”
“……”
“I’ve sent the detailed account of his movements before and after his death in a report. The debriefing was done the other day.”
“I’ve read the report you submitted. Also, the interim reports up to now.”
Director Ilya continued in a calm tone.
“I must apologize first. There’s a secret I didn’t disclose to you.”
Before Zigmund fled, he had sent one final communication to Ilya. Not over the standard lines of Department 1, but through a line exclusively used by Ilya and Zigmund only.
At that time, Ilya learned that Zigmund planned to bring his family over.
“I didn’t circulate it within Department 1, only reported it to the Chief over the phone. Zigmund was set to turn over some information in exchange for ensuring his family’s safety.”
Initially, the head of the Imperial Guard had expressed concern.
Considering the anticipated tracking by the Royal Intelligence Department, it would be beyond the authority of the Imperial Guard to rescue not just Zigmund but also his relatives.
Putting aside diplomatic and political afterthoughts, executing a high-difficulty operation would add an immense burden on the field commanders.
However, when the information Zigmund brought was confirmed, the head of the Imperial Guard gave approval without a second thought.
“What was that information? The one Domoboy was meant to bring?”
“……”
Director Ilya answered.
“It was material about someone you know and I know.”
“……”
“He even ran into Zigmund recently. In Shizuya. At that very bar you were at.”
Clink, as the ice lightly melted and clinked against the glass.
This time, she didn’t say a word. It was a different kind of silence.
As Ilya observed Ekaterina, who met his gaze in silence, he set down his glass and asked,
“There are two choices ahead.”
Two fingers spread across the desk.
“One is to return to the duty of rectifying military discipline that I mentioned before. Being someone recommended by the royal family, upon completing this task, you can go wherever you wish. Be it my department or upstairs.”
And the other.
“The other is to return home.”
Once he made that statement, Ilya gently grasped his glass again.
“…Your Servbo ID from that last business trip should still be valid, right?”
“Yes.”
After draining his last sip, he pressed his palms together.
Then, gazing into the unwavering eyes of the other, he added briefly,
“There’s no need to hear your answer.”
*
Wrapping up a long day.
I returned to the hotel like a weary husband, turning the doorknob with my key.
“…What the hell?”
Why is the whole room on fire?