Starting from South America, speeding through the world

Chapter 98 Yellow Bird
6:12 a.m., northern suburbs of Sevastopol.

Mikhail stood at the bottom of the stone steps, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a cigarette case, which he never lit.

The back window rolled down, and his wife leaned out, her face pale: "Don't forget what you promised us."

"I won't."

“You said you would come to Vienna as soon as things were over.”

“Yes.” Mikhail nodded, trying to make his tone sound like a promise rather than an explanation.

"The children will miss you very much."

"me too."

The vehicle drove out of the iron gate, turned onto the tree-lined road, and eventually disappeared into the low-hanging morning mist of winter.

This house is located on the edge of the old town; it is inconspicuous, yet quiet and private.

The building itself is not luxurious; it is a brick and stone structure.

The interior is minimalist, with an old Viennese piano and three wine cabinets in the living room.

Mikhail walked into the study, sat back in his chair, took a deep breath, and opened the file folder in front of him.

The railway map lay back on the table, the familiar handwriting, lines, and numbers like echoes left from all the nights of the past decades.

Now, all of this has finally converged into a path with no way out.

He was waiting for a phone call.

Or rather, they are waiting for confirmation.

This presents him with an opportunity to completely break free from Boris's control after Igor's death.

Those three nuclear warheads are his biggest bargaining chip for the future.

On the surface, he handed over the decision-making power to Boris.

Five minutes after Igor Manor is breached, the coordinates will be sent out, allowing for the killing and looting of goods, thus ending Igor's influence in one fell swoop.

Boris believed it.

Of course he'll believe it.

He was eager to close the net and extract the largest political legacy from the empire left by Igor.

But the real plan was never to hand over nuclear weapons.

Instead, they let the wolf into the house, and then used the opportunity to clear the area.

After Boris's men and Igor's men fought to a standstill at the estate, and after he thought he had the nuclear bomb in his grasp...

His men will quietly intervene from the flank, cut off the power lines, take control of the carriages, and take people and goods away together.

Of course, these nuclear warheads won't stay in Sevastopol for long.

He's not stupid.

Boris Johnson would immediately seek revenge after failing to take over.

Even if such a thing is left untreated for just one day, the risk of exposure will double.

Therefore, he prepared a good place for them.

The railway transshipment system under the Nunn-Luga Agreement.

According to the agreement, Ukraine must transfer all nuclear weapons inherited from the Soviet Union to Russia and accept US supervision and financial and technical assistance for their dismantling.

This entire process is one of the administrative systems he is most familiar with.

The train departed in a closed convoy, with a transparent route and open scheduling, and was jointly escorted by the military before finally entering Russian territory for delivery.

All operational steps are monitored and reported, making it appear extremely secure.

But precisely because of this, the "safest place" is often the "easiest place to hide things."

No one dared to stop a train marked "Nuclear Warhead Transfer".

Boris dared not.

Not to mention his mercenaries who rely on black market intelligence and have only a superficial understanding of national procedures.

Mikhail is playing this card.

He would secretly slip those three warheads into a "registered" transport convoy at Kamine station on the night of the transfer.

It appears to be completely compliant: it has a serial number, documents, a joint transfer order, and complete security inspection records.

But it wasn't in the plan.

Just then, the phone rang as expected.

"Are you sure the goods can be delivered?" the man asked, cutting straight to the point without any pleasantries.

“It doesn’t need to be delivered to the final destination,” Mikhail replied. “It can be unhooked midway.”

“What do you want to do?” “Seventy-four kilometers before the Moldova border, there is an old hub called the ‘Dnest Industrial Transit Line’.”

"It was almost obsolete after 1985. Now the scheduling relies on a manual daily schedule and there is no network connection."

"Are you planning to stop the train?"

"It's not a complete stop, it's a vehicle malfunction, so we're temporarily decoupling it."

"The chief editor team continues. The target cargo is attached to the spare aircraft head and transferred to the branch line. My people are there to meet it."

Where are you transferring to?

“The terrain on the eastern side of Surzuka is complex. After the militia station was withdrawn, no one patrolled anymore.”

After a moment of silence, the other person exclaimed in a complicated tone, "You're absolutely insane."

"I don't object to your interpretation."

“Do you know what you’re doing? This isn’t weapons, nor is it intelligence—it’s something that will drive everyone who knows about it to hunt you down.”

"Of course I know."

Upon hearing this, the man thought for a few seconds and then said, "I don't want to know how you're going to handle those things afterward, but I can guarantee one thing."

"."

"For formations departing from Sevastopol, I will use a standard decommissioning list as cover."

"The approvals are all genuine, taken from military files, and no one will doubt them."

"Which part is it mixed into?"

"The tail section, along with dozens of other retired warheads, had all the necessary procedures, seals, and documents complete."

Will someone take inventory along the way?

"will not."

"The escort team and Russian and American observers on this train only checked the first section."

"The rest rely on trust mechanisms. They've never made a mistake before, so they have no reason or energy to change anything."

"I see."

Upon hearing this, a long sigh came from the other end of the phone.

"I'll do this once, and only this once."

"I don't need you to do it a second time."

"You'd better really think that way."

The other person paused, then lowered their voice: "I worked in the railway system for forty years, from Kharkiv all the way to Kyiv."

"I've worked in the Ministry of Transport, the State Dispatch Center, the National Energy Transportation Coordination Council—I've been to every place you can think of."

"Do you know what this means, Misha?"

“I know you’re taking a risk,” Mikhail said calmly. “I’ve always known.”

“You still don’t know enough,” the man said coldly. “I’m risking my life for you.”

A slight noise came from the other end of the phone, as if the man had stood up, before continuing:

"So, do you understand why I agreed to your request?"

"Because of my father."

That is indeed one aspect.

"Back then, when I got into trouble in Tbilisi, he did everything he could to save me from being shot."

"I always remember."

"But this is now. The Soviet Union is finished, and the human relationships are gone."

Upon hearing this, Mikhail smiled and said, "Don't worry, eight million US dollars, in Liechtenstein's account."

"The first batch of funds arrived last night, didn't it?"

The man laughed too, his voice sounding more relaxed.

"Well, there's one last thing."

"At which station do you plan to arrange loading?"

Mikhail's gaze fell on the railway map spread out in front of him.

In the very center, there is a dot circled in red, which stands out prominently under the desk lamp.

He stared at that spot for a full five seconds before finally uttering a place name:
"Kamene".

(End of this chapter)