Capítulo 2053: Chapter 2030: Whistle
In the distance, the car lights could be seen, and Yarebin started the car, began moving forward, gradually picking up speed.
When there was about a kiloter left to et with the approaching convoy, Tarta spoke into the intercom solemnly, “Unable to accurately identify, prepare for indiscriminate attack, countdown, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Detonate number one.”
With a deafening roar, it seed even the sky trembled; dust flew everywhere, obscuring everything from view.
So things are uncontrollable, like the Black Demon’s aim to get Krulney out alive, but with the convoy traveling at high speed, just before dawn when darkness still lingered over the horizon, it was impossible to accurately identify the small text on the vehicles from their hiding spot.
Of course, if identification was absolutely necessary, there was a way: send soone to hide close to the road to monitor. But the Black Demon planned to solve the problem with bombs, so having anyone close to the road wasn’t an option.
“Detonate number two.”
Two bombs detonated, one in front and one in the back, but Tarta and his team set the bombs with precision; they wouldn’t blow the convoy away directly. Though the bombs were powerful enough, doing so would surely kill Krulney.
Though challenging, the Black Demon, after all, intended for Krulney to survive, so the chaotic explosions were indiscriminate attacks, yet their power was moderately controlled. The blasts seed terrifying but couldn’t cause substantive damage to the convoy.
Dust rose, and the ambushed convoy imdiately fell into chaos. The front vehicles attempted to accelerate through, the rear vehicles intended to reverse and retreat. Certainly, the primary instinct of the convoy was to protect Sarif within the convoy.
The large bombs were rely for creating chaos; the C4 glued to the road was the precision killing thod.
With a series of banging sounds, the two cars ahead were thrown up into the air as if held by a giant hand, flying four to five ters high before leveling out and landing, while another flipped forward and directly rolled onto the road.
C4 can be molded into any shape without losing power; this feature is simply a must-have for murder and plunder.
Tarta and Vasily precisely controlled each piece of C4’s detonation. In front of them was a complicated detonator, and to avoid simultaneously detonating all C4, they could only morize every number’s specific location, as any mistake could waste firepower and delay the operation.
But Tarta and Vasily absolutely would not make mistakes.
Yarebin personally drove a car, stepping on the brake, while Lebyazhef opened the car door, lay prone with a sniper rifle, and began shooting.
Only less than three hundred ters away, every shot Lebyazhef fired inevitably hit a driver.
Glewalev and Rostotsky exited the vehicle as well; Rostotsky dragged a large sniper rifle and lay prone to begin shooting, while Glewatov picked up an AK47 and started walking toward the convoy.
Amid explosions and gunfire, suddenly a whistle sounded, Yarebin whistled, drawing an AK47 from the passenger seat instead of his cane.
Yarebin whistling, opened the car door, then slowly walked toward the chaotic convoy.
Yarebin held the rifle horizontally, whistling the KGB Border Guard March, leisurely strolling toward the convoy.
The convoy started to retreat; at this point, Tarta also began sniping, while Vasily continued controlling the detonator.
Three snipers shooting, one controlling the detonator, Yarebin whistling as he walked, on the left side of the road, Glewatov on the right side, also holding his rifle horizontally, relaxed, like taking a stroll on his farm.
No order, no slogans, just the whistle of the KGB Border Guard March echoed in every Black Demon’s ear through the automatically picked-up ear microphones.
Glewatov also began whistling, harmonizing with Yarebin, then, the snipers shooting started whistling too.
Tarta consistently shot laterally at Sayyif’s car; that car was bulletproof, confirming Tarta’s judgnt that Sayyif was indeed inside, and once Vasily noticed, he imdiately detonated the C4 surrounding Sayyif’s vehicle.
Stumbling, Sayyif’s car ramd a stalled sedan, then rapidly retreated, while other vehicles remained and disembarked n to begin shooting.
Yarebin never interrupted his whistling, raised the gun, aid briefly, fired a shot, then continued whistling, walking, shooting, each shot dropping another target.
There was still C4 on the ground. Soon, realizing the attack was irresistible, the operable vehicles began retreating rapidly.
Only four cars escaped; none of the primary target’s utility vehicles eluded; either flipped by explosions or drivers were killed. Though on either side of the road was desert, without barriers, no car managed to escape into the desert.
Yarebin holding his gun, whistling, walked into the wreckage-laden convoy as if on an excursion.
There weren’t any wounded; dead bodies were all there was. While explosions caused casualties, the 12.7mm caliber sniper rifle was so powerful, anyone hit had no chance of surviving.
Walking to the sixth car in the convoy, one of the two surviving utility vehicles spared overturning, Yarebin approached, looked at the car’s number, then smiled, “Yes, it’s this one, we’re lucky.”
Car number six was everyone’s key focus, specifically speaking, post-blast ceased, each sniper concentrated on this target. Anyone inside capable of moving and not hooded had to be shot, an accidental bullet killing Krulney had no recourse, nor if Krulney was pre-emptively killed by those escorting him, was there anything to be done. It was like this; the Black Demon already did their utmost, but no one dared guarantee leaving with Krulney alive.
However, the ultimate goal was simply ensuring Krulney wouldn’t fall alive into enemies’ hands; beyond this, nothing further could be demanded.
Glewatov reached for the car door, unable to open it, circled to the driver’s seat, fired a burst of bullets into the window, smashing the glass with the gun’s butt, reached in, pushed aside a body leaning against the window, and after flipping a switch, Yarebin opened the door from behind.
Two shots fired, killing soone still squirming but unable to pull out a pistol, Yarebin spoke smilingly in English, “Are you dead yet?”
A man, hands bound behind, hooded, face down in the rear compartnt, imdiately shouted, his voice filled with delight but also genuine terror; a contradiction, yet these emotions truly coexist. He exclaid, “I swear to God, I told them nothing! Absolutely nothing!”
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