08:00 a.m, UTC+3 MSK, November 20, 2033

St Mary's Hospital, Minsk

Target: Colonel Molotov

Agents: Classified

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Three “Warlord” military trucks, ten off-road jeeps. A motorcade was driving forward in the ruins. Three trucks were kept in front, center, and rear formation. Amid the heavy smoke and snow from the wheels, several light pickups, with mounted RPK light machine gun, patrolling the convoy back and forth.

Minsk, Belarus. The Armageddon of Russian Civil War. Buildings, bodies, factories, all burning in the hell. The Russian government left here three weeks ago, and so the separatists, the "Day of Victory", and so the Chechnya, and so on, only rats rattling among the remains and tunnels, makes Minsk the perfect shelter of crime.

5: 00 a.m. GMT, which is, 8: 00 a.m. Moscow time, the convoy was then near St Mary's hospital. Slanting through the cracks in the building, the golden sunlight hurts people's eyes. It's time for the trade. The team leader put down his phone and made a gesture to the driver. An order was spread through the convoy. Three trucks were methodically dispersed as planned, parked in the east, south-west, and north-west corner of the hospital, waiting for further instructions.

A black Porsche pulled up from the back of the building, stopped in front of a marble statue in front of the hospital square. A middle-aged man got out of the car. He had thin hair and wore in smart suit. Accompanied by a number of armed bodyguards, the man walked towards the convoy.

"You're late." said the captain of the armed men. He was a tall guy, his voice was like a demon whispering.

"There are always accidents unexpected on the road," the man bowed. "In a war zone, anything can happen. I mean...... you'll forgive me for this, right? "

Although he was wearing a mask, the captain's eyes showed that he didn't want to understand. "Cash!” He uttered the word, stressing on every syllable.

Without making response at once, the middle-aged man looked around frowning his eyebrows.

"Where are the goods? I don't see them.”

"Pay the money first.” the captain said, “That's the rule here.”

"It's a lot of money," the middle-aged man insisted, his eyebrows tightened. "I have to make sure......"

"Fucking enough," the captain raised his voice, with his chin almost hitting the man's head. "Pay up. Be quick! No cheating, or it will be a burial place for you! "

The man flushed, and white steam was rising from his shivering nostrils. The bodyguards held up their weapons. "OK, OK." The man waved his hand with the forced smile. "Don't ruin the business.” He turned back speaking to a bodyguard, "Bring the money here.”

Meanwhile, there came a voice on the man’s earphone.

"What are you doing?"

The man looked back . "They want the money now," he said in a steady voice, not to be loud enough and arouse suspicion from the aremed men. "I think they must be angry now."

"Check the good, then cash, that's our deal," the voice continued. "Where is Molotov? We can't see him from here."

"I don't know. He is cautious. We haven’t found where he is yet."

"We must see Molotov in person. Go tell them, then we will pay."

"Roger that.”

The man took a black suitcase from the bodyguard, and walked towards the militants.

"We discussed it with our boss just now," the man said. "We agreed to pay partially first, then finish paying for the rest after checking the goods. On one condition, however, our boss wishes, in equal respect, to meet directly with Colonel Molotov. We only trust the colonel's reputation. "

"The colonel will not come out," the captain replied. "No discussion."

"If so, we regret to have to doubt your sincerity. As you can see, there is a special button on this safe. In five seconds, all the bills will be burnt to ashes. Nobody, gets paid. "The man said in a calm voice, " We don't expect a lose-lose result."

The captain glanced back into the jeep.

"Follow me."

He spat hard taking the man to go towards the jeep. Molotov tightened his fur coat a little and opened the window.

"I beg your pardon, I can't get out of the car," he said, shaking his hand with the man. "I don't mean to be rude, but there are so many enemies here. I have to be cautious."

"Of course, we fully understand your worries, because you are a......celebrity, known to a number of people."

"To many people want my head, so......I'm afraid, that Ilich did not make it clear…… Indeed, according to our prior agreement, we should provide you with the goods for inspection first. It's just......you see, our military has been in a really bad financial situation lately. We need money. The cash would be turned into supplies soon. It was against my will of making such a request. "

"In that case, I don't think there's any misunderstanding between us," said the man with eyebrows cleared, "especially with the guarantee of a man like you. Please check it, Colonel. "He glanced across each other's cheeks and handed the suitcase to Ilich,"2 million euros, all in new, unmarked cash. If all goes well after we have inspected the goods, we will continue to pay the rest. "

Molotov made a gesture to Ilich, who then walked backwards with the box in hand. "Bring it here!" Ilich shouted over the radio in Russian.

"Would you like to check it yourself?"

"When the goods are delivered to you for inspection, it will not be too late to make an inventory." Molotov grinned, seems unaturally, with his rotten black teeth. "Looks like we've done the deal, sir. Within ten minutes, you will receive what you want, and I, too, can serve my soldiers with the money.”

The man nodded politely and retreated.

"Have you seen Molotov?"

Continued the voice on the radio.

"Yes."

"Is it him?"

"Sure, I know very well the scar that passed through his right eye."

After making sure no one paid attention to him, the man whispered, "Even if he covered his whole face, I will still find that scar." "

"Well done."

"Any further instructions, Major?"

"Continue to stand by. If possible, try to hold them off and buy us some time."

The so-called Major replied, "We're gonna make a big noise."