Chapter 57: Assassin David Wells
The name spoken by the patient greatly surprised David.
He also didn't expect to hear Pushkin's name here.
As the person in charge of the Tarasov organization in the Princeton area, David really didn't expect this guy to have a penchant for married women.
But no matter what, he's a dead man walking—not even divine intervention can save him now!
...
After his shift ended, David found the residence where Pushkin was meeting the married woman, based on the information provided by the patient.
This residence was far from the bustling downtown and looked very secluded.
It should be a private safe house Pushkin specifically used for extramarital affairs.
The private residence occupied a very large area.
There were many bodyguards wearing earpieces and black suits patrolling back and forth at the entrance of the property.
Through the tattoos occasionally visible on the backs of the bodyguards' hands, it could basically be confirmed that these guys were all members of the Tarasov organization.
Looking at the bulges at their waists, basically everyone was armed.
Furthermore, the positions of these visible bodyguards were very strategic; each position could quickly establish crossfire, providing comprehensive suppression against incoming threats.
At the same time, there were channels outside the windows of the distant house, and it appeared every window had steel shutters installed.
They could be lowered in case of emergency to prevent breaches.
If the security level for top government officials in the United States could be considered level 10,
Then the security level here could reach at least level 7, which was not something ordinary skills could penetrate.
David didn't know how McCall, as a former DIA operative, had bypassed so much security to enter the residence in the original timeline.
That part was depicted quite vaguely in the movie.
However, he had other methods.
Just at this moment, a Rolls-Royce with a Spirit of Ecstasy hood ornament slowly drove into the area.
David used his phone's rear camera with 50x zoom to confirm that Pushkin was in the car.
...
Then came the long waiting period—after all, true hunters never lack patience.
As expected, two hours later, Pushkin received news that his primary operations were under attack, and he immediately furiously dispatched personnel to provide support.
The security personnel inside Pushkin's private residence significantly decreased after the commotion.
A considerable portion of the personnel split into two groups and rushed to the docks and the counterfeit currency operation for support.
The previously robust security system immediately showed vulnerabilities.
At this time, the security level of the house could at most be considered level 5.
Now it was time to act.
David, as usual, raised the Bluetooth earpiece in his hand toward the street corner camera and said:
"Machine, you know what to do, right?"
Then David put the Bluetooth earpiece in his ear.
Next, he took out the black ski mask he had prepared earlier and pulled it over his head, disguising himself as a common thug.
Then, after checking that the suppressed Glock Reese had acquired from some unknown black market deal was functioning properly, he tucked it into his waistband.
Finally, David took a deep breath, held a machete for show in his left hand, and strode toward the entrance of the house.
Seeing someone openly walking toward them wearing a mask at night, smiles appeared in the eyes of the patrolling Tarasov bodyguards.
Only an idiot would launch an attack on an open road without any cover.
Even more, only an idiot would come out to commit robbery with just a machete.
In America, high gun ownership rates weren't just talk.
They had at least ten thousand ways to turn this idiot in front of them into Swiss cheese!
From their perspective, this kid deliberately dressed as a thug was incredibly stupid.
It's 2022 now—who still wears a mask and carries a knife to rob people?
This kid probably watched too many B-movies, right?
And he's using a machete? Is he serious? This is way too low-rent.
Come to think of it, they, standing in front of this kid, were the real professionals!
The bodyguards wouldn't pass up this kind of entertainment.
The bodyguard standing at the main entrance drew the gun from his waist, deliberately placed it in a conspicuous spot, and then said:
"Kid with the mask, are you lost? The psych ward is three blocks that way, hahaha."
Another bodyguard also drew his pistol, aiming at David's left and right legs with a grin:
"Hey, it's really been a while since we've seen such a clueless punk around here. Should we shoot his left leg first or his right leg?"
The remaining bodyguard at the main entrance grinned lewdly:
"Can't we shoot the middle leg? As long as the ass is intact, it's fine."
As the group bantered, David finally heard a somewhat stuttering female voice in his ear.
"Twelve o'clock... direction, three... o'clock direction, ten o'clock direction."
David grinned, didn't hesitate, immediately enhanced his physical abilities, and then threw the machete in his hand onto the ground with a clang.
Then, while the three bodyguards were distracted by the machete clattering to the ground, he drew his pistol and began firing.
Seeing the dark muzzle, the three bodyguards immediately realized something was wrong, but before they could wipe the smiles off their faces—
Pfft pfft pfft!
Three suppressed gunshots rang out.
The bodyguards dropped to the ground instantly, maintaining their gun-holding posture even in death.
Their minds were forever fixated on the thought 'this kid has a gun.'
Then David fired preemptively toward the empty three o'clock direction, and a thousandth of a second after David fired, a head suddenly appeared there.
It looked as if he had appeared specifically to intercept the bullet.
Bang!
The sound of a heavy object hitting the ground rang out.
This guy didn't understand how he was shot until he died.
He had just heard faint gunfire and was preparing to come over for support.
As a result, he took a bullet before even seeing anyone.
The same was true for the ten o'clock direction.
The voice coming from the earpiece also became smoother and smoother afterward.
The security cameras spread around the mansion had now become the grim reaper marking their doom.
The corpses on the ground slowly accumulated over time, until David entered the mansion, at which point the predictive reporting from the earpiece stopped.
One reason was that there were no living people left in the outer courtyard.
The second was that there weren't many electronic devices in Pushkin's house, so the Machine lost its eyes.
When unable to obtain sufficient information, even with supercomputing capabilities, the Machine found it difficult to function.
The rest could only be done by David himself.
David removed his earpiece, and immediately elegant jazz music filled his ears.
This Pushkin certainly knew how to enjoy himself—the 360-degree surround sound in this house was so good that he couldn't even hear the suppressed Glock gunshots outside.
In other words, Pushkin didn't even know there was an extra angel of death in the house right now.
This was undoubtedly good news for David.
David ascended the marble staircase step by step; the walls along the stairs were covered with portraits of Pushkin.
Well, it wouldn't be long before Pushkin's memorial photo would also be hanging on the wall.
David quickly arrived on the second floor.
He saw that in the second-floor hall, two blindfolded women with graceful figures, wearing nothing, were dancing sensually to the music.
Meanwhile, Pushkin was lying on a nearby sofa with his eyes closed, enjoying the service of another kneeling woman.
Behind him, another woman was cradling his head against her chest, lowering her head and meticulously cleaning his ears.
Tsk, he really knows how to live.
David, who was inexplicably in a blind spot, observed with detachment, then raised his gun and began firing indiscriminately.
There was no mercy, only death.
Assassin Protocol Two: Eliminate all witnesses at the scene.
The sound of bodies hitting the ground immediately startled Pushkin, who was enjoying himself.
When Pushkin opened his eyes, he saw that the woman who had been cleaning his ears with a feather suddenly had a horrifying bloody hole in her forehead.
Drops of fresh blood dripped directly from her drooping head into his mouth.
Pushkin subconsciously tasted it with his tongue—it tasted metallic.
Only then did he suddenly realize that this person was dead! Someone had broken in!
Pushkin didn't dare make any movement, afraid of provoking the assassin at this moment.
He tried to use words to delay the killer's actions.
"Do you know who I am? If you kill me, you'll be in serious trouble too.
How about you just turn around and leave, and we'll pretend nothing happened?"
Pushkin waited for a long time without hearing a response, so he boldly straightened up and looked forward.
The assassin's shadow was no longer in sight—it seemed this killer had just come to warn him.
Pushkin immediately shouted for bodyguards while reaching under the sofa, trying to grab the submachine gun hidden there.
But a sudden burst of intense pain interrupted his movement.
When he tremblingly raised his hand to his eyes, he discovered that two of his fingers were gone!
Now his hand was truly bloody.
"Ahhh!!!"
A scream rang out, but soon, the scream was muffled.
Because a cold gun barrel was stuffed into his mouth.
Pushkin looked at the guy in the black ski mask who had reappeared in front of him, and his eyes immediately showed a look of pleading.
He desperately shook his head, begging the other party to spare him.
At the same time, he was desperately hoping that a bodyguard would hear his shouts and, like cavalry arriving, blow the head off the assassin in front of him.
But in reality, he could only watch in terror as the other party's finger slowly and steadily pulled the trigger.
This feeling of being so close to death made every second he remained alive pure torment.
Splat!
A spray of blood splattered onto Pushkin's self-portrait hanging behind him.
Looking at Pushkin, who maintained a look of terror with his brains blown out, David was very satisfied.
Destroying other people's families—this is the consequence, the consequence of dying in terror.
After completing all this, David went to Pushkin's study and installed the hacking program written by Finch on his computer.
Taking down the Tarasov organization's operations in Princeton was far from over—it could only be considered a perfect resolution if their protection network was also dismantled.
Just as David accessed Pushkin's encrypted files and saw the numerous bribery records, the notification in his mind changed again.
[Salvation Grand Ambition Branch Hidden Progress: Eliminate government officials associated with the Tarasov organization in Princeton, Completion (0/2).]
Hidden objective?
David hadn't expected this action of his to actually trigger a hidden objective.
Then it seems it's time to contact Detective Carter.
After David finished copying all the information, he physically destroyed the computer's hard drive.
Without these records, the Tarasov organization's successors wouldn't be able to rebuild their network so quickly.
Taking advantage of this window, David could initiate a major purge within official circles.
...
The four-person team who reconvened at the abandoned library all brought different updates.
First was McCall, who had dealt with the oil smuggling vessel; according to what he learned, Teddy would arrive here by private jet in one day.
If they could acquire a surface-to-air missile, he could be responsible for shooting down this plane.
Of course, the Salvation Alliance currently didn't have the capability to obtain a SAM system.
Unless Finch found one of the following: Efraim Diveroli, David Packouz, Henri Thomet (arms dealers), or Yuri Orlov (Lord of War), this would be possible.
Next was Reese, who went to deal with the counterfeit currency operation; he caught a corrupt detective, Lionel Fusco, there and successfully turned him into an informant within the NYPD.
Next was Finch, who stayed at the base; among the names David asked him to monitor, he found the whereabouts of one of them—Eddie Morra.
A struggling writer, Finch saw absolutely nothing of value in him.
He even suspected that David wanted to find him to write down everyone's experiences as a novel.
But David still asked Finch for his address and stated frankly that he would visit Eddie and try to recruit him into the Salvation Alliance.
Although Finch was puzzled, thinking that David might have glimpsed some future scenario, he handed over the address as requested.
Finally, David handed over the copied bribery intelligence to Finch, asking him to find trustworthy contacts to leak this information.
Seeing this intelligence, Finch finally understood what David had done tonight.
He actually went after Pushkin alone?!
This was too dangerous—one should know that David's condition wasn't good when they met last night.
Finch immediately remembered the targeted therapy David had asked him to locate that morning, and an encouraging thought flashed through his mind:
"Your brain tumor has been effectively suppressed?"
David nodded:
"Yes, my life has been temporarily extended."
Finch said with genuine happiness:
"That's excellent. Being able to live well is better than anything.
But there's bad news—the pharmaceutical company denied having any new targeted therapy.
I'm afraid you'll still have to obtain subsequent medication by working through the High Table."
Denying the experimental drug?
David had anticipated this result, and hearing it now still brought some disappointment.
But it didn't matter—after all, he was only one target away from completing the branch objective of the Salvation Grand Ambition.
By then, even without the new targeted therapy, his condition should improve.
Thinking of this, while his mind was still relatively clear, David began assigning the next stage objectives to the team:
"Alright, let's discuss what our team needs to do next.
First, we must constantly monitor for Teddy's arrival; he comes from the High Table's enforcement division, and his capabilities are not to be underestimated. If there's an opportunity when he's alone, don't hesitate—just eliminate him!
Second, dealing with corrupt officials may encounter many obstacles. I suggest not getting bogged down trying to imprison them all; those with significant influence can be eliminated directly through targeted strikes!
Finally, if there is spare capacity and it doesn't affect the current operations, irrelevant numbers can be monitored.
Of course, the priority must absolutely not be confused—save the many first, then save the few!"
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