214. The background of the killer

Nixon left the 'Madame de Pompeii' Club on Kahn Street at 4:45 p.m. that afternoon. The reason why the time of day is so clear is because Nixon habitually pinched his time to do things, especially in today's noisy times. Stout Santo will leave through another exit 5 minutes after he leaves.

Nixon, whistling and relaxed, walked along Kahn Street towards the Hotel des Nations, constantly moving in and out of the street shops on the way, occasionally scratching his head in front of the mirror for a while, bouncing his legs as if they were spring-loaded, walking on the side of the road with the unique steps of a black man, he had not shaved his head for a long time, and he still had a beard, which was usually scary enough, and he was afraid that the passers-by around him would run to a safe country.

The commotion, seeing Santo grinning in a dilapidated Nissan car a few dozen meters behind him, knew the killer too well, and knew that Nixon's debauched appearance was nothing more than a deliberate attempt to attract the attention of an unknown stalker, and then he was behind the yellow finch. But the black man's movements are too exaggerated.

In Santo's eyes, Nixon was a good killer, skilled, willing to spend a lot of money and able to solve some bloody incidents where Santo was inconvenient to show his face. He knew that he and Nixon could not be friends, but the two of them cherished each other and trusted each other.

Walking half a block along Karn Boulevard, Nixon threw his black bag on his back, walked to the side of the road and reached out to hail a taxi.

The traffic at this time is very congested, and the sound of car horns mixes with the sound of engines. But Santo is a master of tracking, and his skill at driving a car is so good that even if he is slow in traffic, he still doesn't arouse the anger of the grumpy Bogotá driver.

The taxi didn't stop at the Hotel des Nations, but drove straight past the front door towards Arc de Triomphe. In the back seat of the car, Nixon wondered if every city's capital had a place called the Arc de Triomphe. What is the triumph? The driver in the driver's seat in front of him hummed a few words from time to time to the sound of singing on the radio, and seemed to be in a good mood, probably having earned enough money for alcohol today—the lingering smell of alcohol in the carriage made Nixon frown.

"Here we are, sir!" The driver stopped next to a gray-walled brick building, an alley on Arc de Triomphe, with two rows of simply decorated bars with a mess of black and dark green on the gray walls, and a vivid portrait of Guevara in 1951, with a small beard and ill-fitting military uniform.

The guy who made the appointment was already sitting in the bar waiting, and it turned out that the name of the bar was 'Guevara in 151'. Inside, the red curtains divide the outside world from the bar, four large ceiling fans rotate slowly on the ceiling, the dim light flickers, and the tall Russian sits by the window, his hair combed back into a ponytail, presumably to hide the handful of hairs on the top of his head. Coming from Russia, Bishkov looked kind-hearted, but Nixon knew that behind the kindness was a ruthless and cunning heart.

In front of Pishkov was an empty bottle of rum, two-thirds of the way in the glass, and a Monte Cristo cigar in his mouth, which cost about a few dozen dollars a piece. When he saw Nixon come in, he greeted Nixon with a string of blue plumes of smoke.

Ordering a cocktail, Nixon took off his shirt. Pyshkov stretched out his free hand and touched his forehead, and looked at the logo on the inside of his jacket with a smile, "Yo, yes, it's not last year's style?" ”

"You even know the trademark." Nixon quipped, "I thought you would choose anything expensive, it's the nature of your nation." ”

"Don't talk nonsense, Nixon, don't talk short in front of the dwarf, you made me come all the way here just to show off your suit." Watching the waiter leave after bringing Nixon's cocktail, Pyshkov went straight to the point and asked a straight question. Thick fingers pinched the cigar and swirled it continuously.

Straightening the top button of his shirt, Nixon gently stroked the black bag on his side with one hand, and tapped lightly on the table with the other, thinking for a moment, "Kovalenko, your old friend, I have something you need to tell me." ”

"What a friend is not a friend! Bad friends are like shadows, you can't get rid of them on sunny days, and you can't see them on cloudy days. Pyshkov sighed knowingly, and made a look of sadness on his face, but then laughed again, "His little lover, Mina, is good, my God, she's hot, what a goblin." ”

After finishing speaking, Pishkov also licked his lips, took the wine on the table and drank it in one gulp, smacking his lips, "It's too light, it's too light." Far worse than the ups and downs of Tegarai. By the way, Nixon, you go on. ”

"Please, you seem to like you really like women." Nixon first teased, "I received news that Kovalenko's men are in Bogotá today and will launch an attack on me and two Chinese." I don't want to see that happen, so you can use your own way to comfort Kovalenko. I'll leave Bogotá with them, how? ”

Pyshkov picked up the empty bottle on the table and shook it at the waiter not far away, motioned for another bottle, then took a puff of his cigar and said with a embarrassed face, "I'm afraid it's not good, after all, he used to be my boss." ”

"Oh, please. Pishkov, your dissatisfaction with him is almost engraved on your forehead. Nixon leaned forward, his hands on the table, grasping something in his palms, his eyes burning, his tone stern, "You owe me a favor, and I won't mention it again." Just this one thing, you can help me do it. ”

"This old thing is really annoying." Pyshkov's face immediately returned to normal, with a look of righteous indignation, and his right hand was spread out on the table, "He thought that we didn't know what he was doing, because everyone turned a blind eye." ”

Nixon reached over and slapped Pyshkov's hand hard, "Good friend, that's it." ”

Quickly retracting his hand from the bottom of the table, Pyshkov's face became more kind, he lowered his voice, buried his whole face in the smoke and looked at the black man opposite, "What needs to be done is done, only 60% of your account is in, how about it?" ”

"Absolutely." Nixon cursed in his heart, but he looked at ease and gracefully raised his hand to comb his beard.

"It's not like you're in style, Nixon, when did you have Chinese friends?"

"There is one Russian proverb that I particularly like." Nixon clasped his hands together and smiled at the corners of his mouth, "Trees rely on roots, people rely on friends!" ”

"That's a lie to deceive children!"

"What has been passed down for hundreds of years will not be fake." Nixon kept smiling.

The waiter, dressed in a white shirt and black vest, brought a bottle of rum on a tray, and Pyshkov stopped the waiter from unscrewing it for him, took it himself, unscrewed the cap of the bottle three or two times, took a sip, and sighed contentedly.

"What was given to me, is it from a reliable source?" He asked Nixon about what he had just gotten his hands on.

Nixon looked at him with a smile and did not answer.

"I see. Don't worry, I'll greet Kovalenko. ”

"What if he doesn't listen to you?" Nixon asked rhetorically, he had never pressed someone like this, especially when asking someone to do something.

"Then I promise to make his business my true friend's." Pyshkov shrugged his shoulders, "What's the big deal." Nixon, if I had to choose between him and you, I would definitely be willing to choose you. He smiled again, but the smile was not very pretty, "Don't ask why, because I'm afraid that you will appear at my bedside at midnight, and your opponent will not sleep until he sees you dead." See what I mean? ”

"Oh, my old friend, you're so straightforward, it's a pleasure to deal with you." Nixon picked up the cocktail on the table and sniffed it, then reluctantly put it down, "But the person who gave you your stuff doesn't know you very well, so he insisted that I keep a double insurance, and you know that I have always been happy to accept this friend's arrangement." ”

"What do you mean?" Pyshkov's hand holding the bottle froze in the air, and the glass was about to overflow.

"Double insurance means that if you are really struggling with this matter, or you can't do it, then there will be someone else to help. It's just that if things get to that point, what we just said will be treated as a playfulness between friends. Nixon replied blandly, he had already put his suit into one sleeve, but he also found it an eyesore to look at the logo.

Pyshkov put down the bottle and nodded heavily, "Oh, it looks like the gift for me can't be opened yet, right?" You're right, friendship is friendship, work is work, I understand. ”

Nixon slipped the other sleeve into his arm, tugged at his fitted suit, and comforted Basskov, "I'll call you and tell you how to open that." Pyshkov, you are a good partner who talks about human feelings, work and friendship, and you have long had a sense of proportion in your heart. ”

After getting up from his seat, Nixon took his black handbag in his left hand, made an exaggerated hat salute to Pyshkov with his right hand, bowed, and walked outside.

"The Lone Ranger." Pyshkov stopped him, and Nixon turned his head, his eyes wide in confusion.

"Don't you take it as an example, you know? Stop telling me to do this kind of thing, I'm annoyed. Pyshkov raised his glass, "Today I please." ”

"Thank you for your hospitality." Nixon leaned half-sideways again, leaning gracefully. Straighten up and walk away with a dance-like stride.

Walking out of the alley, the dilapidated Nissan Teana turned on its left turn light under the street lamp, and Nixon continued to walk forward, paying close attention to the situation on his back, and finally got into Santo's car in the shade of a tree.

"What did the big stupid bear say?" Santo's soft voice was like heaven, and he drove smoothly in the car, which looked shabby but was very comfortable to sit in, the sound of the engine was soft and calm, and the windows were well insulated.

"Probably my friend behind me scared him." Nixon shrugged exaggeratedly, "I don't think he's going to break his word." ”

"You buy insurance, don't worry. But, Nixon, how could you be so concerned about a few strangers you met in the water? Don't hesitate to use the resources you'll probably need in the future? ”

"Oh Santo, or maybe I like men."

Nixon smiled, but the smile stopped abruptly. He reached out and patted Santo on the shoulder, "There are too few good people in this world, and they are a few of them, Santo, they have the ability to hold weapons and a soft heart just like you." ”

Santo laughed, "Nixon, I'm not used to saying that. ”

"If one day, you need me, and I'm still alive, I'll treat you like they." Instead of laughing, Nixon sighed, "If you have one more good person, you will feel that the world is a lot better." ”

There was silence in the carriage as it headed for its destination.

Cars cut through the noisy streets, passing between low, low-rise tiled houses painted in colour. Bicycles walk on the motorized lanes on the side streets, and children shuttle in front of the cars. Santo, accustomed to it, skillfully interspersed and finally drove onto the ramp of Xicheng District. The streets here were empty, and occasionally three or five young men could be seen standing still under the street lamps, looking at the cars moving on the street, with a cruel light in their eyes.

Nissan slowly stopped in front of the moving house, whose façade had been painted white, and the nearby warehouses and garages were painted white. On the right, an old woman in a long skirt bends down to pick up eggs in the chicken coop, and there are some moving figures in the glass house in the distance, and the faint sound of chainsaws can be heard.

He took out a small cell phone from his pocket and dialed a number, and after connecting it, Santo said into the phone, "Come here." ”

A minute after hanging up the phone, two gray off-road vehicles jumped out of the night, their bright headlights like the eyes of a giant beast.

Santo patted Nixon on the shoulder, "Go ahead, let them come out and see you off." ”

"Should I say thank you?"

"Let those nice words turn into action." Santo smiled, reached over Nixon, and helped him push the car door, "I don't have much time, and there are still things to take care of after getting you on the plane." ”

"I'm relieved to have you." Nixon stepped out of the car and walked up the steps of the White Room. Through the glass at the door, he saw that the coyote and Zhou Rui had already stood at the door.

After they left, several men came out of the glass room, and they left with the old woman in the long dress. About an hour later, a dozen men disembarked from several cars, fired at the white house with automatic weapons, set fire to it, and calmly walked away.

The fire lit up the skies of the West Side.

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