![]() 1st Installment - The Russian Way.A Story by D.S.C. Young Writer 15 Years Old![]() A gripping tale of a rich corrupt Russian KGB agent with priceless security plans. Copyright Protected 2008 till 2078.![]()
The Russian Way
Sixty five Thousand Roubles Ha-ha it was too easy! The Englishman cracked too easily! Mr Karasochovich gave an evil smile Yeah I have the plans, time for the second stage of our plan. But I only have the plans if you have the money, and all of it. He paused since the winter Mr Karasochovich had been learning English and was getting better, even though there were a few words he didnt know and he still had his Russian accent. He was sat in the back of a black executive car. Mr Karasochovich looked young, handsome, and had a head for business. His black eyes and small mouth meant he had a face that looked evil all the time. The car was cruising through the streets of Moscow. Mr Karasochovich was on his way to the biggest deal of his life. The deal was being made with very dangerous people and Mr Karasochovich knew one false move, one word out of place, even one Rouble too much on his already high price and his life would be over, and knowing his buyer it would be a very slow and extremely painful death. The phone rang for a second time. Mr Karasochovich answered it and spoke tentatively Hello sir. He paused as a sweat broke out on his forehead Im sorry sir, the traffic is appalling. He paused again as the caller spoke Yes sir, of course the case is secure. He wiped his brow with a handkerchief I will be counting all the money before I give you the case. I expect sixty five thousand Roubles, no less. The phone went dead. He looked towards the driver who had been listening to the conversation Stop ear wigging! he ordered I pay you to drive, not listen! Im late so get a move on! The executive black car looked out of place parked on the road in the old abandoned village, but Mr Karasochovich didnt care he was here to do business and get out with his life and all his limbs intact. He stepped out and told his driver to wait with the engine running. The building had once been an engineers garage, the lack of windows, the rusty metal roof, the old corroding bricks, the old bleached sign handing on one rusty nail, and its rusty petrol pumps sent a chill up his spine. This wasnt the place a person like Mr Karasochovich was meant to be. He walked slowly and cautiously through the door less door frame into a dark room. Hello? he held the brief case tightly Ive brought the plans. The man heard three clicks as three strip bulbs pinged into life. Ahead of him was a man, the man, his customer and two mean looking bodyguards that had muscles bulging from their shirts, Mr Karasochovich guessed they wore small to make the muscles look bigger to try and calm himself down. He wiped his brow again as the man spoke. Good. Give me the case! Mr Karasochovich shook his head and stepped back as the two henchmen surrounded him. Wait! he pleaded Wait, Ill give it to you when I have the money. Mr Karasochovichs customer sneered, took out his wallet and handed him a ten Rouble note Whats this? I said sixty five thousand Roubles! Not ten. His sentence was drowned out by the sound of the two brutes either side of him cracking their knuckles. Mr Karasochovich ran from the workshop into a back room that had once been an office, he kicked a door off its rusty hinges and ran back around to the front of the cold deserted engineers garage, his car was gone and his driver lay in the gutter bleeding from a gun shot wound. Mr Karasochovich I suggest you give me the case. He felt the cold barrel of a gun press against his head and then he heard the unmistakeable sound of a bullet being loaded On your knees. Slowly, no sudden moves or else my finger might just slip. Mr Karasochovich didnt do as he was told until he got his second hard hitting warning Im not playing Russian roulette; there is a bullet in every chamber. Mr Karasochovich looked at his dead driver, sank to his knees, and gave the case to his customer. He felt cold no matter what he did he was going to end up dead. The next thing he heard was the unmistakeable sound of a gun firing. Check back soon for the next hard hitting, knuckle biting instalment. © 2008 D.S.C. Young Writer 15 Years OldAuthor's Note
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Added on July 17, 2008Last Updated on July 30, 2008 Author![]() D.S.C. Young Writer 15 Years OldManchester, United KingdomAboutI'm 15 years old and founder of the Young British Authors Society (www.ybasoc.com OR www.myspace.com/youngbritishauthorsociety) the Y.B.A.S. is available to everyone. I go .. more..Writing
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