Chapter 126: Arrival in Moscow
Carter took a stack of documents from her drawer and handed them to Mason. "I've arranged a new identity for you. It should provide some assistance in Moscow."
"I'm sorry, Mason, we're short-staffed right now. This is all I can do."
"Your most important thing right now is to take care of yourself. Leave everything else to me!" Mason put the documents away. These documents had already helped him tremendously, at least much better than searching blindly on his own.
After parting ways with Carter, Mason began preparing for the trip. With Howard as his weapons supplier, Mason upgraded his equipment.
He also selected a large operative from among the nine agents. This man was nearly two meters tall, and when fully armed, he looked like a human tank.
After everything was ready, he flew directly to Moscow.
It was November 1944. From the sky, Moscow was blanketed in snow.
As soon as he stepped off the plane, Mason couldn't help but hunch his shoulders. With his current physiology, although he couldn't be completely immune to temperature extremes, he could withstand this kind of cold.
"Excuse me, are you Mr. Mason?" A Soviet officer approached Mason quickly and asked in heavily accented English.
"Yes, that's me. And you are?"
Mason replied in fluent Russian. Thanks to the benefits of the Time-Space Express company, most major languages in the world were practically his native tongue.
"We received a message from Ms. Carter. I will be assisting you during your time in Moscow." The Soviet officer extended his hand.
"My name is Chekov!"
Chekov's politeness greatly improved Mason's impression of him.
"This way, please. I've arranged accommodations for you. Let's talk as we walk."
Mason had arrived in Moscow on a private aircraft, carrying only personal belongings and the weapons and equipment he had obtained from Howard.
Two large bags sat on the ground. The two soldiers behind Chekov tried to help, but their efforts were insufficient, and they couldn't budge them.
"No need for that. We'll handle it ourselves."
Mason said, and the operative beside him calmly picked up the two bags.
Mason had renumbered all the agents, designating the large man as Agent One due to his massive size.
Chekov's eye twitched slightly. The two soldiers he brought were also elite troops, robust and incredibly strong.
Even if they hadn't used their full strength initially, seeing how easily the man moved made it seem somewhat exaggerated.
"Any new information about Issa Gregory?" Mason asked.
Chekov shook his head.
"Someone previously spotted signs of his activity near the Volokolamsk plains. Of course, it wasn't a confirmed location, but rather some traces of occult activity were discovered."
"After further tracking and investigation, we've identified a bar called The Horn. According to intelligence, a group of suspicious individuals have been seen there."
"We suspect it's Issa Gregory and his followers!"
Hearing Chekov's report, Mason was pleased. "Now that we have a lead, what are we waiting for? Let's move out!"
"Uh…" Chekov hesitated.
"What's wrong?"
"I'm sorry, we have limited manpower. Besides myself and these few soldiers, we can't provide you with any other support."
"In fact, the higher-ups have been against sending people to investigate Gregory's whereabouts at this time. The war is nearing its end, and the Nazis are suffering defeat after defeat."
"All the focus should be on the final push now. Everyone generally believes that compared to the Nazi threat, Gregory is just a charlatan."
Mason, however, seemed unconcerned. In fact, with outsiders present, it was inconvenient for him to operate freely, so he took the opportunity to decline.
"It's alright, I understand your situation. Give me a contact number, and tell me the address of that bar. Leave the rest to me."
Chekov seemed a little embarrassed, but perhaps due to the circumstances, he took out a map, marked the location for Mason, and gave him some instructions.
"I've prepared an off-road vehicle for you, fully fueled, with some weapons and supplies. Also, I must warn you,"
Mason patted Chekov on the shoulder.
"The residents near the Volokolamsk Plains are very territorial. Be careful and avoid conflict with them. We're caught in the middle, which will be difficult..."
Mason didn't waste any more time. He and Agent One were both incredibly resilient, so jet lag was unnecessary. They loaded the supplies into the jeep and drove off according to the map.
They quickly disappeared into the white landscape.
"Good riddance,"
Chekov exhaled, watching Mason and Agent One drive away. "When will this snow stop?" He looked up at the sky, his polite demeanor vanishing.
Just then, a soldier approached Chekov, saluted, and whispered...
"Colonel! The General wants to see you!"
Chekov nodded. "Lead the way."
Soon, the two arrived at a luxuriously furnished and warm office.
The firewood crackled in the fireplace. Chekov removed his cap and stood before a slightly overweight, middle-aged man with heavy bags under his eyes.
"General, you wanted to see me?"
The middle-aged man poured a glass of vodka and gestured for Chekov to sit down. "Have a drink to warm up."
"Tell me, how did it go?"
"I've given the target location to that Mason. He should arrive at the Horn Bar by evening. His conspicuous arrival will definitely provoke a confrontation."
Chekov tilted his head back and finished his drink.
"Did he suspect anything?"
Chekov shook his head. "Don't worry, General. I followed standard procedures. Even if he noticed something off, I can blame it on an intelligence error."
The middle-aged, portly man nodded. "Well done. Have someone monitor the situation. Let me know immediately if there's any news."
Chekov stood up, hesitated for a moment, and asked, "Do I need to intervene covertly?"
The general shook his head. "No need. That woman Carter is very shrewd. We can't let her see through us. We need to be careful. Only by staying in the shadows can we serve the leader properly."
Chekov's expression turned serious.
"Long live Hydra!!"
Meanwhile, Mason was driving across a snow-covered plain, his brow furrowed, seemingly deep in thought.
Thank you for reading!
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