The woman's reaction was beyond Joga's expectations. He had anticipated that this would embarrass her, but to his surprise, she efficiently stripped down to nothing, leaving no undergarments on, and stood naked before him.
Feeling a bit stunned, Joga watched as the woman softened her expression and said in a very quiet voice, "I'm a UN staff member. Please don't kill me."
Seeing the woman adopt a feeble pose, Joga shook his head and said, "Pick up your underwear and shake it out."
The woman awkwardly squatted down, seemingly trying to cover herself, but ultimately, nothing was concealed. After a few seconds of hesitation and noticing that Joga remained unmoved, she picked up her panties and bra, shaking them vigorously while flipping them to show both sides to Joga.
"Put them on."
Seeing the woman comply, Joga glanced around, grabbed a roll of gray duct tape from the top of a cabinet, and tossed it to her, saying, "Tape your mouth shut."
The woman reluctantly tore off a strip of tape and said, "Who are you? We can talk this over. Don't hurt me. I can give you whatever you want. Kidnapping a UN official has serious consequences."
Seeing Joga's indifferent demeanor, she hesitated, then reluctantly taped her mouth, and as she extended her hands to indicate that he could bind her, Joga pulled the trigger...
"Pfft, pfft." Two muffled shots rang out, and the woman let out a painful groan, collapsing onto the large bed with gunshot wounds in her shoulders. The subsonic bullets entered below her collarbone, tearing through muscle tissue before hitting her shoulder blades and staying inside her body.
The pain was almost unimaginable, the woman's arms limp, as if red-hot iron rods had been driven into her shoulders. She squirmed on the bed like a shrimp, burying her head in the pillow, emitting agonizing, muffled noises.
She knew she had to remain quiet to avoid death.
Joga relaxed slightly. He holstered his pistol and searched the room, finding a pleasant surprise in a suitcase—several kilograms of gold and around $400,000 in cash.
He stored the gold in his multipurpose tool kit, packed the cash into a backpack, and then moved to the deceased bodyguard, opening his briefcase. Inside were a stack of Arabic documents, a few passports, several bundles of dollars, and a handgun.
Joga's Arabic listening skills were fine, but he only recognized a few words in writing. He stuffed the contents of the case into the backpack and then turned to the woman, who was now completely incapacitated from pain. He flipped her over and said, "Sorry, I'm not very experienced in this. In movies, spies like you are so capable. I have to be extra cautious."
He then took out a tube of confiscated morphine and said, "If you stay quiet, I can relieve your pain. Then you can come with me peacefully, okay?"
The woman looked at him with resentment, wishing she could figure out what kind of person he was. Not all spies are formidable experts—many are administrative, rarely ever using a gun.
Seeing that the woman, on the brink of passing out from the pain, nodded vigorously, Joga inserted the morphine into her shoulder with a simple syringe. After a few seconds of her moaning with what sounded like a climax, Joga nodded slightly and said, "Come with me, don't make too much noise. I don't want to kill you. Let's get along peacefully, okay?"
The woman stared at Joga like he was a ghost but eventually nodded.
Satisfied with her cooperation, Joga stood up, made a mess of the room, and packed up all the weapons and valuable items from the corpses, hoping the staged scene would buy him some time.
He then helped the weak woman over the balcony and into the off-road vehicle. Still not fully reassured, he tightly bound her legs with duct tape and even taped her eyes, leaving her sprawled in the backseat like a dead fish. He applied two pieces of hemostatic bandages to her shoulders to prevent further bleeding.
The woman, a seasoned spy, had never encountered such meticulousness before. With her arms immobile, she felt as though she was being treated like a monstrous threat.
Joga, unaware of the woman's thoughts, got into the driver's seat, put on a radio earpiece, and quietly asked, "Brother, did you find the guy?"
Carman was slightly taken aback by Joga calling him "brother" but replied after a few seconds of silence, in a hoarse voice, "He's here, four of them, all armed. It's going to be tough to capture them alive."
Joga had a general idea of the situation now. Honestly, he no longer hated the Siruk man as much. As a vulnerable group in South SD, he was just struggling to survive.
But as the saying goes, "When you're in the game, you have to play by the rules." The man deserved to die for betraying him, as the loss of his deterrent power meant Joga's business couldn't continue.
"Then kill them. I'll pick you up on the roadside. Move quickly."
As Joga finished speaking, he heard a low, muffled groan over the radio, followed by a whistling sound of a throat being slit.
Knowing Carman had started his action, Joga immediately started the vehicle, drove onto the main road, and parked in front of the Siruk's leather goods store.
Within two minutes, Carman emerged, holding a black plastic bag and moving like a ghost.
Seeing Joga had switched vehicles, he paused for a moment, then got in the passenger seat, saying, "Are we abandoning the other car? There was a lot of stuff on it."
Joga looked at Carman, covered in blood, and said, "Okay, let's go get the stuff. It all counts as your spoils."
Carman, pleased, said, "No, it's our joint spoils."
He then pulled out a small leather pouch from his pocket, placing it on the dashboard, and said, "This is about 2 kilograms of gold I got from that Siruk bastard. You're the boss, so you get the bigger share since you killed more people than I did."
Joga parked next to the previous pickup truck, opened the trunk, and signaled for Carman to get busy. He realized that he had indeed killed many people today, but Carman's brutality had overshadowed his own achievements.
Shooting people and killing with a knife felt entirely different!
As Carman tossed the black plastic bag under the passenger seat, Joga peeked at the busy Carman and asked, "What's that?"
Carman, carefully organizing the ammunition in the trunk, replied without looking up, "It's the Siruk bastard's head."
Joga swallowed hard and said, "Shit, why did you bring that back?"
Carman quickly finished organizing the trunk, took his seat in the passenger side, and revealed the head from the plastic bag, saying, "How else would I prove I killed him?"
Joga licked his dry lips and nodded, saying, "You make a damn good point!"