The Killer's Whisper story is available complete to the end in Indonesian Book I, Book II and Book III in PDF ebook format without any cut/edited parts. If you want to have the e-book, you can contact me via WhatsApp which is listed in oishielmo's bio profile.
The English version will follow after I finish translating this story.
— —
Yuri Viktorovich stood alone, his eyes staring blankly out the window, gazing at some skyscrapers at night. His hand was clutching a small photograph, as if waiting patiently for someone.
Dmitry Vorobev came over, but Yuri didn't notice. His mind was focused on the person in the photograph he was holding. There were two young men wearing high school uniforms embracing each other and smiling, and one of the young men was him. The lights in the room suddenly turned on, Yuri turned to the person who was behind him.
"You still haven't given up looking for him?" asked Dmitry.
Yuri nodded, his eyes narrowing slightly in the glare of the lights.
"It's been fifteen years, you still haven't given up. How precious is he to you?"
Yuri nodded. "As long as I'm breathing, I'll keep looking for him until I find him, even if I end up with a lifeless body."
*
Rolan sat at the corner of the boardroom conference table, watching the adults in the room. The people there were dressed in black suits, white shirts, and dark-colored ties. Some of them were looking at the teenager as if to ask, why is that kid here?
Zwick and Sons had several branch companies in various developed countries, and Hong Kong was one of them. Walther was currently holding a board meeting to discuss reports on new products, sales, statistical forecasts, and experimental programs conducted by scientists working for the company. They are awaiting the Zwick and Sons Director's decision on the construction of new factories, the purchase of company shares and the hiring of exclusive personnel.
Walther was now thirteen years into his tenure as Managing Director, succeeding his late father who had died fifteen years ago by assassination.
Not many people know how much responsibility Walther has shouldered during his thirteen years as President Director.
Initially, not all of Aaron Zwick's former business partners or advisors accepted the handover of the position of President Director to a young man in his twenties. Some of them even underestimated Walther Zwick, as they thought he lacked business experience. However, they should have studied the mindset of the young man they underestimated, because in the end Walther was able to control them. Those people misjudged his strength, and that was where they went wrong.
As the work meeting progressed, Walther let them speak, and he listened. When he asked a question, he would remember the answer. Walther learned from them, he was not like most young heirs. Despite his cunning ways to get rid of or take advantage of competitors, Walther was not like his father who relied on dirty tricks in the past; joining one of the international mafia organizations called Solntsevskaya Bratva. Instead, when all the company's shares and power passed into his hands, Walther Zwick immediately cut off all ties with organizations from the underworld.
Walther hesitated, wondering how he should begin to communicate this decision to those in the room.
Mikhailov Malevsky, a Russian-American, was the surviving leader of the Solntsevskaya Bratva organization, in addition to one other member, Hong Kong gangster boss Huang Tailung. Mikhailov Malevsky was a strong ally of Zwick and Sons until recently. The middle-aged man certainly knows the twists and turns of the relationship with his father.
"Starting next Sunday, Zwick and Sons will stop working with the Malevsky Family," Walther said, to the point.
The whole room fell silent, people staring at him, then looking at each other, murmuring in disbelief.
"Excuse me, Mr. Zwick, have you thought this plan through?" one middle-aged man asked of his boss's decision.
Walther nodded. "Yes, I have thought about it for a long time."
Suddenly his answer provoked cold expressions for some people who already knew how Aaron Zwick's father's relationship with Mikhailov Malevsky used to be. Some of them seemed to be whispering and shaking their heads in a broken motion. Walther cast his eyes around the room and stopped right at the corner of the table, where Rolan was staring at him.
"You gentlemen have known Zwick and Sons for quite some time," Walther continued, "I'm sure most of you knew my father, and if so, you must have respected him and the other businesses he ran."
There were heavy nods from them. "I imagine," Walther continued, "that you gentlemen would also be caught up in the troubles of the past if you would not sever your business ties with the mafia syndicate." Walther smiled cleverly. "The government began to tighten up investigations into some companies that they suspected of secretly doing illicit business. Before the information about Zwick and Sons reaches the government, wouldn't it be better to stop it now?" Walther looked at them all. "No matter how big the consequences are."
One of them interjected, "But Director, I'm sure you've gotten advice. If you let go of a colleague you've worked with all these years, it's the same as letting go of the company's shares and you might end up with a hefty loss."
Walther snapped his fingers. "You're right, I've gotten advice from the company's expert advisors, but it's up to me to make the decision." Walther could sense the change in atmosphere that was taking place.
*
At 9:50 am, the personal phone in the President Director's office rang. Walther, who had been busy with some paperwork, had to stop what he was doing to answer the call.
"Mr. Zwick, I wanted to ask if we could meet somewhere?" A person asked from the other side whose voice Walther was familiar with.
Walther understood what the caller meant. "I'll be there," he replied, then put the receiver down.
He tidied up the documents on the desk, then left. Coincidentally, it was his assistant who walked in.
"Cancel all the events I'm attending tonight!" Walther ordered the blonde-haired woman who was his assistant.
"Yes, Mr. Zwick."
*
Nate closed his eyes, feeling the evening breeze caress him gently, inviting his black and blonde mane to dance. The snowflakes weren't falling, the wind was blowing hard and the fact that he was standing outside the perimeter fence didn't make his heart race because of the steep view below.
The modern country was filled with skyscrapers, like Tokyo, New York and Dubai.
"Can you feel it?" Nate asked, still closing his eyes.
"Feel what?" Noel, who didn't understand, asked back.
"Freedom." Nate opened his eyes, raising his hands into the air and glaring at him before they clenched into tight fists. His worn black coat made a faint sound of fabric amongst the whistling of the cold wind. As if remembering something, Nate said again, "I forgot, a homebody like you wouldn't understand what freedom means."
"I'm not like that." Noel was a little uncomfortable being called a homeboy, he denied.
"Really?" Nate stepped closer to the edge of the building, the tips of his shoes no longer on the cement. As Nate looked down, the traffic below looked like ants in a line when viewed from the top of the building he was half standing on. Undoubtedly, once a person jumped from here his body would be shapeless by the time he reached the ground. Just imagining it made Noel shudder in horror.
"Can you move away a bit? This is horrible." A tremble sounded in his tone.
Nate complied and took three steps back, his lips forming a lame grin. "Why, are you scared?"
"Of course I am. If you fall, we'll die."
The word we, spoken by Noel brought a bit of warmth to Nate's expression despite the chill in the air.
"That's not going to happen, so just relax. Because from now on you're going to follow life my way. Live like Nate!"
Noel was silent for a moment. "Live like Nate?" He repeated Nate's words.
Nate pointed to a building across from the one they were standing on. "You see that building?
"I see it."
"We'll go there."
Noel stared at the open elevator door and then into it, or rather Nate. All body control was still completely under his control. It was only Nate in the elevator, so no one would think it strange that he was talking to himself.
"I thought you were going to jump from one building to another." Noel said, after Nate pressed the closing button and the metal box moved upwards.
"I'm not Batman, so stop thinking I'm going to pull a stunt like that, it's a waste of energy. We've got until dawn anyway."
Noel was a little relieved that Nate wasn't doing anything that would spur his heart rate, at least for now. He probably didn't feel anything when Nate went over the edge. However, Noel also couldn't deny the fear that would run through his soul due to Nate's heinous deeds, but on the other hand, those criminals also deserved to die. After all, in this life, a soul was all he had. Even if someone was willing to give him his body, Noel would refuse if it was going to be like this.
The red arrows above the elevator doors that marked the floors of the building kept pointing upwards. Just as the numbers indicated the 41st floor, the elevator beeped a 'ting' signaling someone was entering. Sure enough, in less than two seconds, two stocky men with a strong odor lingering on their bodies—which Nate believed to be alcohol and nicotine. One of them with a shaved head stood to Nate's left, and the other with a thick mustache stood right in front of him near the door. Judging by their staggering walk, it was safe to assume that both men were in a semi-drunk state.
The rather gloomy elevator lighting did not make it difficult for Nate when the two stocky men looked at each other. Until finally the one next to Nate spoke up. "You alone, sweetie?" asked the man with the shaved head in a flirtatious tone.
Like a mosquito buzzing, Nate didn't show any reaction even though the man's catcalling gave Noel goosebumps.
The stocky man with the thick mustache in front of Nate glanced at his bald-headed friend, as if hinting at something. "Why are you silent? You're so cold." Unresponsive, the bald-headed man reached out his hand to touch Nate's ass.
Unexpectedly, in a split second Nate caught the man's hand and twisted it backwards and pressed it against the elevator wall. Nate's sudden reaction shocked the bald-headed man into a stifled squeal, his friend with a thick mustache tried to help, but with the speed of the wind Nate first kicked him right in the chin.
The sound of a broken jaw accompanied by screams of pain filled the narrow space. The bald-headed man widened his eyes to see the condition of his friend who was already lying with a broken jaw and bleeding mouth. Nate's kick was no joke. It caught him off guard, and Nate didn't waste this opportunity, he kicked the man in the groin with his knee, then delivered another strike right into the man's knee crease.
Shrieking louder than ever, Nate had broken the man's leg until he fell back, grimacing silently.
The elevator doors finally opening on the floor he was headed to, Nate gave the two pathetic men a cold glance before casually stepping out. Right at the doorway, Nate took the time to step on the man's dick. The owner howled loudly, Nate mercilessly smoothed his coat as if nothing had happened.
"Nate you're great!" Noel was mesmerized by Nate's action that lasted no more than a minute.
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