And so, on a thunderstorm-ridden night, his wife was murdered on her way home from work.
He was the one who pulled the trigger, and that very night, he returned to the school.
Seven shots were fired!
He still remembered the surprise on his wife's face when she saw him, and the disbelief in the eyes of the other person when he fired the last shot.
In 1958, without a single camera, finding a murderer was extremely difficult.
After that, he got in with a senator and rose rapidly through the ranks!
But this was something only he knew; why did the other person know?
The man turned his head, looking at the terrified expression on Stanfield Turner's face, "If you don't want others to know, don't do it.
"We know more, even more than you do, Mr. Director."
From "you," to "yourself," to "Mr. Director," the form of address became increasingly casual.
"Perhaps you're now more curious about who I am. Let me introduce myself, Reinhard, belonging to... HYDRA!"
"Interested in working for us?"
Director Stanfield Turner shook his head mentally, he had never heard the name of this organization before, but what did they mean by choosing this name?
Claiming to be a villain?!
On the stage below, the performance had ended, and the actors were taking their bows, thanking the audience.
A bitter taste filled Director Stanfield Turner's mouth.
"Of course, it's entirely voluntary."
Reinhard Tristan Eugen turned his head, smiling at him.
In his eyes shone the radiance of democracy!
At the Berlin Olympic Stadium.
A game was being played.
Hertha BSC was facing off against Bochum in a friendly match.
As this was Germany's first appearance since reunification, there were quite a few people, more than twenty thousand.
The entire stadium was packed to capacity.
In the back rows of the neutral fans, two men were watching; they looked no different from ordinary fans.
But one of them was Augustine Przybylski, who had flown over for this.
The other was a representative for some in the Soviet Union. They met here, and the person in charge from the German KGB didn't come – too conspicuous.
"We don't mind the KGB making some extra money because our country is suffering from some people's sabotage!" Bogadilev said in a deep voice.
This man looked to be in his forties, with deep crow's feet around his eyes.
"We also greatly respect your refusal to bow to American hegemony; it is a righteous act."
Augustine Przybylski almost laughed out loud, hegemony?
Aren't the Cold War and the American hegemony the result of actions by both of you, as if the Yanks can achieve dominance all by themselves?
Didn't you wage the war in Afghanistan?
Eventually, you retreated ignominiously, crowning Afghanistan the 'Empire's graveyard.'
"We can offer you more help."
"What do you want us to do?"
Bogadilev looked at him, quieted down, "I hope you can help us eradicate our cancer."
Augustine Przybylski's brow twitched, "We only fight drugs, we do not get involved in anything else."
"We understand your concerns, and we are willing to show a certain goodwill. There are 700 employees at the Izhevsk Factory we could hand over to you."
The intelligence chief turned away upon hearing this; the other party was playing deep.
The Izhevsk Factory is the "Cradle of Gun Kings," where AK-47s are produced, as well as the Wild Bull Submachine Gun, SVD sniper rifles, and others.
All of which have left a significant mark in the history of firearms in the world. However...
Now they are unable to sustain themselves, bankrupt.
With a foreign debt of 800,000 rubles, they can't continue. Salaries can't be paid; it would be better to just throw them out.
Augustine Przybylski knew the General's desire for skilled workers, but remembering the instructions given to him before he came, he pondered for a moment, deciding to play for time.
"I need to report this to Tijuana."
Bogadilev was clearly unsatisfied with this response, and though frustrated, continued reluctantly, "As long as you help us, once we have swept away the cancer, we will be the best and closest partners, offering you the greatest support."
"We can even send troops to help you fight against the United States!"
Without strength, relying on others, in the end, is only to speak with trepidation.
If the troops really came, it would be a genuine provocation to the Yanks' limits. Cuba already caused a stir with just a few missiles, what about neighboring Mexico?
Everyone in Mexico knows the disparity with the United States. If the Soviets sent troops over, the United States would really bomb them, not definitely, but there's an 85% chance.
Victor is crazy, but not an idiot.
He understands what crossing the line means.
"I will convey this to the General."
Bogadilev, seeing that he couldn't get through, though unhappy, could only agree.
"May I ask a question?"
"How do you plan to eradicate this cancer?"
Bogadilev hesitated, he thought the other party was interested, and whispered a name. Hearing it, Augustine Przybylski's eyes lit up.
Find more chapters on My Virtual Library Empire
This was planning to defect!
"I can't tell you the plan now, but please believe us, we will definitely succeed."
Augustine Preshowitch nodded perfunctorily.
The nearby fans all raised their hands and cheered; a goal had been scored.
He stood up to applaud, extending his hand to Bogadilev beside him, "Let's end our meeting here, I will deliver the message to Tijuana."
"Hope it'll be quick!"
After Augustine Przybylski left his seat, heading outside, there was a man leaning against a column. He gave him a glance but quickly withdrew his gaze.