Chebyshev felt as if he was thrown into the air, and then fell heavily to the ground.
The back of his head slammed into the ground.
The sharp pain caused Chebyshev to open his eyes, and in front of his eyes was a filthy rag.
Chebyshev didn't know what was going on, he tried to remove the rag covering his face with his hands, but unfortunately he felt his hands already tied.
At this moment, Chebyshev was completely awake, and he knew that he should have been tied up, and that the sack piece that covered his face should have been if nothing else.
The constant shaking around me probably stemmed from the fact that he was in a car.
Chebyshev tried to sit up, but suddenly a foot kicked him hard in the chest, kicking him back again, and then the foot stepped on his chest, Chebyshev struggled even more, and then something hard hit him on the head.
Chebyshev led his men down for a drink last night to relax, but he had forgotten what Somalia was.
Even if it's a safe zone, it's still the locals who do business.
Chebyshev and his companions were already being targeted as soon as they set foot on the land, and when he went to drink, someone manipulated his wine.
An armed force then broke into the safe area, killing the tavern owner, several customers, and a small group of United Nations teams that had arrived to support them, and then abducted Chebyshev and his men.
Chebyshev didn't know what was in his wine, he just felt like he had a splitting headache, a dry mouth, and no strength in his body.
Chebyshev had been on the battlefield, and when his troops were surrounded by the Mujahideen, Chebyshev was not so afraid as he is now.
But what little sanity he had left told him he had to calm down.
After about ten minutes, Chebyshev stopped resisting, and the foot on his chest finally moved away.
Chebyshev breathed slowly, reconciling his emotions.
His eyes can't see, but his ears can hear.
Chebyshev listened attentively, and the sound of cars, people talking, and the sound of the waves came from all around I don't know how long it took for Chebyshev to feel the car finally stop.
Then he was dragged from the ground.
The man who was dragging him threw him out of the car.
Then he dragged him across the bumpy road.
Chebyshev nearly tripped several times, he could feel the sand pouring into his shoes, and the sound of the waves could indeed be heard in his ears.
Just as he was wondering what this place was, his men put him to the ground, and as soon as he tried to stand up, someone kicked him in the socket of the leg from behind, and Chebyshev was forced to kneel on the ground, and then the sack on his head was finally removed, and the harsh sunlight made Chebyshev unable to see anything, and it took a while to come to his senses.
There were people with guns everywhere, and they didn't have uniform uniforms.
Everyone was dressed in tatters, and most of them had slippers on their feet.
Quite a few people still have headscarves wrapped around their heads.
Not far away was the sea, while Chebyshev was still observing.
A voice suddenly asked, "Which of you is the boss?"
No one answered, Chebyshev lowered his head, he did not dare to respond.
He wasn't sure why the men were holding them, whether it was ransom or food, but the eyes of Chebyshev's subordinates revealed his identity.
Someone lifted him up from behind him and lifted his chin with his hand.
The person who asked aloud just now was a strong black man, and he walked towards Chebyshev with sunglasses.
Then he asked viciously, "You brought the food."
Chebyshev looked nervously at the other man, and he nodded.
Now Chebyshev felt that the pressure was too much, and he couldn't help but swallow a mouthful of saliva.
"Give me all the grain, or I'll kill you" The other party bluntly threatened, Chebyshev didn't dare to agree, he couldn't do such a big thing, only the Italian side has the right to decide what to do with this batch of grain.
"I want me to ask my boss," Chebyshev replied after a long silence.
"Aren't you their boss?"
asked the leader of the kidnappers, a little angry, thinking that Chebyshev was playing tricks on him.
"No, it's the boss of all of us, in Italy," Chebyshev replied cautiously, feeling a little calmer.
"You dare to trick me" The other party suddenly grabbed his collar and asked with a roar, a black face leaned over and sprayed Chebyshev in the face.
"I'm telling the truth, I have to tell my boss about this," Chebyshev said calmly.
The leader of the kidnappers kicked Chebyshev, and Chebyshev did not avoid his gaze.
Half a day later, the kidnappers backed down.
He loosened Chebyshev's collar.
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Then he walked into the room and after a while took out a satellite phone.
Chebyshev was a little surprised, he didn't expect these people to have satellite phones, you know, this is not cheap, one is almost tens of thousands of dollars.
Chebyshev quickly dialed his boss's phone, and luckily the call was answered immediately.
Chebyshev hurriedly reported what had happened to him.
The person who answered the phone was not Yakov, but a senior gang cadre in charge of Chebyshev, who of course did not dare to call the shots when he heard that such a big thing had happened, and he asked Chebyshev to wait for a while on the phone, and then hung up the phone.
The news of the kidnapping of Chebyshev and his men soon reached Yakov's ears.
Yakov didn't dare to slack off, anyway, the grain had already been transported to Somalia, and it was not handed over to anyone, as long as the person was fine, Yakov naturally agreed.
Chebyshev soon received Yakov's authorization to hand over the grain.
As long as you can exchange it for the safety of your subordinates.
Only then did Chebyshev put his heart in his stomach.
I sighed in my heart that the Gorky Brotherhood was finally not a ruthless organization that ignored the fallen subordinates.
He said to the leader of the kidnappers: "Okay, I can give you the food, but you have to let me go back, I will go back and make arrangements" "No, you can't go, let your men go," the kidnapper leader said, shaking his head.
Chebyshev couldn't help it, but his subordinates were all peripheral members of the Gorky Brotherhood, and they weren't even Soviets.
In case they are gone, Chebyshev will be dead.
For now, only the Central Asian Zakharov in his hands can still be trusted, so Chebyshev called his only compatriot here, Zakharov, and said to him: "Dude, we have our inscription in your hands, you go back with the general's people, get the grain out of the UN warehouse and give it to them, please brother" t1706231537: