Intelligence and Guns

The US dollars were returned to their original position, and the female concierge did not accept them directly.

It's a foolish habit to accept money before the terms of the deal are laid out. What if the other party demands more than the agreed amount? So the concierge waited for Henry to state his requirements.

Picking up a coaster from the table, Henry took out half a sharpened pencil from his small bag and wrote four Russian names with his left hand.

Mikhail Kuzmin, Ivan Kochetov, Yuri Kuznozov, Alexandra Rusanova.

Pointing to the names he had written down, Henry said in Russian, "BSF personnel. They should be in charge of interrogations, not on the front lines."

"These two are in a Siberia prison, it's unclear which prison or whether they're being held together. This one is the wife of a gas oligarch."

They would pay extra for the detailed information held by the Continental Hotel. They both tacitly agreed to skip this part; to bring it up would seem unprofessional.

Looking at the list, the female concierge said with difficulty, "There's a BSF member on it, a family member of an oligarch. This isn't enough to cover the expenses."

Henry then took out two bundles of banknotes from his small bag, both hundred-dollar bills with bank seals, and placed them on the table.

He casually pulled out a few bills and slipped them into the side seam of the female concierge's overlapping blouse, taking the opportunity to grope her.

The female concierge's eyes lit up. She pressed down on her hand, which was only supported by her knuckles. "Sir, would you like any extra service?" She seemed completely unconcerned that Henry looked somewhat dirty and smelly, like a homeless man.

Henry gently pulled his hand away, then lightly lifted her delicate chin, causing her beautiful face to shift forward slightly, closing the distance between them a little.

"My beauty, if you hurry up, you won't be shortchanged. This bottle of vodka won't let me enjoy it for long."

Henry only experienced the charm of the Russian girl today, a charm she had received through special training. Even the angle of her profile and the number of times she glanced at him were carefully chosen, making one's heart itch with desire.

Before today, Henry had the impression that a 300-pound Russian woman could fight a 500-pound brown bear in the freezing cold and still win.

Is this still the same kind of creature? Or is the Russian girl like Pokémon, capable of evolution and transformation? This level of change is practically mega-evolution!

Just before Henry decided to indulge himself and proceed with his advances, the concierge abruptly stood up, picked up three bundles of banknotes and a coaster with his name written on it. "Sir, please enjoy your vodka. I'll be back shortly."

This skill in pulling at the limit must have taken countless men to master.

Watching the female concierge leave with her alluring posture, Peach swayed back and forth, looking far more seductive than before. She even glanced back, her captivating eyes sweeping over the generous man.

Henry paired this beautiful view with vodka, which served no purpose other than providing a spicy kick.

While waiting, Henry used his Super Hearing to listen to the conversation in the salon. Most of it was pointless flirting; the occasional mentions were only of internal Russia affairs, of little use to him.

Perhaps it was because of Mei-Chuan's guidance that everyone was particularly enthusiastic; the female concierge who served Henry returned shortly afterward, carrying a silver tray with the information booklet provided by the Continental Hotel carefully arranged on it.

He downed another glass of vodka, casually wiping the vodka stains from his beard. Unconcerned about his wet hands, Henry picked up a document and glanced at it casually.

In fact, during this seemingly casual confirmation process, Henry had already read the contents of the document.

Although Continental Hotel do not have very detailed investigation reports on their targets, they have all the necessary information, including current residence and whether they are using aliases, etc.

Even the two people with more special identities were thoughtfully provided with recent photos. The two in prison only had photos from before they entered the prison, and they looked quite pathetic.

Henry only needed clues to solve the tasks at hand, not information about their life experiences, so this kind of content was sufficient.

He casually folded the document in half and stuffed it into his small bag. Henry then chugdled the remaining vodka down his throat in a few gulps.

Without making a sound, Henry used his fingerless glove to wipe away traces of saliva and fingerprints, as if toying with a wine bottle and glass, and said, "The intelligence is sorted out, so where's the gun?"

"Please follow me, sir." The female concierge rose again to lead the way.

The two then moved to the gun exhibition area of Continental Hotel. There was a dazzling array of well-known domestic and foreign firearms, including pistols, automatic and semi-automatic guns, light machine guns, heavy machine guns, and even handheld Gatling Gun.

The female concierge asked the employee who was originally stationed there to leave first, saying, "Sir, what kind of equipment do you need? We have everything you need."

Henry placed another bundle of hundred-dollar bills on the table and said, "A pistol, easy to hide, durable, and doesn't jam. Provide plenty of ammunition. As for the rest, I think my gun needs some professional maintenance. You'd be best."

He intended to take the opportunity to shake hands with the smiling female concierge, whose hand was resting on the counter. But just before he could grasp her hand, he lightly brushed against her fingertips, only to have her hand slip away.

The female concierge wasn't deliberately showing disdain or dodging; it was just another instance of pushing her to the limit. She gave Henry a flirty wink, then deftly retrieved the gun that met Henry needs from the pistol counter, introducing it as follows:

The PSM Pocket Pistol was designed and developed by the KBP Instrument Design Bureau in the 1970s specifically for KGB. It was manufactured by the Zhelev Arms Factory and features mature technology and reliable performance.

"It is 155 mm long, weighs 460 grams, uses 5.45x18 mm 7N7 Armor-Piercing Pistol Ammunition, and has an eight-round magazine. We can provide two more Spare magazines and one box of ammunition."

A Soviet-made pistol, slightly larger than the palm of your hand, was placed on the counter. It was a slide-fired pistol with the safety mechanism located on the slide, in front of the hammer.

The handguard is quite large, and even with the large build of Westerners, their fingers can easily reach in and pull the trigger without any operational hindrance.

Henry pretended to pull back the slide, looking at the inside of the bolt and the barrel. Then he pretended to aim at an empty spot.

Unlike regular handguns, which require two hands to hold, this pocket pistol, designed primarily for concealment, is only suitable for one-handed holding.

Furthermore, the typical firing range of a handgun is about fifteen meters, but that of a pocket handgun is only about five to ten meters. To achieve greater power, special ammunition must be used.

Based on a distance of approximately 45 centimeters per step, the optimal firing range of the PSM Pocket Pistol is only about 10 to 20 steps. While not within 7 steps, it's not far off.

Therefore, this type of pistol doesn't require much aiming; it relies entirely on feel and close proximity to hit the enemy. If you're only a dozen paces away and still need to aim for a long time, a fast-moving enemy wouldn't be able to disarm you, let alone take the gun; they could easily unleash a series of punches on the gunman's face.

Henry, satisfied, stuffed the pistol, magazine, and bullets into the bulging pouch. Henry grinned, revealing his large teeth, and said, "Now we can talk about gun maintenance; I can't do that by myself."

In Continental Hotel, a Gold Coin is just a stepping stone to opening a hotel; a "promise" can be many or few. Apart from some hard rules that must be followed, everything else depends on the mood of the service provider.

So Henry spent a night in a room at the Continental Hotel, accompanied by a stunningly beautiful woman. From the moment he entered the bath to the window, even at his age, he was completely subdued.