novelraw Chapter 155: This is the End
Chapter 155: This is the End
"Good morning. Your papers, Colonel."
Slowly, he glanced sideways. Baumann still looked terrible, pale, with a faint layer of sweat on his forehead.
Colonel Ivanovich.
"My papers... yes, the papers," Ivanovich muttered, fumbling clumsily in the breast pocket of his far too tight uniform.
The guard examined them carefully. He knew the Colonel, but he checked anyway.
"My adjutants."
The question sounded almost innocent, but a short line had already begun to form behind them.
For a moment the guard hesitated, clearly debating whether he should inspect them anyway. Then he decided his pay wasn’t high enough for that kind of trouble.
His eyes flicked to Baumann.
Ivanovich slowed his pace slightly and glanced over his shoulder.
Maler gave a short nod. "Understood."
Ivanovich’s eyes moved between them.
Baumann let out a quiet breath. "Ten minutes."
Without another word, he turned and disappeared into the stream of officers.
"It actually worked," Maler whispered, disbelief clear in his voice. "I can’t believe how easily he got us through."
"Yeah... that was smoother than I expected. Maybe this won’t be as hard as we thought."
Baumann let out a quiet breath and straightened up, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
They stepped forward, merging into the steady flow of officers and soldiers moving through the corridors of the Kremlin. Boots echoed sharply against the polished floors, a constant rhythm that filled the vast hallways. Voices overlapped, clipped Russian commands mixing with low conversations.
"Left," he muttered under his breath, barely moving his lips.
Better.
A pair of NKVD officers stood at the far end of the hallway, their dark uniforms unmistakable. One of them glanced up as Maler and Baumann approached.
"Don’t look away. Don’t stare."
Baumann’s steps slowed for a fraction of a second, then steadied again.
Then someone behind them called out in Russian.
Maler didn’t waste the moment.
They passed.
"That was too close," he muttered.
Maler followed it. His expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes sharpened.
He slowed just enough for Baumann to fall half a step closer.
Baumann swallowed. "You’re sure?"
Just four facts.
"Second corridor, eastern administrative wing."
"Office belongs to Senior Lieutenant Orlov. NKVD."
Baumann exhaled quietly. "How long?"
11:58.
Baumann gave a short, humorless huff. "Of course."
Every second mattered.
The guarded section came into clearer view. Two NKVD men stood in front of a reinforced door, rigid, unmoving.
11:59:30.
One of the guards shifted his stance slightly, glancing down the corridor. The other adjusted his gloves.
Maler’s breathing slowed.
Steps. Distance. Timing.
Baumann flexed his fingers once.
A door further down opened. One of the guards turned his head.
A voice called out behind them. Sharp. Annoyed. The NKVD officers responded instinctively, half-turning.
Movement.
Both guard stepped away. For a brief, fragile moment, their focus broke. Their formation loosened.
Thirty seconds.
They slipped inside the room.
"Number 2, row 25."
Baumann moved immediately, stepping to the adjacent shelf, his hands already scanning the labels. His movements were fast but controlled, forcing precision over panic.
Maler’s finger stopped.
"Put it inside!"
A thin layer of dust drifted down.
Then....
Both men froze.
Maler’s head snapped toward the door.
Shouts erupted in the corridor outside.
Maler moved immediately. "Doesn’t matter. We have to get out of here."
Chaos.
"Move!"
Baumann followed, keeping his head slightly lowered.
"Probably" Maler replied quietly.
The entire wing was emptying.
They arrived quickly.
"...Maler...."
Two NKVD.
Ivanovich.
For a split second, his eyes lifted.
Everything froze.
Maler saw it. The exact moment it clicked.
Too late.
"There!" he shouted, his voice cracking but loud enough to cut through the entire corridor.
The NKVD officers turned immediately.
"Run!"
"STOP THEM!"
People scattered, some ducking, others pressing against the walls as Maler and Baumann forced their way through.
Too close.
Baumann was already panting heavily when Maler made a decision.
Baumann didn’t even question it.
It was only the first floor.
Baumann let out a sharp grunt as his shoulder scraped against the ground, but he kept moving.
"Go!" he snapped.
A shot strifed Baumanns arm, opening a small wound.
"We have no choice, we climb!"
A bullet caught Baumann’s arm. A shallow tear, but enough.
Maler didn’t slow. The Kremlin wall loomed in front of them.
"We have no choice," Maler snapped. "We climb!"
Another shot slammed into the ground behind them.
Up.
Shots kept coming, but sloppy now, losing angle.
"Faster," Maler barked.
Behind them, shouting flooded the courtyard.
He had almost reached the top, when the support under his feet shifted.
"Baumann!" he called out, his voice breaking mid-word as his body went weightless.
Shock.
CRACK.
Not clean. A brutal impact against stone.
He didn’t scream. Just a tight groan through his teeth.
Their eyes met once again.
There was none. He knew it.
"Don’t!" Maler snapped immediately, voice strained. "Move!"
"Survive, Baumann. Survive and get back home!"Maler nodded.
Tears ran down Baumann’s cheeks as he grabbed stone after stone above him, every movement more strained than the last. Every time he looked back down, he saw Maler sitting there, still, almost calm, forcing a faint smile as he pulled out a small pistol.
"I completed my duty... I did," he whispered, his voice breaking as he raised the pistol, his finger trembling.
The return fire came instantly.
For a moment he just froze, breathing shallow, eyes still open.
His gaze drifted upward again, almost searching the sky above the Kremlin.
"...but how will the rest of this story end..."
Then stopped.
He died.
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