Sure enough—right behind their car, two other vehicles were tailing them. Every occupant wore identical black uniforms, and the way they stared at Yamamoto Takehito's car carried an unmistakable glint of menace.
They shadowed the car all the way, their intentions unclear.
At that moment, Kaji Ryōji seemed to sense the tail as well. Glancing at Kitazawa Ryōta's expression, he was quietly startled—had Kitazawa known from the start?
Kitazawa gave him a slight shake of the head, a signal to keep quiet. Ryōji nodded faintly in reply, understanding at once.
Following Kitazawa's hand signal, the car picked up speed, then suddenly swung into a narrow side alley—and disappeared from sight.
"Huh? Where'd they go?"
When the black-clad pursuers saw the vehicle turn into the alley, they hurried after it—but once inside, the target was nowhere to be seen.
"What the hell happened?! Where did they go? At that speed, how could we have lost them?"
The men cursed in frustration. One of them jumped out, glaring down the cramped roadway ahead.
"Heh. Could it be that the people you're looking for… are us?"
A cool, clear voice rang out. Three figures emerged from a small side lane—Kitazawa Ryōta, Yamamoto Takehito, and Kaji Ryōji.
The speaker was Ryōji, a cigarette hanging from his lips, his face still wearing that faint, unruffled smile.
"You… you—!"
Realizing they'd been spotted from the beginning, the black-clad men spilled out of their cars. One of them fixed a cold glare on Kitazawa.
"Fine. Since you already know we're here, we won't bother with pleasantries. Men—kill them!"
"Yes, sir!"
At the order, two hulking Russians raised their submachine guns and opened fire on the trio.
The gunfire cracked in sharp bursts, bullets clattering onto the pavement. The alley rang with the deafening report of automatic fire, and sparks from ricochets sprayed against the walls, blasting off clouds of white plaster dust. The walls were soon peppered with pockmarks.
Even so, the fusillade eventually ran dry—because Kitazawa and Ryōji's figures had already flickered out of sight.
"Where are they?!"
One of the Russians hefted his light machine gun, roaring into the empty alley like an enraged lion.
"After them! Don't let them get away! The boss said—dead or alive, we bring them in. They do not leave Moscow alive!"
The man shouted orders, sending his subordinates forward. The alley wasn't deep; he refused to believe those two Japanese could sprout wings. And besides, no one could outrun bullets.
Then, from directly behind them, a calm voice suddenly spoke:
"Excuse me… were you looking for me?"
"What—?"
The Russian leader's heart lurched. Before he could turn, a sharp, brutal kick slammed into his knee, knocking him to the ground. His weapon clattered from his hands—only to be snatched up by a quick-moving figure, who racked the slide and pressed the muzzle hard against his head.
"Boss!"
The Russians who had just rushed into the alley spun around at the sound. What they saw made them freeze: the three Japanese standing there, Ryōji holding the captured gun in one hand, his cigarette still dangling, an easy smile on his face.
"You… you wouldn't dare shoot! If you do, I swear none of you will leave Moscow alive!" the Russian leader snarled.
"Talk," Kitazawa said flatly. "Why were you following us? And why did you try to kill us? As for our lives—don't trouble yourself. Better think about whether you can survive the next few minutes. Even if I don't make it out of Moscow alive… you'll be dead first. Wouldn't you agree?"
"You…"
The man still refused to back down, but his voice was losing its edge.
"Me? What about me?" Ryōji drawled lazily, the gun barrel nudging the man's temple. "Go on—tell us why you were sent to kill us. If you don't… I'll blow your head open right now."
When the man hesitated, Ryōji worked the bolt on the gun with a metallic clack, making it very clear he was ready to fire.
One shot, and the Russian's head would be nothing but pulp.
"Don't! Don't shoot—I'll talk! I'll talk!"
Cold sweat drenched the man's back as he gritted his teeth. "It was Kirov! He told the boss you'd been on Telo Street—so the boss ordered us to kill you!"
"You idiot—don't tell them that!"
The other Russians froze in shock. If their boss learned this top-secret order had been spilled, none of them would live to see tomorrow.
"What—Kirov?"
Kitazawa and Ryōji exchanged a long look. They'd suspected Kirov was hiding something—but hadn't expected him to sic the Solntsevskaya Brotherhood on them.
And from another angle, this all but confirmed something else: Kirov did know about EVA. After all, in Moscow, only he knew they were here for exactly that.
Both men reached the same conclusion at the same time. Ryōji's eyes even gleamed with a sudden, sharp excitement.
Finally—they had a lead.
SEELE's mission had just made a major breakthrough.
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