When a certain big villain was preparing to cause trouble, Mutahim, who was based in the 93rd arrondissement of Paris, had just hung up the phone. The mysterious stranger provided him with the information on Lin Sen's return to Paris from Reims tonight.
As for whereabouts, the requirement is that after kidnapping someone, they must follow the corresponding arrangements.
A few words from the stranger pinched Mutashim's sore leg and made him dare not make a mistake. He frowned and remained silent for a few minutes. The atmosphere was quite serious. The men around him looked at each other and waited for him silently.
The command.
"Go and gather some people, not too many, just five or six. Take out the weapons we have hidden, we are going to do something big." Mutasim is still confident and ambitious. As long as the target is killed, there will be two
Hundreds of millions, it's worth risking your life for this money.
Now that someone is providing information, there is no need to be afraid!
The Arab members surrounding Mutasim dispersed silently. Some of them were responsible for contacting people, some were preparing vehicles, and some were finding various long and short firearms from hidden places in their residences.
Arms smuggling in Europe is quite rampant. It only takes half an hour in Brussels to buy an AK-47 for a few hundred euros. Although most of them were made in Yugoslavia in the 1980s, they are still quite easy to use.
Every year, European police detect weapons and firearms that can equip almost an infantry division, and even more are not detected. Transportation in Europe is very convenient, and security inspections are also a mere formality.
Weapons can be circulated very widely.
The weapons in Mutassim's hands can be equipped with a platoon, and they are maintained and operated by ex-militants smuggled from the Middle East, giving the Albanian community in Paris a considerable deterrent effect.
The corresponding personnel were quickly summoned. After learning about the mission, the atmosphere was very dull. After all, more than a dozen people who went there last night died unexpectedly, and everyone was a little scared to do it again today. But under the call of Allah, no one was timid.
, the warriors all expressed that they could sacrifice themselves at any time.
There were five people in total, all of whom were real experts. Mutasim personally led the team and decided to drive three vehicles. In order to keep it secret, everyone set off in separate directions.
Stuffing a short-barreled AK with a folding stock into his spacious robe, Mutasim led the way out of his home in a generous manner. The child at the door nodded to him, indicating that there was no danger around him. But he was still vigilant.
After looking left and right, he slowly walked towards the vehicle parked on the roadside.
Behind Mutasim were other members of the operation, all of whom remained quiet, indifferent and concealed murderous intent. They knew well that they had a heavy responsibility on their shoulders, and whether they could establish God's kingdom of heaven on earth depended on their courage.
The three cars set off one after another. As the boss, Mutashim watched his team members take the lead and leave from the street. He was very satisfied with the calmness of the young men, and he was ready to drive on the road.
Just as Mutasim had just opened the car door, several young men with hoods and hands behind him came up behind him. Most of the people dressed like this were gangsters from the neighborhood, running around.
Mutashim turned around and snorted coldly, and glared at these little gangsters demonstratively. The streets in Province 93 were a mixed bag of people, and it was not just the territory of Arab green believers.
However, as the boss of the Arabs, Mutasim was very confident in his identity. When he saw the little ruffian retreating due to his threats, he smiled proudly.
Mutashim continued to open the car door, imagining the glorious life after the operation was successful. Mutashim was full of ambition. But when he lowered his head to sit in the car, he felt a sudden sharp pain in the back of his head, and a hard object hit him, making stars appear in his eyes.
The body is slumped.
God, why are today's street gangsters so bold? I am Mutasim, the leader of the Albanian ethnic group. I am so frightened that I am even afraid of myself. I was actually slapped on the street?!
Mutasim tried hard to stand up again, wishing he could immediately take out the rifle from under his robe and kill those damn little gangsters suddenly. But he was hit on the back of the head, and now he couldn't even stand and staggered.
When I was staggering, I heard someone watching, "Quick, quick, stuff pork into his mouth."
Mutashim fell to the ground, and two gangsters surrounded him. One of them took pictures with his mobile phone, and the other took out a piece of pork and stuffed it into his mouth. He struggled hard and wanted to spit the meat out, but his mouth was forced to
It was spread out, and there was a stick poking hard.
Mutasim was choked so much that he could hardly breathe, coughing continuously and feeling nauseated. But the little ruffian who fed him did not care so much and forced him to swallow the meat.
Several Arabs on the block reacted and yelled at the two violent gangsters. The two gangsters were also very frightened and left quickly after being force-fed for a while. Mutashim almost choked to death on the pieces of raw meat.
I couldn't spit it out and had to swallow it.
Waiting for the people from the nearby ethnic group to come over, they saw the dignified leader of the Albanian ethnic group being beaten with a baseball bat until the back of his head was bleeding, with tears streaming down his face, and he was in extremely miserable condition.
Mutashim barely managed to get up and fell to his knees. He kept retching and vomiting out pieces of raw meat, and then shouted miserably: "Those damn little ruffians, don't let me catch them, otherwise I will send them to see you."
Allah, send me to the hospital now, I want my stomach to be lavaged, I want my stomach to be lavaged right away!”
The mission of intercepting 'Linsen' naturally failed, and Mutashim was carried to the hospital in a hurry. France's medical system is still good, at least better than that of the United States. Seeing the injured boss,
Medical staff quickly bandaged his wounds and performed gastric lavage.
This was like going out without looking at the almanac. He was attacked as soon as he left the house. Mutashim was so angry that he was furious to death. Due to a severe blow to the back of his head, which caused a concussion, he lay on the hospital bed and could only
Rest quietly, as languid as a dead dog.
In the dead of night, when the anesthetic effect on the back of his head wore off, Mutasim woke up from the pain of his wound. When he moved in bed, a caregiver who was leaning next to him also woke up.
The hospital was very quiet late at night, with no one around. Mutasim asked the nurse: "Where is the person responsible for taking care of me?"
The caregiver was an Eastern European woman in her forties, very thick-shouldered and round-waisted, and spoke in a rough voice. She replied rudely: "The people who sent you here have all left. They are very busy now, so they hired me to take care of you."
."
Mutasim didn't understand why, and cursed in his mind: I, the boss, have been plotted against me, and no one is around me. What if my enemies come looking for me? What a bunch of idiots!
Seeing Mutashim humming, the stout caregiver was not afraid of him. Instead, he raised his phone and turned on the camera to film him. He immediately said angrily: "Why are you filming me? Delete it immediately. You are infringing on my religion."
Faith, I order you to delete it."
"Are you a Green Christian?" the nurse asked.
Mutassim showed a bit of arrogance, "I am a servant of God. I ask you to do as I say immediately, otherwise I will sue you for discrimination. My men will deal with you severely when they come back."
This rhetoric has been successful in the past, and no one else wants to be stuck with such a stinky shit. Small costs can bring big profits, which is the secret of Arab development. But this time there is something different...
"I think your people won't be able to come back for a while. And you..." The stout caregiver silently took out a piece of pork jerky from his pocket, "Can you eat this? You only need to eat it four times a day.
, I can earn one hundred and twenty euros. Please cooperate and I will take good care of you."
Mutasim stared in shock, feeling that something was not quite right.