The general raised his face to the ceiling and howled like a wolf.This time Yakov didn't notice the handset in his hand. He looked at Makarov, who was standing in the semi-darkness against the wall, under the picture of pigs besieging an ancient fortress - his face was frozen and impenetrable, like that of a wax figure or a turned off humanoid android. When Yakov looked at the general again, his gaze met ice-cold eyes.– What happened next?“Major Vindman said that he could find a passage, but for this he needs to search the corpse of a terrorist. The man had a tattoo of the Russian letters "PIM" on his wrist. There was nothing special with him, only a weapon, a folding knife and a smartphone. No documents or keys.Did the conflict happen because of him?- Yes sir. The conflict occurred when Major Vindman photographed the corpse on the phone of the murdered.- Why?“Apparently, he wanted to keep the image of the terrorist, so that later he could collect information about him. The fac

- What! - Kharitonov jumped up, began to rummage in the box. – Where is the second bank?!And immediately guessing, he looked back at Pustovalov with a smile. He sat behind everyone, and also ate from a small jar.- Of course! How did I not guess. Well, everything is clear with him, - Kharitonov turned to Dasha, - and you? Is it lordly flair?Why have you never eaten crabs? Katya was surprised.Imagine never.- Well, you and ... simpleton. You woke up early.Dasha handed the jar to Kharitonov.- No, no, all the best to our prince and princess.– I just took the smallest jar because I don’t really want to eat.– No, first you opened a can of sprat and rejected it.“I have heartburn from tomato paste!” - Dasha began to get angry and, throwing the jar on the table, snorted contemptuously. - Get fried!“Now I recognize you,” Kharitonov laughed and grabbed the jar, “thank you, princess!”Katya also put the jar on the table.- I'm sick.- Everyone is tired.Everyone looked at Victor. He's b

– Have you seen anyone?- In what sense?- Someone.Well, I've seen people. Passengers, taxi drivers...The young people looked at each other.“Did you really see them?”Or did you think you saw it?Why do you guys ask? Can I just go in?“Dasha, this is very bad,” the guy said sadly, and the fair-haired one immediately repeated:- Yes this is bad. This city is not so easy to get into.- What are you talking about, you ... - The smile froze on Dasha's face.Behind them, a dark-haired woman appeared. She recognized her immediately. If she saw these guys only as children, then she already saw this woman as an adult. Her features were not so sharp, she had grown old, but... Dasha recognized her. And the woman recognized Dasha. And Dasha was surprised to find out how these guys looked like her. The boys went to the mother, and the daughter to the father. There was neither sadness nor joy in the woman's cheeky, rough face, but only all-consuming horror. She immediately screamed.- What are

From early morning Vindman sat at his computer, immersed in the study of the life of Sergei Mikheev - as meticulously thought out and fake as the interior of his apartment. Boris believed that Mikheev played the role of an average exemplary man - a kind of invisible hero of GQ magazine, too diligently. For a better disguise, the creator of this life would do well to add a couple of small realistic touches. Trying to vomit on the hood of a police car or a bunch of parking tickets, for example. But Sergey Mikheev, a strong athletic man, carefully observed the life routine of his role: he came to work at the same time, visited a fitness center with a swimming pool three times a week, went on dates with single women of his age, visited a presentable prostitute and massage salon. He drank only beer no more than once every two weeks and no more than one mug. And yet something was knocked out of this average image. Sergei Mikheev had no friends. However, this did not surprise Vindman. Friend

Vindman clapped his hands deafeningly and laughed. Jacob smiled too. And the man winced again.- And how much does such a pleasure cost?- Double a week.Did he give you money every week?- I left it in the store room.In short, boss! - Unable to resist, Boris slapped the man on the shoulder. “Get us to your quarters and immediately.- That one?- That one!The room the grey-haired man led them into was very small, and almost two-thirds full of cabinets and shelves, on which rackets, nets and parts from mechanical tables were neatly laid out. Despite the size, there was even once a window here, judging by the radiator recessed in a niche, hidden by a wooden casing. The window itself, apparently, opened onto a pit, and had been blocked up a long time ago.– An ideal place, – noted Yakov, – no windows and cameras.The man gave him a tense look and opened the first locker. Four red rackets with hieroglyphs lay in a separate pile on the shelf.- Here.- That is, it came out at eight thous