OUTCAST

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Hot in the back seat of the gelika with tinted windows comfortably stretched out his long legs and looked out the window as the car drove out of the sanatorium, where in the gym now his 12 fighters were sleeping sweetly in anticipation of morning coffee and buns. They were here under the guise of a team of workers - plasterers and painters, and he was like their foreman, who went to the city for paint and other things.

Five days ago, a "legitimate" drug lord received him sincerely at Wolf's Beach. We spent the night with cognac and shish kebab on the shore of a quiet moon pond, listening to night birds and frogs, having a swim in cool water, having a chat for life. We also talked about mournful matters, and the baron gave a normal contact. They crossed the border along the path of drug couriers and surrendered to the local border guards in the Valley of Thunder, who brought them to this sanatorium. For three days we slept and ate in the gym without going out into the street. Finally,