Viktor did not believe Pustovalov when he offered to take the “pot-bellied” driver with him, because he did not want to drag the guy who fed them sandwiches into trouble, and the “big-nosed”, they say, would be enough after meeting with Kharitonov’s fist. He was sure that Pustovalov had decided to take him because he roughly pushed Dasha, and recently Viktor began to notice that there was some kind of subtle connection between Pustovalov and Dasha. While it was difficult to call something definite. And not least because of the secrecy of their complex characters. Of course, this couple knew how to encrypt. But their looks, subtle intonations, body movements - all this hinted at something more than the usual mutual assistance in a difficult situation. However, Victor admitted that such suspicions were just a figment of the fantasies of his nature,The motor locomotive was obviously hastily converted for the transportation of people - they increased the boards from the boards, threw out
“Hey,” he said to the pot-bellied one, when the motor truck disappeared behind a smooth turn, “how often do motor trucks go here?”“With an interval of forty-five minutes,” the engineer replied.You knew they would be there! - Hissed Kharitonov.- No no! They can be on any platform.How fast can this thing go? Pustovalov asked.Up to thirty kilometers an hour.- Come on, speed it up.“But we will close the gap with others. You can not do it this way! It will draw attention!- Do as I say!Pot-bellied increased speed, and Kharitonov took Pustovalov to the corner of the cab.- What's happening?“I didn’t like one guy there.When the Park Kultury station appeared ahead, they did the same - slowed down and hid. Pustovalov settled down to watch. However, the station was completely empty. Here were the same massive pylons, only made of gray marble with white bas-reliefs depicting the rest of Soviet youth. There were no lamps on the pylons. Only two or three chandeliers were lit. An empty mo
As soon as the locomotive disappeared into the "blind zone", Pustovalov pulled the brake lever and shouted to Viktor to jump.Victor got down, clung to the tubing. Pustovalov's strong hands flickered in the chaotic lamplight. The empty locomotive creaked heavily and drove back, picking up speed.Victor followed him with his eyes and thought how brave it was to launch the engine towards the pursuer, completely spitting on any consequences.Pustovalov, without turning around, moved in the opposite direction, wiping his hands from nowhere with a waffle towel he had taken.“Thank you,” Victor said, rushing after him.Pustovalov ignored his gratitude.There must be a tunnel somewhere.- Farther. We drove through it.Sadness and guilt washed over Victor. He wanted to sincerely thank Pustovalov, because he again saved his life, but he did not know what to say, except for the banal “thank you”. And do I need to say something? Sadness overcame him because of parting with the girls. He liked to
“Is that the subway or… the St. Gotthard Tunnel?” - Without taking his fascinated gaze from the endless tunnel, Pustovalov said. – Is that how it should be?“Where is… the station?” Victor exhaled, not understanding anything.He just straightened up and, grimacing from the pain in his head, looked into the amazing distance. Symmetrical fixtures and blurry patches of reflected light formed lines that, along with rails, seams and cables, connected at one unreachable distant point. The tunnel itself was unnaturally smooth for the Moscow metro, only slightly "sagging" like a rope bridge. But most surprising was the lack of a station. The connecting tunnel they were going through should have led straight to her.Should she be here? - Pustovalov clarified.At this time, strange sounds were heard from above. As if the wind hummed in the pipes, shook the huge metal sails and roared a huge whale.Victor and Pustovalov lifted their heads. Where they stood, at the fork directly above them, darkn
Damn it, where is he! Why, the hunter himself cannot look around. Doesn't he realize? Victor looked into the trunk, and he seemed to break it.– Two.Victor felt pain in his stomach. And how it got wet in my pants. He pissed.- There! - Victor shouted, pointing to the Shch1 cabinet. - He is there!He pissed.The hunter smiled a broad, white-toothed smile. He took a step back, without taking his rifle away from Victor, turned to the locker. Then, cautiously, I took a couple of steps towards him. I saw a backpack and something else. He bent down and, uttering something satisfied in German, picked up Pustovalov's silver pistol from the floor.So that's why Pustovalov didn't jump out. He forgot his pistol. Victor has never felt so bad. He was still on his knees, hunched over, smelling urine.The hunter, meanwhile, put the "Walter" in a pocket on his hip and carefully, without coming closer, like a sniffing cat, examined the cabinet from a distance of a couple of meters. Then, as if convin
Why does the light work so strangely? – Asked Pustovalov, cautiously approaching the station.- They save energy, most likely they have it autonomous.Sometimes he struck Victor with his ignorance.Pustovalov stopped, and Victor was struck by a sudden idea.- Listen, San, there is a transition to three more stations. The largest node. Maybe we can try here?- What shall we try?- Get out.- Great idea! - Unexpectedly agreed Pustovalov. I hope they think so too.Victor felt a leaden cloud descend on his shoulders.Again, he somehow changed everything in his own way.- Move! Let's skip the station quickly!They ran again, and, looking at Pustovalov's bent back, Victor thought that this rich horseradish probably eats well, like his beloved cat Tishka of his feline aunt from Kislovodsk. And yet, running along the platform, Victor recalled this “yellow” station, where he was waiting for a girl invited for a date for the first and last time in his life and was terribly worried. The station
Pustovalov was surprised that he himself had not thought of what the old man was talking about, but he soon realized that he simply needed more time for similar decisions. And since time is a very important variable when escaping from armed thugs, his decisions were less elegant and more focused on action.Meanwhile, they had already reached the stairs, and no one had appeared in the passage behind them.“Now they know where we've gone, but they'll have another task to solve soon. Not sure if they can handle it. - Said the old man, pacing with his crane-like gait where Victor and Pustovalov ran four minutes ago.Victor even noticed a black dash on the step from the sole of his sneaker.– How do you do it? Victor asked.The old man took a few short breaths - apparently some kind of breathing exercises - and then spoke to the wall, so that Victor did not even immediately understand that this was the answer to his question.- I'm walking strictly along one branch at a distance of about t
Are you not afraid of them at all?You don't have to follow my example. They are dangerous for you, - the old man looked narrowly at Victor with his blind eyes and turned to Pustovalov.“Your Sancho Panza is really bad.“He got it,” Pustovalov agreed.“Let him rest, you will need his help.”The tunnel they were going through was old, perfectly round, and well lit. All the lamps located on both sides above the cables worked. The light reflected off the rails and painted menacing shadows on the walls. Probably, all this is bad, Victor thought, but watching the old man, he again drew attention to his icy calmness.With the help of Pustovalov, the old man climbed onto the concrete parapet along the wall, which he called the shield penetration. He moved along it quite freely, lightly touching the cables with his palm, and pressing the canvas bag with his other hand. His tall figure, slightly bent under the lamps, reminded Victor of a textbook magician from fantasy sagas.Soon, Victor began