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
The car stopped in front of a three-story red brick building, lost somewhere in the industrial zone in the east of Moscow. The light from the lanterns of the neighboring street streamed from the window failures of the upper floor. Getting out onto the snow-covered sidewalk, Boris saw a sign nailed to the extreme pediment: "Tkatskaya Street, house 18."Between the first and second floors, under the semicircular canopy of the entrance group, there was a laconic sign - "Dining Room". Under it is an old metal door, without a porch and steps - the first floor here merged with the ground level, this could be judged by the low-lying boarded-up windows. Outside, they were covered with a fine chain-link mesh.“It doesn't look like there's an airfield nearby,” Boris said.- Still not used to the surprises of the authorities? - Jacob reacted gloomily.- You get used to the bad for a long time.The first floor was obviously inhabited and may have been used as some sort of warehouse or something.
- Who?- Your pi..kindness!Boris leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms. His face was on fire from the balaclava.– What is under the building of your office in Moscow? - He asked.- I have no idea. Look, you won't find them anyway. All your questions show that you have the brain of a chicken. I understand why we are here. You don't know anything about your work. I mean in what you are obliged to do there according to your position. It's all boring to me. Let's better go ahead, what's on your schedule. I won't say anything more.Vindman took off his balaclava. The mustachioed man frowned, and Makarov smiled his dismissive smile - they say, well, I told you he was an idiot. He really did smile every now and then, especially when Stotsky insulted Boris.“Stotsky, if you haven’t understood yet, I’ll repeat - I don’t give a damn about your bosses and my own, too,” Vindman began, not approaching the microphone, “even if they are really wet there, I’m not sure that the authorities will
Pustovalov noticed a change in Victor's behavior. Habitual good nature was replaced by defiant recklessness and inept irony. The guy seemed to be going through a belated transitional age. But Pustovalov did not at all see himself in the role of a parent, forced to endure all this. But still he endured. And not only because he needed Victor, but because he liked him anyway. At the Lubyanka, Pustovalov suggested moving to the next stage, and Victor deliberately slowly climbed onto the platform and imposingly crossed the hall, copying the apparently crazy old man. And although the station was empty, in a different scenario, such a trick could cost them dearly.Why hide when there are cameras all around? - Victor mowed down "for a fool". - I'm still silent about the volumes. I hope you know they're all over the place?Pustovalov pretended not to notice the barbs. He guessed that Victor was offended because of the incident with the hunter. Perhaps Pustovalov went too far then, which he reg
You are a master no doubt. But there is no command. You just masterfully use everyone, including me.We are a team as long as we have a common goal.- In fact of the matter. We have no common goal. For example, I don't want to go to Komsomolskaya. Why am I going there? Just because you said.- Victor, we discussed this. There is an exit, a depot, and you yourself said that your home is there.“Home,” Victor smiled sourly, “do you know what my house is? A fucking cold empty room in a communal flat. With a fucking air mattress. With an empty refrigerator. I pissed on my last pair of jeans, ripped my only sneakers, my pockets were empty, my score was zero. Do you think this is the house you want to return to?- Do you have a family?“My father died when I was little. There is a mother who, immediately after his death, jumped out to marry an old man who looked like Belmondo and bore him three children. She loves them, but not me. 'Cause I look like someone she never loved.Pustovalov look