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UNDERGROUND 97
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
UNDERGROUND 98
After leaving the hall, the man tried to use the busy stream to hide on the stairs. Vindman noticed he had a jacket in his hands - he must have grabbed it along the way, while Boris made his way to the exit.He walked a little faster than he was obviously used to - it was noticeable by the excessively vigorous movement of his hands, but not so much as to draw unnecessary attention to himself. Vindman also pretended to just go about his business - he did not want to scare the man and supported his game.The man looked back only once in the corridor, before going out into the hall, and, noticing Vindman, immediately shifted his gaze. Boris did not believe that the man saw him as a serious threat. Rather, he attributed it to someone who wants to talk, but not so much that he climbs out of his skin if this intention cannot be fulfilled.Vindman just didn't want to complicate things. Taking advantage of the fact that the man did not pay attention to Yakov, Boris pointed to his partner with
UNDERGROUND 99
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
UNDERGROUND 100
The nightmare disappeared into the dark corridors of the subconscious, leaving only a scream in the memory, like a pulsation of drug-blunted pain. All the senses at once let in a new reality. There was no more smell of sweat and stale underwear, the creak of sand in wet boots, dirty damp clothes, cold walls and the smell of engine oils. A clean pillowcase pleasantly cooled my left cheek, an unobtrusive breeze blew in my face, flowing from somewhere above along with the muffled voice of Nikolai Karachentsov, singing about a maple leaf. But the main thing is daylight. Yes, yes, curtains behind which are sun-drenched snowy valleys, although Pustovalov has already realized that this is just an imitation in the form of light panels.For Pustovalov, the serenity of such awakenings, possible only in a childhood unfamiliar to him, was a curiosity. And therefore he was in no hurry, enjoying the comprehension of the sacrament, although he felt persistent pressure in the region of the bladder. M
UNDERGROUND 101
- What are you? Victor was worried.- What? – Pustovalov turned his head around. On his face appeared that naive, mischievous smile that Dasha liked so much.- Whats up?- To me?- Don't push!- You're pushing. – Pustovalov returned the accusation and immediately pushed him again. Victor tried to restrain himself, but he, in the end, failed - he also smiled and pushed Pustovalov in response. In a moment, both of them burst into laughter and pushed under the displeased hiss of the “viewers” like real teenagers, which, however, was not so far from the truth.***At breakfast, everyone gathered in a small dining room, and Pustovalov saw that the “last batch” of passengers included only about thirty people. They were the most ordinary people, mostly middle-aged. There were literally enough seats, but he heard that the average party here reached two hundred people and they ate in turn.The tables were for four, Pustovalov, Dasha, Katya and Kharitonov, without saying a word, sat down at o
UNDERGROUND 102
Everyone looked at Victor, and the psychologist looked at some kind of square device that appeared in his hands.- You are well done. What is your name?– Victor.“Victor, but didn’t they scare you?”Pustovalov at that moment looked at the psychologist.“No, they didn’t scare me,” Victor chuckled, “the guy who came to my aid scared me.The man nodded.Yes, I forgot to say. He entered the car a little later and first sat between me and that girl. He took out a ballpoint pen and began to peck at his knee with it. Well, you know, he acted like a psycho. In fact, he was a psycho. He scared this girl with his strange behavior, and I talked to him a little. I wanted to calm him down so he wouldn't hurt her. And then, he left. And, in general, that's why we met.So you managed to calm him down?- Yes, he was excited, and then after we had a chat, he left."How did he scare you?"- He appeared suddenly when the gopniks grabbed my legs and turned me over. I saw…Victor was silent.– What did y
UNDERGROUND 103
The psychologist nodded.- Continue.- He had a garage. That… person. And in the garage, a special basement. He dug it for these things, put electricity in it, made reliable locks and soundproofing. We didn't know it then. There was nothing special about him. I remember only the hat and being tall. In the car in which he drove us, I saw him only from the back, because I was sitting in the back seat. Although, later, I spent twelve hours with him in a cramped room in bright light, but I still remember only his high growth. He said that we could get to the dacha of some businessman who had gone to the Canary Islands. He has real treasures there: whole boxes of Snickers and even players and a Japanese prefix. It seems like we will help him open the door, and he himself only needs "gold". My friends believed him.- You are not?By the time I understood everything, it was already too late.– When did you understand?- When we were in the garage, and a large knife appeared in his hand. He s
UNDERGROUND 104
Boris generously spread butter on a piece of bread, put a plate of Emmental cheese on top, pressed down slightly, and, twisting the created sandwich, bit off a third from the corner at once. At the same moment, his face twisted into a grimace of disgust - instead of creamy pleasure, his mouth filled with the taste of acrylic paint, a can of which stood next to the oil on the windowsill.Nevertheless, Boris chewed a piece and swallowed it. It got even more disgusting. Throwing the sandwich into the trash can, he took three long sips of black coffee and stared at Yakov, who was either sleeping or talking on the phone - reclining in an armchair and pressing his smartphone to his ear, he blinked slowly like Dmitry Medvedev at a government meeting. The clock was a quarter to four. He had been awake for almost a day.Finally, the smartphone moved to the table.“Shiburova Ayana Bachievna…” Yakov said, stumbling over every word.- What are you muttering?- One thousand nine hundred and twenty