In the room, there was one stool and one table, but both were bolted to the ground.
Listening to himself, Artiom realized that he wasn’t afraid at all.
Nothing happened. Tkachuk gnashed his teeth, spat on the floor, and walked away.
“Might as well have pissed yourself here, you castrated horse,” said Artiom. Moisei Solomonovich looked at him with pleading eyes.
Lunch was buckwheat, and they added the same Chekist whom they had taken out in the morning.
The mood in the room changed immediately — they didn’t kill him. They let him return, though he was completely rumpled, beaten, scared and wet for some reason — were they pouring water on him?
The returned Chekist hid in a corner. He was shaking.
When he asked for something to drink in half an hour, someone immediately brought him a h
