Red Star

Chapter 7

However, the problem with the lack of time resolved itself. On Monday, at the first lesson, and we had "Russian language", I heard two unexpected news. The first one made me infinitely happy! I was happy, of course, not with the fact that we are starting a "test week" in all subjects, but with the fact that the HOLIDAYS will begin after it! My God, I've already forgotten such a wonderful time-the holidays...

How well everything was resolved with the search for free and uncontrolled days! From March 22 to April 1, I can Rob houses, dishonest generals, even every day. The second news was also unexpected. Unpleasant, but funny! I got a "С" for dictation "in Russian". 

The 'test week' passed quickly and quite interestingly! Apparently angry that the headmistress brought me back to the lesson, 'russick' started me on the sly 'to blame'. But I was on my guard and didn't give her the chance. The class watched the confrontation with interest. In the end, they parted with a fighting draw. 'Russick' put me at quarter to four, but decided not to. The fight was postponed until the end of the year.

In other subjects of adventure, and finished the quarter without the 'triplets', with a predominance of 'fives'.

The first day of spring break, Wednesday, March 22, 1978, started for me at 8: 00 am. I barely lay in bed until the door slammed at 8: 30 for my mother, who was leaving for work.

Two days before the start of the holidays, when it became clear that my grades were all right, I began to 'load' my mother with the fact that I was going to go with my classmates on the first day of the holidays to ride snow slides on Krestovsky island. She didn't mind. My mother was very happy with the results of the quarter, the grades exceeded her expectations, and I received the "go-ahead" for "rides", along with the ruble, for pocket expenses.

...And here I am with a sled, a backpack and a ruble in my pocket, shaking in the vestibule of the train for the "General's treasures"! The sledge had to be taken for reasons of secrecy. First, the boy with the sled does not raise any questions, no matter where he is or where he goes. There is a boy with a sled in winter - a completely normal and familiar picture to the eye: either to ride, or already rolled. And, secondly, it is not clear how things will go. If you have to return home later than your mother, then it will be difficult to explain why you went for a ride down the hill, but did not take the sled with you. You can get away with it, but do you need to build a garden out of the blue...

I arrived in Repino in a disgusting mood. While I was shaking in the train, I realized that Lukova Marina's daughter can already go to school, which means that she, too, like me, has a vacation and the best place to spend it in the country, in a nice warm house. Therefore, my entire operation may now be 'covered with a copper basin' if there are people in the house.

Or they won't be home UNTIL they are... I went to Repino one of the first trains, and the owners have nowhere to hurry. And they may well come into the house while I'm busy gutting their furniture.

In short, once again letting all the passengers who got off the train at Repino station go ahead, I trudged behind and tried to see the roof of the house I needed from a distance.

This time, I didn't approach the house from the street. I could already see the roof of the house - the chimney showed no signs of life. So I began to make my way to the house from the rear side, which looked out on a large snow-covered ravine and was fenced off from it by a thicket of bare, snow-covered bushes.

"Kick-ass! Three times kick!!!" "it took me more than an hour to get through, no, it took me a hundred meters. There was so much snow that with every step, I sank to my waist. When I reached the damn fence, I was steaming like a boiling radiator, and I was ready to die of fatigue.

I spent more than an hour under the fence, just stupidly catching my breath. I was smart enough to look around from time to time, but there wasn't a soul in sight. All the while, I listened just as carefully, but there was no sound from behind the fence or from the house.

When I finally came to, I leaned the sledge vertically against the fence and tried to stand on it and look into the yard. It was obviously very bad. I could only see the second-floor and attic Windows. The worst part was that I realized I couldn't climb over the fence. Not enough growth, no solid support, no strength.

I didn't think to give up yet, so I decided to look for a bigger log or stone along the fence. Well, I found... a gate! It was made so carefully that it almost merged with the fence, so I was standing 10 meters away, I just didn't see it before. The gate had a lock embedded in it, but it didn't seem to have been used for a long time.

For ten minutes I hesitated and hesitated. If anything happens, there's no way I can escape in this snow. But it was either necessary to continue, or to return home. I looked around again and strained my ears, but there was absolutely no one around, and only the wind carried the distant barking of a dog. Well, I reached into my backpack and pulled out a crowbar and an axe. With a determined effort, I placed the end of the crowbar where I thought the lock tab should be. He took a deep breath and slammed the butt of the axe against the crowbar. There was a c***k, the jamb burst into whitish splinters, and the gate opened a few inches. I froze. But there was still silence. I pushed open the gate and it opened wider. Then, holding my axe firmly at the ready, I threw my weight against the gate, and it gave way just enough for me to squeeze through.

In front of me was the back yard of the house. There was a wooden ladder and some cans. All this and the porch, and garden paths, and the yard, and the plot were covered with snow, there were no traces of anyone around. Cursing, I went back to the gate and dragged the sled and backpack inside. I took a flashlight out of my backpack, closed the gate, and started walking toward the house.

I entered the house through a door that opened onto the back yard. The only difference is that the house door, unlike the gate, had to be hit twice. The house was cold and gloomy, despite the fact that the sun periodically peeked out on the street. I tried not to use the flashlight unless I had to, so that passers-by on the street wouldn't see a ray of light through the Windows of the house. My nerves were on edge, and when I was sure that the house was really empty, I quickly began to search for the unfortunate bed.

I would call the furniture in the house "Stalinist". Heavy, massive, and old-fashioned. I didn't find a bedroom on the first floor. There was a large living room with a TV, a dining room with a huge dining table, a kitchen, and two cluttered utility rooms. A door led from the living room to a large glass-enclosed veranda. From the dining room, I turned into the corridor and stomped up the stairs to the second floor.

I found the bedroom immediately. In the middle of the bedroom was a massive cot, like all the furniture in this house. The company of this object, which I was looking for, was a huge chest of drawers and an equally large trellis. There was a massive chair and a leather Ottoman in the corner. To rule out a mistake, I went through three more rooms on the second floor. Two of them were also bedrooms, but the furniture was obviously more modern. The third room was an office with a massive Desk and chair, the exact twin of the one in the bedroom. There was also a library here once. Now the bookcases were empty.

I climbed the ladder to the attic. It had been turned into a large and clueless storeroom, where old things were lying and hanging: raincoats, coats, greatcoats with spun insignia, baskets, fishing rods, and old-fashioned men's and women's shoes were piled on the floor. It looks like the owners of this house never threw anything away.

I went back to the first bedroom. Even a cursory examination of the huge and heavy-looking bed showed that I could not open it and then restore it to its original appearance.

The floor was covered with my wet footprints and the doors were broken down, making this problem no longer very significant. Although, of course, it would be more pleasant if the police thought that an ordinary dacha thief got in. However, the sight of an open cache will make them dig their noses into the ground.

Well, what can you do?.. I play as best I can. And it is difficult to give the appearance of a robbery here. There is nothing of value in the house. There aren't even any dishes in the dining room cupboards, and there aren't any photos or paintings on the walls.

Okay, let's go! I pulled the heavy bedspread off the bed, then the thick blankets, and the completely untenable mattresses. A solid wooden base was exposed. Without bothering to do anything, I picked up the crowbar and axe again and began to break the bed base. Put the crowbar on top, beat the ax butt on the crowbar, and then expanded the cracks that had already formed with the same blows. After about five minutes, I would take out whole chunks of the base and throw them on the floor. Some bundles were clearly visible through the holes. And there were many of them!

***

After another three hours, I was completely exhausted. On the mattresses thrown on the floor were bundles of Soviet rubles - clearly more than a million, and an iron-bound box with jewelry-rings, bracelets, chains, gold crosses and watches, earrings - almost all with precious stones. And I saw only what lay on top. But even that was enough to quietly f**k up. I am not an expert on "tsatskam", but even I understood that the contents of the box significantly exceed the ruble cash. But that's not all! Separately on the floor lay three, apparently, German pistols, 3 of our 'TT' - these I recognized immediately, packs of cartridges and ... 'Schmeisser'! That's what I came in...

... Now, we need to be able to get out... When I found in the gutted bed, in addition to money, a box, a machine gun and ammunition, the first thing I did was to start the chairs in the bedroom and office. They were very similar in their monumentality and massiveness to a broken bed, and I hoped that they had a similar one 'filling'.

Expectations were not deceived! At the base of each chair were wads of money and pistols wrapped in cloth and paper. Also in one chair were bundles of gold coins, from which an eagle stared rapaciously, and in the second a small leather briefcase with some papers in German.

In my rage, I chopped up the bedroom chest of drawers and the library Desk with an axe, but I didn't do anything to ruin the furniture, and now no antique dealer will be interested in it after me.

When I dragged all this wealth to the first floor and began to pack it on a sled, it soon became clear that I could not take this cargo far physically. One box weighed 30 kilograms, when I dragged it on a sled, I almost tore my navel! Plus money, weapons, and ammo. I think I loaded about 100 kilograms on the sled. The sledge held, but there was no question of leaving the house the way I had come in.

I was able to drag the sled out into the courtyard, across the carpets of the living room and corridor, only at the cost of incredible effort, until it was dark in my eyes.

For another hour or so, I came to my senses and thought hard about what to do. Among the ideas were both options to load the most valuable things in a backpack, and throw the rest, and the option to order a taxi and bring everything out in a "cheeky way", with further transfers to other cars and covering up the tracks.

The first option caused me categorical rejection! What should I have given up as less valuable? Money, gold, jewelry, or weapons?! I need everything! Because I have almost nothing of my own in this world. I don't even have the basic strength to carry this heavy bale.

The second option was a failure, only extended in time. They will come for me, if not in a day, then in a week for sure. Times like this. And so they will search without sparing effort. The realization of my own helplessness made me want to cry.

No matter how much I sat there and tried to figure out wonderful ways to solve problems, there weren't any. The time was approaching 18 hours, soon my mother will go home from work. It was already very dark outside. And I made a decision...

I untied the ropes that bound the big bale Packed on the sled and reached for my weapons. Of the German pistols, I chose the smallest, only 12-15 centimeters long. It fit my hand, weight, and size so well that it felt like it was made to order. On one of its sides was stamped: 'Mauser-Werke' and what else, in the dark it was already quite difficult to see. The gun looked beautiful and dangerous. The cartridges for his magazine came from a box marked '6.35 mm'. I clicked in two magazines of 9 brand-new oily cartridges and then sent the tenth into the barrel.

I put some of the money and some 'sausages' with coins in my backpack. One of the 'sausages' was much thicker and lighter than the others. Interested, I unfolded the oiled waxed paper and found myself holding a distinctive-looking iron pipe.

- What the f**k did he need a silencer for? I muttered, losing interest, and put the thing back in the bale.

The backpack turned out to be about ten kilograms and I attached it on top of the re-tied bale. Then he went to the gate, unbolted it, and pulled the right-hand door open, peering cautiously out into the street. It was already quite dark, but there were no lights in the neighboring houses. He opened the door more firmly and pulled the sledge along in the snow...

...I arrived home about 20 hours, and since I was smart enough to call from the station with assurances that "I am alive, well and will be soon", then at home I was waiting for a scandal of only "moderate severity". My mother appreciated my deathly tired appearance and, only slightly shouting, forbade me to come home later than 6 PM in the winter. As I nodded and stammered in agreement, the execution was quickly completed and I was sent to change before dinner. All I had to do was undress, hide my gun and spare magazine under the mattress, and fall into bed. Further, the consciousness was enveloped in darkness...

I woke up in the afternoon. For a couple of minutes I lay in bed in a sweet, senseless bliss,until my brain finally turned on. Then I sprang out of bed and rushed to get dressed.

Yesterday I pushed the sled into a snowdrift under the platform, covered it with snow, and covered the tracks with a broken spruce branch. While waiting for the train, I got into my backpack, tore open the Sberbank package and pulled out one 25-ruble note. At the ticket office of the Finland railway station, I bought a ticket and paid with this bill, and received "real" change from the cashier! Looking around, I shoved my backpack into an empty automatic storage room.

And three rubles, without change, paid the taxi driver, who miraculously caught right on the forecourt....