Red Star

Chapter 15

14.05.78, Sunday (my 84th day in the USSR)

How much effort it cost me not to bring a gun, only God knows. Self-preservation, fear, and outright jitters screamed in unison: "asshole, take a gun!". Asshole didn't take it. The faint murmur of common sense was stronger, after all.

I took the money and a folding tourist knife with an undignified, turquoise-colored plastic lining, but with a large blade. I blabbed from my mother that I went for a walk "with the boys" and went to my first, for both lives, personal WAR.

There were about three hours left, according to the investigation materials, but the materials themselves were not printed, the information was given in the description of the journalist, so... there could be nuances.

Before leaving, once again, locked in the toilet, I looked at all the black-and-white photos of Grigoriev found on the Internet on my iPhone - I must recognize the bastard. The description of the witnesses indicates "puny build", so I must cope, especially if I attack first and unexpectedly.

Rather cowardly, I left the house and went to the bus stop. Never in my previous life had I risked my own life so openly.

'Threatening with a knife, the unknown carried out s****l i*********e (including necessarily oral and anal copulation), took money and gold jewelry from the apartment, then took the r***d girls to the bathroom, where he forced them to take a shower under his supervision.'It's not good, but the first two words in the text printed in my memory, from the case materials, caused me the most emotions right now.

I didn't want to get into a fight with a knife-wielding maniac. An adult man, there is an adult man, although "puny build" (from the description of witnesses), but he worked as a trucker for several years, and the load there is not easy. In a suit, he might look 'puny', but in real life, he could be wiry and fast. That's why I planned to just punch him in the back of the head and call the police. Well, then heroic I collect all the 'cream' on TV and in the Newspapers. Here's something like this, in the first approximation...

After 5-7 minutes, the bus came up and after another fifteen minutes, I was looking at the horizontal bars in the Sports goods store with a smart look. The idea did not Shine with novelty and was found by me on the Internet.

In the horizontal bars, I was only interested in the crossbars. I immediately chose the shortest, one and a half meters, rather heavy and hollow from the inside stick, and for only 6 rubles 75 kopecks I became the owner of my own "Jedi sword", and fasteners to it.

Soviet trade did not want to offer me any package. An indifferent saleswoman tied a crumpled cardboard box with thin brown twine and silently pushed it across the counter to me. Just in case, I need to be well remembered:

- thank You, young lady, You are very kind! A debelaya "young lady", about thirty-thirty-five years old, looked at me dumbfounded and said nothing. Well, it will do, remember the i***t, I consoled myself.

Then I went and bought a mountaineering carbine in another Department, it was very well dressed on my small fist, like brass knuckles, and, in the end, I spent money on a red sports bag made of leatherette, with the inscription "Dynamo-80" and Olympic rings, which is now a profile for me!

Without leaving the store, I moved the horizontal bar and the crumpled box to my bag, and only then, with a knife and a carbine in my pockets and a crossbar in my hand, I went on foot to the Vasileostrovskaya metro station. In twenty minutes, with one transfer, I got to the metro station "Technological Institute". While driving, having nothing to do, I noticed and was convinced by experience that the Piglet, exchanged at the entrance to the metro, is ideal to put it in the hollow crossbar of the horizontal bar. The idea was born to replace the wet sand with copper 'piglets'.

When leaving the metro, I changed as much as I could "nickels". I was careful, it was a day off and there weren't many passengers, so I didn't really want to attract the attention of the young guard on duty at the turnstiles, and even more so, the police Sergeant who was being nice to her, desperately red-haired.

On the street, I found a deserted courtyard and began to upgrade my weapons. Of course, there were not enough "spots" for a meter and a half, so I opened the bag and tore a piece of cardboard from the crumpled box. He crumpled it tightly and used a branch broken off from a Bush to push the resulting "wad" into the depth of the tube, about twenty centimeters. Then carefully, one by one, I lowered all the available "piglets" and sealed the exit hole with another "wad" and duct tape, which I took from home. Like a stick with a weighting turned out solid, if something does not seem enough...

I left the courtyard and walked along Moskvina Avenue to the 8th Krasnoarmeyskaya street, house number 8, building 1.

The "pharmacy" caught my eye, and again thoughts persistently arose in my head about a maniac armed with a knife. Weighed down by these gloomy thoughts, I went to the pharmacy and bought a package of sterile bandage, a rubber tourniquet, streptocide, and a roll of band-aid.

***

When I found the right house, the situation in the courtyard of the new nine-story apartment building was the most peaceful. The Playground was full of noise and fun, children were playing in the sandbox and on the slides, mothers with strollers were walking their babies, and different-sized grandmothers kept a sharp eye on all this splendor from their benches.

To remain unnoticed, in such a situation, a stranger should not even hope. And therefore, I decided not to hang around in the yard, but immediately go to the entrance where the next abomination was supposed to happen and calm down there.

The time was still more than an hour and a half, so I decided not to rush, and, studying the future 'theater of war', I began to climb the stairs on foot, ignoring the Elevator. In addition, I hoped that the slow and measured ascent would allow me to get a little control of myself.

And it was absolutely necessary to do this. I really 'flattened and sausage' from nerves, from fear, from hatred, from annoyance...

Yes, and from annoyance in the first place! In that life, I was not a special athlete, but ten years of aimless driving 'abroad', living mainly in hot countries, hunting, diving and occasional gym classes, kept me in decent physical shape. My height of one meter eighty, one hundred kilograms of weight plus knowledge of the basics of Boxing, made me an unsafe opponent. It was all the more annoying that all this was missing now.

And there was a tremor of hands, shaking knees, stomach cramps and every second a growing desire to rush down to the exit and dial the nearest payphone "02".

And more!... What were the last words I cursed myself for not taking the gun, as a last chance if everything went wrong!!!

Torn by a storm of conflicting thoughts, aspirations and emotions, I climbed the stairs foot by foot, a flight of five minutes. And soon, even though my head was in a mess, I heard voices coming from above.

Instantly, covered with a sticky sweat, I began to carefully move my feet on the stairs, listening to the conversation, some of which could already be made out.

Two people were talking. A muffled male patter, almost incomprehensible after a flight and a half of stairs and a ringing girl's voice.

"...I don't know, I didn't see it myself... we are here sometimes ...

- Boo-Boo-Boo (male voice)

- ... some of the boys ... ride bicycles... walking...

and again:

- Boo-Boo-Boo...saw it?

"...ask some girls around?"

With each step I took, my leaden feet drew closer and my hearing became better. Now I was only one flight of stairs away from the THING, and there was no doubt about it. I was standing about five meters away from HER, hidden by the Elevator shaft.

- We will definitely interview everyone, this is not the first time when car mirrors are turned off. And we, the police, must respond to such hooliganism, - the CREATURE mutters in a rapid patter. I slowly and carefully lower my duffel bag from my shoulder to the step.

"Yes, of course I understand! I'm sorry I couldn't help you...

- It's okay, we'll interview everyone and find out everything, - the CREATURE's voice sounds colorless. - maybe your parents saw something?

- Oh, and I do not know, they are not here now, they will arrive from the dacha only at seven or eight o'clock,-in the girl's voice you can hear genuine regret.

- Yes, not soon yet, - but the notes of emotion were cut through, the CREATURE sensed the reality of the prey - I need to find out if there is any news, on the round of the site, from my colleagues. Can I call the police station for you? Do you have a phone number? the CREATURE's voice is already filling with vitality, it sounds confident and strong.

I hurriedly put my right hand in my pocket and put on my carbine. Fingers convulsively squeeze the metal of the crossbar, in vain I put on a carbine-it interferes with holding the iron pipe.

- Yes, of course there is, please come in! - the girl's voice is full of enthusiasm and desire to help her native militia.

From above, I hear the creaking of a door, a sound, and a couple of footsteps. It's time!!! I pull myself up and push myself forward. I step out from behind the Elevator shaft, clutching the bar, just in time to see a gray man's back in the doorway and the door closing behind her. With the dry metallic clang of the lock.

Fuck! I rush to the landing and stand in front of the closed door in a daze. AS THE most RASPOSLEDNY ASSHOLE!!!

Behind the door I hear a stifled cry, which turned into a squeak and silence.

With all the dope, forgetting that I'm not a healthy fifty-year-old man, I hit the door handle with my right foot. With the sound of iron snapping, the door flies in, almost torn off its hinges!

The CREATURE hovers over the chalk-white girl, running the tip of the blade across her lips with a smile. SHE turns her head slowly to me with the same never-fading smile. I'm getting creepy... the THING looks like some kind of giant insect. SHE didn't even turn around. SHE just turned her head and is now looking at me with her huge, glittering eyes. I don't immediately realize it's just darkened glasses.

15.05.78, Monday (my 85th day in the USSR)

I woke up early, it was not yet six in the morning, my bladder clearly hinted that three cups of tea at night is too much, even in the absence of age-related prostatitis! It wasn't difficult to satisfy the bladder's desires, but getting back to sleep was a problem.

The first thing I did when I woke up was to unwrap the bandage in the toilet and examine the wound. The edges of the wound were slightly reddish, but, in General, it did not inspire fear! At least, because of my knowledge of medicine, but when moving, there was definitely some soreness. I poured the streptocide again and crept back into the bedroom. My mother had to get up for work soon, and I didn't want to be seen by her, who were sometimes too attentive to me.

Yesterday, my head was a complete mess and all the remaining opportunities to think normally were occupied by the wound. Today, when it became a little easier, the ability to think returned. But there were only two thoughts, and they were both sad.

First of all, I realized that now I was a murderer, and the Soviet police would be looking for me! And, most likely, unfortunately, she will find me. Therefore, I need to get rid of everything that will "drown" me and come up with everything that will help me "swim out". Against this background, my escape from the crime scene yesterday didn't seem like the best idea. Although, it may pass...

Secondly, today is the city final of the Gloves. I had no idea what I was going to do with Misiunas, and in my current state, I didn't have a chance at all. If his first fight, although I did not like its transience, I was not too impressed. I've won my own fights with one punch more than once. Yes, it is unpleasant that he has the same strong blow as I have, but it does not cause panic.

But the second fight was not fun to watch. Misiunas ' opponent was a strong kid, so Balt just stepped into the ring and scored with his heavy punches. And the worst thing is, he did not bother to defend himself at all and received a couple of response "plops", but did not react to them in any way. We must think about it...

...I listened. Judging by the sounds of my mother's training camp coming to an end, soon she will leave for work and it will be time for active actions. Well, Yes, to the best of my current state.

First of all, I collected everything that could convict me of involvement in the "General's stash": a gun, ammunition and money. Then, with a grating heart, I attached an iPhone with a charger and headphones to the resulting small pile. Then I went to the mezzanine for my bag and horizontal bar. I simply put the crossbar behind the door in my room, and put the mounts and climbing carabiner in the toy box under the table where I used to keep my iPhone. I thought for a long time whether to wipe the carbine. There was a glistening streak from a knife strike and a dark trail of blood, either mine or that of the dead thing. I decided to leave it.

Just before leaving the house, Lech called. I didn't finish listening to the start of the hit-and-run about the missed training again and the phone that hadn't been picked up all day, so I asked Lech if he could drop me off at the pier. Interrupted in the middle of an angry tirade, Lech paused in displeasure, and then replied that today we are getting to the competition together, because Retluev will come immediately to the gym.

After 15 minutes, Lech and I were already driving a clean Moskvich to the hangar, where I left all my things. Dissatisfied Lech "rubbed" about an unplanned trip to the shops with his mother yesterday and, to translate the topic, began to ask about the reasons for Retluev's absence.

Lech perked up and the news began to rain down on me. It turns out they caught the elusive serial killer! Walked all night investigations and Relieve "pripahali" to participate in them.

Having rejoiced, together with Lech, caught a reptile, I asked in a neutral tone what "investigative actions" are-the interrogation of a detained maniac?

- Well, why only "interrogation of a maniac"?- began to tell "inevitably experienced" Leh, is the examination of the scene and questioning witnesses, and collecting evidence, and survey and photography, in short, a lot more then!

"How was he detained?" I asked with a sinking heart.

- I don't really know yet, - Lech replied with annoyance-Retluev said that an angel from heaven came down and helped, and then he laughed, such a bastard! We'll see if he can tell us more, if this case is not classified.

"I don't know," I said, disappointed, " but I haven't been able to find out if it's alive or dead yet."

On the way, I asked Lech to stop at a pharmacy. I bought erythromycin (thanks to Yandex), analgin, and a bottle of mineral Essentuki. In front of a surprised aunt in a white coat, he drank two tablets of each drug and, without listening to her anxious questions, returned to the Moskvich .

I spent the rest of the road pondering how to build a battle. You can change your stance to protect your left side, but even though I'm a natural left-hander, I haven't done any training in the right-hand stance. And I can't stand a full fight with a real knife wound! The age is not the same, the motivation is not the same...

So we need to finish everything as quickly as possible. But an experienced Georgian saw through my "theatrical gadgets" in both fights, and Misiunas will be on his guard. And if you don't catch them by surprise, then you just have to move the drill on the "boiler" and get involved in an open exchange in the "wheelhouse". And, so in General, it was not noticeable that the Baltic was weaker than me physically, or worse held the blow. Rather, on the contrary! Yes, and just one blow to the wound is enough for me, and Hello...

... Lech, who had already looked at me sideways several times, finally couldn't stand it.

- I didn't want to relax you ahead of time, but Retluev told you to tell that in your weight the final, probably, won't be.

- Why?!?!

- I don't know Exactly, but something is wrong with misiunas ' documents and He will be disqualified before the fight today.

Lech really didn't know the details, as long as I didn't torture him. Therefore, I drove up to the Dynamo gym, although surprised, but in a happy and cheerful mood. The mountain that threatened to bury me literally fell off my shoulders!

"Misunderstandings" began immediately at the entrance to the "Dynamo". The territory of the sports complex, which retluev and I, and indeed all athletes who were on their own transport, entered completely freely, was blocked by"traffic policemen". They were dressed in full-dress white shirts and caps, belted with a white belt and a belt with a white holster on it. The ensemble was crowned by the magnificence of white gloves and strict solemn face.

We were sent to Park at the end of the street without a word, with a wave of a striped wand. Driving along the road, we were surprised to see policemen on motorcycles, several pieces of police " Zhiguli "and even two white" Volga " all in antennas and with coats of arms on the driver's doors.

"What's going on here?"- I asked, no less surprised Lehi,-Brezhnev that-whether arrived?!

Lech perplexed shrugged and began to squeeze in between the parked green "Lada" and the sign "Parking is prohibited".

While we were getting out of the car, one of the many policemen came up to us and asked why we were here. Lech, noticeably tense, explained that he had brought a young talent, that is, me, to the Golden gloves competition. "Talent" shyly smiled at the COP, who smiled back, but asked for documents. Lech showed his driver's license and breathed a sigh of relief when, satisfied with this, the policeman walked away from us, saluting me and wishing me success. The fact is that Lehi did not have a passport, as a probationer, it was stored in the police Department at the place of registration. If this detail came up now, the trial would be half a day long, with calls to the police Department, the district police officer, and to work. Once, according to Lehi's story, this has already happened.

In front of the sports complex and inside, there were also a lot of policemen in full dress uniform, and the complex itself was not recognizable! At the entrance hung a huge red banner, on which was written in large white letters: "The power of the police is in its connection with the people!" The columns in the hall were decorated with coniferous garlands, all the lighting was bright, and posters with quotes from classics and appeals to Soviet workers and athletes hung on the walls. A lot of people, most of them in strict black suits and ties. Everyone is running, fussing and waiting for something. At the entrance we met Releev, too, in ceremonial police uniform.

It was the first time I had seen him in uniform, and even in a cap. Well, what can I say: he looked impressive, but he was like a complete stranger. He answered our barrage of questions, took them both aside, and quickly filled us in.

It turns out that the final is expected to arrive Deputy interior Minister Churbanov, who arrived here from Moscow, in connection with the unsuccessful search for a maniac by local Pinkertons, as well as the first Secretary of the regional Committee Romanov, for the company. That's why everyone is running and moving! I need to change my clothes for the General show, but there won't be a fight. According to a request made to the Latvian interior Ministry, it turned out that this Misiunas is already 16 years old and will not be allowed to reach the final.

- Gogua has already done this on the Union, with the Georgian "youth", then barely got out of it, this time for him, obviously, will be the last, - Retluev finished his introduction through gritted teeth.

"You go change your clothes," he said to me, "and you, Alexey, don't leave his side, so that there won't be any provocation, Yes..." finished Retluev and, slapping me on the shoulder, hurried off about his business.

"And in the side something as gave, your mother!I grimaced inwardly, but outwardly held my face with a brick.

In the locker room, I barely managed to change my clothes so as not to light up my armband. Then I looked at it in the toilet, but everything was fine, I didn't find any traces of blood. A tight bandage was impossible to do, to not stand out under the shirt, so I covered the wound with a thick layer of soap, put a square of bandage and tightly sealed with adhesive tape, row by row cutting the adhesive tape from the coil.