The Hot Summer Of Mariupol. Chapter 10
In the evening Slava arrived with Ian Prokofiev and provided information about a possible cache of weapons.
- You see, those guns that were taken away from the military unit in April, they didn’t surface anywhere. And you said that you were very interested in any information, - said Ian. - My informant, “Gypsy”, told me that there is one guy. A week ago he boasted that he could sell even a pistol or an assault rifle. And at the same time he was blabbing that these guns used to belong to the soldiers from the local regiment.
- A week ago, - Andrey thought. – What sort of a guy is he?
– Small fish. He has been convicted three times before. 28 years old. Just local bully.
- Andrey, he has one of the convictions under Article 263 of the Criminal Code, specifically for weapons, - Slava intervened in the conversation. - We just left the cops. We checked his data quietly. Looks like he’s our “client”.
- What do you suggest? – Andrey looked at both men.
- We take a group and detain him. We have to do it harshly. These kind of guys are only afraid of force. Well, we’ll search the house for weapons, -Torshin said.
- Without an official permission? - Andrey clarified.
- Why do you need it? – Ian laughed. – If you find something, we’ll arrange it. If you don’t find it, who will complain about you?!
Andrey thought for a moment. Previously convicted three times, possibly selling weapons, the guy was unlikely to be associated with the Donbass resistance. And it was difficult to refuse implementation without arousing suspicion among colleagues.
- Give me the data. I'll go to Rudnitsky. I’ll ask for a group, - Andrey nodded affirmatively.
- Listen, how is the new commander? – Ian asked interestedly. - How long is he here for?
- Fuck knows... Like, for two months. Along the way, we'll figure out what he is like. I've come across him before, and my opinion is mixed. He looks like a stupid soldier, but in personal communication he is a competent man. So, let's see.
Rudnitsky accepted the proposal for implementation with enthusiasm. Obviously he wanted to give results from the first days.
- I give the go-ahead. What do you want?
- I need a capture group. We can, of course, try to storm it with the operatives. But it’s a residential house and we may not have enough people.
- I got it, you don’t have to continue. You shouldn't bother with the operatives. Yes, and you say he was dealing weapons? So we could run into a gun, - Rudnitsky thought and made a decision. – So that’s what we’ll do. Take the “Dnepr” fighters. Slava Pechenko and this guy, what’s his name, “Italian”. They say they are eager to fight, ready for anything. I'll give Pechenko the order.
- Hmm, Comrade General, – Andrey began cautiously. – Grabbing civilians on the street and storming a house are two different things. I'm not sure that they will be able to work correctly. I'd rather go with “Mustangs”. And we have already worked with them.
- No, I'll need “Mustangs”. I'm going to go with them along the coast. That’s it, take “Dnepr,” - Rudnitsky stopped the bickering.
Slightly upset, Andrey wandered into the terminal building. And, of course, on the way back he met Ruslan and Oleg, the commanders of “Mustangs”.
- Well, when are we going to take on a gang? You keep promising us, and we’re already sick and tired of stupidly driving around checkpoints.
– I’m just coming back from the commander. Tomorrow we’re going to detain the arms dealers. I asked you to be used for the capture.
- Great! So when are we going? – two lieutenant colonels perked up.
- In the morning. But you're not going. “Ascetic” ordered me to take “Dnepr,” said Andrey, looking into the eyes of the National Guardsmen.
They looked at each other, then nodded slightly to each other.
- You know, I’m not surprised, - Kozenkov said thoughtfully.
- Please, clarify, otherwise I don’t understand. I’m not sure that “Dnepr” will be able to carry out a competent assault.
- It's simple. “Ascetic” is covering his ass. If it works out, then his subordinates did their job. And if you mess up or get into trouble, it was not the NSU units that worked, but the volunteer battalion. What do you expect from them? In any case, he'll look great.
- Damn... What should I do? – Andrey rubbed his forehead.
- What can we say? Good luck! And be more careful, - the officers wished him and went about their business.
“Great... To go storm the house with the “Dnepr” guys... Okay, let's see what kind of professionals they are..."
Half an hour later he held a small meeting at his place. Ian and Slava showed the location of the house on the map and provided available information about the owner. From “Dnepr” there were Pechenko himself, Vova Parasyuk and platoon commander Sasha “Greek”. Pechenko tasked his computer specialists with collecting information about the house and finding photographs. Then Ian, together with two “Dnepr” fighters, drove off to visually reconnaissance the location.
- Slava, tell me honestly, can you take it? – Andrey asked point blank.
Slava looked at the photographs they received and thoughtfully replied:
- Everything can be taken.
Parasyuk, in turn, proudly stated:
- You should have seen how our instructors trained us! Israelis, the best! We'll take this little house in a blink of an eye.
- Well, well, - Andrey looked at Slava. He shrugged:
- I'm telling you. Everything can be taken. The question is time and force. Therefore, Sasha, - Pechenko looked at “Greek”, - tomorrow you are taking your entire platoon. Vova will go as the second senior.
- Sure, of course, I'm ready. – he rubbed his palms excitedly.
- We leave at five. Locals will guide you to the area. We stop a block away, suit up and get ready, - added Andrey. - What will you be on?
- Do you mean cars? – “Greek” clarified. – We’ll take two L200.
- Great. Will your drivers be able to drive close to the fence?
- For what? – “Greek” did not understand.
Andrey looked at “Colonel”. He, immediately understanding Andrey’s thought, just shook his head and began to explain:
- You put the fighters in the back. As soon as the jeeps arrive at the address, they will jump straight from the back into the yard. Did I understand your idea correctly, Andrey?
- Yes. This will reduce the time a lot. There is no need to fiddle with the gate or pull out the gate... Also figure out who will take care of the dog, and divide the people into two groups. One will go to the main entrance to the house, the second will go around from the yard.
- Yes, that’s all clear, - “Greek” waved it off. - We were taught all this. At least two penetration points must be prepared. Support group. Capture group. Filtering group. We know all that. So Vova will go into the yard as a lead.
– Got it. I’ll do what’s necessary, - Parasyuk nodded.
- Well, if everything is clear, then let's disperse. Lots of work tomorrow...
At six in the morning, Andrey and Torshin were sitting on benches at the entrance to the terminal, packed according to the “war” option. Nearby, the “Dnepr” fighters, also covered in gear and weapons from head to toe, were smoking melancholy and excitedly. Parasyuk kept running out of the terminal doors, giving some instructions and disappearing inside again.
– What a circus, -Andrey turned to Slava. - I wish we could leave at least in an hour...
- Forget it, - Slava yawned. – Our guy is not going anywhere. I know this breed well. He will sleep until 9-10 am. And, I’m sure, he went to bed after midnight. We'll get him.
- God willing, - Andrey spat, waited a little longer and stood up. - No, how long are they going to take to get ready? I'll go speed them up!
But at the exit, Parasyuk and “Greek” had already appeared, followed by two more soldiers, carrying a hefty assault shield.
- Fuck, - Andrey squeezed out, stunned. – Did they decide to take this crap with them?
He looked at the approaching commanders of the assault group.
- Sasha, why didn’t you order helicopters and tanks?
- What kind of irony is this? I didn’t understand, - “Greek” began to explain with pathos. – Are we going to capture an arms dealer or a hooligan? We were taught that risk should be minimized. – he finished importantly.
Andrey waved his hand:
- Okay, let's go already. We’ve already lost twenty minutes...
In the car Slava leaned towards him.
- Damn, we should have gone and grabbed this goat by the ear ourselves. Now we’ll have a freak show... Oh, what’s this? – Slava pointed his finger at a guy and a girl in civilian clothes with a professional video camera getting into the second jeep.
- “Greek”, have you gone completely crazy? Have you decided to take journalists with you? – Andrey hissed at him.
- Not my decision. “Bereza” gave the order, - the platoon commander excused himself.
- I don't give a damn about your “Bereza”! We are carrying out the operation, you are reinforcement! Take them the fuck out of here!
- And we won’t go without them. I have a clear order from the battalion commander to ensure that the story is filmed for our television, - “Greek” stood his ground.
- Why are you not moving out?! – Parasyuk looked into the salon, looking like a transformer-robot in his equipment. He even wore a helmet with a visor. Apparently he thought it gave him a very warlike appearance.
- Well, they want to remove the journalists, - “Greek” explained.
- Hey, Andrey, why are you bothered by the journalists? Let them film. Don’t worry, they won’t go where they don’t need to be. And then you’ll have a video for good memory...
– Fuck, - Andrey swore again and looked at his watch. - Okay, to hell with you, let's go. Just don’t let them approach us at all, only film from afar.
Behind him, Slava Torshin, who had several dozen real arrests on his record, chuckled quietly. The current situation simply amused him.
- Oh, I feel like this is going to be fun! – he whispered in Andrey’s ear.
The object they planned to detain was called Nikolai Tovkunenko, born in 1986. Convicted three times. A native of Mariupol. He lived in the residential sector in an area of the city with a strange name Novobroneva.
At the entrance to the residential sector, local colleagues, who were supposed to lead the group out for capture, were waiting for them.
- So, everyone has gathered, - Andrey looked around at the surrounding fighters. – Drivers, do you understand the task?
Both jeep drivers nodded.
- Can you handle it?
- We must…
Andrey shook his head and turned to “Greek”.
- Sasha, once again. We go over the fence. Your group immediately goes to the entrance to the house, the second, Vova, yours, - he found Parasyuk with his eyes, - goes around the house into the yard and surrounds the house. There should be a second exit there, so control it so that no one leaves through the back entrance.
- Yes, everything is clear, let’s get started, - “Greek” interrupted impatiently. - Those guys are eager to fight, their fingers are itching!
- Eh, be careful! Remember, we need intact and speaking people, not corpses! - Slava tried to reason with the “Dnepr” team.
- Well, let’s see how it plays out, - “Greek” laughed and ordered, - Get to the cars!
- Fuck! This is some kind of circus... If I’ll tell people in Kiev how I went on a capture, they will laugh, - Slava shook his head. - No cover, no arrangement - who deals with the dog, who controls the windows... Damn!
At the same time, despite the general dissatisfaction, Torshin busily brought the weapon into combat mode, threw the excess gear onto the seat and turned to Andrey, who was doing the same.
- Andrey, how are we going in?
- Slava, I have a feeling that there is no need to get ahead of these hot-heads. We can get shot by accident. We go through the gate and control the actions. We will intervene locally if necessary.
- Got it, - Slava responded calmly, gripping his weapon. - Here it is, the address. Well, God speed!
During a short conversation, their cars drove up to the desired address. An ordinary house in a residential sector. Wooden fence with concrete posts as supports. The garden in front of the house was about five meters wide. There was a garage, the gate of which faced the street... Andrey has seen so many similar houses in his life! But he was storming one like this for the first time.
The jeep engines roared and they suddenly rushed close to the house. As usual in such situations, time began to behave strangely: it rushed at a gallop and slowed down...
Both jeeps braked sharply near the fence of the target's house. But immediately there were inconsistencies - the cars stopped about a meter from the fence. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Andrey could barely contain his laughter, watching as Sasha “Greek” squatted between the car and the fence: his left foot remained in the back, and his right foot rested against the fence. Due to the great distance, Sasha was practically hanging on the splits and swearing loudly.
- Don't be stupid! Get over that fence! – Andrey shouted, nodding to Slava at the gate.
Slava was already tearing it, breaking the flimsy latch. The rest of the “Dnepr” group began to climb over the fence, which swayed threateningly under the mass of equipped bodies.
- Idiots, - Andrey whispered, calmly but quickly entering the gate. Slava, throwing his assault rifle to his shoulder, controlled the forward part of the yard. Andrey held him by the shoulder: no need to stick out in front of the “Dnepr” guys who, crowding and disturbing each other, rushed to the front door. Sasha “Greek” pulled the handle for several moments, after which he began pounding on the door with the butt of his gun, shouting: “Open up, police! Open up, bitch, or I’ll start shooting!” One of the fighters, taking this as a command, fired a long burst into the air...
Control of the assault was completely lost. The soldiers of the volunteer battalion rushed to the front of the house, pounding on the windows with the butts of their weapons, taking out the glass along with the frames. Then one of the attackers threw a light-and-sound grenade through the window, and there was a deafening roar and a powerful flash from inside the house. Andrey shook his head, recovering from the roar. He nodded to Slava at the back of the house. Covering each other, they carefully moved along the wall and came out to the back of the yard. The back door to the house was open, only the curtain was moving from a slight draft.
- Backdoor! – Slava shouted, kneeling down and holding the entrance to the house at gunpoint. Andrey stood over him, also controlling the corners of the house and the entrance with his barrel. With a loud stomp, three “Dnepr” guys ran up to them and immediately ran inside.
There was a crash of falling dishes, overturned furniture, and then a woman's scream. A minute later, two soldiers jumped out of the house and dragged out a naked man wrapped in a sheet.
- Here, we pulled him off the bed. Looks like he’s the one you need...
- To the garage, - Andrey ordered. - Open the doors to the house from the inside, otherwise “Greek” will break it down out along with the door frame.
“Dnepr” militant looked at Andrey with a blank look for a couple of seconds, then turned sharply and ran into the house.
- Hey, I need two guys here! – Slava barked again. He looked at the two soldiers who had run up and nodded towards the back of the yard. – Check outbuildings, toilets, exits to neighbors.
- Oh, what morons... - he shook his head, turning to Andrey.
- Yes, - Andrey agreed, looking at how the “Dnepr” guys were rushing around the yard senselessly. - I don’t know who trained them, but it’s no use.
- Oh, what is this? – Slava pointed his finger at Parasyuk entering the gate. - Vova, were you hiding in the rear? – he clarified sarcastically.
- Yes, I was controlling the street! Someone could have jumped out! – Parasyuk switched to Russian out of excitement.
- Well, of course, you covered the enemy’s possible escape routes, - Andrey agreed with a serious face. – You did an important job, Vova.
- Okay, enough chatting, - Slava threw his assault rifle behind his back. -Let's look at the garage. And let’s talk to this guy sitting there.
The door to the garage had already been taken off its hinges, and “Greek” was inside with three subordinates.
- Sasha, do you know that the commander should not do everything himself? He must organize and control! – Andrey said ironically into the doorway. – Although with organization and control, I see that everything is in perfect order!
“Greek” came out of the garage, covered in dust.
- One can rummage around there for a year...
- Well, let your guys rummage, - Andrey cut him off harshly. -What kind of circus is this? Where was the rear control? Who was supposed to come from behind? If Slava and I hadn’t called, you would have been standing at the entrance! And you shouldn't have stepped forward yourself. You should have led the assault!
“Greek” stood with a guilty look, feeling he’d messed up.
- And all this shame was filmed by your journalists...- Slava interjected quietly.
- Where are they? – “Greek” perked up. – I’ll take cre of everything right now.
- Just stop, - Andrey held him back. - Listen to me. Send someone else to them, but now we need to conduct a search and talk to the detainee. By the way, who is the woman that was screaming in the house?
– It was that jerk’s mother, - “Greek” waved him off. - Vuiko knocked her out with the butt of his rifle. Looks like he knocked out a few teeth.
– Fucking hell, - Andrey shook his head. - Send a couple of people into the house. Let them look at the mother and rummage around the rooms. Especially where this one lived, - Andrey pointed to a man lying on the floor, who was being kicked by the militants in heavy boots.
- Yeah, I’ll do it now, - “Greek” rushed to the side.
- Yes, Slava, - Andrey said deliberately loudly. - Apparently, the soldiers of the “Dnepr” battalion still need to train.
The militants around him reacted differently: some made a sour face, some looked down guiltily, and some pretended that they had not heard anything.
- You need to train, guys! – Andrey said even louder. - Don’t you understand that if Russian specialists had been sitting here, half of you would be corpses now! And it’s not a guarantee that we would have taken them at all. With such poor organization!
- Okay, Andrey Ivanovich, enough of dressing us down. We understand everything, - drawled Misha the computer scientist. - What's next?
– Next? Search the garage, then the house. Look for weapons or traces of them. Send two fighters out onto the street to control what is happening. After the garage is inspected, this one, - Andrey pointed to a man in a sheet lying on the ground, - should be chained to something inside the garage. We'll talk to him.
- How about here? Let’s talk to him here, - Parasyuk intervened.
- There will be a lot of screaming, - Slava objected. - You’re going to start torturing him, right?
– Well, we will close his mouth and torture him like that.
- How will he speak to you? – Andrey grinned. - Take him to the garage.
- Hey, - one of “Greek’s” fighters looked out the broken window. – There’s a situation here... the carpet caught fire from the SZG[1]. A bigger fire might start...
Indeed, gray smoke was already escaping from the nearby broken window.
- Damn, why are you so stupid! Find some bucket and pour it all over the area there! You guys are like small children, not special forces, damn... - Andrey finished more quietly. - Slava, let's get out of here, I'm already sick of this circus!
They sat on a bench by the open gate and enjoyed the light morning warmth.
- Well, Rudnitsky played a rotten trick on us, - Andrey muttered. - With “Mustangs” we would have done everything quieter and faster.
- Forget it, Andrey, - Slava was sitting with his eyes closed, leaning his back against the fence post. - A volunteer is a volunteer. I can only say that six of our “Alphas” could have cleared this house in seconds. It's good that there was no one serious here.
- Yeah. Otherwise they would have chopped us into pieces, - Andrey laughed quietly.
- Andrey, look! – “Greek” jumped out of the gate, holding out an empty clip from a PM in his palm.
- And what? – Andrey turned the clip over in his hands. – If there were bullets in it, it would be something but this...
- So maybe it’s from the National Guard’s gun!
- Listen, Sasha. This is not a weapon or ammunition. For a criminal case, you need an expert's opinion, and he will say that this is a part of a pistol. Why initiate a criminal case for the bolt of your assault rifle? Or for the case? Or the sight?
- Got it... Let's look further.
An hour later it became clear that there were no weapons in the house. The detainee's mother has already been calmed down. The journalists, accompanied by the “Dnepr” jeep, had already left, but there was still no result.
- Well, what are we going to do? – Andrey asked Slava sadly.
- What to do, what to do, - he muttered. – We need to talk to this person.
- Yes? – Andrey asked ironically. - And how will you do this?
- There are ways, - Slava turned his neck from side to side. - But you can’t leave him here. Hey, Sasha, let's get this guy into the jeep. You and one more person to guard him and off you go.
- Where to?
- To the movies!What do you think?! - Torshin snapped. - Are you with us? – he looked at Andrey.
- Where else can I go? - Andrey sighed, thinking to himself: “If this little guy gives some onfo about weapons, I need to know such information right away...”.
- Then let's go. Together we will do everything better.
After 10 minutes, they dropped off the detainee in a small clearing in a grove, behind which there was a railroad track. The “Dnepr” guys were left at the jeep, with orders to ensure that no stranger would accidentally pass along the road.
- Well, Nikolai Aleksandrovich Tovkunenko, - Slava squatted down in front of the detainee lying on the grass. - Tell us, where are the weapons?
- What weapons? – the man lying fidgeted on the grass trying to find a comfortable position with the handcuffs fastened behind his back. - What kind of lawlessness is this, boss? You swooped in, trashed the house, hurt my mother... What are you doing?!
Slava did not blink an eye at these accusations, he just silently exhaled cigarette smoke in Tovkunenko’s face and sharply hit him on the ear with his palm. The detainee twitched and howled in severe pain.
- Next time I'll hit it with two. Then I’ll hang you from a tree by the neck, - Torshin continued, just as calmly, taking a drag from his cigarette. – Where are the weapons that you took from the military unit?
- I don’t know about any weapons...
- Look, I wasn't joking... “Greek”! Bring the rope! – Torshin flicked away the cigarette butt and nodded to Andrey. - Help me...
Together, they jerked Tovkunenko to his feet, causing the sheet he was wrapped in to fly off. Andrey’s gaze was filled with rich “painting” on the body. The owner of the body, judging by the abundant tattoos, spent most of his life in prisons. On the body there were crosses, and domes, and stars on the knees... And his fingers and hands were simply blue from the abundance of tattoos.
- So you are ideological huh? You don’t kneel in front of cops, right? – Slava panted, dragging the detainee along with Andrey towards the trees.
- Fuck you, you cops are fucking scum , - he wheezed in response, squirming like a worm and trying to escape from the hands of the SBU officers. However, the only thing he achieved was that Andrey knocked him to the ground with a powerful sweep.
- Here... it’ll do, - Slava exhaled, looking at a thick acacia. - Come on, “Greek”, throw the rope over the branch and make a loop at the free end.
- What are you doing, you bastards! You bastards! Filthy trash! Take me to the cell. I know the laws! - Tovkunenko, around whose neck “Greek” deftly threw a noose, was shouting.
- I’m going to upset you right now, you criminal filth. We are not cops. And the code and laws are not written for us. So that’s it, you’re done, you freak, - Slava slammed his boot into the prisoner’s ribs with every word. - And actually, I’m sick of you. I have been crushing your blue-painted kind all my life and will continue to crush you! Come on, “Greek”! – he waved his hand, and Sasha “Greek” pulled the rope, lifting Tovkunenko’s body up. By the neck.
The detainee wheezed, writhing his whole body. But then his toes lifted off the ground and twitched in the air. The wheezing became louder and louder. The bowels emptied with a disgusting sound, and there was a strong smell of shit.
- Let go! – Slava waved his hand.
The body fell onto the grass, right into its own excrement, spitting out drool and vomit.
- Well, you bastard! You still don't remember? – Slava shouted, squeezing Tovkunenko’s face with his fingers.
He shook his head negatively, shuddering with the urge of wild coughing and vomiting.
- Again!
Everything happened all over again.
- Where are the weapons?! – Slava yelled in the face of the gasping prisoner.
He just shook his head, convulsively twitching his unshaven Adam’s apple.
- Again!
After several times, when Tovkunenko’s eyeballs began to roll, Torshin ordered him to be lowered onto the grass.
- Where are the weapons, motherfucker?! We'll just bury you! Answer!
The man lay with his eyes closed, completely smeared with feces and vomit, convulsively inhaling air through clenched teeth.
- Open your eyes! Well, that’s it, fuck you, - Slava pulled out the pistol and pulled the bolt. Andrey didn’t even have time to be surprised when Torshin raised the pistol to the prisoner’s head and pulled the trigger. A shot rang out. The bullet came close to Tovkunenko’s head, literally scratching the skin on his cheek... The man recoiled in fear and howled.
- Look me in the eye, bitch! – Slava shouted and poked the prisoner in the nose with the barrel of his pistol. - Where are the weapons, scum! I'll kill you!
Second shot. Now the bullet created a fountain of earth on the other side of the detainee's head.
- Aaaaah!!! I fucking don't know!!! I gave it all away!!!
- To whom?! Who did you give it to!? Bitch! Answer!!! – Torshin was scary. The veins in his neck were swollen, his face turned into a terrible mask. - I’ll kill you, you filth!!!
- To “Koren”!! I gave it to “Koren”!! Like a week ago!!! – Tovkunenko simply wheezed.
- Who is it?! Where to look for him?! – with each question, Slava jabbed the barrel into the face, breaking his nose, lips, and tearing his cheeks.
Choking from the foam that came from his throat, the man gradually told everything that interested Torshin.
- Now, come on, tell me, where did you do time? What is your pal’s name? – he continued to press.
Tovkunenko named this too.
- What was your nickname? – Slava asked almost affectionately while putting away the pistol. And then he exploded again with a scream and a shot at the head. - Speak up, bitch!
- "Color"! Agent "Color"! – the detainee pushed out through sobs.
- Well, - Torshin said calmly, putting the pistol in his holster. - Good boy. Now come on, calmly and in detail tell me everything that interests me.
He turned away, lighting a cigarette, and Andrey saw how his fingers were trembling slightly. Shevchenko stepped aside, and Slava sat down next to the detainee, took out a notebook and began to write down information, periodically asking again and clarifying.
- Yes, well, you guys are something, - the approaching “Greek” shook his head respectfully. - Even the Israelis didn’t show us this. And we thought you were kind of gentle, you don’t touch anyone with your finger.
– As if it is something to be proud of, - Andrey said distantly, biting a blade of grass. - Do you think we like this? It's all about information...
- Well, that’s understandable, - “Greek” readily agreed.
About 10 minutes later Slava approached them.
- Well, that seems to be it. “Greek”, do you have anything to drink? I’m shaking, I am disgusted by all this myself...
- Nope... I have to go to the store.
- Okay, to hell with it. We’ll stop by on the way back, - Torshin grimaced. - So it is lie this. He had the weapons. After robbing the military unit, his prison pals brought the weapons to him and asked him to hide them. He held the goods for some time and even managed to sell a couple of guns. A week ago they came to pick up the guns, gave him money for storage and took everything away. He says they took it all to Lvov, to the local gang. Names, nicknames - he gave everything.
- Do you think he's not lying? – Andrey doubted.
- We forced him to admit that he worked for the operational unit in prison and to give his pseudonym. And for the “blue suit” this is a serious problem. This is not forgiven. Moreover, he told me who he ratted on during his last imprisonment because of an intra-cell conflict. I gave him a paper, he signed it for me, and now he is writing down all his feats.
- Are you planning to recruit him? – Andrey was surprised.
- What else should we do with him? – Torshin answered the question with a question. - Should we bury him here? He has signs of strangulation on his body, bruises, and bullet marks. Where should I take him, to the hospital or something? He will be an informant for us, he has no other choice...
- As you see fit, - Andrey shrugged. - But there’s still no result.
They returned to the base after lunch.
However, Andrey just didn’t want to have lunch. He couldn’t swallow a single bite.
[1] SZG - light and sound grenade.