The Hot Summer Of Mariupol. Chapter 13
The morning was sad. All night he dreamed of some nonsense, which he could not even remember and which did not give him pleasure. It’s good that “Ascetic” allowed Andrey not to appear at the morning meeting today.
With a gloomy mood, he cleaned himself up and moved towards his group.
- Oh, boss! – Sergei Demchenko greeted him cheerfully. - And we searched for you last night. I knocked on your door twice myself. Why didn't you open? Or didn't you spend the night at your place?
Demchenko himself was diligently mending torn camouflage trousers, sitting on the bunk in only his shorts.
– I was at my place. I just didn’t want to see anyone. I was very tired... - Andrey walked into the room and sat down on a chair. - What's new?
Demchenko bit the thread with his teeth and cheerfully reported:
- Vova, the young guy and the locals left at 5 am. They said you know what it is about.
- Yeah, - Andrey nodded.
- Slava took Lopatenko and two free “Beavers” and took them to the city to unwind. Well, go to the market. The boys have been sitting here for a month now.
- That’s right, it’s high time, - Andrey agreed. -Where is Ivan?
- He got up in the morning and went to the “Dnepr” team. They’re planning something there...
Andrey sighed heavily.
- He won't calm down. Damn, we have 10 days left until the end of the rotation.
He stood up and walked back and forth around the room:
- Listen, Sergei. What do you think, what if we take the whole group and go to the sea on Sunday? We’ve been stuck here for a month now, and we haven’t really even gone swimming! Otherwise we’ll go back home without taking a plunge...
- Good idea! – Demchenko immediately cheered up. – We’ll buy some meat and beer. No, not meat, but fish. But where to?
- That's not a problem. The head of Azov's intelligence service kept inviting me to their base in Urzuf. They took over the former dacha of Yanukovych's wife. They say it's cool there. Then, Sergei, you organize the people. I negotiate with the commander and with Azov. OK?
- OK. I think there will be a lot of people interested. Who will stay here to be in touch with the center?
Andrey thought for a moment:
- We'll leave some of the “Beavers” behind. If something happens, we will appoint a person in charge who will be here in half an hour. Today is Friday. So, we'll go tomorrow.
- Great, - Demchenko rubbed his hands. - Otherwise we’ll return from the rotation with only our arms up to the elbows and our muzzles tanned. No one will believe that we were by the seaside...
– Yup... Okay, I'm going to my place.
However, he was unable to indulge in idleness for long. Around 11 o’clock Vova Pyshny called back and said that he and Kharaberyush’s guys had detained the same separatist businessman whom the local police were taking to the “Library”. Vova himself was on his way to search a garage owned by the businessman, because there was “a lot of interesting stuff there.”
- I got you. I’m going to meet the guy, - Andrey sighed and, slowly, headed towards the local prison.
“That means we didn’t have time to warn the client. Or they warned him, but he couldn’t get away. It’s a pity... He was probably a good person,” Andrey caught himself thinking that he was referring to the unknown detainee in the past tense. “But it is so. If they don’t beat him to death, he’ll be in prison for a long time and is unlikely to get out.”
When he appeared, the locals had already arrived. And they were busily unloading the detainees.
One of the detectives was writing a report about the arrest sitting at the desk of the “Library” duty officer. Next to him on the asphalt a man of about thirty with a thin build was kneeling. He was wearing light jeans and a bright green polo shirt with short sleeves. On his feet were light gray moccasins. In general, the man looked very, very decent, if it weren’t for the blood that abundantly covered his shirt, his jeans torn at the knees and the absence of one moccasin…. The bag on his head made it impossible to see his face. Therefore, Andrey limited himself to a cursory external examination, noting the handcuffs tightened to the limit on his hands behind his back.
– You guys didn't break any of his bones, did you? – Andrey asked the policemen. – I don’t want him to die in our place. I don't need such mess.
- God forbid. We ourselves need him to talk, - the local colleague answered convincingly.
- Then loosen the handcuffs for him. I’ve encountered something like this before. If you don’t, his death will begin in a couple of hours. Then no hospital will help.
Andrey nodded to the National Guard on duty to receive the detainee, and turned to the noisy crowd at the entrance to the terminal building. Usually other detainees were lined up there against the wall when several were brought in or when they were taken out to get some air. But now there was clearly something different. “Dnepr” fighters, local SBU officers and some National Guardsmen surrounded someone so tightly that it was impossible to see what caused such a reaction. Although, judging by the shouts and remarks, the reason was a woman.
Sighing to himself, Andrey moved into the crowd. Forcefully pushing a couple of backs out of his way, he squeezed into the circle:
- Well, what is this hubbub about? - and then everything became clear to him...
A young woman, more likely even a girl, stood against the wall. The short summer dress revealed her smooth, tanned legs to the middle of her thighs. The translucent fabric of the dress, supported at the top by two symbolic straps, clearly indicated the absence of a bra. The girl’s thin arms were up against the wall above her head. The hands trembled noticeably. Someone, apparently an officer during the arrest, did not put a bag on the girl’s head, using a balaclava instead, which was turned around, with holes for the eyes being in the back. Therefore, those around her could clearly see her luxurious chestnut-colored hair falling in thick waves from under the mask. Fragile, somehow ethereal, the girl was clearly a foreign body surrounded by a crowd of cackling men in camouflage...
“Fucking crap! This is too much!” – Andrey thought in the first moment. In the second, his consciousness grabbed the following picture: Parasyuk stood behind the girl’s back, slowly running the blade of a combat knife over the skin of the girl’s arm and shoulder.
Amid the enthusiastic cries of those around him, he moved the blade under the strap, intending to cut it.
Andrey closely, as if on a TV screen, recorded the sweat appearing on the fighter’s forehead, his slightly open mouth, slightly protruding tongue and rapid breathing. Taking a step forward, he grabbed Parasyuk’s right forearm with his hand and squeezed tightly.
- What, Vova, do you want to play?
- Aw, fuck! Let me go, let me go! You'll break your arm! – he whined.
The people around buzzed.
- Ivanovich, what are you doing! Let me have fun. It's fun!
- Yes, the girl won’t lose anything, - it started coming from all sides.
Ignoring the screams, Andrey turned to the local detective:
- Who is this?
He readily said:
– The woman of this separatist. They detained him with her in the car.
Andrey turned to the girl:
- Hey, put your hands down, - and again turned to his local colleague. - So then formalize it. Don’t make a circus out of it!
Turning to the others, he added:
- She is detained! So she is my responsibility. There’s no point in making a clown show here. If you don't have enough girls, go to the city, to the beach. That’s it, off you go about your business!
The people, muttering very dissatisfiedly, began to disperse. Parasyuk, casting a hateful glance at Andrey, was one of the last to leave.
It turned out that Ivan Sovetov was also in the crowd of fighters. Smiling, he approached Andrey, who was silently waiting for the local detective to finish his report.
- Fuck you, Andrey, you interrupted the performance! Parasyuk would have just played around a bit. That way she would be more talkative. She would tell my colleagues everything. Otherwise, I would have given her to the boys. Nobody knows whether she was here or not...
- I hope you were joking, Vanya, - Andrey looked into his eyes. - Don't joke like that again.
Having collected the report, he told the duty officer.
- Put her into the small cell. Don’t give her to anyone! Do you hear? Don’t give her out to anyone without my knowledge. Understood?
- Yes sir! – he nodded clearly and took the girl to the “Library”.
- Fuck... How old is she? – Andrey asked rhetorically, addressing no one in particular.
- Who knows... She had a purse. Apparently it was left in his car. There is no phone either. Looks 18-20. – the local responded, putting his papers in a folder. - Well, I’m off to work with ours? – he nodded towards the corridor where the detained man had already been taken.
- Yeah, - Andrey said absently. - Just be careful not to overdo it.
Half an hour later, Vova Pyshny arrived with Kharaberyush, who told about the results.
- Think about it, Andrey. We opened this guy’s garage, and it was full of ballots for the independence referendum, DPR leaflets, uniforms, cartridges, a machine gun, grenades, - Vova reported with a satisfied expression. - In short, the whole nine yards. Now we will work with him. We need to find out who was in contact with him, where the instructions came from. Maybe we can pull out something worthwhile.
- And just imagine, when we were detaining him, he swore at us and cursed us so much! “I hate you, fascists!” – Kharaberyush added, smiling. – We caught a big fish.
- Well done, - Andrey praised the counterintelligence officers, internally shrinking with melancholy. – Vova, quickly write up a report to Kiev, I’ll send it. Well, I’ll go and report to the general. Let him see that we don’t just drink vodka, - Andrey finished cheerfully.
Pyshny grimaced. He clearly didn’t want to write.
- Andrey, let the young guy write. I need to keep cracking this guy.
- You write it, don't slack off. There is someone to work there. And if the young guy writes, then I’ll have to redo it for an hour. Do I need it? – Shevchenko answered with a malicious smile. Then, as if remembering, he turned to the head of Mariupol counterintelligence.
- Listen, Sanya. And the girl who was taken with this separatist, who is she? And what does she have to do with our case?
He shrugged:
– It’s the first time I saw her. She is not mentioned in our case materials. Why, did you like her?
- Yeah, - Andrey nodded, feigning embarrassment. -Listen, since you don’t need her, give her to me. Nobody will know. She will not write any complaints to anywhere. How about it?
Kharaberyush laughed.
- Yes, take her, do whatever you want. You will owe me one. But... Don't let her go until tomorrow, okay? We don't need noise yet.
- That's okay. Thank you, Sanya, we’ll settle the matter, - Andrey clapped his outstretched palm and went to headquarters to report to Rudnitsky about the “brilliant counterintelligence operation.”
“Damn, this businessman looks like a normal guy... It’s a pity, I can’t help him now. And after all, it was one of his own, whom he provided with work, who betrayed him... The bastard... Okay, reflections aside. We must warn the Center. In case there are more people behind the guy, it wouldn’t be good to put them under attack,” Andrey thought, trying not to think about the detained girl. But he couldn’t push thoughts away so easily. - “Why are you, Andrey Ivanovich, defending her so much? You now owe a favor to Kharaberyush and you made Parasyuk your enemy. For what? After all, you can jeopardize your main job...” He stopped, sat down on a bench and thought. "No. Work is work, but I can’t allow another girl to be broken or killed before my eyes. My heart just can’t stand it if I later find out that something happened to her. I've had enough of waitress Lena from the Divan restaurant. Otherwise, how can I live later? And in general, the decision has been made. It’s too late to quit.” With these thoughts, he cheered up a little and more cheerfully headed to “Ascetic”.
Late at night he approached the “Library”.
– Bring to the interrogation room the girl that was brought in today, - Andrey ordered the duty officer.
While waiting for the girl, he walked around the boiler room, noting new blood stains, scraps of clothing, scratches on the walls - they interrogated people constantly in the “Library”. Although, the “Dnepr” guys stopped appearing here. But, judging by rumors, they processed their prisoners outside the city, in groves and abandoned houses. Very convenient, especially if the interrogation results in a corpse...
The duty officer entered the door, pushing the prisoner in front of him.
She almost fell, tripping over the threshold.
- You can go, - Andrey nodded to the fighter and waved the girl to a stool.
- Sit down. Don't take off your balaclava. What is your name?
The girl said in a trembling voice:
- Natasha... Please call my dad. He will pay you. He has money.
Andrey sighed and shook his head:
- Who is our dad?
- He is at Azovstal, the head of the workshop... He’s been one a long time... Call him. He will do anything for you! – and added in a whisper, quietly, – I'm scared, daddy, take me away from here...
So she sat on the stool, clasping her shoulders with her arms and bowing her head. Tears were rolling down her cheeks from under the hem of her balaclava.
- This guy, who is he to you?
- Just a guy. We met at the club a week ago. He's cool and generous. We were going to go to Cyprus in September... - she sniffed.
- What does he do, do you know?
She shook her head.
- I think he has some transportation company, buses. I didn’t delve into it, I’m not interested...
- Did he talk to you about politics? About the DPR, about Maidan?
- No... I’m not interested in this, - she said very quietly.
- You’re a fool, you’re such a fool! - Andrey cursed in anger. – Don’t you see what’s going on around you?
- Tell me, where did I end up? Am I at the airport? – Natasha whispered.
- Where did you get this idea? – Andrey looked at her with interest.
- My friends told me that people are being killed here... And girls disappear here...
- Okay, get up, - Andrey himself stood up.
- Where to? - she babbled in fear. -Where are you taking me?
- Quiet, girl Natasha. You will speak when I give permission.
He led her out into the street through a dark corridor. He signaled to the duty officer to keep quiet. Then he put her in the car that was parked outside.
- I'll be back soon and set the documents straight. Is that clear?
- Of course, - the duty officer grinned obscenely. - All clear.
- Good, - Andrey also grinned in response. - And don’t make a sound to anyone.
In the car, the girl huddled in the corner. She was really shaking with fear. At the checkpoint, the group’s car was known, so Andrey was not stopped. They just waved their baton in greeting: drive on.
Driving deeper into the city, he parked at a pharmacy open 24 hours a day.
- We've arrived, that's it.
The girl sobbed and whispered:
- Don't, please... Don't, I beg you...
- Listen. Now get out of the car. In front of you is a 24-hour pharmacy. You wait until I leave, then you take off your balaclava and go into the pharmacy. You'll call your dad there. Let them come for you - dad or someone else. And think further with your head about how you will live here, in this city. Is that clear?
Natasha nodded often and often.
- Now the next thing. If suddenly they call you to the SBU and start interrogating you about today’s events and ask why I let you go, you will say that you have become my agent. I recruited you. You must convey information from the youth circles. And in general – all questions should be directed to me. I am the senior officer of the SBU group at the airport. Name is Andrey. This is what you answer to everyone who is interested. It's clear?
- Yes….
- But it's better if you leave the city. Go far and go for a long time.
Andrey sighed and turned to the girl.
- Go away, you fool. Otherwise, next time everything could end very badly. And no amount of daddy’s money will save you, - he leaned over her and opened the door. - That's it, get out.
For some time she sat without moving. Then she awkwardly climbed out of the car. She took a step and stopped. She reached out to take off her balaclava, but pulled it down.
- Take it off when I leave. - Andrey shouted, starting the engine...
At the entrance to their location he was met by Sovetov.
- Why, Andrey, you couldn’t resist and took the girl for yourself? - in his eyes Andrey clearly read: “Well, now, boss, some dirt has appeared on you too!”
- You are a fool, Ivan. I just recruited her. The girl will provide us some information, - Andrey answered as casually as possible. - Let me go, I want to sleep.
- Are you tired after the recruiting conversation? And how many times did you recruit her? – Ivan giggled.
Andrey looked around - the airfield was covered in night darkness. There were no extraneous noises. The camp was already asleep... With a short boxing movement, he drove his fist into the stomach of his interlocutor. Ivan bent in half, so that he almost hit his forehead on his knees.
- Listen to me, bastard. I am not you. I don’t force prisoners. If you, scum, open your filthy mouth again, I will hurt you badly. And if in Kiev you decide to settle accounts with me, I will completely overwhelm you there. Rest assured.
- You bitch, - Sovetov wheezed, lying on the concrete, -you’re finished...
A hot, intoxicating wave covered Andrey completely. He grabbed his opponent's throat with his elbow and began to choke him. Ivan’s wheezing turned into a hoarse groan. He frantically tried to rip Andrey's hands off his throat.
- Well, Ivan. You've been annoying me during the whole rotation. It's probably time to end things with you. In the morning they will find you already cold.
- Stop, you fool, don’t, - Ivan wheezed.
- Don’t,” he groaned in a more normal voice when Andrey let him go. - No need, I understand everything...
Swaying, he stood in front of Andrey on all fours, coughing up thick saliva. Shevchenko barely suppressed the urge to kick the scumbag in his shiny face. He took a breath, which was ragged from the surge of wild anger towards this bastard.
- It’s good, Ivan, that you understood me. In addition to compromising you, I have a strong desire to cripple you. So stay away from me. I hope you heard me, - and, unable to restrain himself, Andrey still hit Sovetov in the ribs. - You’re garbage, Ivan, not an officer...
Groaning, Ivan fell back onto the concrete and whined. And Andrey spat and went to his room.
“Oh, what morals we have here...” he thought lazily, standing under the shower. “I made an enemy for myself, one hundred percent.” Although it serves him right - my hands have been itching for a long time. Still, recent events have seriously frayed my nerves. I had never noticed such anger in myself before... The girl, she just served as a detonator... And without her, sooner or later I would have lost my temper... Okay, whatever happens, I don’t care. 10 more days until the end of the rotation..."