The Hot Summer Of Mariupol. Chapter 15
Half an hour later, the entire group was already seated in their own car and the bank van, which had been borrowed from “Dnepr” for this reason. Each employee secretly prayed that no one would spoil Saturday evening, and that the night would pass peacefully.
Two special communications officers, “Beavers,” who were traveling out of the city for the first time, looked around with interest, glancing sideways at the paramilitary fighters of the “Dnepr” who had their guns pointed out the open windows.
- What are they doing, huh? There’s no shooting...
- Image is everything. Thirst is nothing, - Slava Torshin replied importantly, opening a bottle of beer for himself. - Well, to the weekend!
- Don’t jinx it, - Pyshny muttered, but also took a long sip.
Quite quickly they passed the road from Mariupol to the village of Mangush, where there was a large crossroads. There they turned left and rushed towards the sea along a narrow road between trees. The hot seaside air rushed through the open windows, although the heat of the day had already subsided. The officers, dressed in civilian clothes, quietly sipped beer, listened to music and generally looked like an ordinary group of friends who had decided to go to the sea for a weekend.
Outside the window stretched the Azov steppe, by August scorched by the sun to a gray-yellow color. Only the grove trees, covered with dust, still pleased the eye with faded greenery. The smell of sun-baked earth and mown fields tickled the nostrils, mixing with the aroma of wormwood and the already nearby sea...
Urzuf was a small village on the shores of the Azov Sea. From the east it was covered by the Belosarayskaya Spit, which is why its bay had beautiful sandy beaches and a shallow and warm sea. In a word - a paradise for relaxation, especially for children. That is why large enterprises of the Donetsk region and even Kiev built recreation centers and resorts in the village in Soviet times. After the collapse of the Union, some of these places fell into disrepair and dilapidated. And some, on the contrary, experienced a second youth. Sponsors were found, and some former recreation centers turned into completely modern hotels on the seashore. And among them there appeared a recreation center for the wife of Yanukovych, at that time the current president of Ukraine.
This is what the Azov battalion captured in June 2014, turning it into a place of deployment.
Cars were slowly rolling along Urzuf Street when a fence, painted in the style of Petrikovskaya painting,[1] stretched out on the left side.
- What kind of graffiti is this? - Andrey asked the “Dnepr” driver, who often drove here, in amazement,.
- Oh, some artist painted this for them. From Kiev. She visited them here at the seaside, so she thanked them in this way. There's also a picture on the gate. But some fighter drew it. They say that he used to be an art teacher...
Having approached the gate, Andrey actually saw two Zaporozhye Cossacks depicted on it, between whom was the emblem of “Azov” - a wolf hook [2].
The group was met at the gate by Misha “Bulat”. Behind him stood an Azov fighter with an assault rifle and in full gear. His face was hidden under a balaclava.
- Hi! Hi! Okay, let's come quickly. Everything is already ready, - Misha said, hugging the SBU officers. - The shish kebab is already on its way. Actually, we were expecting you earlier.
- Thank you. At 7 pm another prisoner was brought in. I had to stay a little longer. Tell them - what fool fights on Saturday night? – Andrey answered, feigning offense.
– I sure will! - Misha laughed.
- Listen, Misha, what about this fighter, why is he standing here in full gear? It's hot...
- He's on duty. The guard is on duty. We have increased security at all times. From the sea side they actually sit in dugouts. – Misha glanced briefly at the sentry. – Is that all? Then let's go.
He quickly led the SBU officers through the base, along the way giving brief comments about the sights. And there was something to see. The territory still bore traces of careful grooming. Alpine hills with juniper and ferns, unusual for the Azov region, were scattered everywhere. The elegant forged lamps had already been partially broken, partially removed, but the remaining ones were skillfully integrated into the interior of the park.
- And here there was like a hunting lodge. There are all sorts of horns, a fireplace, sofas... Now this is a press service and a management meeting room, - Misha explained. - And further down there is an artificial salt mine. 15 meters deep. We didn't touch it. We have a couple of asthmatics, so they just enjoy it there. If you want, we can go down into it.
- I think we could go tomorrow. Show me where we can leave our things and then sleep. And then let's go have a drink already, shall we...
The base management allocated them four rooms in a former guest house. Battalion soldiers were partly housed there, and guests coming to the battalion we put in that guest house as well.
- Lyashko also lives here. He even has a permanent room assigned to him, - the young fighter, who introduced himself as “the duty officer,” volubly shared.
They settled in quickly. Everyone really wanted to quickly plunge into the sea, eat meat and drink vodka, and try to throw off the burden of war. Although it didn’t thunder around like gun cannonade, it was felt by every cell of the body...
Then there was the usual festive evening. They swam, drank and sang around the fire. Some of the employees scattered around the area. Together with Misha, several other Azov officers took part in the impromptu celebration, so there were no problems with the guides.
- Andrey, - Misha leaned towards his shoulder and winked conspiratorially. - Maybe we need girls?
- Misha, what do you have here, a field brothel? Or are you kidnapping locals? Got female slaves?
- No, - the intelligence chief laughed. – You won’t believe it, there are a lot of girls who come to us for romance. The nurses come. Some work in the kitchen, others in the laundry. Some even want to fight. There are several dozen of them here. And among them there are young chicks who simply adore the defenders of Ukraine.
- No, sorry. This is not for me, - Andrey declined. - Ask the guys. Maybe someone will want some...
Late at night, Andrey sat on the veranda of the guest house, listening to the summer night. Somewhere the sea was roaring. Crickets chirped loudly. Someone at the neighboring base was loudly singing songs... His head was in a pleasant buzz from the drink and it was very cool to rock in a rocking chair...
- Are you sleeping? – Slava came out of the next room onto the veranda.
He struck his lighter and took a drag of his cigarette with pleasure.
- I’m enjoying this so much that you just want to sit like this until the morning...
- I agree. You probably won’t be able to sit like that in Kiev...
They were silent for a while. Then Slava asked:
- Did Bulat offer you girls?
- Yes. I refused.
- Me too. He was too persistent.
Andrey stretched and yawned sweetly:
- Fuck knows... It’s quite possible that he would have filmed it on video. You never know how fate will turn.
- That's what I'm talking about... Well, let's go to bed?
- Let's go...
Most of the team greeted the morning cheerfully. Although, one of the “Beavers” could not get up - he had drank too much the night before. And Sanya Tarasenko actually spent a stormy night with one of the local patriots, so they couldn’t manage to wake them up for breakfast.
The morning sea was gentle and warm like fresh milk. They dived for a long time from the pier built by Yanukovych for yachts and boats.
Nobody bothered them, and a follow-up call to the chief of staff confirmed that everything in the area of responsibility was within normal limits. The little vacation continued.
But everything ends someday. So they, slightly sunburned and still a little drunk, loaded into the minibus. They were saying goodbye to those seeing they off for a long time. Sanya Tarasenko was cooing about something with his girlfriend away from everyone. Andrey and Bulat discussed joint events. Everyone was in high spirits, and their bodies felt pleasantly tired. Even Sovetov was cheerful and sociable.
- That's it, let's go. Otherwise we’ll be saying goodbye until the evening, - Andrey commanded. - Sanya! Hey Romeo, let's get on the bus!
Tarasenko threw a destroying look at Shevchenko, but obediently climbed inside. His girlfriend stood at the window for some time, whispering farewell words with her lips.
- We had a good rest, - Demchenko sighed. - It's a pity it's not enough.
- Well, Sergei, we'll be home soon. You’ll get 10 days leave and go to the sea, - Torshin responded.
- They won't give us 10 days. It’s good if they give us a week, - Sergei sighed again and added. - Besides, you’ll have to pay there, but here it’s a freebie...
Everyone smiled together:
- And you, Sergei, are a jerk! Here is your essence revealed! – was heard from all sides.
The evening also passed peacefully. Checks on the detainee the day before have not yet returned, and the interrogation with him was postponed until the morning. Therefore, they calmly ended the weekend with quiet gatherings on their veranda, slowly drinking beer.
Andrey realized that something bad had happened as soon as he crossed the threshold of the commander’s office.
- Come in, come in, Andrey Ivanovich. Do you know each other? - “Ascetic” pointed with his gaze at the lieutenant colonel in a police uniform sitting opposite.
- Not yet, - Andrey extended his hand. – Senior of the SBU group. Call sign "Bulat". Name is Andrey Ivanovich.
- Head of the Mangush regional police department, Lieutenant Colonel Alexander Petrovich Storozhenko. Here's the thing...
- Wait. “Bulat”, were you in Urzuf yesterday? At the Azov base?
- I was, - Andrey nodded affirmatively. – You yourself authorized our visit.
- That’s not what I’m talking about, - “Ascetic” waved it off. – What time did you leave?
- Sometime around 3 PM... Well, yes. We were already here at 4 PM. I also went to the chief of staff and checked in upon arrival. What's the matter?
- It's good that you arrived early. Okay... - “Ascetic” drummed his fingers on the table. - And we had some trouble. Tell us, Lieutenant Colonel.
The policeman sighed and began the story. It was clear that this was not the first time he had done this.
- Well, in short. Yesterday late in the evening, more precisely at 11.30 PM, two residents of Mangush, born in 1978 and 1977, were brought to the district hospital. One has a knocked out eye, numerous fractures, and a cranial fracture. The second one is even worse. In addition to eight fractures of ribs and a head injury, his larynx and cervical vertebrae were broken. Doctors diagnosed death. The first one is in intensive care, the prognosis is bad.
- It’s tough, of course. But what does this have to do with us?
- Despite the fact that Azov fighters brought them to the hospital, according to the wives of these men, they were beaten by Azov fighters, - the cop finished, looking into Andrey’s eyes.
- So... And in more detail?
- Allegedly, these men with their wives and children were returning from the beach. They came to Urzuf for a weekend vacation. They say that they were sober, but it’s hard to believe. It was, according to the wives, somewhere around 5.30 or 6 PM. Well, passing by the Azov base, the men got into an argument with the local guards. And they, without thinking twice, dragged the men inside. And then they took them to the hospital at night. There’s something else besides the physical injuries... - the lieutenant colonel hesitated.
- What?
- Well, they carved the word “separatist” into the skin of the victims. And on the foreheads - “DPR”. And they filled it with green dye. Like, they wanted to get a tattoo, apparently...
- Damn! - Andrey burst out. - Some rest...
- So what are we going to do? - “Ascetic” looked at the police officer.
- What is there to think? We opened a case of serious bodily injury resulting in death. The wives and doctors were interrogated. Now we need to interrogate the Azov guards and identify those who brought them. They remembered their car at the hospital. But they were all wearing balaclavas. They arrived, shouted at the emergency room: take in the wounded, and left. So it will be difficult to identify.
- There won’t be any identification, - Andrey interrupted him. – Do you seriously think that you can interrogate the Azov fighters or do a confrontation with them? I'll disappoint you - nothing will work out. You will receive a refusal from Avakov’s level. And most likely, they will simply ignore all your attempts.
- We’ll send a summons through the prosecutor’s office, - the cop stuttered.
– They will wipe their ass with your summons, - Andrey sighed. – I have already encountered similar situations. Never managed to prosecute anyone. These are volunteers, “heroes of the Fatherland and Maidan.”
- So what can we do? – the lieutenant colonel looked at “Ascetic” in confusion. - The district prosecutor will devour me: a serious case, a high-profile case, but there is no result.
- You send him to the Azov base. Let him tell them about the Code of Criminal Procedure and the Criminal Code, - Rudnitsky said gloomily. - Okay, let's try to do something. I will report to Kramatorsk, and you give me copies of the materials. Leave your phone number, if there is news, I’ll call you.
– Got it, Comrade General, - the head of the regional department drawled with disappointment. - It’s clear to me that we have even more untouchables. Only before, they did not allow such lawlessness...
- Go already, you fucking moralist! – “Ascetic” roared. - First year in the police? Why are you acting like a child? Off you go!
When the cop came out, they sat silently opposite each other. Then Andrey sighed:
- I though that the vacation was too good to not be spoiled by something. It doesn't happen like that here. But I warned you, Comrade General, during the first conversation - these volunteer battalions will still bring a lot of trouble.
- Yes, I remember. Do you think I don’t know? You'd better tell me - will you really do nothing?
- Nothing, Comrade General, - Andrey answered, looking into Rudnitsky’s face. - Unless you trick the culprits out and detain them. And then, I’m sure that their brothers-in-arms will come to fight them off. Or the court will release them and not arrest them.
- Tomorrow I will call this Beletsky. I’ll order him to sort it out and hand over the culprits, - “Ascetic” said in a deep voice, looking at the table.
- Yes, he’ll figure it out, - Andrey nodded. – He will say that these men tried to attack the guard, were drunk and shouted anti-Ukrainian slogans. Therefore, they were overtaken by a severe but fair punishment of the people.
- Damn, - the pencil broke with a crunch in “Ascetic’s” hands. – The guy has two children. The second one, the one who is still alive, has a daughter...
Andrey returned to his place seriously angry. Without having time to exchange a word with anyone, he dialed Misha “Bulat”.
- Oh, great, Andrey! How are you feeling after yesterday? – Misha’s voice was cheerful.
- I'm not having fun, Mikhail. Guess why I'm calling you?
- What happened? – the interlocutor instantly became wary.
- Don't you know? Your guards beat two local men to death yesterday evening! You're absolutely crazy!
- Andrey, what are you saying? I don't know anything about this! – “Bulat” immediately began to make excuses. However, Andrey noticed how his voice trembled.
- Listen here, Misha. The prosecutor's office opened a criminal case. The case is put under control in the region, and then in the center. You have a choice - either you hand over the culprits, or all the structures arrange a fun day for you. You will be bogged down with checks and inspections!
- Andrey, I got you, - now Misha was really worried. - I’ll figure it out and tell you everything. Who initiated the case, you say?
- You’ll find out for yourself, - Andrey pressed the end call button and swore dirty.
Almost all the officers who were on the veranda heard the conversation, so they quickly got up to speed.
– Well, maybe, really, they were separatists? – Tarasenko defended the “Azov” guys. - I wouldn’t stand it either if some local scum started shouting “Glory to Putin” at me! Yes, you should kill for this!
- They did, - Andrey said wearily. – And, in case you forgot, Sasha, we are still a law enforcement agency. Our task is to protect people and the law.
- Our task is to defend the Motherland, - the senior lieutenant said pathetically. – And if this means breaking the law, I don’t care!
- Okay, Sasha. Go with Vova and work with the Saturday detainee. Decide quickly whether there is something behind it or not. If there is, we pass it on to Kharaberyush. If not, kick him out. We already have a lot of “books” in our “Library”.
Vova Pyshny appeared after lunch. Andrey was laying on his couch and listening to music, trying to get distracted.
- Well, what about our spotter? – he greeted Pyshny with a question. Vova sat down on a chair and made a face.
- Looks like a dummy. The guy works at Maryinsky RES.[3] He was riding his motorcycle to work in the morning, and there was a raid. He got interested and stopped to look. And he’s been carrying binoculars with him for a long time, a cheap Chinese thing. There are a lot of these in any market for 50 hryvnia in bulk. Even the “Azov” did not take him away during his arrest.
- Well, what are we going to do with him?
- I sent his details to Kiev. They will run the phone through the databases. Let's look at the last calls... He swears that he didn't call anyone at all that morning. Well, if he turns out to be clean, we should release him.
- Okay, let's see. Where is his motorcycle? – Andrey asked.
- I don’t know, - Pyshny was surprised. – He says that it was taken away during the arrest.
- Damn, I need to call this Misha again...
Andrey guessed right: the next day the results of the checks arrived from Kiev. The detainee turned out to be as pure as a baby's tear. Vova Pyshny, who had been mentally pressuring the unfortunate man for 24 hours, was very happy and completed the recruitment process in five minutes.
- Andrey, are we releasing him? He will inform us about Mariynka and throughout that whole area. He works at the RES. On the road all the time. Checks meters, connections - a really good agent he can turn out!
- I don’t mind, - Andrey shrugged. - Let's do it this way.
- If only the motorcycle could be returned to him.
- Oh damn, I forgot. – Andrey grimaced in annoyance. – One sec.
He dialed Misha Bulat's phone number.
- Hello. What, did something happen again? – the dissatisfied voice of the “Azov” intelligence officer rang out.
- Not yet, - Andrey responded in the same tone. - Listen, your guys brought a man on Saturday from near Maryinka. Supposedly a spotter.
- Well, I remember. I discussed with you. He was intact. They didn't touch a finger.
- That's not what I'm talking about. We are going to release him. We need to return the motorcycle.
- What motorcycle? – Bulat’s voice noticeably increased in irritation.
- Chinese replica of Harley-Davidson, 2008, red.
- OK. I'll tell them to return it. Is that everything?
- Yes.
“Bulat” interrupted the conversation without saying goodbye. Andrey chuckled and said to Vova:
- Yes, it looks like we won’t go to Yanukovych’s dacha again...
- To hell with it, - he waved it off. – In a week, I hope, I’ll be home. They didn't say anything in Kiev? Are they going to increase our time?
Andrey shook his head negatively.
- I didn't hear anything. They are putting together our replacements. It seems that candidates have already been identified.
- Well, good. Okay, I'll go. You deal with the motorcycle, we should let this guy go soon...
The next day the motorcycle was not returned. Andrey called Bulat again. He swore and said: “I ordered it back. Apparently the guys got tired and forgot.”
Another day has passed. There was no motorcycle. The detainee remained sitting in the “Library”. And Vova Pyshny looked at Andrey as an enemy of the people.
- Andrey, think about it: what kind of agent will he be if we let him down like that!
- Vova, don’t make me feel worse about it! You see, I call this Misha three times a day. Well, should I go myself and take this motorcycle from them by force?! – Andrey answered irritably.
On the next call, he lost his temper and yelled at Misha from the bottom of his heart. He reproached him for his inability to lead his people, for looting and other matters. And finally, he threatened that he would write a report to the commander and to Kiev and at the same time indicate that “Azov” was disrupting their intelligence activities.
He didn't particularly hope for success. But after the conversation he felt a little easier.
- That's it, Vova. If they don’t bring it today, fuck it. I am writing reports to all authorities.
- Come on, it's high time. – Pyshny assented.
Andrey was reading the news from his laptop for the night and was about to go to bed when the radio station hissed in the usual way:
- “Bulat”, answer “Gate”.
Cursing, Andrey replied:
- At the reception.
- Go to the “Library”, they brought you a gift.
- What gift? – Andrey asked, perplexed. – What, another “book”?
- No. A motorbike.
- Ooh! Got it, I'll be there in a moment.
He quickly threw on his trousers and T-shirt, put the gun in his pocket and put on simple slippers: it was night, no one would see, but he didn’t want to get dressed completely.
- Vova, Vova, get up. The motorcycle has arrived! – he stirred up the already asleep Pyshny.
In complete darkness, the two of them quickly walked to the “Library”. Andrey still thought: “But just a month ago I was surprised how my predecessor walked calmly here in the dark and did not stumble?”
The sentry at the entrance to the “Library” greeted them with the words:
- I don't know who it was. They flew up in a pickup truck, threw the motorcycle out of the back and shouted to hand it over to the SBU. And they left immediately.
- How come you don't know who it was? – Vova was surprised.
- They didn’t even get out of the car. At the checkpoint they probably showed documents, but here they didn’t.
- OK. Let's go take a look at this iron horse...
A large motorcycle was simply lying on the asphalt in front of the main entrance to the terminal. Andrey and Vova lifted it onto wheels and began to examine it.
– What jerks they are, - Pyshny expressed his opinion a few minutes later.
- That’s not the right word, - Andrey responded. - Apparently, they took their anger out on it because they were forced to return it...
Firstly, all the optics and gears on the motorcycle were broken. Secondly, all the wheels were not even punctured, but cut into ribbons. Hefty trunk bags were stolen. Documents for the motorcycle and the owner's license were found in the gas tank. Well, the highlight of the gift was that the entire motorcycle was scratched with the inscriptions “Gott mit uns”, images of skulls with a swastika and double SS lightning bolts.
- Well, how are we going to return it? – Andrey looked at his companion.
He gloomily bit his lower lip in thought for a while, and then decided:
- But we will! I’ll tell him that he had to endure a whole battle with “Azov” in order to free him and return the motorcycle. It's okay, I'll tell him. He will still be glad that he received at least something at all.
- Well, do as you think best, - Andrey yawned. All the same, the information on the newly minted SBU agent was already in the Center. They will figure out what to do with him...
[1] Petrikovskaya painting is Ukrainian decorative and ornamental folk painting, which was formed in the Dnepropetrovsk region in the village of Petrikovka, where the name of this type of art comes from.
[2] Wolf hook - (German Wolfsangel) is a non-alphabetic symbol that is used in heraldry, including Nazi and neo-Nazi symbols. Symbol of the Azov regiment.
[3] RES – district electrical network station.