The Hot Summer Of Mariupol. Chapter 7
The morning passed calmly, without any hysteria. Andrey slowly got up, shaved and went to the Mustangs’ canteen for breakfast.
The meeting also went smoothly. Oleshchenko did not say a word about yesterday’s conversations.
After the meeting, Andrey sat on a bench near the headquarters with other officers. After all, it was in such conversations that he often received interesting information for the Center, and for himself too. And it was necessary to pretend to be full of activity in supporting Kiev... “I wonder what’s going on with this hotel, the Liverpool,” thoughts flowed lazily, “Otherwise it might turn out that I prepared the liquidation of the leadership of the DPR...”
Having said goodbye to his interlocutors, Andrey slowly went to his room.
There were only three people detained in the “Library”, all for exceptionally small things – a St. George’s ribbon in the car, a photo on the phone with the DPR flag, and so on. Andrey tried not to keep such people for long, but to take them to the outskirts of the city and simply release them. Several days in a sealed refrigerator, in the summer heat, was already quite a test, even for a healthy person. After all, three times already they had to invite a National Guard medic to treat detainees who were simply losing consciousness from lack of oxygen, from stuffiness and overheating in refrigerators.
“It sounds crazy - overheating in the refrigerator,” thought Andrey, stopping at the entrance to his building.
The bustle outside the airport terminal caught his attention. About a dozen “Dnepr” fighters quickly equipped themselves and loaded into two minibuses. Sasha “Prosecutor” ran out to them from the building, also fully equipped.
“What's happening?" – Andrey decided to clarify and headed to the Dnieper team. At that moment his radio hissed:
- “Bulat”, answer “Italian”.
- At the reception.
- Come to us.
- Yes, I’m already by your buses.
- Oh great. Let's go out.
At the moment when Andrey approached the buses, “Italian” and “Colonel” came out of the building.
- Hello, Andrey. We have urgent information. The “Chechen” has shown up, - Vitalik said, greeting him.
- Which Chechen? – Andrey did not immediately understand.
- Well, Borisov. Nickname "Chechen". Leader of the Mariupol separatists.
- Really? – Andrey was really surprised. - Where did you get the information from?
- One man ratted on him. “Chechen” is in Volnovakha. There is an address. Let's take him now.
- Is Oleshchenko aware?
- Yes. It took half an hour for the information to come to us, and they immediately reported it to him. He only ordered to inform you.
- So maybe I'll go with you? – Andrey suggested.
- No time, - “Colonel” shook his head negatively. – My guys are already on their way, and here every second counts. He can leave at any moment, and then we will look for him again. While you get dressed...
One of the buses has actually already moved out. In the second, the engine was running, and the fighters held the door open for “Italian”.
- Don't worry, Andrey! We’ll bring him here right away and we’ll talk! - “Italian” slammed the door, and the second minibus rushed after the first.
“Colonel” looked at Andrey:
- Do you know about this “Chechen”?
- Of course, - Andrey nodded. – He is one of the main ones on our wanted lists. There are several criminal cases related to it. In May - June 2014, he was, like, the commandant of Mariupol from the DPR.
- Well, yes, that’s right, - “Colonel” nodded. - Kolomoisky also put a reward on his head.
- Is that why you rushed yourself? – Andrey grinned. – You know that we won’t take the money, so you take it! And getting “Chechen” is good enough for us.
- Agreed, - “Colonel” laughed. - By the way, come see us in the evening, we will have excellent pilaf.
Andrey turned towards his location and took out his smartphone as he walked.
“Sergey, urgently! The “Dnepr” capture group went to arrest Andrey Borisov, call sign “Chechen”. He was the commandant of Mariupol. According to “Dnepr” intelligence data received from an informant, “Chechen” is now in the city of Volnovakha. They have the exact address. If possible, please notify him immediately.”
The message was sent. As expected, the answer came quickly: “Thank you! I passed it on to its destination!”
All that was left was to wait. And Andrey went to his terrace, where he delved into the vastness of the Internet. He really wanted to at least sometimes switch from the surrounding gloomy reality, and stupid games from the “officekiller” category were perfect for this.
Half an hour later, when Andrey was already tired of shooting the advancing monsters, Demchenko appeared on the terrace.
- Oh, hello, Sergey! – Andrey put down his laptop. - Why are you hanging around doing nothing?
- Why? I'm not busy right now. There’s not much work, - Sergey pretended to be a simpleton.
- How is it not much work? What, our “Library” is empty?
- No... There are only four or five people there...
- So four or five? – Andrey continued to ask.
- Well, five, - Demchenko was slightly embarrassed. - It’s just that four need to be released, and another one was asked to be held for more...
- Who asked? – Andrey did not understand.
- Well, Sanya “Prosecutor” and Parasyuk asked. They seem to be somehow interested in this guy. So they asked.
- Damn, why didn't you tell me?
- They asked me not to talk about it, - Sergei was completely embarrassed. - They said that you wouldn’t approve... Like, they couldn’t come to an agreement with you.
- Is there something muddy there? – Andrey leaned towards Demchenko. – What are they “not going to agree about” with me?
Sergey fussed for several minutes, but could not compete with Andrey.
- So, Sergey, since you’ve already let it slip, tell the whole thing. What are these guys up to?
Demchenko, apparently, was not happy himself that he could not keep his mouth shut.
- Well, this detained businessman...
- Serget, stop pretending to be a partisan during interrogation! – Andrey barked.
- Fuck... Well, they decided to extort him for money. For releasing him...
- Oh, damn... You’re such idiots! – Andrey swore angrily. - Both you and the other “businessman in uniform”, damn you. How come it doesn’t dawn on you that the “Dnepr” guys will get away with it if something happens, and you will have to face the music. You can go to prison for this, you morons!
Slightly exhausted from the swearing, Andrey asked more calmly:
- How much did they promise you, Sergey?
He, without looking into Andrey’s eyes, answered:
- 200 bucks...
Andrey shook his head:
- Well, you are an idiot, Sergey. For 200 bucks you get into such mess...
Shevchenko stood up. The good, relaxed mood disappeared without a trace.
- Look, Sergey, you’re a grown-up boy. Think for yourself. I'll end this topic. I will personally release the person. And I’ll talk to “Prosecutor” and Parasyuk. Get out of my sight!
When Demchenko was slowly trudging off the terrace, Andrey reminded him:
- And don’t forget to release everyone else today. In the evening, as usual, new ones will be brought up. We don't need overcrowded cells...
Andrey had already had lunch when the “Dnepr” minibus pulled into the checkpoint. Seeing Andrey, the bus slowed down, and “Italian” jumped out of the side door.
He looked joyless.
- Vitaly, finally! Well? Where is Chechen?
“Italian” waved his hand.
– He’d left, the jerk! Just imagine: the kettle was hot on the stove, things were all over the house, but he was not there. That's right, someone leaked it!
- Damn, - Andrey portrayed annoyance on his face, - how can this be?
- I’m telling you, someone leaked it, - “Italian” said wearily. – But I only received the information this morning.
- How many knew about it? Count everyone, especially those who knew the exact address. Maybe you can figure it out.
- Hardly, - the “Dnepr” commander winced. – You still can’t count everyone. My boys knew, they could have blurted out to their friends - “We are going to take the “Chechen”! And here all you have to do is fart, and the whole of Mariupol will know... Okay, I’ll go and report to Oleshchenko.
Already leaving, “Italian” looked back:
- You know what else is interesting? He left his things, the food untouched, but no documents, gadgets - nothing. He took everything important with him... We were at most five minutes late.
Andrey went to his room. In the room he typed a message to the Center:
“Dnepr returned without Chechen. They say they missed him by a few minutes. You can do a good job when you want!:-).”
The answer was not long in coming:
“Well, here we go... We can do it! In fact, you have a huge thank you from those who work with him. Well done!"
Andrey smiled. Here they are, a few real manifestations of his work. After all, often, when transmitting information to the Center, he had no idea whether it was useful or whether it was simply taken into account... After all, in general, any information from him is of interest, but some is brought to report to the Supreme Commander, and some other is “used” when preparing official documents..."
And again he did not have time to relax. The phone rang. “Alexey Liverpool” appeared on the display. Andrey sighed and accepted the challenge:
- Good afternoon, Alexey.
- Hello? Andrey. But I’m afraid he’s not entirely good...
Andrey immediately became wary. What could have happened?
- What's happened?
- Remember, I told you that I still have loyal people in Donetsk, including among the hotel employees? And they regularly provide me with information from there? So, this morning one of the administrators called me and said the following. All our high-ranking guests moved out suddenly, right at 3 am. There is not one left. In their place, women and children were moved in the morning. Refugees from Slavyansk and Kramatorsk. Don't you find this strange?
- Damn, - Andrey managed to squeeze out. – What a turn.
- I'm sure my people couldn't let it slip. Moreover, they did not know about my initiative to contact you. So you have a leak somewhere.
- I would have liked to object, but you’re probably right, - Andrey answered gloomily.
- In any case, I have to stop contacting you for now. I’m afraid that my people will be shaken by these Donetsk bone-breakers, but I wouldn’t want that...
- Wait, Alexey! I understand you. But can I call you at least occasionally to inquire about the state of affairs at the hotel and in Donetsk in general? – Andrey hastened to insert a word.
- I have nothing against you personally. Call. I’m just afraid that soon I won’t be able to help you with anything. And in general, I’m thinking of changing my place of residence. I think the European climate will be more useful to me. Goodbye.
Andrey put the phone on the table and smiled contentedly.
“What a day this is! We prevented this one as well! However, I need to report to Kondratyuk and report in such a way that suspicion does not fall on me... And it would be better not to smile too much, otherwise they won’t understand. Yes, sir, they won’t understand!”
Going out to the group room, he heard the voices of Demchenko and Vova Pyshny on the terrace and moved there.
- Are you chilling? Are you idle? Sergey, have you done everything already? Why are you sitting then? Go to the “Library”! - Andrey Demchenko scolded him off and immediately sat down in his place.
- Why are you so harsh? – Vova asked, without moving at all in his chair. - Why did you get into Sergey?
- Oh, come on, - Andrey waved his hand and bit into the apple in his hand. - He’s an asshole, that’s what he is. The main thing is that he doesn’t drag us down with him. There is something else, much worse.
- What else? – Vova approached.
- Do you remember Alexey? The businessman from “Golden Dukat” and what he talked about? – Andrey said, muffling his voice.
- Naturally, - Vova responded in the same low-key tone.
– He just called me. He said that this morning all this gang abruptly left the hotel. Women and children were settled in their place.
- What are you talking about? – Pyshny’s face turned gray. – Fu-u-u-ck...
- Do you understand what this smells like? – Andrey muttered thoughtfully.
- A leak? – completely switching to a whisper, Vova clarified. Andrey only slowly blinked his eyes.
- I’m thinking about how to call Kondratyuk...
- Yeah, - Pyshny shuddered. – Fucking hell. But couldn’t the businessman’s people have leaked it?
- They don’t know that he was in contact with us...
– Oh, that’s right.
They sat in silence for some time. Then Andrey stood up.
- Okay, why mash your tits? We will still have to report. I’ll go to “Beavers”.
- Are you going to call from them?
Andrey shrugged:
- Why encrypt now? It’s already messed up.
The conversation with Kondratyuk turned out to be expectedly unpleasant. The general gave a dressing down. However, he quickly came to his senses, admitting that the likelihood of a leak from the group in Mariupol was still very low.
- Okay, we’ll look at how it could have leaksed from us. There are no such coincidences. You're right, Lieutenant Colonel. And besides, to be honest, we have only just begun to work on this topic. You yourself know how slow our warriors are.
- I know. To get everything done quickly, you need to contact the performers directly. Otherwise, the headquarters will simply shake out your soul.
- Yes, you’re right... Okay, what can I say now? I’ll talk to you later.
- Goodbye, Comrade General, - Andrey hung up.
“Beavers” looked at him sympathetically. Based on the content of the conversation, they guessed what it was about, and now they reasonably expected Andrey to get into trouble. And during his rotation, the signalmen established a good relationship with him.
- Andrey, what went wrong? At least they won't call you back to Kiev? – asked fat Lecha with sincere concern.
- No... Everything will be fine. It wasn’t our group who messed up, - Andrey ran his hand forcefully across his face. - Only, you understand, there must be complete silence about this.
In the evening, Andrey got ready to go for some pilaf to the management of “Dnepr”. Shortly before this, “Colonel” called again, reminded him about it and urgently invited him to visit. Andrey had little doubt that the conversation would be serious and would concern the illegal actions of “Dnepr”, in which his employees participated.
- Hello to the good company! – Andrey greeted loudly in a cheerful voice. – Take it from me to the table. - He handed “Italian” a package containing a cold bottle of vodka.
- Oh, well, if the SBU gives vodka, then God himself ordered it! – Slava Pechenko said with a serious face. - Sanya, there are glasses behind you, take them out.
- Sit down, Andrey, the pilaf is already on its way...
For some time they calmly drank alcohol with a standard snack - lard, cheese, sausage - until one of the fighters brought in a hefty cauldron with a steaming, fragrant delicacy.
- Misha, come on! Honestly, I didn’t believe you’d manage! I thought about how not to embarrass myself in front of the guest! – “Colonel” loudly admired. - Did you cook it yourself?
- Are you trying to offend me?!
- Just watch out! - “Colonel” shook his finger, - don’t drink too much. Tomorrow the 2nd company is leaving on patrol. By the way, Sanya, - he turned to “Prosecutor,” - this concerns you too. And tell Parasyuk. You are seniors on the road tomorrow.
- Got it, - muttered “Prosecutor”, helping himself to a full bowl of pilaf.
In addition to the “Dnepr” management, Sanya Presnyakov was also sitting in the room, and he felt quite at ease. It was clear that the border guard’s relationship with the volunteer battalions was more than friendly...
Half an hour later, well-fed and a little tipsy (the fatty pilaf greatly masked the negative effects of alcohol), those present were already having lively conversations on various topics.
At some point, the “Italian” somewhat casually asked Andrey:
- Listen, Andrey, why did you offend your Ivan?
Shevchenko, who was trying not to relax, felt how tense the other interlocutors were from this question.
Andrey slowly wiped his lips with a napkin and, leaning back on the sofa, said mockingly:
- Listen, was pilaf mandatory for the conversation? Or is this some kind of improvisation? So I would have come to talk anyway...
- But it’s better to combine business with pleasure, right? – Pechenko smiled quite affably.
- Of course, - Andrey nodded. – To your question, Vitaly, the answer is simple: he was doing business with you behind my back. And with this he set me up. Because I am responsible for the group. I told them all: “If you want to do something, please, but let me know.” Something like this. Would you, Slava, allow something like this to happen behind your back? – Andrey turned to Pechenko.
- Of course not. Okay, guys, Andrey is right.
- No questions. But what are we going to do next? – Vova Bogonis, another deputy of Pechenko, looked into Andrey’s eyes.
– What do you mean? – Andrey pretended not to understand.
- Listen, don't pretend. You understand everything. Now there is an opportunity to make good money, - “Italian”, apparently, decided to play openly. – A lot depends on your position.
- So, can I somehow stop you? – Shevchenko was really surprised.
- Certainly. You’ll go to the commander, report to Kramatorsk or something else...
- Wait. It seems like you and I have been working for several days now. Have I ever given any reason to think about me like that? – Andrey carefully began to play off anger and indignation.
- Calm down, no one is throwing “predyavas”[1] at you...
- Oh, my, - Andrey grinned. - We all seem to be officers, but the expressions are like at a thieves’ meeting...
Everyone smiled, the tension subsided a little.
- Guys. I didn't come here to make money. But I won't bother you. Because I see: you are for us. And we have one task - to clear the city.
“God, so much pathos! How not to laugh,” flashed through Andrey’s head.
- So I don’t like these things, but I won’t interfere. But there are two conditions.
- Which ones? – “Colonel” calmly specified, pouring himself tomato juice.
- Sanya "Prosecutor". You and your “kent” Parasyuk stop with your practice of ransoming people from the “Library” for money.
By the way “Prosecutor” twitched and how others looked at him in surprise, Andrey realized that this was, so to speak, his “private initiative.”
- Second condition? – “Colonel” asked just as calmly, looking away from the pale “Prosecutor”.
- I ask you, there is no need for atrocities, - Andrey looked around at the faces of those sitting. – There is no need to kill and maim people.
- What are you saying? – Bogonis was indignant. - When did this happen?
- If it hadn’t, I wouldn’t have said this, - Andrey snapped.
– Is that all? – “Colonel” interjected again.
Andrey shrugged his shoulders:
- I guess so.
- Well, good. Let's assume that we have reached a consensus. I suggest you drink to this!
- Yes. For the commonwealth of military branches and established mutual understanding! - said Presnyakov, who had been silent until then.
The fun continued as usual. After the tension subsided, the conversations became more frank and, accordingly, more informative.
- Listen, do you feel sorry for them? – already pretty drunk “Italian” asked Andrey, looking at him point-blank with his black eyes, like olives.
– For whom? – Andrey, already also drunk, didn’t understand.
– The locals. Don’t kill, don’t maim... And they’re all separatists here. Everyone will shoot us in the back.
– Don’t you understand that if you keep killing them, they will become embittered. And then they will shoot in the back. But we need to be kind... Do you know there is a phrase among the Americans - “the fight for minds and hearts”?
- What the hell? “Minds”...? They need to be driven in the basements. So that they would be afraid to get out of there. Then there will be both minds and hearts!
- Listen, they already hate us here...
- Ha! Do you want to see how much they hate us here? Sanya, let's go? - Italian pushed Presnyakov on the shoulder.
- Where? To "Barbara"? – the border guard looked at his watch, having difficulty focusing his gaze on the dial. – We can. It's about time.
- Come on Andrey, 5 minutes, change into civilian clothes and we’ll be waiting for you at the “Library”.Enough of this work. We need to rest. – “Italian” stood up and walked towards “Colonel”. – Slava, shall we go to the city?
– You go. I won’t go, someone needs to stay on watch. Take the guilty one behind the wheel. Let him drive, - “Colonel” pointed his finger at “Prosecutor.”
- Great. Everyone, let's change clothes!
- Where are we going? – Andrey didn’t want to go anywhere at all, pilaf and vodka put him in a peaceful mood and he was getting more and more sleepy.
- Come on, you'll see there. It will be useful for you to take a look...
They forced him to get out from the table and go to his room to change clothes.
He managed to check in with his people and warn Slava and Vova that he was leaving for the city with the “Dnepr” guys. Slava sniffed enviously, and Sovetov, who was lying on the bed, reading something from a tablet, cursed quietly and turned to the wall.
- Don't be bored, boys. Lights out as scheduled, - Andrey waved his hand to his subordinates.
A small caravan was already standing at the checkpoint: Presnyakov’s Niva and an old Nissan Patrol of the “Dnepr” group. Presnyakov had his own driver, a conscript sergeant. “Prosecutor” was driving the Nissan.
- Let’s go, - “Italian” commanded, sitting down in the front seat.
- Where are we going anyway? – Andrey tried to find out again.
- Forward! You'll soon find out, you'll like it!
Driving through Mariupol at night was unusual... The city really seemed to be extinct - although a curfew was not announced, local residents tried not to show themselves on the street again in the dark. After the “victory of Maidan”, crime in the country increased significantly. And even more so in the ATO zone...
The night streets, illuminated by rare lanterns, led their cars to the seaport, which was open at night. Bright spotlights, the familiar noise of port cranes - Andrey seemed to be at home, in Nikolaev... Moreover, to the right he could discern the constantly agitating bulk of the night sea...
Ahead lay Primorsky Boulevard - illuminated, straight, with a parallel railway (from the sea), with an abundance of entertainment venues.
Their small caravan parked. At this point, the boulevard was blocked by a low stone wall, behind which a small grassy slope went up. The slope was cut by a white staircase, behind which music thundered and a nightclub sparkled with lights. All the space on the sidewalk in front of the stairs and on the stairs itself was filled with young people.
- Santa Barbara...- Andrey read. - Why the hell are we here?
– To rest! Come on, don’t stand there like a pillar, - “Italian” pushed him in the back.
- But there’s no room there, - Andrey drawled, looking at the crowd in front of the entrance, which was held back by strong security.
- We’ll find something, - Vitalik reassured him and moved through the crowd up the stairs.
Sanya Presnyakov moved the youth in front of him to the side. He approached the guard and said something. The booming music drowned out any conversation, but, apparently, Presnyakov said something significant to the guard, because he stepped aside and let the trio in.
Andrey walked in behind “Italian” and saw that there were no empty seats. The club was packed to full capacity. On the dance floor, dancers of both sexes practically huddled together into one dense mass. A huge number of young people were moving in different directions, moving at the ragged pace of electronic music. Worn out waitresses scurried past, serving various drinks and snacks...
- Let’s go, - “Italian” pushed him in the side, pointing at Presnyakov, who was waving his hand.
There was a completely free table for them, from where they had an excellent view of the club. While Andrey and “Italian” were making their way through the crowd to the table, Presnyakov had already placed an order with the waitress and was waiting for his colleagues, looking around the room.
- So, well, I ordered some vodka and juice, maybe we can snack on something? – the border guard almost shouted.
“Italian,” looking at the dancing girls, shrugged:
- Fuck knows... It seems like we ate okay at home.
- I do not want anything either! – Andrey shouted.
- Then let's have a drink! – Presnyakov poured the vodka.
When they drank, “Italian” and Presnyakov leaned towards Andrey:
- Do you understand what we wanted to show you?
- What? - even though the alcohol had worn off a little along the way, Andrey couldn’t figure it out.
- Look at them, - Presnyakov pointed to the dancefloor, where carefree youth were enjoying themselves to the fullest. Dancing was no longer limited to the dance floor. They danced in the aisles. Some girl, having jumped onto the table, was twisting to the beat of the music. The guards were already rushing to her table...
- They are just stupid youngsters! They don’t care about the DPR, Russia and Maidan. They only need music, money, movement... Did you say that they hate us? So, I specifically said that we were from “Dnepr” - we we immediately let in and a place was found for us. Is this hatred? They don’t care about all this! Today the power is behind us, and they will all bow down to us! – Presnyakov drank his vodka in one gulp. Italian followed suit.
- We’ve been here, Andrey, longer than you, and I’ll say this: most of the locals are an amorphous mass, a herd that will go where the shepherd leads it. These are Donetsk people! Stupid animals! And their children are exactly the same!
- So, do you consider yourself a shepherd? – Andrey asked, looking into the eyes of “Italian”.
- Yes. Why not? And I will oreder them around. And whoever is against it will be dead. Because I'm not a stupid animal. I squeezed the slave out of myself, on the Maidan. And these... - Italian waved his hand dismissively. – They were Soviet and they will remain Soviet. Do you know how they rat on their own? On their neighbors, on their friends, out of resentment or envy? Where do you think we get information about businessmen? They themselves are handing over their competitors!
- That’s how it is Andrey! And you tried to stand up for them! – Presnyakov interrupted again. – I served on different borders. I'll tell you, the people here are the worst. All sorts of trash were driven here from all over the Soviet Union to die in the mines. They only know how to drink and dig coal in their kopnkas [2]. And slavery is in their blood, to bow to the strong. Do you see how the administrator caved in before us?
- So he caved in because he is afraid that tomorrow you will shove him into the “Library”!
- And this too! But all the same, they are all slaves here. Drunks and slaves. And we are free. We wanted to change the government, and we changed it! And these people here got a little better off under Yanukovich, like “Donbass doesn’t drive empty carts.” So now they yearn for those times. And times have changed! Now we will order them around. They had enough of fat years!
- I can’t understand you, - Andrey laughed, - either they are slaves or they had fat years!
- That’s why they fattened up because they licked Yanuckovich’s ass! They brought the whole country to its knees, - “Italian” illogically expressed his vision. - So what was I getting to? Ah! So, now we will milk them! And it is right. And there’s no point in drooling over this, understand?
- I understand, - Shevchenko nodded. - Well, is that all? Have you finished political information speech?
- Yes, - Vitaly nodded his head drunkenly. - Let's have another drink.
- Look, - after half an hour he turned around with his chair, surveying the hall of the nightclub. – After all, we can do anything to anyone here! We can take anyone here and take them out. And drown them somewhere or bury! We can take away any chick! And there won't be a damn thing for us! Because this is our time! We are now strong! – he was almost shouting and it took a lot of effort for Andrey to turn him back to the table. – I hope you didn’t take you gun.
- I took it, of course, - “Italian” stared at Andrey in surprise. – I can’t go anywhere without it. There are only enemies all around...
The last glass finally defeated the small intelligence chief of “Dnepr”, and his voice became quieter and quieter. Eventually he laid his head down on the table and fell asleep. Andrey looked at Presnyakov. He was already chatting animatedly at the next table with a young girl, putting his arm around her shoulders.
Andrey shook his head. He could no longer drink. He wanted to go out into the fresh air, and even more - to sleep. He looked at his watch - it was already half past two in the morning.
- Sanya, Sanya! – he shouted to Presnyakov.
- What do you want? – he turned around dissatisfied.
- Is your driver in the car?
- Yes. And why do you need him?
- Tell him to take me to the base. I don’t feel good...
Presnyakov grimaced:
- What? Do not you like it?
- I do. I’m just tired, and I’ve drunk a lot, my head is going haywire...
- OK. Go. I'll tell the driver to take you.
- Keep an eye on Vitalik, he’s with a gun...he might lose it, being this drunk.
Presnyakov waved it off:
- Oh, it’s not the first time.
They arrived at the airfield around two in the morning. Andrey practically fell asleep as he walked and barely made it to his room, stumbling on every curb. With a huge effort of will, he forced himself to undress and collapsed on the sofa... His head was torn by the rhythms of the nightclub and the vodka he had drunk. However, sleep, coming as a relief from torment, knocked him out almost instantly.
[1] Predyava (предъява) – in criminals’ slang “an accusation”
[2]Kopanka is an illegal mine.