of the safety lock, since he did not intend to shoot, and habitually lowered the gun to his hip at the level of the belt. He was in some confusion too.
"Put the knife on place," Oleg said quietly. Fix complied. Returning the knife, Fix felt better.
"Now he will not kill," realized Fix.
Usually, Oleg killed the enemy in any convenient way for himself and had moved to a certain point on the map. Now, he could not kill his enemies and quit his business – at home wife and little daughter waiting for him.
Sledgehammer disturbed the pause, "everything in the car! He clearly ordered, and, continuing to retreat to the exit, extended his index finger in the direction of Oleg.
"You're cadaver," Sledgehammer confidently said to Oleg and, without looking back, moved with his comrades to the car.
"Get behind the wheel," – said Sledgehammer to Lame, "you're the chauffeur today."
"Where we go?" Lame asked.
"To your home," Sledgehammer replied, "we need to think about," he added, and sat down in the backseat.
Oleg returned to his small office at the end of the trading floor. All this time the young saleswoman-cashier Svetlana was hiding there. She was terribly frightened. Before the visit of suspicious guests, which Oleg saw in the monitor of a street surveillance camera, he invited Svetlana into the office and asked to stay there for a while. Now, seeing the monitor that the uninvited guests have left, Oleg Vladimirovich said, "Svetlana Vitalyevna, you are clever, did not utter a word. Now you can go home and tomorrow you have a paid day off. Remember, you did not see anything and did not hear, you had a break, and you sat in headphones and listened music. This is in case the cops have any questions."
"Okay, Oleg Vladimirovich. Can I go?"
"Yes, of course, Svetlana, and do not worry, everything will be fine."
Oleg was a debtor of the bank "Narodny", with a loan and high interest. The store was rented by Khlipko in his name, with the right of subsequent repurchase from the construction company ‘Volga-Stroy Invest’, owned by Mr. Dobronravov, who simultaneously dealt with affordable housing as a deputy of the Tver City Duma. In Oleg's office, there was a desk with a computer, two armchairs, a monitor for two hidden surveillance cameras, operating in continuous recording mode, an electric kettle and several cups. Oleg took a small towel, carefully wiped Makarov pistol Makarov, and quickly disassembled it into small parts, while wiping every detail of the gun, putting all the details in a common heap in the center of the towel. When he had finished, he wrapped the details in a towel and put it in the briefcase.
Then he took out a sheet of A-4 and wrote a handwritten statement about his finding details which looked like a details of pistol. – A statement to the Police department? – Oleg thought about the cap of the statement. – No! He would have to walk across the bridge, but the Police department was on this side of the Volga. So it's on the way to the Prosecutor's Office across the bridge.
Oleg was an inconspicuous lean man and did not arouse suspicion among the cops, he put on his jacket without wasting time and left. Closing the door, Oleg lowered the jalousies by remote control and moved toward the River Station along the waterfront. It was getting dark. Turning to the bridge and passing a few meters in the center of the bridge over the river, Oleg took out a towel from the briefcase with the details, stopped and threw the details into the Volga River. Then he crumpled the towel and threw it following into the river too.
"The next affair tomorrow," thought Oleg, and leisurely went home, where his wife, daughter, and cherry pie were already waiting.
In the meantime, Lame had already uncorked a bottle of vodka and poured in little glasses.
"For some reason, I do not want to drink," Sledgehammer said and tipped little glass to his throat.
"And what is the reason of drink?" Fix asked.
"For commemorate your pistol Makarov," Lame said, and laughed.
"It's good that the pistol was left for dude," said Sledgehammer, turning to Fix, "I gave you gun to you get rid of it, but not for your cakewalk two weeks with it."
"It would be nice if the cops make a search in the store of a dude and find a gun," Lame said, wrapping a cigar with marijuana.
"And will you going inform to cops or who will do it?" Sledgehammer asked, looking at Lame.
"You have the ace among the cops there, the cop whom you saved," hinted Lama, lit a bush and took a deep dragged on.
"So, I didn't understand, do you suggesting me to blow the whistle?" Sledgehammer asked.
Lame, coughed, he realized that he said too much. This conversation could be end badly for him. He had been selling drugs for a long time in the district and enjoyed authority, only because he was often seen in the company with Sledgehammer.
"No," said Lame, clearing his throat with cough, "I mean that you shot Chub with Elephant, and did not touch the cop, although he saw you."
"Well, he did not inform the cops about, as we agreed, but now he tosses information to me. When I shot the bastards, I did not know that they had a cop attached to a chair in another room. What? Did I have to kill the innocent, just because he's a cop?" asked Sledgehammer.
Lame, trying to change the topic of the conversation continued, "So it was not without reason as he was tied to a chair and tortured. The money not found still. The TV said that all the criminals were killed while robbing the bank, and then garbage said that the two criminals managed to leave. So may be Chub and Elephant were these bastards, and they just have the money stashed away? And you killed them, and everyone knows about it. On the street, people say that you have money, and everyone knows that you have killed these freaks."
"Knows everything, but can't to prove it," said Sledgehammer, "you're not only lame, and you're also stupid as all the nares. Look, if the Chub and Elephant had this money, they would be tortured in the police. And here just the opposite is obtained – they themselves tortured garbage and wanted to know something. So, who has this money? Somebody of garbage has this money."
Fix got tired of listening to smart conversations, and sparkling his fixed tooth in smile, he said, "Sledgehammer, you can’t eat bacon, it’s pork."
"I myself decide with what laws I should live," replied Sledgehammer.
"Well, what did you decide about the dude? Will we throw him a couple of grenades tomorrow?"
"Couple? We have only a couple of them. One will enough," said Sledgehammer, "by the way, where did you hide them?"
"I did not hide it anywhere, there are in the glove compartment," Fix said.
"Well, it's funny," said Sledgehammer, "you bought a nice jeep, but you didn't have enough money to buy a brain."
"So what about the dude then?" asked Fix.
"I'll talk to him myself tomorrow. If he does not agree, we will explode his store in the evening. For short," continued Sledgehammer, turning to the Lame, "you're walking around the district in the morning, looking for some VAZ vehicle without signaling, in the evening it may be necessary. And we will ride with Fix to dude. We'll throw a grenade in the evening, when there will not be a dude. We will not blow up dude. Just a store. Understood? Yes?"
"I understand, Sledgehammer, you always discourse correctly," Fix said and turned to Lame, "Well, you sit there, let's pour it,
