6

The hour with Grisha was wonderful. Honey languor wandered through the body and it seemed that all the problems remained behind the bedroom door.

He smoked right in bed, but I didn’t grumble either about this or about what I saw on his phone, but just dozed sweetly on his chest, but our hour was over, and Grisha left, and left with him and dream.

I liked that no matter what, Grisha did not forget about the problems and found the strength to do what was necessary. I, tossing and turning in a warm bed that smelled of him, was just collecting my thoughts.

The knot dragged on tighter than ever, and I knew that in order to untie it, I needed to return to the beginning of all this mess, but instead I went from the end.

Mikhail believed that Kohan was responsible for everything that happened at night, but the more I thought about it, the more I doubted it. When Ibragimov Sr. hinted to him that he had nothing to catch, Kokhan broke loose, which indicated that he was an impulsive psychopath.

He then failed to kill the old lawyer, and the old man lay low, and if at night Kokhan would have made another attempt to fill him up, then she would have been successful and definitely would not have included special forces.

I think that the mayor sent the fighters after all. He fed from Boris, and after his death he survived as best he could, holding on to his post, and Ibragimov’s gesture from the casino, on the one hand, made him feel power, on the other hand, caused hatred, they say, the vile old man raked the city for himself and dared to think, that having given the mayor, he bought it with all the giblets.

Shock, right? As if a generous gesture led not to gratitude, but to the opposite feeling. However, this was a common occurrence: neither generosity, nor kindness, nor mercy found a response in the hearts of anyone for a long time. People, and even wolves, and half-breeds generally preferred to remember only the bad that they received, turning the good upside down and perverting it beyond recognition.

I did not raise the question of how the mayor found out where Ibragimov would be. Here and so everything was clear. As for Kokhan, he most likely successfully turned up with the mayor (or the mayor turned up with him) and together they decided to hang their flags over the city, it’s just that Boris’s brother turned his attention to me, driving into his head that I was the very last abroad to achieve his sick goals or some kind of trophy, plus he was a psychopath who always needed an idea for a fix or an irritant, or something else that fueled him, but was the ambush that Grisha and I got into, his trick ... Here I was not sure.

I still believed that they wanted to take Grisha alive and use it, perhaps as a lever, just as they wanted to do with Nikita, and for some reason it seemed to me that Kokhan was involved in this, like the mayor, but I could not get rid of thoughts that there was still someone third: someone whom Ibragimov hinted at. And to him, I think, should have led the trail from that old wolf, whom I killed and whose nephew Grisha killed back in the cottage.

There was still Rose: that old riddle. And I didn't know how to get there.

I could ask her anything, and she would not be stingy with the answer, but replaying in my head our conversation with her in the pantry, I came to the conclusion that almost every word she said had a double meaning and, without a clue or a clue, I did not could decipher its cipher and did not understand at all what it was for.

Why couldn't she speak directly? There were, of course, many ears in the house, but everyone was theirs! At worst, if she did not trust Grisha and his guys so much, she could write everything that was needed on a piece of paper. Isn't that why Alyosha sent her to me?

Alyosha ... He, his actions and his tips led to a million questions and were the very beginning to which I had to return. Grisha was going to go to the casino, but it seemed to me that we were not ready for this, which was another reason to return to his prompts and phone, suspiciously password-protected.

I got out of bed and got a new bathrobe from the dressing room. Not that on a hot night I was embarrassed by my own nakedness, but, having heard that I was not sleeping, Misha could come to me. Grisha would have shot him for sure then.

Gathering my hair into a bun, I went downstairs to get the folder that I had thrown somewhere along with Grisha's phone...

- Somewhere ... - I muttered, interrupting the sofa, stained with blood from the wounded guys.

Remembering that I left the folder with the phone in the office when I went in for a gun, I returned to the hall. My pistol and a printed photograph of Grisha lay on the table.

It was difficult to say how old he was on it, it was painfully of poor quality, but I think ten years could be safely thrown away, not counting the years that Grisha spent in prison, because judging by the photo, which was one to one and my brother, although he had escaped prison, Grisha was detained, and I was almost sure that he had spent a lot of time.

Romantic, right?

I went up to the office and switched on the light. There was a cigarette case and a lighter on the table, and I lit a cigarette, wondering where to start.

Alyoshin's phone, which I took out of the safe, was discharged, and I connected it to my laptop. I have some good ideas for a password. After all, Alyosha wouldn't leave it to me if he wasn't sure that I could unlock it. It was only necessary to tighten the battery a little.

From the safe, I also took out Rosa’s scribbles, written down under Alyosha’s dictation, and once again looked through them: a tip on Ibragimov, the name of Vladislav Kokhan, the code from the vault, the address of the helipad, which was not useful to me, since Gray already knew him, the phone number , which I tried on the Internet and found that it was the same beauty salon that Alyosha and I went to.

It's strange that he left it to me. Did he really think that I would be before this? Or was it some kind of wish, they say, be beautiful, killing everyone in a row? Yes, Alyosha had a sense of humor!

And the last number according to the internet belonged to... Oops! Department for Combating Organized Crime. Whether or not Alyosha knew that Major Gorov, lured by Boris, was dead, my faithful friend believed that contact with him, or, it turned out, with someone who would now answer my call, could be useful to me.

This brought me back to what Grisha said: Egor. I didn’t immediately remember that he was from the homicide department, and then with Gorov and the attack on Boris’s warehouse, he could simply conduct a joint investigation, or as the cops called it. But now...

How did he end up in another department? Why was he put in place of Gorov?

Questions, questions... Again and again. Again and again.

Nevertheless, Captain Panov from the homicide unit was now Major Panov from the organized crime department.

I once thought that I knew him as an honest cop, that I loved him, and he loved me, but after he quite calmly offered to put me in a soft security prison for a murder that I did not commit, I already, of course I didn't think so.

A lot of water has flowed under the bridge since then, and for some reason it seemed to me that his honesty had caved in in many respects, otherwise he would not have become a major.

I had no doubt that he would come here in the morning, but I also assumed that if Alyosha knew that instead of Gorov I would have to deal with Yegor, then by indicating now his number, he hinted not at usefulness, but at the fact that Yegor had a grudge against me, and the grudge was not small, and he could be in cahoots with the same mayor.

In this case, I will not stop Grisha when he wants to kill him, and he already wanted to kill him and not him alone. The main thing is that Egor has time to tell me all his secrets, including unknown comrades who fired at my Grisha from an SUV with cop weapons.

I put aside the sheet with Alyosha's hints and smiled wryly to myself. Hmm ... Who did I turn into? How easy it was to talk about murder! Maybe it was not Yegor who had a grudge against me, but I had a grudge against him?

I shook my head, getting rid of unnecessary thoughts, and took a puff. I confess that the contents of the folder scared me a little. I don't even know why.

I took another puff on my cigarette and quickly opened the folder, leaving myself no time to think. The top sheets were a report from the explosion site of Ibragimov's car. According to the conclusions of smart people, two small pipe bombs were planted under the car, one of which did not work. True, this did not help his son, but the fact was that Kohan understood bombs.

Putting a tick in my mind to check all cars and motorcycles before traveling, I scrolled through some legal documents that Kokhan apparently brought with him to a meeting with Ibragimov, of course a copy of the test, which was done under Boris and which did not confirm kinship, although not the fact that the same half-breed came to the lawyer and Boris.

By the way, there were no names on the test results, as well as on what I found in the repository, so the previous question, as well as the question of whose relationship the test confirmed, remained open. However, I noticed that according to the electronic stamps on the tests, both of them were made a little over three years ago with a difference of two and a half months.

Following the tests, there were several photographs that were pulled from the recordings of video cameras. I glanced at them briefly, then slammed the folder shut and leaned back in my high chair.

Taking a puff on my cigarette, I closed my eyes as I retraced my steps back to the day I went to the supermarket for precious dairy products.

Damn, that wasn't even ironic! It was crap and not live in its purest form!

A young muscular guy with a pleasant face and a pleasant smile, who looked at me so interestedly at the checkout, kindly offered to help ... This was Kohan. Vladislav Kokhan. Presumably Angelov's brother and the man from the photographs in Ibragimov's folder.

He was very close: he saw me, smelled me, probably knew where I live.

I felt nauseated at the memory of him sniffing the scent of breast milk.

How so, Alyosha? How did you screw up the enemy like that? You knew him! Or were you waiting for him to kill him, but Grisha just got ahead of you?

But Grisha killed the wrong one. More precisely, not those. Kohan, if he was there, then safely disappeared. It turns out that he was connected with the old man whom I killed at the estate. They were at one. Couldn't it be a coincidence that in the morning I saw Kohan, and in the evening the nephew of that wolf came to me? Hardly.

I abruptly pushed off the back of the chair and, opening the photographs again, literally glared at Kohan.

Then I mistook him for a wolf, but Ibragimov said that a half-breed came to him, and Grisha said that Boris's mother allegedly went on a walk with a human man. So another mystery? Or my next mistake, because of which I mistook a half-breed for a purebred wolf?

But once I was good: I always determined exactly by smell who was in front of me, who was in the room before me, and so on. I relaxed, I guess.

Outside the window, the first spots of dawn had already begun to appear. There were ripples in my eyes, but I still continued to look at the photos, tapping on Alyosha's phone, which was charging from the laptop.

The latter squeaked for a long time, announcing that it would not hurt him to recharge himself. I rubbed my eyes and finally closed the folder and grabbed my phone.

I turned it on and, going through the password options that I had in my head, settled on one thing: Nikita's birthday.

Strange assumption, right? Probably not at all logical and too primitive for Alyosha's similar spy tricks, but... It worked.

I was frightened by the folder that the lawyer gave me, but leafing through Alyosha's phone I felt even greater fear. What will I find in it? What did Alyosha leave in him so important that he could not write on the same paper?

Scrolling through videos of my discharge from the hospital and some home moments of Nikita's early days, as well as a ton of photos of me and my son, I came across one single text document named after me.

My heart was beating faster, my palms were sweaty. Two scans of DNA test results and two pages of explanatory text, each word of which seemed to gouge out the eyes with fragments.

Life is fucking full of surprises, the kind to love me all night long!

- Kirochka! Are you awake? Rose cautiously entered the office. - Maybe you want...

The old wolf stopped short when she met my gaze, and I realized that she knew everything. I knew from the moment I first crossed the threshold of Boris Angelov's house a little more than a year ago.