Case No. 1832. Nikolay Lakutin

бота автора. Обложка книги разработана автором в дизайнерской программе и является интеллектуальной собственностью Николая Лакутина.

      Part 1

      -This disgusting interrogation room – probably the last thing I see in my life, thought the girl with the white hair, with bangs which dripped drops of blood on the dirty beige tiles.

      – Did you tighten her arms, Opera? – vaguely, as if in delirium, I heard the thunderous voice of a senior officer – this person is dying though, but still something to maybe watch it with her. The heavy door closed with a hum, what awaited ahead, was known only to one Creator…

      ***

      – Hello, mishenka, with change of? – turned to not so long ago entered the service of a police neighbor.

      – Hi, Tamara, Yes, today the service was over. How you feeling?

      I'm holding on. That's bread to walk … – pointing to the bag I back old.

      – Too right, well I go to rest, today is something of a day rich, – as I walked toward the door, as if said goodbye to the young Lieutenant.

      Come on, honey, let's… – quietly shifting from foot to foot, moved the old woman.

      Throwing two folders of papers on the kitchen table, the boy hastily dressed, hung official uniform in the closet, put the kettle on, and look, unleashed one of the folders, the cover of which was listed as "the case of the 1832".

      This folder was given to it under the most strict responsibility in spite of the fact that it lay eight years on racks of unsolved crimes. But the story of this case was not like all the others. There was something exciting about her. That's what I read from this folder Lieutenant:

      "April 20, 1994. at 23.15 on duty felt in his mind a voice that said that Elena Melnikova for their "Hel" – the girl who was in the night in custody, brought in the afternoon of the last day, by the police in an unconscious state right now literally dying of thirst. All she needs to survive until tomorrow morning is a glass of cool water. Duty almost dozing in his glass booth immediately jumped up, poured her a Cup of water from the kettle and walked over to the interrogation room, the door of which was prudently put two FSB officers responsible for the girl's head.

      On a question that here the person on duty forgot, that explained the intentions to give water to the detainee, but instead of permission to pass, he felt how a gun barrel of one of employees of intelligence service touched the sweaty temple of the person on duty.

      Sit down and shut up, – he said calmly, the second officer, holding the hand near the holster.

      – But I'm not going to do, the girl dies, you are people too – a trembling voice said duty, pouring a Cup of water with a shaky hand.

      The first officer snapped the bolt of the gun, clearly giving to understand that the dialogue is finished, and if noble intentions men have a desire to live to old age, then he / she should immediately get back to his place.

      The duty officer had no choice but to carry out the order of two unfriendly armed men. He nodded slowly, letting him know that he was leaving, and turned in the opposite direction in order to disappear quietly and get lost in the semi-illuminated corridor, with the only desire to get to his cell as soon as possible and escape from the aimed trunk. But at this moment in his head there was some kind of paralytic explosion dictating the next steps. It is a sharp turnover broke holding a mug on his head already lowering the gun of the officer, the jerk sent his hands on a colleague, scrambling to reach for my weapon, and pulled the trigger. While the heavy body fell, there was another shot, and fell next to the guy with a broken head from the Soviet glass. Shooting the padlock interrogation and removing the bolt, the duty hastily freed from the shackles of the exhausted girl and took out of the Department, where for a quarter of an hour waiting for a gray minivan with tinted Windows. The side door rolled back, four hands stretched out from the car, which carefully took the barely breathing girl from the attendant, after which the door closed and the car disappeared in the midnight fog. The person on duty right there fainted and woke up already behind bars as record from surveillance cameras cleared up everything for the staff of the intelligence services who arrived to Department.

      Waking up in a prison, he did not understand why he was put here, and under what circumstances he could be detained. People who have worked many years in the ranks of the valiant police never besmirch his record, and now, when the thing approached retirement, being on a relaxed rotational positions of the examiner's statements that he had done to get here. The biased interviews yielded no results. And already after psychological examination, the person on duty gave evidences, having remembered under hypnosis all that occurred in his head. In accordance with the data received, this report was compiled."

      After reading the material, Misha sat for a while as a paralytic, without giving any signs of life, he only from time to time blinked his eyelashes and swallowed the lump standing in the throat.

      ***

      The kettle has long gone cold, while the Lieutenant studied and comprehended difficult to understand ordinary people's actions, described in the report. He eventually went back to what made him pick up the archive in eight years and get the case. Yet he did not understand why his mentor has given such a curious case for review, which had nothing, at first glance, the relationship to what we had to do now. The reason was one very significant event in the history of the Department. Employees of internal Affairs managed to detain the middle-aged man, many years "famous" in thieves ' circles. A copy of the report of the interrogation of this man was lying on the kitchen table, Lieutenant, next to the familiar case No. 1832.

      Back on the kettle, Mike opened a second folder called "Business 1911" and pencil signed hyphenated – Дело1832.

      From Affairs 1911 Lieutenant of learned the next:

      "On 17 March 1997, a call was received from an elderly woman at the police station at five o'clock in the morning. She said that she got up at night to drink water, and saw past her window from top to bottom swept something bulky, and then heard the sound of falling on the car parked below. The woman looked out the window and saw lying on the crumpled roof of the sprawled man, and then immediately called 02.

      Arrived at the scene the operative group found out a man known thief Sergey Solunskogo, better known as "noricum", which law enforcement agencies hunted for the fourth year. In hospital it pumped out, and after he recovered, placed in a pre-trial detention center, having assigned to it the medical worker. As it became clear later, on the night of falling "Norik" from the four-storeyed house, eight apartments, in one residential area were robbed, and character of a robbery said that all this was made by one person. Besides, at the caught thief found a notebook in which all opened apartments were noted, and six more planned. This man rarely showed himself in the burglaries, but when showed, do it big.

      When " Norik "fully recovered, during his last interrogation, instead of answering a number of questions posed to him unfriendly officer, the thief only said – "on the occasion of our meeting – you Hello from Hela."

      After these words he swung back in his chair, and there was a loud clang of an interrogation, from a blow to the long-suffering tile of a heavy iron empty chair. Sergei Narkunski vanished into thin air, in the box the camera was only one perplexed officer. This is the essence of 1911 ended.

      ***

      On a bright Sunny day, not far from the busy city Park at the kiosk with hot dogs was, to put it mildly, a full man in a plaid shirt. In one hand he barely held two double hot dogs, and the other, stuffed in his mouth all that was left of the third. Passers-by involuntarily on the face appeared the smile of such ungainly proportions of a citizen, who famously dealt with the hot dogs. Short legs, big shoes, hanging on the belly of a shirt, curly hair developing. And of course a mixture of ketchup and mayonnaise around the mouth.

      – Buddy, looking at how you brutally dealt with the last sausage, we can conclude that they once greatly annoyed you,-the voice of a middle – aged man who came to the kiosk very well dressed and decently trimmed.

      – Yes, there was one story in my childhood I got a hot dog without the sausage, ' said the fat