"Does your past interfere with the present?"

"No. I don't let what has already passed negatively affect my life."

(from Rina's interview for the magazine 'Stargazer')

Nikolai rushed to the capital quickly, in adrenaline anger, not noticing either weakness or the fact that the T-shirt on the right side was soaked through. And only when he was in the apartment, he suddenly felt fatigue, pain, and despair. Accidentally looking at himself in the mirror, Nikolai understood why the pharmacist at the pharmacy anxiously asked if he should call a doctor. He really looked sick and frightened. It's a good thing he drove home first, and didn't rush straight to Volkovs. He would have made a great commotion if he had come to them in this form!

Nikolai decided not to tell anything on the phone, but to meet Rina's friends in person. Vsevolod also didn't ask premature questions, just reset the address and wrote that he was waiting for him in two hours - the time needed for packing and traveling.

There was half an hour left before the exit. Nikolai pulled off his T-shirt and immediately sent it to the trash. Then he undressed and got into the shower to wash off the blood, and at the same time anger and despair. The side burned like hell even under cool water, reminding of Lebedev's sneering grin. But the soul hurt much more - for Rina, who fell into the clutches of a monster. Nikolai gritted his teeth, squeezed his eyes shut and imagined smashing his fist into Lebedev's face. And even better - how the creatures from the river devour him. Not much, but it felt better.

There was no time to shave: almost all the time was spent on dressing. Someone else was looking at Nikolai from the mirror, because he had never had such an angry and at the same time desperate look before. Coupled with the dark stubble on his cheeks, a black T-shirt and an arm bandaged up to the elbow, he looked like he was just walking around the guests. But if a storm is raging in the soul, and the eyes are obscured by darkness, he can't stick a sweet smile on his face. Already going down the stairs, Nikolai thought that he had never felt so lost in his life, even when he almost lost his freedom.

Already starting the engine, he appealed to common sense and tried to remind himself that this fragile girl with dark eyes and an incredible voice was, in fact, nobody to him. So did he to her. So, an uninvited guest who ate her candy, a random traveling companion who listened to a story told out of boredom, a 'savior' who threw up problems. The car took off, and common sense remained at the entrance to wave a pen. Nikolai drove onto the highway, accelerated and turned on the radio in the hope of hearing Rina's voice. But there was some rubbish coming from all the channels. And when the famous song of his favorite rock band caused irritation instead of joy, Nikolai realized that his soul was now one huge sore point.

The road still calmed down the storm pushing for rash actions a little. Therefore, Nikolai was able to tell Volkovs everything calmly. He was never interrupted. Only Violet kept casting frightened glances at him and her husband. And Vsevolod's eyes, instead of a warm honey shade, took on a cold green: anger was also bubbling in the soul of Rina's friend.

"And warn your friends. Be careful. Lebedev is quick to punish," Nikolai finished the story. Violet looked at him again, but this time there was determination in her gaze. She was about to say something, but she was distracted by the sound of the door opening slightly. A moment later, two wolf-like puppies ran into the room. And after them, two red-haired girls in pajamas burst into the room screaming.

"Marfa! Marta!" Vsevolod called out to his daughters. "Shouldn't you be in bed by now?"

"We're in bed! But they don't. They don't listen!" one of the girls responded and pointed to the puppies running around the table. "Dad, what naughty children! Marta and I aren't like that!"

A smile appeared on Vsevolod's lips, Violet snorted with laughter and got up. First, she kicked out the puppies, and then escorted her daughters to the next room. Vsevolod thoughtfully followed his wife's gaze and squeezed his knees covered with camouflage pants with his fingers. Nikolai understood his doubts: to throw himself into the pool with his head for the sake of saving his girlfriend or to protect his own family?

"I'll call Dad," Violet said, returning to the room. And she explained to Nikolai: "My dad is an influential businessman. He is Italian, but the companies he owns are known not only in Italy, but also in Russia."

Violet named several foreign companies with worldwide fame. And then she sighed.

"And even though Dad loves me very much and is ready to pay for any whim, Vsevolod and I decided that we would run our own business ourselves, without the help of my Italian family. I grew up in two countries and two families: dad often took me to his place, I spent almost all my holidays in Italy. Elizabeth, Dad's wife, raised me as a daughter, practically making no distinction between me and her sons. I owe a lot to my dad and Eliza, so when I grew up, I stopped accepting financial help from them. But now is not the time to show pride. With Dad's help, through his Russian partners, we will try to get to Lebedev."

"It would be nice for you to go to Italy with your daughters at this time," said Vsevolod. "You were just saying that Elizabeth is calling us to her again."

"I'm not going alone."

"Not alone, but with Marta and Marfa."

"Will you be left alone? With a kennel, puppies, classes and all this?" Violet objected and shook her head. "I can take my daughters to Eliza if you insist, but I'll come back."

The argument didn't flare up only because Nikolai was about to leave and got up.

"It's getting late. Where are you going? To Moscow?" Violet caught herself. "It's almost two hours of travel! Stay, we have a room."

Vsevolod supported his wife, arguing that Nikolai was unwell and also tired.

"I'll spend the night with my mom," Nikolai refused, thanking her for her hospitality. "She lives in the Moscow region, not far from you."

"Mom is sacred," Vsevolod sighed, said goodbye and left, because the girls were arguing loudly in the next room.

Violet accompanied Nikolai to the exit and, opening the gate, asked:

"You should be careful too. And consult a doctor, don't delay. The wounds left by these creatures are dangerous."

"It bothered Rina too," Nikolai replied with a smile. "But the problem is not to see a doctor, but how to explain to him the origin of the wounds. Crocodiles, as the paramedic said, are not found in our rivers."

Violet smiled knowingly. And when Nikolai went out of the gate, she said to him already in the back:

"Rina is a good girl. Neither fame nor money spoiled her at all. Still kind and sympathetic, though sometimes naive. She trusted Dimitri seeing him as a defender, but, unfortunately, she was mistaken. Do you understand?"

Nikolai looked back at Violet and nodded.

After driving a little away from Volkovs' house, he parked on the side of the road and dialed Lev, which a friend who is still abroad would answer.

Jaguar picked up the phone after the second ring and without greeting asked what happened.

"Shit," Nikolai answered honestly. "Shit happened. Everything has become more complicated because it has moved to a level that I cannot reach. Do you know anyone who could put pressure on Lebedev?"

"As far as I know, it will be difficult to nail him. He is familiar with such people, with whom it is an honor for us just to be in the same room. Plus, he conducts his business cleanly, you won't dig in. He also positions himself as a responsible taxpayer, an honest businessman, and so on! Although his position is not linked to transactions, in which there was clearly not enough turbidity. But Lebedev comes out of any swamp in a tailcoat and a snow-white shirt, do you understand? He aims at big politics, so he behaves crystal clear."

"This 'quiet guy' with a crystal-clear reputation forcibly holds one girl, blackmails her with violence against the children of close friends and forces her to commit dangerous acts. But I have no proof. So you can't pull my knowledge out of your sleeve like a trump card."

"I see. I'll see what I can do. Don't make any sudden moves yet. I'll be back soon. Give me time."

"If only I had it," Nikolai muttered and, saying goodbye, set off on his way.

Mom, of course, didn't believe the story about the glass door, which he allegedly didn't notice and therefore cut himself. But, fortunately, she did not ask for details: she was used to the fact that Nikolai couldn't tell everything, like his father at the time. Only later, putting homemade cutlets and mashed potatoes on a plate, she sighed heavily.

"What are you getting into, Kolya? What have you gotten yourself into again?

He withstood her questioning look, but said nothing and began to eat with appetite. Mom sighed again and sat down opposite. She had eaten little before, and now, alarmed by the late unexpected arrival of her son and his appearance, she almost didn't touch her portion.

"It's delicious, ma. Don't eat in vain!" Nikolai scolded her, noticing that she picked at the cutlet and put down her fork.

"The main thing is, you eat! I don't even know what you eat... probably custard noodles."

"You have a bad opinion of me and my appetite," Nikolai joked and got up from the table to take the plate to the sink.

"I'll wash it myself! What would you do with such a hand... get married and then eat everything homemade," mom said without any transition, which caused Nikolai to grin, with which he usually responded to such statements.

"Who should I marry?"

"On a good girl. Are there not enough of them? Well, even to your assistant, whom you told me about!"

Mom unwittingly hit another sore point. Nikolai winced and frowned.

"What? Did I say something wrong?"

"Vika doesn't work for me anymore. So the circumstances have developed."

He still, despite his mother's protests, washed the dishes after himself. Previously, Nikolai always reduced such conversations to jokes. He understood that his mother, like anyone else, wanted to see her son as a family man, with children. And preferably with a normal, not 'secret' job. In part, mom was right, considering his work dangerous. And it was this point that excluded the first two - a wife and children.

But today Nikolai didn't want to laugh it off, or even talk about this topic. So he just said that he was very tired.

Everything in his room remained unchanged. Mom only kept things clean, but didn't touch any of the things. There were even some clothes in the closet that Nikolai had worn back in the days when he came home for the holidays. Wide sweatpants turned out to fit, and T-shirts were small, because he entered the academy as a rather skinny boy, and over the years of study and service, he swelled in the shoulders and became much stronger.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Mom had already managed to put a stack of bed linen on the sofa. But despite being tired, he didn't want to sleep. Nikolai looked at the collection of soldiers that his grandfather, also a military man, had collected. And, yielding to a strange impulse, he shoved the figure of the commander calling for an attack into the pocket of the jeans hanging on the back of the chair.

In a stack of photo albums, he found the one that his dad had started during his studies, sat down on the sofa and opened the first page.

Nikolai looked at black-and-white photographs and saw himself in the young cadet father: the same skinhead, hugging fellow students by the shoulders and cheekily grinning at the camera, because a minute before the picture was taken, he and his comrades committed another trick and had not yet been caught. Once upon a time, his father, being a cadet, entertained himself and friends with practical jokes, went awol and to the guardhouse. And for sure, too, like his restless son later, he peeled a ton of potatoes as punishment.

Flipping through the album, Nikolai thought that he should call someone from his comrades at the academy to have a beer together and remember the past. But that's later, when everything is sorted out.

The photographs taken at the garrison where my father served were in color. Nikolai had already flipped to the last page when he suddenly noticed a picture that he had not paid attention to before. The father and three men, one of whom Nikolai recognized as Gennadiy Sergeevich, were in civilian clothes. But Nikolai was interested in the black-mustached man next to his dad. Suddenly he remembered that his mother had once called this man's last name - Sitsov. Eugenie Sitsov, who was mentioned by Jaguar.

"Ma?" Nikolai called, going out into the corridor with an album. Mom peeked out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel as she went. "And who is this with Dad? His co-workers?"

"Gennadiy Koshelev and Eugenie Sitsov are colleagues. But this one, with a literary surname, I forgot which one, no. He came from Moscow, and by his arrival, Olya and I, with whom I was friends at the time, set the table. We did a great job, because your father asked us about it very much."

"Yeah, so this guest was an important 'big shot', since the 'clearing' was covered for him?"

"Most likely. He came shortly before you and I left. And what?"

"Nothing," Nikolai muttered, examining the man's pockmarked face and slicked-back hair. He was older than his father in age, and in rank, most likely, too.

"Kolya, have you decided to get into the old business again?" Mom was wary and hung a towel over her shoulder. "Wasn't it enough for you last time? Gennadiy then almost lost his shoulder straps, helping you out. He raised half of Moscow to its feet, just to get you out! Who just didn't call!"

"This Gennadiy Sergeevich pushed me into the same swamp now," Nikolai thought, but he smiled at his mother and kissed her on the top of her head.

"Don't worry, ma."

Returning to his room, he disassembled the sofa, covered it with a sheet and lay down. But sleep didn't come, his head was buzzing with thoughts like a beehive, and rage was rising in his soul again in a suffocating wave. In this small room, where everything reminded of childhood, Nikolai suddenly felt like he was in a cage. He was corroded by impotence and inaction, but Jaguar made it clear that today silence was on his side, not loud and sharp actions. Crumpling, twisting, the sheet, but having achieved only that the wounds ached again, Nikolai sat down, reached for the phone and checked for messages. After making sure that no one had written to him, he opened the music application and scored Rina's name in the search engine.

However, her voice didn't calm down, but, on the contrary, hit the pain points with force. Throwing the phone on the sofa, Nikolai resolutely went out into the narrow corridor, where a horizontal bar fixed on two walls remained since cadet times.

He couldn't pull himself up a couple of times before. Then he could 'squeeze' at least a hundred. And tonight he was going to pull himself up to complete exhaustion: until the rage bubbling inside comes out with sweat. Nikolai had long lost count when he heard his mother's worried voice:

"Kolya, is that you?" Mom turned on the light and, seeing him on the horizontal bar, exclaimed in fright: "Kolya, what are you doing?!Insane, or what?.."

She expectedly began to scold him like a boy. And he stood silently in front of her, feeling not so much rage as the buzzing in his warmed muscles, sweat rolling down his bare back, and pain, but physical, not mental.

"What's gotten into you?" mom's voice broke through, as if through a veil, to him. Nikolai shook his head and, noticing the blood on the bandages, hid his right hand behind his back.

"What's going on with you?"

A difficult and precise question! Straight to the pain points. What's going on with him? He would like to answer himself.

"I couldn't sleep."

"Are you going to sleep now?" Mom was indignant. Nikolai smiled, realizing that she was not seriously angry.

"I'll try," he replied and went to his room.

"The hunchback's grave will fix it," mom sighed after him, apparently recalling his childhood pranks, and youthful antics, and the case that cost him a military career.

She entered the room when Nikolai lay down again. She stood, as if doubting, in the doorway, and then sat down on the edge of the sofa.

"Some kind of experiment was conducted there. Or they experienced something," mom said without any preface, but Nikolai realized that she meant what happened many years ago in their garrison.

"I don't know the details, of course. I heard something, I thought of something myself. That pockmarked 'bump' from the capital - came for this reason. We had lunch, and then left for headquarters. Olya told me later that the four of them were locked in the office: your father, Gennadiy Koshelev, Eugenie Sitsov and this one from Moscow, with a literary surname. They argued about something, agreed on something. About what - now there is no way to find out. Don't even try. No one will pull you out a second time."

"And what happened to Sitsov, do you know?" Nikolai asked, not mentioning that Gennadiy Sergeevich had died.

"With him?" Mom chuckled. "Who knows! I think he left, just like Gennadiy, before everything happened. Your father is back. And these two... Gennadiy helped you at least later, thank him for that. And I don't know where Sitsov has gone."

"Do you know anything about the experiment? Maybe Dad let it slip?"

"Well, he 'let it slip'," Mom grinned. "Shouted so that the walls were shaking! Actually, that's when I realized that something loud was being done in our quiet part. That is important, but secret. Not in the part itself, but in the forest. Something was built there. But if there was anything, then it quickly disappeared. I think your father came back to give the order to clean up everything. And he was angry to the point of screaming when a recruit disappeared: he wandered into the forest, and something happened to him there. I think he wandered into a secret facility. That's why your father scolded the sergeant and the ensigns. I don't know anything else, son. Don't get in there, I'm asking you nicely!"

And knowing that Nikolai couldn't promise anything, Mom left the room. But after a couple of minutes she came back again: she brought him a glass of water. Nikolai paused the song that he had been listening to before, turning down the sound, and thanked him.

"I thought you liked other music," Mom said. "Good song! I've heard it somewhere before. What kind of singer?"

"This is Rina," Nikolai said, as if that should explain everything. Mom looked at him for a while, but didn't ask anything else.

He was woken up early in the morning by an alert. Nikolai sleepily reached for the phone and saw a message sent from an unfamiliar foreign number: 'Clean up urgently. We're going to visit you. Jaguar'. Nikolai jumped up and gathered himself in a few minutes. Mom was a light sleeper, and when he came out of the bathroom, she was already waiting for him in the hallway.

"Where are you going so early, son?"

"To work. The road is long. And I have a client at nine."

"And you decided to meet a client like this?" mom doubted.

"I'll pop home, change and shave. That's it, ma! I'm late."

He hastily kissed the top of her head and opened the door.

"I love you," Mom said instead of the usual request to take care of herself.

"I love you too," Nikolai answered automatically, running down the stairs.

If only there were no traffic jams. Just to be on time.

He didn't have time, even though the highway turned out to be free. Lev warned about uninvited visitors and that it was necessary to destroy the information. But Nikolai didn't spend the night at home, so they beat him to it. The door to the office was ajar, and there was a light in the doorway. Nikolai slowed down, took a deep breath and pushed the door with deliberate calmness.

Two plainclothes men were already in full charge of the reception area: one was studying the contents of Vika's computer, the other was looking through folders, not really bothering to return them to the closet, and threw them right on the floor.

Nikolai leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. One of the 'guests' looked at him and continued to pull out folders. The second, who was sitting at the computer, silently pulled out a letter and poked it into Nikolai's nose.

"And the search warrant?" Nikolai asked, even though he understood that no regulations were needed.

Instead of answering, they pointed a finger at the door of the office. Nikolai, with deliberate slowness, detached himself from the wall and went to his room. An older man was sitting in the chair behind his computer. And even though in the photo this man with a 'literary surname' was twenty years younger, and now he no longer wore his hair slicked on the side, because he was completely bald, Nikolai still recognized him.

"Oh, hello, hello!" the 'guest' smiled. "Do you always come to work this early?"

"This is my chair," Nikolai replied in an even tone instead of greeting.

"Nothing, wait. Still young. And I'm your superior in rank."

Nikolai shrugged indifferently:

"I'm discharged from the army."

"And very bad. You could have been promoted to general if you wanted to. If you didn't stick your nose where you didn't need to. Would you like some coffee? To make our conversation, so to speak, more pleasant."

"The secretary quit. There is no one to cook."

"And you're toothy," the visitor grinned. "Just make sure you don't lose your teeth. If you bite, they will deprive you. What's wrong with the hand? Have you had a fight yet?"

Nikolai said nothing, glaring at the man. He held his gaze and laughed.

"Well, well, he's bulging! I came here to talk. And the fact that my boys are in your folders, so it's for form's sake. Merinov is my last name," the visitor introduced himself, and Nikolai couldn't help grinning. Mom! Given with a 'literary' surname! Apparently, she drew an analogy with Chekhov's story.

"What are you grinning at?" Merinov frowned, and Nikolai almost blurted out about the 'literary' surname, but caught himself in time and wiped the smile from his face. "Yes. I'm Merinov Victor Dimitrievich. I knew your father, Melnik Sergei Ryslanovich, well. He was a good man. Disciplined and executive. Not that..."

Merinov eloquently didn't say enough.

"Sit down! Don't worry! Let's talk like two people who understand each other."

Nikolai pulled up a chair. Merinov paused, drumming his thick fingers on the table, and then without any transition said:

"Gennadiy Sergeevich Koshelev has entrusted you with some business. And among other things - to find one girl."

"I'm assigned to find a lot of girls."

"Stand down!" Merinov barked and threw a green cardboard folder on the table. "I see, it's impossible to be nice with you. Do you know what it is? This, Melnik, is your direct way to jail! Where you'd still be stuck! Mind you, the late Gennadiy Sergeevich is unlikely to help you again.

Merinov emphasized the word 'deceased', and Nikolai didn't like it. As Victor Dimitrievich's inappropriate grin aroused suspicion.

"This is an old case. And we will sew a new one to the old one," Merinov continued. "And I'll tell you in confidence that if they hadn't wanted to let you go then, nothing would have saved you. No worries of Gennadiy Sergeevich! You are capable, clever, curious, could be useful. And it came in handy! That's the only reason you're sitting here now, and not there," Merinov tapped the folder with a hint with his fingernail. "Do you get it?"

Nikolai gets, even as gets. Collecting information, not always knowing why and for whom he was doing it, he was useful and convenient. How much dirt did he dig up on unfaithful 'husbands'? Who then used this information and for what? Hardly the 'wives' themselves. How many times did he have to track the movements of mistresses, wives and girlfriends, ostensibly for suspicious and jealous life companions? Nikolai honestly performed tasks, received payment and, realizing that it wasn't worth climbing further, didn't climb. He was convenient and useful right up to the moment when he moved from a simple 'collector of information' to the category of 'analysts' and asked too many questions. And Merinov has now made it clear to Nikolai that analytics is not his business. That's his red line - this green folder. The 'envelope with photos' that turned against him. Nikolai knew that sooner or later this or any other folder would be born, which is why he remained a simple 'collector of information' for so long.

"We need this girl, the singer."

"Why?" Nikolai asked before he could bite his tongue.

"To talk. Ask her a couple of questions," Merinov smiled with thin lips. "That's all."

No, not only that. Otherwise, this folder wouldn't have appeared now, waiting for a serious reason. If he tells Merinov where Rina is, he and his men will snatch her from the clutches of the jackal Lebedev. Only then will the 'bird' fall straight into the paws of the lion. And the 'lion' here was not Merinov, but the one who stood over him.

"I don't know where she is," Nikolai said firmly.

Merinov held his gaze on him, trying to figure out whether they were lying to him or not. Nikolai had nothing to be afraid of: he really didn't know where Lebedev had taken Rina.

"She's nobody to you. And you're nobody to her," Merinov said softly and clearly. "It is not worth risking freedom for the sake of a stranger."

"Victor Dimitrievich, we're done," one of those who searched the reception room looked into the office in time. "Nothing interesting. The secretary's computer has only folders with recipes, cosmetic masks and knitting schemes. In the diary - entries to the manicurist and hairdresser. Twice a week is stable!"

"What a secretary you have... predictable. And where do they get such fools?" Merinov grinned, getting up from the table. "Nails, masks... It is clear why it was so easy to intimidate her. Did she even know how to make coffee? Or did she just repaint her nails?"

"And hair," Nikolai answered with an honest look. "She painted a new color every week. But I kept her because of the coffee. She cooked it perfectly!"

"She gave you excellent coffee, and she handed you over with all guts," Merinov gloated. And, taking the folder from the table, he typed:

"We need this Rina. I'll call you in two hours and find out how the search is progressing. Otherwise..."

Merinov shook the folder and left. Hearing the footsteps and voices in the waiting room subsided, Nikolai closed his eyes and slowly exhaled. It's a good thing that he didn't really start looking for Rina, and therefore didn't leave any traces. How good that the clever Vika, despite the betrayal, deleted all the worked-out information and filled the folders with... recipes. Nikolai didn't teach her that. He just once mentioned that he doesn't use a computer as a repository of information.

But he will have to search for Rina. Merinov will call in two hours...