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Жанры

Fly Hunter: The Story of an Inquisitor
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– It's my only hope.

– You'll meet on the other side, you won't see each other here anymore.

– Liar, whore, – the old man turned pale. – Aman-Jalil promised me…

– Men promise all sorts of things, – Gulshan interrupted, laughing. – Look here! I found last year's lists, your son is in them. He's been dead for a long time.

And Gulshan tossed the lists onto the table in front of the old man. He put on his silver-framed glasses with trembling hands and slowly moved his lips as he read through the entire list again, marking familiar names:

– Eri! And you're here! Such a bright mind… Mamad! What did you do to deserve this? You wouldn't hurt a fly…

Reaching the end of the list, the old man whispered his son's surname, first name, and patronymic, then repeated them louder and suddenly shouted at the top of his lungs, a strength difficult to imagine coming from his frail, feeble body.

– No-o-o!.. No-o-o! He promised me! I gave him everything: my honor, my house, my wealth… I paid such a ransom… And he's been dead for a whole year…

The old man cried bitterly, like only little children cry, wiping his eyes with his fists.

– Savages!.. Are these people? Worse than beasts, even beasts are better… That's why he appears to me every night as a child: reaching out his little hands and laughing…

The old man howled. His terrible cry poured out through the open window and startled all the nearby dogs, who also howled in response. Gulshan paled with fear; tears of pity streamed from her eyes, but there was no one left to confess to, the old man had gone mad; he began to laugh joyously and happily, reaching out to his apparent little son and gently calling out to him:

– Come to me, darling, come braver, only the first step is difficult, the main thing is not to fall after the first step, the main thing is not to fall…

The old man reached forward and fell, his eyes froze. Gulshan recoiled from him in horror. The old man was dead. He had lived with only one hope, and with his death, there was nothing left for him to do on this earth. Gulshan hastily grabbed the lists and fled from the room of the man she had killed. In her own room, she carefully cut out the perfectly forged piece with scissors, burned it, and returned the lists to their place in the study: who knows, maybe someone would dig them up. However, in all her time as a secretary, no one had ever asked about them, no one had shown any interest…

Aman-Jalil arrived and went to work the next day.

Seeing Gulshan, he snapped:

– Started drinking?.. I'll beat you!

Gulshan burst into tears. All the pain and resentment, all the horror she had endured spilled out and flooded the room. Aman-Jalil recoiled from this outpouring and shut himself in his office. After a while, he summoned Gulshan to him.

– Everything remains the same for us. Don't be upset!.. Remember: we have a son! What happened to you?

– The old man died.

– I know, they told me… It's all for the best. I never figured out how to tell him that his son has been dead for a year…

– And you knew about it? – Gulshan was horrified by the coincidence.

– An agreement was made, but I simply didn't have time to help his son: he fled the island, tried to swim across the ocean strait, and was torn apart by sharks; they specifically breed them there, feeding them the bodies of prisoners.

– And you kept silent? – Gulshan stared at him in fear.

– Am I a fool to miss out on such a benefit? Something came your way too, I did it for you. And the old man lived another year, married a young woman, what's wrong with that?…

– His death is on me!

– Forget about it! One less person on earth, one more… "You can't make an omelet without breaking eggs!" There are plenty of people.

Gulshan was about to leave the office but stopped at the door and said:

– There's more! The driver is making lewd propositions. Yesterday, I had to beat his face with a stick; he almost raped me.

– Almost or did he? – Aman-Jalil smirked. – Just kidding, don't get mad, almost doesn't count. Don't worry, I'll cool him off.

Gulshan left the office, and Aman-Jalil took a powerful Zeiss binocular from his desk and started looking toward the garage in the courtyard of the inquisition. A group of drivers, gathered around one of the cars, were "killing time," telling jokes, smoking hash, and gossiping about their bosses. All these conversations eventually landed in recordings on Aman-Jalil's desk; sometimes, even a minor detail could spark a serious case. Aman-Jalil's driver, showing off his new gold teeth replacing his knocked-out ones, laughed and joked more than anyone. His eyes were hidden behind large black sunglasses, making him look like an Italian mafioso. Aman-Jalil watched him for a long time, pondering what to do with this scoundrel, then called his assistant, showed him the driver through the binoculars, and quietly whispered instructions. The assistant listened silently, nodding in agreement.

Aman-Jalil stayed late in the office, catching up on work accumulated during his honeymoon. The driver waited obediently; it was his shift. He was nervous, feeling a gnawing unease.

– Curse the day and hour when the crazy thought of taking Gulshan came to my mind, – he scolded himself. – For one sweet night, I might end up on Bibir Island if that fool confesses to Aman-Jalil… No, she wouldn’t. Is she mad? They'll send me to the island, but she'll never forgive that night with me, kick me out… And she has a child! She might even say it's mine… No, she'll stay silent, I'm sure. I'll wait… If she keeps quiet, she's scared. When the boss is busy, I'll make her sleep with me again; now, he'll be busy at night often: young wife, beautiful, not like that village girl… But what a body she has, what a body. A houri!

Late at night, Aman-Jalil finally got into the car and ordered the driver to take him to Gulshan. The escort car followed them, but Aman-Jalil didn’t take any guards with him. Hearing the address, the driver got scared, sweat trickling down his spine. Driving as if in a dream, he reached the house, feverishly contemplating: will there be a talk with the three of them, after which he’d be sent away, and that would be the best outcome, or not? Stopping the car at the entrance, the driver quickly jumped out to open the door for Aman-Jalil.

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