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"I see."
"Sixth, you shouldn't drive around in a Ferrari either, but you should drive less. Use public transportation more often, and best of all, walk, that's for sure."
I remembered walking twenty kilometers once for safety reasons. "So, show me how to walk."
He strode through the hall as if he had been kicked out of the institute twenty minutes ago and was now facing the army.
"Now you walked too slowly, dragging your feet and hanging your head, and that always attracts some attention. You should walk freely, as if you were going for bread and nothing else interested you."
"I see." "Try again."
This time his gait meant that the chief was not in the mood today. "To hell with the gait," I thought.
"Okay, seventh, you need to be completely healthy, lest another firefight reveal you have a broken leg in four places."
"I see."
"That's why you should have your own personal doctor who can treat almost anything. I say practically, because you won't need a gynecologist."
"I see."
"This very doctor should not know who you are, what your name is, should always be available, he should only know your 'upper shell'."
"I see."
"Do you know what an 'upper shell' is?" "No."
"It's your body and fake first names, last names, IDs, etc.". "I see."
As the little fellow was not thinking clearly, I added: "Keep in mind that the doctor only has to know one name."
"I see."
"So what name are you going to tell him?" "Michael Williams."
"I said only falsity." "I see."
"So tell him James Last." "I see."
"Speaking of which, you can't get hung up on the same phrases." "I see."
"What are you doing?" "What?"
"You say it all the time – understandable, understandable, understandable." "I see."
"Here we go again… Say 'okay', 'clear', 'yes' and your favorite 'understandable' in a variety of ways."
"I see."
"As of this minute." "I see."
The guy had already realized something with his "understandable". "Yeah and, what's wrong with your arm?"
"No big deal…"
"Here, you take care of this nonsense with our 'local' doctor, and then we'll continue training. Call me when you've sorted out your affairs, ask for "Pierce Brosman" (our man, who does various "miracles" and is at that moment in Brno in that very training center, and therefore knows my cell phone number).
No questions followed.
Let's go back to our old ways
What's old is what's not new, and what's not new is this – the assignment to find out from a certain Bill Garrison (code name – "tourist") where Joseph Gutgold is (that was the order, nothing to be done). I'd already received an advance of $500,000 in jewelry at the Hello Bar. "with a shabby reputation."
This case requires seven men (me, two of my family, and four mercenaries): Frank Polazzi (41 years old, worked with me for twelve years and has the nickname Marlboro, and he got it because he keeps a cigarette of this brand in his mouth all the time (except for very important operations), and rarely when he smokes it; knows how to control himself, is an excellent marksman – in some ways we are similar to him), Carlo Salvatore (34 years old, worked with me for seven years, nickname – Shock, for his instant understanding of what is going on and instant (although, unfortunately, not always the best) suggestion of a simple and quick way out of the situation), Emilien Rozh (31 years old, a good doctor and a safecracker, a very rare combination; a very sociable and pleasant-looking man; talks about anything (not counting his work as a
"bear hunter") and with anyone; likes to drink), Danila and Konstantin Bulatov (27 and 24 years old, two former thugs from the GRU special forces, I know many good Russians, but these two for some reason did not come out in public, however, everywhere there are exceptions; the main entertainment for them is to shoot and fight (especially the second); another anti-national trait is excessively low consumption of vodka and alcohol in general), Michael Luttvets (36 years old, former special forces of the Bundeswehr, now "Ghost"; the complete opposite of Rozh – doesn't like to talk almost on the level of principles; a loner; probably, that's why he has the gift of moving quietly and stealthily, which is why he earned himself such a strange nickname, having killed 15 enemy soldiers quietly during one secret mission, thus making the task easier for everyone else, roughly speaking, by half).
Target location information: three-story villa in the thick of taiga forests; 100 kilometers to the nearest town; Washington State, USA.
Notes: (this time there was no photo, only a verbal portrait) fat, broad-shouldered, brown eyes, dented nose, thin lips, a small scar on the forehead.
In 10 kilometers from the cabin we needed there was an abandoned town of miners, where you could come by car (in the same way we expected to leave).
"B" day.
7:06 a.m. Aug. 16.
The "five-minute stopover" was a one-story house with one front door and six windows. It was typical for such a place: two rooms, a kitchen, and a toilet (no furniture, and the only indication of a bathroom and toilet was a small unbroken patch of ceramic against the door). I climbed into the latrine to contact the Syracuse base (two people).
No sooner had I opened my laptop than the jamming sounded. Since only Ghost had a jammer out of the whole group, I had to radio to him: "Mih, what else is there?"
"It's okay two less…" "Two what?"
"By enemies…"
"What enemies, warrior? Are you sure they're not just passersby?" "I'm sure they have machine guns."
"Okay, well, over and out." The battle has begun…
I pushed the door open and saw a machine gunner running fifty meters outside the window. I noticed him, he noticed me, which prompted me to "dive" into the depths of the toilet. After shattering the proof of the existence of the latrine. Having honored the memory of the tile with two seconds of inactivity, I stuck out the muzzle of the automatic rifle (this time it was a Russian NA (Nikonov's Abakan automatic rifle with a magazine for 60 cartridges; the most successful caliber – 5.45, superfast rate of fire – 2000 v/min., almost record initial velocity of 950 m/sec., low recoil due to the unique system of recoil, low recoil due to a unique system of barrel recoil during firing, as well as a special mode of firing two cartridges (the sound merges into one) and high accuracy, in short, not a machine gun, but a fairy tale – a weapon of the twenty-first century) and pulled the trigger, then climbed out of the now worthless room and saw the same "hero", but with five holes in the chest. "I'm getting old," I thought, as I fired six shots and only hit five. There was no one else visible outside the window, and the shots, as if on cue, stopped messing up my hearing.
"Don't move for exactly two minutes," I said into the radio. Two minutes passed, there were no rustles, the ceramics and glass were gone, and there was a pile of corpses outside the windows.
"Alright, we go in groups to the forest at three minute intervals (the groups had long ago been arranged in order and composition: #1 – Me and Polazzi, #2 Salvatore and Rozh, #3 – Bulatovs, and finally #4 – 'Ghost'; actually it would be more appropriate to combine Luttvec with Rozh, since the commander that I am usually isn't in any pair, but the German is used to working alone).