The teleportation. Part 1. Chapter 15. Farewell.

          The beginning of July. The day was overcast, warm and without a rain - that's old Paul's the favorable weather. Naturally, today he was in the excellent mood. Somehow, from the memory all the gloom went away, with which he had to come into contact recently. The good mood as if highlighted old and recent happy events, which the life path passed through, long and unusually hilly.
          About Tolik he learnt long before beginning of the collection of information about Colonel and his gang, and he knew this person was unworthy to be helped, however, this fact doesn't cancel the fight against evil. Secondly, he would like to do something pleasant for the people connected with his successor Albert.
          The last provided a great hope and today he reported that yesterday he has succeeded: he teleported home, being one third of a mile from it, but after this he had to come out in order the wife wouldn't see and guess, with what an ability he has become gifted now. Only over time he opened the door with the key and arrived as if usually. Nadezhda noticed nothing.
          As usual, today Paul met him in Kalistovo. Before he led Albert to the same place where he relaxed when he monitored Colonel's flat in Podlipki. Today he agreed he teleports here and wait for Albert during an hour, and this hour, let Albert try to get here, by teleporting. The hour was drawing to a close. This isn't a big deal, the first pancake is always spoiled. Finally, the time was over. Instantly Paul has got into that place, where he left Albert. However, there was nobody. Then he teleported in a well known him entrance into a house in Perlovka, went upstairs onto the third floor and rang the doorbell. Nadezhda opened the door, and worried Albert stood behind her. Seeing Paul, at once he rejoiced.
          -Hello!
          -Hello! It seems, friends, you have lost each other.
          -Yes, we were agreed to meet, but I was late, I had a lot to do, - the old man lied.
          -You have better to sit for a cap of tea.
          The old man agreed and soon they debated in the kitchen, sipping the strong tea. When Nadya came out in the room, Paul noticed:
          -It seems, you lead yourself to the necessary state of mind, you okay with this. But you fail to remember the places. A thing the best you remember, this is your apartment. However, what if here was an ambush? As you see, you have to train the visual memory. Don't think, as if it would be necessary to remember absolutely everything, I couldn't do it too. There isn't a necessary to remember a quantity of the iron bars in the fence of a platform, their diameter, length within an accuracy of millimeters - no need. Nevertheless, if there is a fence made of iron bars painted in yellow, but you are imagining made of concrete and white, you will not get there. The main thing that one time you have succeeded and now you can study independently, because you understand the general idea. And now I have something to say to you, but one must continue talking in the street. I see, you have an interesting book: "Tantra. Book of secrets". I know, there are rewriting from Osho Rajneesh's lectures, he was a great missioner of our riotous century. Bring me third volume, please.
          Albert went in the room and came up to the bookcase. Three volumes of "Tantra" were almost lost among books with titles telling a little to a simple person, however, an inquisitive reader could become tied to home because of the content of these bookshelves, at least, for a year. As usual, he took the third volume from the shelf and went in the kitchen.
          -How many would be seven in the third degree?
          -343, however, what for?
          -Turn to the 343rd page - that's why.
          Albert opened the brown book on necessary page and handed over to old Paul.
          -Not to me. You should remember, then he stopped talking, listening intently around himself, and whispered in Albert's ear:
          -This page will be our hiding place. For example, I climb over here, her day pane... the old man pointed to the side of the room, is known me. To say short, if nobody is at home, I put banknotes there, naturally, in the currency, because you earn money only when you will climb over the space confidently. Also, written messages may be there if some urgent information takes place. So, look there more often even if long was nothing there. The situation, being calm, is able to change suddenly, but you may be in ignorance, so don't sleep, examine the cache. No offence, however, if I put something there, but you don't look there at the first day, I will give a sign, arranging at your home a small mess, turning over the chairs or breaking a little glass - this will be an alert.
          -However, why you cannot show yourself?
          -We may be monitored. I didn't still verify. But we have to finish talking outside.
          In twenty minutes they both came out the entrance. While they were walking, it rained a little bit and ceased. Old Paul interrupted the silent:
          -By the way, I know, in which fields you are going to use your new ability, - he reported, smiling like cats.
          -And in which?
          -If I was a sultan, I would have three wives, - he has sung two lines, almost whispering, from a well known song from an old movie.
          -Nevertheless, you are a telepath. Likely, you denounce me, thinking that I'm going to do stupid things, don't you? Even it's possible, you consider that so I may create a danger, you know what I say about. To say frankly, I'm just shocked by yesterday's event, of course, in the best sense. I don't know how to thank you! However, you are going to demand a victim now, which means nothing to you, but it would be a sizeable loss for me. That is, in order I wouldn't use your gift for personal reasons. And I would have to obey, otherwise, I will not be able to respect myself after this.
          -Here is a wrong guess. "If one is afraid of the wolves, so he'd not go to the forest". This thing would be a trifle for Jesus Christ or Buddha, but not for you. For you, this is an important thing, especially, you are one of a few people who can understand what is the love. Those who are able to love either one beauty, or even four beauties at the same time. Who said, as if you must love only one of them? Is the society an authority for you?
          -I don't care about the society, I hate it! The last thing I need to ask a permission from soviet people how may I screw!
          -You have a wonderful book, the same with the cache. If you have read it one time, it is the same thing, how not at all to read. The Great Teacher wrote that doing the love, we are doing the love with the Existence itself. A girlfriend is a mediator. She is a window, which through as if we look at the wonderful flowering garden of the Universe, where it's alive with life. And certainly, you would better learn this beautiful landscape if you look at it from a few windows. And you are the same "window" to the Universe for them. The jealousy, the rivalry, these things take place because of the egoism. No, at the level of development you are, this thing matters to you very much. Don't listen fools, don't neglect the love. I haven't a right to deprive you of this for security reasons. Just be careful, this is the only thing demanded from you. Sometimes, I had to show this ability too. A few times I disappeared from the militia, using it. It passed without troubles. There is no tail on me from the KGB, I checked and rechecked this.
          -To say frankly, I'm just happy! I just don't know what I may do for you reciprocally. As if since the birth my wings were partly cut, I didn't know about it, but now you have returned them to me and a wonderful world has opened in front of me, which I even didn't suspect about.
          -I need nothing. Only I would ask you don't leave my naughty girl. My former old girlfriend, which we lived together with and understood each other, becoming wrapped up in each other - she died of old age in the eighth decade. But this is young, almost a chick. I love her. I know, in this evil world she may perish without me. I swore that I'd do all possible in order as soon as possible she would turn up abroad, it would be better in the USA. We study English now. If something bad happens to me, save her, please, I'm not going to ask you for anything else, than that.
          -How I'd find her? You still haven't given me her address in Krasnoyarsk.
          -If it's necessary, she will find you. Be ready that she's kind of a weirdo. Attend every her need; it would cost you nothing to perform them. She would ask you never for a thing difficult to do. There is the only difficulty: to do everything in order she would leave for America forever and as far as possible, she would settle legally there.
          -I will do all J can. Also, I'll expand my abilities, including, to be useful for you and for her. What is her name?
          -Olesya. And don't be timid. She may become a fifth mistress in your harem. She will not deny you.
          -Why do you sure so? And what about you?
          -You are astonished, because you don't know her cravings, her inclinations, her principles. But I know her so clearly, I would be astonished if she deny you. She is allowed to enjoy and we don't consider this as a betrayal. Also, she will not leave me while I'm alive. These principles aren't imposed on her from outside. They are her own principles, so she performs them gladly. You wouldn't believe me, but I'm almost her ideal, if some ideal is possible in the real life. If I perish, she will have fun with you, but not more. Her ideal is an old, clever, severe mentor who would look great in spite of his age and in addition to that who would be able to understand any nonstandard manifestations of the human nature, to accept this, to go along with it. This sounds paradoxical, but to look from her point, the main your drawback is your youth. She would love you only when you are fifty years old.
          -So you said that you are going to leave for somewhere, aren't you?
          -You have guessed. Now I'll appear in a very long time, maybe I'll not appear at all. La probability to survive after something I'm going to do, it's less than 50%.
          -How I can learn it?
          -If there aren't news from me during longer than two weeks.
          -What you need it for? Still, you have money. Are you going to change the world? Is it necessary to interfere?
          -You are right. I'm not the Lord God to set to rights in whole the world. It would be the same foolishness, as if your wife would decide to do spring-cleaning not only in your own apartment, but also in all of them in your nine-storey house and for free. However, the places I passed, I want to clean and adorn my way. All my life I do it, since the Earth had become commensurate with your flat.
          My last deal, you know, this is the liquidation of the Colonel by Chechen avengers. It was absolutely safe for me, however the operation was unusual, do you know why? Because I met such scoundrels that didn't meet long ago. Now, I'm sure, Colonel itself sought his own death. He wanted it unconsciously. I just sped up the process. Soon I'm planning more dangerous undertaking, because of which, it's possible, the Lord will take me to Himself if really I haven't to do anymore in this world. I've given you the gift. You are clever not less than me and taught this climbing better than me after the instant of that terrible massacre in the camp barrack when it happened by itself in the first time. So, soon you will be able to climb any place you want. And Olesya will not be lost: I believe, you will not allow this.
          And how to use the ability I gave you, let yourself decide it. Just watch in order other voices wouldn't sound in your mind when you decide something.
          In conclusion, don't forget your security, check, whether you are being watched. Before I told you about it, but I remind you again: these people will do anything to  possess your ability, so if even you don't take care of yourself, take care of those who is close and dear to you.
          And now goodbye! Pray for me. If anything happened to me, don't make divine me. I'm the same sinner, I only strive for perfection. Maybe we'll meet in a long time after, but you've better to assume the worst, in order don't to sorrow after. So not "see you later", but farewell.
          -Farewell, Paul! Try to return.
          -I'll try. Farewell, Alik! - saying this, the old man reflected deeply, as if he has gone into himself in whole and at once disappeared.

Next chapter: http://la-flagellation.blogspot.ru/2017/12/the-teleportation-part-1-chapter-16.html

The original Russian text of the chapters from 13 to 15: http://www.proza.ru/2010/01/21/1277

The teleportation. Part 1. Chapter 14. Knights of the Cloak and Dagger.

          A Major-General of Counterintelligence Paukov Innokentiy Nikolaevich sat at his work in the spacious study, which was furnished comfortably, but rigorously. Rigorously, because the luxury didn't stand out so much, and if don't pay attention at an expensive computer on the table, at the selector video communication, using which he could observe the actions of their subordinates, if not to know, what was a price of telephone apparatuses of the new generation, then at the first sight one could have thought that the large room looked quite ascetic. Outside the windows it was June heat, and the passers-by were tapping grudgingly on the hot asphalt, but there was fresh air in the office, the conditioners were working, and the windows facing South were curtained off. Apparently, the sunlight penetrating through these curtains, was not sufficient, consequently as a backlight, fluorescent lamps served. They were incorporated into the ceiling immediately above the table, however, as opposed to the similar lamps in some sewing workshop or in another Russian-Soviet institution, these lamps neither flickered, nor buzzed, but their light was plain, a little pleasurable and a little warm. In the similar institutions the windows are always covered by curtains, it became a custom in the whole world, and one can understand it: against curious watching. Also, the curtains protect against the hot sunshine, but now they executed an additional function: They helped not to see the pedestal, from which the idol was cast down already almost two years ago. Nevertheless, now it was looking at the general from a portrait hanging above the door, so who was entering, quite possible he could have missed it, but perhaps, the owner of the room was receiving some additional forces from this doubtful art.
          Yes, almost two years have passed since the former traditional titles and names had been thrown on the dump of history with "ferrous Felix" together. Even this institution was renamed again, however, to name this General "mister", nobody could move his tongue to say so. For the most of the people he was as well as before, that is comrade General, however, if convey meaning of this word from the epoch of the invasion of Chinggis Khan's hordes, it meant the following things: comrade (in Russian - tovarishch) is a friend not on common interests, but on an occasional formed herd. For a few more close people, including the superiors, he was as before Innokentiy Nikolaevich, and for very few, the closest, not because of the position at work, but because of the formed relations, they were allowed a desirable familiarity to name him "uncle Kesha".
          The screen lit up and well known Kovalev's puffy face appeared. He was the chief of a department executing a very delicate work, that is controlling almost all the employees of the serious institution.
          -Comrade General! Allow me to apply to you. I have an interesting data, however, I can act only after consulting together with you.
          -And what? Is this an urgent matter? Does it depend on a few seconds? Are people perishing? Is it possible the leak of a strategic information? Is something from the list I had said, taking place?
          -No ways, comrade General!
          -Quit it, Grisha, these "comrade General", but come up to me one hour before the end of the time work, and we will talk it.
          -Will be done!
          Things what the newcomers and the most zealous colleagues thought as considerable, from the point of the General it was an endless duel stretching for decades, of the state against all the rest of the world. If today the "ours" have hit "theirs", then tomorrow "theirs" will strike "ours". Either the information leak in our "camp", or the same thing on their side. Either some our colleagues defect to "them", or some "their" colleagues defect to "us". On the scale of large countries, it was trifles, an exchange of the pricks by pins, sometimes, even it became boring. Sometimes there were blows more heavy, almost knockouts, like that case with Penkovsky long ago, but similar blunders could take place also in "their side". Only on the scale of a half century it was seen more clearly who ultimately takes possession of an advantage. Unlikely these passing little fortunes and misfortunes would help to get rid of these changes, which were crawling here inexorably.
          In the eighties, the General ascertained with sadness that "their" propaganda doesn't need absolutely to lie, but it's enough to tell the truth known by all the world, excepting "our" the most foolish and downtrodden narrow persons, but "our" propaganda has to handwave, using very doubtful arguments like the "right to work" and the very cheap metro. He felt, soon there will be nothing to say, but a stupidity, as one day the radio of socialist Albania had bragged that "now in every home the electric lamp shines".
          However, the General who thought practically and sensibly, he had to grieve not long. He watched cautiously at the whirlwind of changes, and when as if a smoke, because of the disturbance of the environment had blown away and it became clear then the "second Nuremberg" was not going to be, he understood that the state, without which he couldn't exist, will not go anywhere, especially his institution. What is a great matter that a few departments carried out functions of a secret political and then they were dissolved? A configuration of his dear institution has changed, but the institution itself stands as well as before, in the same manner a lot of departments work under his authority, even if it's time to change a way of working, for him it was no problem.
          The only thing he had to do, this is to execute a monotonous work, for every "A" to be able to set off an appropriate "B". Of course, one must not turn a blind eye to all kinds events and ignore them, however, he had not to inhibit some emotions, just because they already didn't appeared long ago. In spite of his sixty years old, he did exercises in the morning, ran for several miles, so being heavy set, at the same he was vigorous and agile. But at work, if he would be without the general's uniform, he could be taken for a usual clerical assistant.
          As usual, the subordinates came in plain clothes and put on the uniform only in some special days. At the designated time, coming up to the door, Kovalev adjusted his tie, coughed to clean his voice and knocked.
          -Come in, Grisha, don't be shy. 
          Innokentiy Nikolaevich, - started to talk Kovalev, but the omnipotent boss immediately has interrupted him:
          -How long I have to explain? Call me "Uncle Kesha", sit down and calmly tell me what is it with you, and I'm going to listen you. It's interesting to me. It's very interesting.
          Kovalev felt like a cat what is petted. He depended from the omnipotent General fully and totally, and apart from him, there no were any other standards of truth and couldn't be. His mood depended in full from chief's relation to him, and all the rest of things, either his family, or the private life - all this relegated into the background. Also now, the timidity has gone away, and he has begun to tell:
          -Well, uncle Kesha, I kept silent long, because one must be able to work independently, otherwise, what an employee would be who needs a caretaker at every step? However, things are starting to take on enough increasing prevalent. Do you remember Kashin?
          -Of course, I remember him, what a question? - "Uncle Kesha" answered with astonishment. - His department oversees the foreigners, sometimes leads the unofficial surveillance over persons with the diplomatic immunity. Go on.
          -He has charged his deputy with almost all the work. Certainly, the last is happy to try, he hopes, it will be reckoned to him in future, and he doesn't make a mistake, especially if his chief will lose his seat.
          -Does it mean, the chief has charged his deputy with all, but at the same time he has walked to the taverns, also to look for women, hasn't he?
          -If so, I wouldn't come up to you, we ourselves would solve this and wouldn't bother you. However, in leisure he goes in for neither taverns, nor women, to say more exact, he goes in for women, but completely for another purpose. In a nutshell, he is building his own intelligence network. There are two persons led by him and devoted to him, they are colleagues from his department, that is our employees in an enough mediocre post. Likely, he has succeeded to encourage them, promising bright prospects. They recruit the people off the street. One didn't still succeed to learn, by what measure these people are chosen, however, in general, they are women seeking love adventures. Almost all of them were in bed with him. These women are a part of the network, which does the main job. Another part of the network finances them. This is a not great mafia group enjoys a privilege, they even use the certificates of our Security Service, which were issued illegally to a few of them. This fact greatly facilitates to do the business for whole their group. Surely, they more prefer our colleagues over them instead their "brigadiers". They don't particularly strain the situation in terms of the criminality, likely, because of our colleagues's influence. In general, they earn on racketeering, now such a "business" takes place usually without conflicts. Businessmen willingly pay them, because they feel with them, like behind a stone wall. This setup couldn't be without agreement with the criminal authorities, certainly, our watching confirm it. Information leak cannot be through them, because they are kept known nothing. This part of them, I'm repeating, is created only for financing the network doing the main work.
          The main their work is collecting data on the abnormal phenomena, and this main part of the network study our methods of intelligence work, in general, to collect data, also, the surveillance, the martial arts, but the last is studied very superficially. Sometimes, there are given tasks to watch out for an object which represents nothing in fact. Such tasks are given for training and testing abilities. Their job is payed not expensive, but themselves subordinates think differently, being accustomed to poverty. It seems, they consider Kashin enough lavish. Enticing by money, they undergo by cautious and correct, so to speak, intimidate. The emphasis is on the fact that nobody says in clear, but they "guess" that in case of the disobedience more likely they could be liquidated.
          -That's very, very interesting things... Are they succeed so a three-way?
          -No, sometimes they use our colleagues who suspect nothing. Not always they are told about the person they monitor. They are ordered, they watch over the object, but who is this object, this is a matter of the superiors, they know. However, they involve often our uninitiated colleagues when it's not enough the people or they need to use the equipment, the cars. Strangely enough, Kashin manages to lead his business so that the suspicious activity isn't at all a parasite upon the work of our Committee. Already it was verified, when they receive a serious task, he is able to interrupt suddenly all the functioning of his private boiler room, you understand me, and to switch on action demanded by our Service. Just a virtuoso.
          -Yes, yes... A good premium is owed to them for such a work, - Major-General smiled ironically. - Well, go on.
          -It's clear, the scale is large, but what about direction? He is dangerous! Dangerous for whole the Service!
          -Because of what? Whether he is because of the information leak?
          -Naturally.
          -But did you think well? He possesses the secret information as well as any other chief, and any of them, it is impossible to exclude this, has the possibility to give his knowledge to a foreign intelligence service and because of this to hit us so that we would not soon be recovered from it. Such cases took place and as a rule, those traitors didn't play a similar strange game so brazenly. If he is going to serve us so, then he is an original person supremely, however, got a talent, I'll give him that. And what if we slaughter the hen, which lays golden eggs? What about this, Grisha?
          -But he can... - Grisha became pensive.
          -Not more probably than any other of us. 
          -He teaches.
          -And what? Do you think women will begin to use our methods to survey their lovers, don't you? But one has to teach them during a few of years in order they would become dangerous really.
          -But what if?.. You said rightly, he's talented. What if he discovers such things, and they would blab about it, or he would...
          -Who they? All of them at the same time would blab, wouldn't they?
          Kovalev felt, in front of the high authority he loses the ability to think straight.
          -Uncle Kesha, it seems, I'm bothering you in vain, am not I?
          -No, no, Grisha. If you only knew how right you are doing, because you have bothered us! On the word "have bothered us," he did an ironic accent. - If he discovers such things, he will not stand up on a square to recite his discovery to illiterate old women who are hurrying in a shop to buy some food. I want to ask you about something another. Like a teacher in a school, what an assessment you would give to the general condition of your subordinate departments of our Service?
          -I would give them "good".
          -Wonderful! Usually, you don't make mistakes in this matter. It means, the people and the instruments of restraint aren't overloaded. Well, look, Kashin is a fishhook to catch a golden fish, more importantly the fish we need. As soon as she is caught, the worst thing may occur if it's given to the other side, do you understand me? It must not occur. The "fish" must belong to us. And if they are working under our unseen control, in fact, they will be working for us, and it doesn't matter, what they are planning. While the atmosphere in your subordinate departments is assessed "good", I allow you to occupy till a half of the resources, you understand me, either the people, or other tools, of course, in a case of the necessary. Neither talking must be missed, either of the hero of the occasion, or all his subordinate people, including the recruited persons. If their talk even a little is similar to allegorical speech, it's necessary to fix, to rewrite and bring to me, and I have experts in the allegorical communication.
          -And what about the mafia wing, which finances them?
          -It is necessary to become sure, whether are they informed about something or not.
          -I dare ask, must I stay in ignorance? I'm surprised, how much attention is going to be payed them.
          -Dear, Grisha. First of all, there are the economic considerations which take place. Now every child knows from the press, we had such department, in all probability, not in vain. In spite of the fact that all these matters with the diablerie are still studied a very little. But do you imagine how much "eats" such a department. After all, you are perfectly aware, how expensive is this pleasure. However, while everything is calm with your work, while you are working at the idling speed, go solve it! And then it will not be necessary to get into the treasury, to create a brouhaha around the exotic department, this would only provoke information leak. But in the given case needful department exist and at the same time it doesn't exist. It is like the Perpetuum mobile, consuming nothing, but the entrepreneurs pay the expenses, thinking as if they pay to the mafia. Let it doesn't embarrass you, Grisha. Times are different now. It's a time of the pragmatic approach. And don't worry. Patriots don't sleep, - and he slyly winked at Kovalev.
          -You are genius, uncle Kesha.
          The general was very flattered with such a compliment and even didn't try to hide it.
          -I'm just on my own place, - answered he, smiling proudly.
          The both parted in a good mood.

Next chapter: http://la-flagellation.blogspot.ru/2017/11/the-teleportation-part-1-chapter-15.html

The teleportation. Part 1. Chapter 13. An act of revenge.

          Colonel wasn't a clairvoyant, that's for sure. Even if he expected for a danger, then completely from another side. Two accomplices Skeleton and Doughnut, being with pistols, separated from him rarely. Also, the strong and trained guard dog had been together with them almost always, however, lately he more often barked without a reason.
          Nobody noticed that the work is in full swing and something was preparing. Some people were selected who would not provoke any suspicion. The information from a stranger, who disappeared as well unexpectedly as appeared, was verified and reverified by these people.
          Everyone in the Argun valley has learnt about the stranger with striking rapidity, first of all the cops from Chishki to Itum-Kale learnt it through relatives. Different rumors were circulating, but here these things were known exactly: the signs of the strange old man, a fact that the formal course of the investigation should not be given, by all means, the stranger should neither come out, nor climb out from the Argun valley, If he is caught, he must be returned back, and there the facts will clarify. As much as possible, don't kill him, because he helped to someone here, however, the person is contradictory, either from Moscow mafia, or a madman who had run away from the mental hospital Braguni, or almost an alien from a flying saucer. In all the points where the stranger could slip, local residents hid and watched, being aware that the tribesmen have their own problems and should help them. They pretended as if are hunters or just walked near their villages. It seemed, all the paths are cut, and only an alpinist of high level with appropriate equipment could slip through all the traps set. Nobody was caught. Not only who was wanted, even no Russian was noticed. Khalid and the relatives of the murdered girl, those who lived in this republic, all of them were perplexed by appearance another note else, this time it was printed and put onto the table in the same basement, which was locked tightly and there was nobody: 
          "Khalid, if you can, excuse me for the caused disquietude. Soon, all of you will learn, all what I reported you is the truth, and I'm your friend. I wish that the rightness would triumph. If I needed only to destroy the main enemy from the cassette, I could do it by another way. But in such a case you wouldn't know, what occurred with Suleymanova in fact. It would be prudent to destroy this note".
          Under the note was a self-made map of the place of burial of the heroically perished girl with a geodetic reference relatively marked points of the closest railway and road.
          While some of those local inhabitants cordoned off the Argun valley, others prepared a group consisted of the relatives of the victim, and a plan for retribution was discussed and developed by them. It was the flying weather, and their plane has landed in the airport Domodedovo situated near Moscow already in the evening of the next day after disappearing of Paul from Halid's specially equipped bunker. And in the next day after this, spies appeared who didn't provoke suspicion, who looked similar to Slavs and didn't stand out, in general, they were women, even part of them were boys. They were laconic to hide their accent. A group of executors consisted of three men, looked middle-aged, dressed in the same manner, in the grey suits and hats, with mustaches and small beards. The hats hid the fact all three were bald as it should be for the faithful Muslims, who consider indecent to show their hair. In Brezhnev's epoch they could be quickly detained and ransacked, but not now. Against the background of different youth groups, that is hippies, punks and others, these men looked not very extravagantly. In the USA the people hardly would pay attention them, and they would be considered, as if brothers who arrived from Latin America to do their business.
          In one usual morning, as it took place often, Skeleton entered to Colonel's home. Something was wrong. Only in a few of minutes Colonel understood that the dog absolutely didn't bark and didn't come up to the door, as usual. With Skeleton together they found the dog and it was sleeping deeply. When they were trying to wake up the dog, it opened its eyes, yawned, closed them and went on sleeping. Doughnut should be about to arrive by his foreign car. In the presence of the two accomplices Colonel always felt himself in safety as well as Balda didn't fear for his money long ago.
          -Call the vet, - Colonel ordered to Skeleton, and at once he began to call on his mobile phone.
          Then they both started to plan for today. In twenty minutes a twitter of the fashionable doorbell sounded. Colonel, showing his invulnerability, went in person to open the door. Likely this is Doughnut, because for the vet it would be quickly very much. It's possible, someone of the neighbors did this mischievous trick with the dog. He opened the door neither asking, nor looking at the peephole. At the doorstep Doughnut stood, as usual wearing sunglasses, however, Colonel who before used to be an investigator, at once he has understood that the accomplice is in a big trouble. So, who dared to disturb peace of the all-powerful and invulnerable group?! Even the known criminal authorities, of course, they wouldn't fawn in front of them, but they would prefer to pass by them without touching. And he would do in the same manner toward them.
          Whether are you bloody full of the cogentine tablets? Since when..., - he didn't have time to finish the sentence, something has clicked strangely and unbearable pain in his knee forced him to forget everything. Almost at the same time started to sound Doughnut's screech who have been stabbed with three knives.
          Skeleton, hearing something wrong, grabbed his pistol from the table and rushed into entrance hall, but before aiming, he prostrated on the floor, because of a skillfully made undercutting. Nearby Colonel howled and was rolling on the floor, grabbing his knee. Doughnut sat on the pool of blood and was still alive, being all pale.
          -We will not hurt you. You said not to kill her, didn't you? - A voice with a weak accent said above him. 
          Skeleton looked up. From a big black and white photography a young, but already with curvy body shapes girl wearing school uniform and head covering, she was looking at him. Above him the three men were standing with the small beards and pistols in their hands. One of them was keeping the photo in front of his face. Suddenly he understood all the horror of the situation.
          -Not me! - Skeleton has yelled wildly, then he jumped upon and rushed anywhere, without choosing, away from the terrible strangers, at first into the room, onto the window sill and together with the glass splinters jumped out of the window, continuing be yelling until meeting with the asphalt. Colonel lived on the sixth floor.
          -You, jackal, are going to die for our sister! - quietly, but angrily one of the avengers said, turning the photo to the Doughnut, who was sitting by the wall.
          The strong hand slashed him with sharp, like a razor, blade of the knife up to the throat. This in full guaranteed the death during a few of minutes.
          Then all the free turned to Colonel who was writhing on the floor.
          -Look here, scoundrel!
          Now the girl, murdered by him, was looking at him from the photo. He has understood everything and pronounced, in spite of the pain in his knee:
          -My last wish in front of the death. Say, please, how have you learnt this? Still the cassette is here. Nobody took her. In the apartment here is an alarm system on the door and on the windows.
          -Where is the cassette?
          -Here a grey home bathrobe in the cupboard. It's in the inner pocket.
          -Beware! What if a bomb is there, - one of them said in Russian and suddenly added:
          -One must quickly! I myself!
          He rushed to the cupboard and has found the cassette quickly. No explosion followed.
          -We take it with us.
          -But say, please, how have you learnt? The cassette, perhaps its copy, was brought in Ichkeria by an old stranger. And a letter, how to find you with your jackals, was given us by him. After this he disappeared from a locked room. That's me who have to ask you, whom did you screw else to such a point, what they wanted to kill you, using our hands. Maybe you have quarrelled with the flying saucers, haven't you? Because your enemy is able to come out of a locked room without any clef and without breaking the door.
          The mystical fear embraced the sentenced to death. In the fact, that it will be no mercy, he didn't doubt. A long time ago, he read Shakespeare with a passion. Among the ambiance of the full lack of spirituality and beastliness he forgot absolutely about this, but now he didn't know from what wasted nooks of his stirred consciousness these lines appeared:
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns...
          Suddenly he realized the main thing. The life could be so beautiful without this quest for power, without these vile and stupid faces around him, working in the militia of Saransk, among the gangs of Moscow region, in the offices of the authorities that be! He has remembered, that knew and felt this beauty of the life. But since a young age, he crushed within himself all germs of beauty. He drowned out all the joyful manifestations of his soul, even he mocked them in the spirit. He has remembered, there were instants, usually in summer or in spring, when the life of nature is the most expressed, and he wanted to thank someone, he didn't know whom, for this caused gladness, a reason of which was unknown to him. At the same time he imagined, how the classmates would mock his impulse of feelings, so he must be a normal dude as everyone. No. He must banish this folly, this weakness to a bad mother, banish away these exalted madness. He banished and succeeded in it. Nothing holy stayed for him. The only thing he estimated, these were unwritten laws of the gangs, unspoken "comme il faut" of all the segments of the foolish people, which he had to deal with. He thought as if he dominated above these bastards, but now as it has appeared, they were those who set the program what he must be and how he must live, how and what he must think about, what is right and what is not right, what is normal and what is not normal. All were guilty: the parents, the teachers, the classmates, the colleagues, the gangs. If it is considered prestigious to be a power, he became it, if it is considered prestigious to be a cynic, he became it, if it is considered prestigious to be a cool dude, he became it. The social environment had been pulling the strings on him during all the way, and he obeyed them, he obeyed them with honours. Here is he cool, strong, with connections, but those are killing him, which don't care about his coolness, force, power and connections. However, everything could be in another manner. If he didn't banished, but cherished those bright feelings, which visited him in youth, the history of his life would be another. Nothing terrible would occur to him. He could without neither quarreling, nor debating with someone, keeping silent, go on to do his own business, to live his own life and to be free and happy. Even if it was a destiny today to die, then a short life would be lived in happiness. But everything was contrariwise. He was wretched, very much, and this was his own choose, he himself had directed so. When it was necessary, he had not wanted to keep one's ears open for his inner voice. When it was necessary, he had not wanted to use his own brain and here is the result. No, Not the death, but the unhappy and senseless life - that's what's the worst!
          He remembered Raskolnikov from Dostoevsky's novel "Crime and Punishment". No. Now he doesn't need to kill an old woman moneylender to understand who is he, whether he is a louse or Napoleon. He was free to choose, quite free, and without thinking, he had chosen: to become a big, disgusting and stinking louse. All his life is the mistake. The tragic mistake!
          The fear has disappeared, and it was even gladly, because everything is ending, because he is paying fully his debts. Being forced by the atheistic education, he didn't understand that he was passing through the TRUE REPENTANCE.
          In the first instants he didn't feel a sharp knife stabbed into the stomach. However, the avenger, stabbing the victim with the knife, started to turn it anticlockwise. The unbearable pain made him already at second time to forget everything, but when this terrible pain has gone and it became very, very easy, a last thing he succeeded in this world to think about, it was a sense of liberation from a terrible debt and an assurance coming he didn't know where from, that he has learned something very much important, that he has received an invaluable lesson, that he will return on the Earth with this new knowledge, with open eyes for everything, but now it's time to go to the Teacher who has taught this lesson.
          The avengers terminated the work, after execution of the most abominable and heavy part of it. Heavily breathe because of the physical stress, they cut off the head of the killed enemy and put it in the sink in the kitchen. It was distastefully ad nauseam, however, some unknown principles required this. They didn't notice called for the dog the vet came into the door, which they have forgotten to close by negligence, and now he is observing them with horror. They didn't notice how he came out, trembling because of the fear. But when he went downstairs and coming out of the entrance headed to the public phone, a woman as if she would walk towards him by chance, but stared at him. Perhaps, I'm looking odd after the seen incident, - the vet thought. Now the passersby stopped and looked directly at him without any hiding. Inside her was something attractive, something strange, not local. He confused without knowing what to say and just at that moment a jet of the red pepper hit him in his eyes.
          -During one hour you will call nowhere and tell nothing nobody. Otherwise, they will kill you. The just retribution was made and you must not interfere! - the demanding voice of the dangerous stranger woman explained, pronouncing with a not local reprimand.
          At this time the three avengers were still in the flat. They have examined every room. Fell silent, in which became heard one's snoring.
          Brother of the murdered Suleymanova rushed into the room where one's breathing was heard and looked under the bed. The Rottweiler was sleeping and didn't wake. At first he touched the dog's paw with his bloody hand, then he patted it on the head, saying in broken Russian with a strong accent:
          -Poor good dog. It has eaten barbamyl and is sleeping. When it wakes up, it will whine, because the owner have disappeared. The dog serves for man and doesn't understand its owner is a scoundrel. Didn't he lacked the Moscow whores? He had disgraced my sister and murdered her, - after saying this, Suleymanov felt with horror that the tears come to his eyes. However, a brave highlander doesn't dare to cry. He took a deep and heavy breath and rejected this desire. The two other avengers sharply and imperatively, but without any insult, demanded in Chechen, in order he would prepare to come out faster, otherwise he could let down not only himself, but all the group.
          All their suits were covered in blood, however, this was foreseen before. They brought their suitcase from the staircase, took from it a big polyethylene bag and new suits, this time the sport ones. It wasn't still five minutes they already have changed, washed quickly their bladed weapons, they put their bloody suits into the bag and covered them with a newspaper. Really, they had to hurry. Fortunately, the window, which Skeleton jumped from, faced not south where is the yard with entrances, but in the opposite side. The yard was limited there by a fence, and the tramps often visited that place in need. Skeleton, being thoroughly broken, because of falling from the sixth floor, he died in a hospital in a few hours still being brought unconscious.
          The three avengers slammed the door and ran downstairs. The debt was executed. The justice was done. However, Suleymanov began to feel the disappointment. They could kill the enemies, the strong and vile enemies. But they can never do so, in order he would see his younger sister in this life again, in order he would talk with her, he would play together. That's impossible for any money. No force, no weapon would help to do it. But he believed that she is alive. She just left for a very, very far country and she waits for him and their parents, and others brothers and sisters. And if he doesn't anger Allah, one day he himself will go to this country and meet there all close persons, which he lost in this life.
          A lot of neighbors understood something terrible has taken place. All of them knew that in this flat mafia always gathers, however, till today the situation was comparatively calm. And now, finally, they have done. A few of the neighbors, hearing running downstairs, looked in the peephole. Three men were with small beards glimpsed, either Caucasians, or Ukrainians. Afterwards an investigation group had still not been able to get a sketch. They happily have got in a taxi, which waited for them near the entrance. There was some passenger on the back seat, a woman. They weren't against that the driver let her come in the car when she thumbed a lift on the Yaroslavsky road. Also, she wasn't against to wait twenty minutes, while three traveling companions as if went home to change the clothes. The driver didn't guess, this "country woman" has a pistol "Walter"in her pocket, a few pepper sprays and a cell phone (In Russia in 1993 a cell phone was rare). Also, he didn't guess that all the four are together. All of them went in silence. Three either friends or brothers needed to get in Bolshevo and woman by the same road, but further to Voronok. As soon as the driver delivered three passengers to the necessary point and rolled a quarter mile else, the woman took the cell phone imperceptibly from her handbag and said: 
          -What a lovely day is today! - these words about the weather were a signal.
          -Yes, it would be fun to get to the beach now, but one have to work, - the taxi driver answered, suspecting nothing.
          Also, he had learnt nothing in future. The woman left the taxi, paying the previously agreed amount and saying softly: "Thank you", - almost whispering.
          In that instant when she called and said about the weather, another car drove up to a point near bushes in Bolshevo. The three men come out of the bushes and got into the car. This time their insider was as a driver. Along the way, they got rid of the compromising evidence, having thrown the bag with the bloody suits into a Dumpster in Pushkino. After this, by a concrete road they got in the village Morozki, then in Povarovo. There they said goodbye to their driver. They were going to get in Vyshniy Volochek by a few electric trains till the evening. Their distant relatives waited for them in that city.
          An investigation group got into the flat with witnesses only in a few hours. At first they were going to interrogate the dwellers of apartment about the man who have fallen from the window, but nobody opened the door.
          The senior investigator at first doubted, called colleagues to ensure whether his version is right. He made no mistake. This was the vendetta. It meant in the given case searching for criminals is useless. The subjects of crime will leave for some south republic, for which of them is unknown, and disappear there. Even if they don't disappear, it will be taken a long time to seek them, and it would be too long time for the preservation of evidence. In which case, the local people can hide them without shame, and a visiting investigator would not be allowed to dig very deep, breaking the law. Already the days aren't these. The investigator understood that it's a cold case, but the only fact consoled him, the superiors knew the picture of reality, not worse than himself, so they will not too much accuse, also, he is not a newcomer, but with experience.
          Later an expert, who was specialized including in the blood feud, he suggested, as if seventy percent of the probability (he didn't explain where he took this number from) that in this case the avengers were Caucasians of the Vainakh origin. 
          Practically, a benefit because of such a report was zero for the investigation. Also, there was a little unusual feature in this affair. Nothing disappeared, but only a lot of money from a recess of one of the books. As usual, Vainakhs don't steal, while they do an act of the revenge. They are contemptuous of the secret theft and prefer to rob openly, that is in "heroic" manner. After all, the killed victim himself could take his own money from his own secret place.
          Two days before the appointed time Albert gave to Sveta the necessary amount of dollars in order Tolik could pay to the new self-appointed "roof".
          Tolik waited for them all day long, but nobody came. Next day Sveta returned the money to Albert, asking him to keep them just in case.
          After Colonel's death, there was a lot of street shooting in the district, also, fights without the firearm, but with the victims. During a few of days the annual statistical indicator was surpassed. The Colonel's group was banished out. Only Albert knew, who has "helped" to happen this. To all the rest, he explained, as if all has occurred by itself.
Next chapter: http://la-flagellation.blogspot.ru/2017/11/the-teleportation-part-1-chapter-14.html

The original Russian text of the chapters from 13 to 15: http://www.proza.ru/2010/01/21/1277

The teleportation. Part 1. Chapter 12. Ichkeria.

          Old Paul had been never in mountain Chechnya, however, he was in Groznyi and more than once. Immediately from the taiga he has teleported into one of the gateways of Groznyi, which is situated not far from the bus station. A few days ago he was here already and had studied the bus schedule. Here it still was an early morning. The only bus to Shatoy leaves in a half hour. Paul bought the bus ticket and tried to be more inconspicuous. He never took the passport with him, the only time as an exception, otherwise Albert wouldn't believe how old he was, and in that case he could make an impression of a liar and of a not clever man. Even now, in the epoch of democracy one may be detained by militia without reason, but because of the force of habit, especially without the passport. But with the passport it would be worse, because there is written in it who is and where from has arrived this person, who can disappear from the cell by such a wonderful way. They could take away the compromising evidence against Colonel's gangs and the cassette, and then he would have to work again and after to leave again through this point. In addition, some competent authorities could express interest in him much more than all the crimes of the nidus together.
          All turned out well and in a half hour he sat in the back seat of the bus near the window on the right. Soon the city was left behind, and now the bus rolled through slightly hilly monotonous landscapes, however, a small variety was added by little villages with white houses of adobe bricks.
          A view from the window at once changed in a large village Chishki. Yet before reaching this village, grassy slopes of relatively small mountains appeared in front of him. They were covered with forest in some places and only remotely resembled hills in the East Siberia. In this large village the mountains stood already from all directions. In Chishki a lot of passengers got off and a lot of others got on the bus. They talked a lot in their language, which sounds sharp, but beautiful in its own way, with the unaccustomed rhythm and intonation. It seemed, as if nobody pays attention to the old man, but it wasn't so.
          Further on the way the ravine began quickly to get narrower. Instead the bright green grassy slopes, from the both sides the severe stone walls stood, in some places they were vertical and sometimes higher than the Empire State Building in New-York. The road twisted on the edge of the precipice, and in spite of the engine noise it was heard at the bottom of the chasm how the Argun river was roaring. Here and there were gravestones with inscriptions in Arabic, sometimes groups of graves were seen from the road, these were the victims of the often car crashes who have found their end here. The old man regretted that he didn't travel here before. However, in Teberda he was, that's one thing, here is another. Every area is good in its own manner. All the Earth is beautiful and various, and he made a mistake, when, after being in Teberda, he thought as if he had knowledge in full about the Caucasus.
          However, now he had to think about the deal. Already long ago he heard that the local people live together in friendship and they are always ready to stand up for one another, but in spite of this he didn't want, in order the data he brought would fall in someone's hands, excepting the closest relatives. Because of this after getting from the bus, he avoided to talk to anyone or to ask the way. Approximately he knew where he had to go, because the large village, he needed, it was on the map.
          A little town Shatoy ended. The road went away from the canyon and continued through a terrain, which was a little uneven. The grassy slopes, then dropped away to the road, then gently sloping joined to it, becoming sometimes flat lawns like near Moscow. Sometimes small shrubby ravines led down to the road. Sometimes on both sides of the road impassable shrubs stood. A forest was seen sometimes too, but not close. After passing near four miles, Paul turned up in a large village again.
          The local people looked at him curiously. After passing the center of the large village, he stopped, trying to learn the area, in which case to teleport here next time at once, without making detour through Groznyi. Three boys near ten years old ran up to him, asking 
          -Have you going into montagne?
          -Yes, - Paul answered, because didn't know a word in Chechen. 
          He headed further, who asked, they now followed him with staring look. Paul understood, if sometimes he provoked an astonishment even in the Moscow region, but here at all he looks like a black sheep, and it's probable, the militia may take an interest in him. He started to walk faster and as soon as he went out of the village, he stood near five minutes, studying the landscape for a case of teleporting immediately into this place in case of the necessary.
          Risking to repeat all this long road, Paul teleported to the well-known place into the night New-York. Walking a little, almost blindly, not immediately accustoming in the darkness, he came out to the Broadway, surrounded by towers, shops, offices and speaking English, in spite of the late hour here. Into the ears, the noise of cars invaded. All this has excited him and when he returned back, covering the eyes with his hands, in order not to spoil vision, because of the sudden daylight, he was rejoiced more, because he succeeded and to remember the unaccustomed landscapes more difficult. He could continue his way smiling, but soon he remembered, it's not good look cheerful, bringing such a terrible information. He stopped, prayed and moved further.
          The rest of the way was one and a half miles. Closer and closer. At the edge of the village where he arrived, there were four men standing at the roadside, from thirty to forty years old and talked in their language. Paul came up to them and pronounced slowly and clearly:
          -I need Suleymanova's close relatives.
          As if on command, they froze, looking at him in an interrogative manner.
          -I need very close Suleimanova's relatives, - the old man repeated slowly and clearly, - who left for Moscow and didn't return.
          They started to talk quickly, interrupting each other. Finally, the oldest of them had shouted something one time and then he pronounced an incomprehensible monologue slowly and expressively. After this he turned to the old man, saying:
          -You must go with us together.
          All of them surrounded him and at first they headed to the center of the village. The old man wasn't against it.
          -Is she alive? - asked one of them.
          -No, but I know who had done it. All the information is with me. I have arrived here to tell and to show. However, only the closest relatives must be informed of this. 
          -Everyone of us is her relative, and you go with us where you must go.
          All  of them frowned and began to speak Chechen again. The only man talked with Paul. That meant, he spoke Russian better than others. Now one of them was making a long speech, as if he was swearing in something, at the same time looking at Paul like at a cockroach. It seemed that the others restrained him.
          -I've asked you, whether she is alive. You answered no, but you know who had done it. It means, you have arrived not to demand money, but you want to give us an information about people who has killed her, don't you? Are they your enemies? Is that you were in the mafia, then you quarrelled? Did you trade and they prevented? And you have wanted in order, we would revenge, haven't you?
          -Nothing bad if I'm going to tell and to show you the truth. But at first the closest relatives have to be informed. Hardly they want to show it to the rest of the inhabitants of the village. She is perished. That's bad. But other inhabitants would see it. 
          Who was instead of a translator, he turned to the most aggressive one. His scorn look still was gloomy, however, it became an interrogative one. The translator turned to the old man again.
          -Why do you say "show"? Maybe you have a cassette. Give it to us. Don't be afraid. I neither joke, nor deceive. Here is he, - he said, touching with his palm the aggressive fellow who looked at Paul all the time, - is her brother. What a close relative else do you seek?
          Paul understood that in a similar situation even Russians likely would refrain from lying or drawing. He handed to the brother of the perished girl the cassette and a few papers joined with a clip. There was all information, facilitating access to the rear of the enemy. There was describing their habits, probable behaviour, including possible accomplices. There were all the details, even the codes of entrances, plans of flats, phone numbers and addresses, places and time of the most probably appearing of every accomplice in any day of the week.
          -In this movie you'll see everything that took place in fact. And here I have succeeded to collect everything to find and to catch them.
          -Are you sure, as if we are going to revenge?
          -If she was my daughter or granddaughter, I myself would revenge them. You will see, I learnt about them very much, however, it' more difficult than to kill them. I myself could do it, but at first, one must learn the truth.
          It was seen that they liked these words, especially when that who was instead of a translator, told them something, it's possible he has translated these words. They talked a lot, then the translator turned to the old man:
          -My name is Sultan. I'm sorry, but you have told us such a thing, we have to learn this better, so we should not let you go. You have to live with us, till we have known everything about this. We aren't going to report about you to militia, however, don't attempt to run away. Here is our guard, his name is Halid. If you attempt to escape, he will shoot. If you are an honest man, we will let you go after the verification. If all what you said and wrote here is truth, then even we will help you. Is the militia looking for you?
          -No. But who committed this, they have a lot of connections with big bosses in the militia. Here all is written, - the old man pointed at the sheets of paper, which victim's brother kept in his hand.
          -We have our own connections here. Their connections will not help them.
          -Maybe you ran away from the loony bin in Braguni, didn't you? - suddenly asked the deceased's brother, pronouncing the words with a forte local accent. It was apparent he didn't joke, but as a drowning man would catch at a straw, he clutched, at least, a little plausible version. Because if all this is the ravings of a madman, then his sister is alive. 
          Already they had turned off the road long ago, and now they walked along a footpath, which wound intricately among the bushes. Their conversation continued, but the old man understood nothing. The path began to head up the slope covered with forest. It seemed, they reached a top, but instead a top, it was only a decrease in the steepness of the rise. Rising still went for a long while and soon it became more steep than before. So they still went up till the path turned to the left and the way became relatively horizontal. Hearing their talking, a man with black beard went met them. He was dressed in the camouflage uniform and with a calpac on his head in spite of the summer.
          -Salaam Alaikum!
          -Walaikum Assalam!
          They were speaking not long. The bearded man turned to Paul:
          -From now you live here. My name is Khalid. You will eat well and go to the toilet, but don't even think about running away, - and he pointed at the holster, what hung on the side, then at the stairs where the old man had to go down.
          He went down the stairs. The door was opened. Before coming in, he turned to Khalid and said:
          -You will not have to shoot. I swear, I'm not going to run away through the door. I'll run away through the wall.
          -There are thirty feet of the stone rock. What are you going to do: to gnaw with your teeth or to scratch with fingernail? - After saying this he started to laugh purposely loud, but suddenly stopped. All the four who accompanied the old man looked at him, and he understood that one may not laugh now. Just they weren't still telling him what had occurred in Moscow.
          -Leave to me, please, only a pen and a paper, - asked Paul while they frisked him.
          -I see, you want to write memoirs, don't you? You even haven't an weapon?
          -I've arrived here not to make war, but to tell the truth.
          After frisking Paul, Khalid talked in Chechen with the attendants. After talking a little, he turned to the old man:
          -There is the food for you on the nightstand. Here is the bed. That door is the toilet. If you need to call us, click this button. And this is a switch for the lamp. Break nothing. Otherwise, we will make you repair or to work to pay damages. We think to treat you well, because we guess, you aren't guilty. however, be without tricks. - Khalid spoke Russian with a large accent, but more correctly than Sultan.
          -But I'll come out through the wall, because I'm not quite a human being. An usual man could not steal this cassette from the mafia.
          -It would very well if you ran away from the loony bin, - said Sultan sadly and pointing at Suleymanov, he added:
          -In such a case his sister would be alive.
          They came out from the basement to the stairs, and only now the old man saw the massive door, with peephole as in a prison, is closing.
          He sat at the table, took a pen, a paper, which was allowed to leave for him. He tried to write in block letters and strictly on the line. A paper was from a school notebook in a cage.
          "Dear friends! Just I wanted to help you. When you verify, you will see that all is right. Then you'll understand that I'm your friend. Don't take offense at Khalid, please. Nobody could hold me, even a regiment of soldiers, because I'm an alien from outer space. May Allah help you. Excuse me, and farewell". 
          The only movement and he is in the taiga. The night is light.
          -Hey, Olesya, Olesya! - he shouted with all his might.
          A weak voice has responded. Olesya was at the limit of hearing, but enough far. He headed for the voice, and soon they met.

Next chapter: http://la-flagellation.blogspot.ru/2017/11/the-teleportation-part-1-chapter-13-act.html

The original Russian text of the chapters from 10 to 12: http://www.proza.ru/2010/01/17/1172

The teleportation. Part 1. Chapter 11. The gained dirt.

          There were bloody cataclysms, which mowed people down in the like the plague epidemics in the middle ages and then they had cooled, sparkling goodbye with two murderous suns above Japan. The so called "socialist camp" was icebound with cold ice of the lifelessness. At first sight, in the street you could see sometimes smiling, even laughing people who were talking animatedly. However, this has been zombies. They thought in the same manner, they were dressed in the same manner, even they chose in the same manner the sexual partners. Those who didn't want or could not be identical, were gradually destroyed, but now it took place by another way and unnoticeable. The bullying at school, the bullying in the army, the loss of work, pushing on the lowest steps of the social ladder, occasional fatal conflicts, the madhouses, the prison camps, which are hotbeds of the homosexual rapes, the spreading public opinion, which promotes the godlessness, the aggression, the drunkenness, and in the case of some life failures the suicide. All this was in its essence arranged traps skillfully for those who had dared to express a dissent, but after arranging the traps, the hunter may put his gun aside and rest.
         Like a flashlight in pitch darkness, also the Khrushchev's "Thaw" had served as the same contrast, as if emphasizing the inviolability and imperishability of the glacial public order. The apocalyptic evil made a deal: making some concessions, it gained in return the calmness and order. A lot of misguided people thought that it has been forever. Even a lot of them thought that the people live so everywhere, and the countries blame each other for small things, like the rivals do, but in fact, being the same. But really, this apparent monumental equilibrium was like a rotten stump. And here finally, because of the almost imperceptible life movement this "stump" had begun to fall apart.
          The fresh breath of the life rushed outwards, breaking the erstwhile barriers, as the spring grass breaks the asphalt. The end of the hopelessness and despair! Eventually one may live as he likes; to love in characteristic of your own nature, to trade and to do business freely, to open a private company and don't be considered as a criminal because of this. A very large part of the people were embraced by the most positive expectations, and that's natural. Also in spring if the thermometer goes above +5, it seems the summer is beginning. Also a person who has received a good prize, he imagines himself as Rotshild.
          However the evil wasn't going to leave. While a lot of people rejoiced at the changes and freely traded everywhere, it sought feverishly the new forms of its staying in this part of the Earth. It wasn't difficult, because there were enough the examples in the conditions of the free western business either in the South of the Italy, that is in Sicily, or among the most backward national diasporas in New-York. In the territory of the former USSR the human material was very much spoiled by the red-fascist slavery, and in was simply perfect for new experimentation. Gradually all the country began to turn into a kind of the national shanty town. The division of the territory took place. Everyone who did a business, he has to pay to so called "bandit roof", representatives of which in their essence were as soldiers without uniform of the some illegal formation, which somewhere performed as safety functions and somewhere they performed the punitive ones. Above them there were corrupt local officials and the former employees of the disbanded divisions of the KGB, and the last of them were admirable instructors of the violence and punitive actions, because it was their specialty.
          The state was washing its hands. Now it may be considered like a democratic one, regarded as a country giving hope of the correction from the point of view of the advanced Western countries, also now the possibility appeared to use the west credits more and to use other benefits of the improving international relations. However, the dirty work, because of which the country wouldn't be admitted at all to world civilized community, now this work was carried out by so called bandits. Thanks to these groups, not only money went above. Also, they helped to keep all the business under control - here is what was so important for the customs of the serfdom in this country, where traditionally the people were afraid and hated the free self-respecting persons. These last could create a lot of independent companies without all the dirt of the Russian business, which well hampers economic development. Due to this absence of dirt, they would get ahead sharply, abandoning on the margins a great lot of the snobby retards, making them a laughing stock in front of the whole world, but a person who is not lazy, who has the hands to do and the head to think, he could live in the contentment and prosperity without any doubts. It would be the end of the Russian-soviet local kinglets, so there was ideas against the West, which were thrown to the narrow persons.
          The brightest and most advanced undertakings in the West, reaching the Soviet borders, they were subjected to a monstrous transformation, and being distorted beyond recognition, they became caricatures of themselves. It is enough the only example with the "Herbalife", if compare how many people were qualified for the "World Team" in the USA, Germany and Israel, but in Russia - not a single one! - according to several issues of the magazine "Herbalife today" in the 1995.
          Here is why the patriotic card was played out so passionately. The communists, which in the first play worshiped the idol of the "Motherland" and only after this - Lenin, they not only were not persecuted, but even there wasn't a normal trial against them, as in Nuremberg, in order for ever to shackle to the pillory the cannibalistic doctrine whom fruit had turned out to be an incredible genocide. 
          The apocalyptic evil in the former USSR needed to satisfy two conditions: the first one, in order the global community would tolerate it; second one: to keep the positions as much as possible. However, it had to make concessions as in the 1956, also in the 1991, and not small, and so called democracy, in spite of all its uglinesses it was much better than the former bacchanal of the Soviet power. Until "summer" it still was far, but the "winter" already had been over. More likely it was "an early spring".
          The not very conspicuous war between "bandit roofs" for the sphere of influence was being over gradually ended, and the question who should be above these "roofs", was solved by the higher authorities. A group who dares to do the nasty without agreeing from above, it would immediately be crushed by the OMON, and a destiny of these people at the best wouldn't differ from a destiny of a thief who has arrived in an unknown city and was caught while pick-pocketing.
          In the epoch of Brezhnev, Colonel worked in the capacity of investigator, captain of the militia in the Mordovian ASSR. His maniacal passion to become a colonel caused the nickname, which one can see not so rare. There are many innocent victims on his conscience, a lot of years spent in the prison camps without guilty by various unfortunate people. A lot of those who didn't want to take the blame for a crime, which they did not commit, were maimed by him and his colleagues. This helped him to feel his authority, to enjoy it. Also, this helped him to rush to greater power. This passion drowned out in him all the rest, all the human ones. Because of the such a way of life, sometimes bouts of the mental anguish embraced him, hopeless and incomprehensible. Sometimes he succeeded to neutralize this anguish, using a demonstration of his power above the detained. In spite of his false pride and showy polish, he was very unhappy and made others unhappy too.
          In the years of the perestroika, at first timidly, but then confidently, the things began being called by their proper names. It was unexpected for himself, however, he was brought out into open. During working in the militia he managed to steal a lot and to acquire some connections, which now became him very useful. However, the greatest thing, what almighty patrons could do for him, this is to help him not to spend a very long time in the prison camps. He understood not at once that a proposal to leave the job and to leave from Mordovia for good, was greatest benefit and rescue for him. However, relatively quickly he understood it. Also, one of high-ranking guy, whom father was a torturer in Lubyanka too, one day drinking the cognac together, clarified him that the perestroika backward is impossible. He himself began to guess, even if it is some moving back, then it will be nothing similar to the past. One must seek his place, before it will be too late, to take an own niche in the changed situation.
          After selling flat in Saransk, Colonel bought a dacha near Moscow. Naturally, not without help from above, he was appointed as a brigadier of one of the bandit "roofs". In this well-paying place, he accumulated money for an apartment in Podlipki and firmly settled down near Moscow, nibbling off one tidbit after another. The protectors straightened him if he went too far, they alluded where and what one can and what cannot, and already long ago he had learnt to understand what they meant. In turn, he tried to be useful for his patrons, but even without this they felt intuitively that he is their insider. He understood clearly that almost anything is allowed for him. The only line he had not to cross, that's to trouble the public opinion, but he didn't need it. The public already got used to the shots, during the division of the territory. If he or his accomplices disported with the girls, the victims were selected on several grounds, and the main of them was a fact, the victim herself pretended, as if she came in with the invitation to amuse, because she was without complexes and choose a reasonable option, after which wolves are sated and sheep are intact, and she understood that it would be meaningless and useless to report or resist. Objectively, it wouldn't be right to consider these events as grave crimes, because the most of the victims felt only a small moral discomfort. But it was quite another thing if a victim considered her life spoiled after the case. As a rule such girls were visiting in Moscow from different provinces. In such a case she was made to drink either vodka or cheap drugs, or usual sleeping tablets and thrown out of the car on a road, enough far from their den. However, when a girl of a nation, the people of which who are able to hold his own, she was caught up in their nets, Colonel became obstinate. This provoked him. He decided to show to all people around, but in turn to himself that there can be no exceptions for his authority. But just in case, in order not create a superfluous problem, he has murdered the victim at the same time with the recalcitrant competitor.
          Working with stolen documents, Paul learnt that 90% of the initiative issued from Colonel, that is to grab the profitable places, using the violence and threats. He was protected by quite influential people from the MIA of Russia. In spite of the fact they did not care, in what order the money mixed below, because all the same this money was flowing into their hand, however, they had not any wish to their beloved dog, who served them well, would be offended by anyone. And if their child takes away other children's toys, wherever possible, then let him amuse.
          Paul understood that he was lucky very much, but regretted, because he got lucky, but a very high price: the innocent girl's life was ruined. He could destroy this man in any case. For example, to set on them against each other how he did before and not once. He was sorry that as if he would shoot sparrows from a cannon. Only by the age of seventy he realized, he was meant to be a scout, a secret agent more than an actor. He understood, according to his vocation, he had the best to be born in the medieval Japan, in the clans Iga or Koga, he could there become a ninja at the high level. However, God decided otherwise, and that meant that he had better to be so, he needed this experience more than another, which, in spite of this, seemed more attractive and more appropriate. All the same, it was a little bore, because in cases, which he could be a professional and succeed only with empty hands, but he had to apply such a powerful remedy, using it, it was possible to turn over the world.
         However, he was consoled by the fact that he has missions more difficult in the close future. To teach Albert not only the teleportation, this was easy, but also to make him an agent of the alive world who would be penetrated into this world of the fool and vile people. Also Olesya. Only because of the memory of her name he became younger. As yet he must not to teach her the teleportation, but after his death, she has to be able to defend herself, then she will have better can find another lover. Let him be old if she likes so, but not a fool and not a traitor. At any cost, while he is alive, he has to make her a US citizen. However, he could teleport only being alone. The old man didn't know  the mechanism he used. Likely the aura around him took with him his clothes and all small things, which were in his big pockets, including the cellular, even the axe. But any person could not be taken together, even embracing. It was impossible to take with him a big suitcase. As a last resort it was possible, for example, teleport in New-York, leaving the hand keeping the suitcase in the Krasnoyarsk region, then either leave the suitcase and get the hand free, or return back in full, without leaving the suitcase. It was impossible to teleport together with another person or big things.
          The old man thought about all this, performing the boring work. Using the collected data, he was composing a text to help the perished girl's relatives to commit an action of the just retribution. There are a lot of his fingerprints on the text. So he xeroxed it and didn't touch it with his hands anymore, only being gloved, but more often he underlaid other paper. Already he rewrote the terrible cassette a few times. The original was returned in its place long ago. When all the data was ready to transmit, as usual, he was going to say goodbye to Olesya, he said that leaves for one place and will return at midnight. She knew nothing about the teleportation and thought that Paul visits the taiga it's unclear why. She was astonished, how he finds a time to communicate with some gangs. She thought as if all this nidus, how the old man said, is situated in Krasnoyarsk. However, even to leave for Krasnoyarsk in the early morning by the public transport and return at midnight would be a problem. She thought he uses the passing cars for money. Her old and "cool" lover didn't hide a fact that he has bundles of money in his pockets. The landscapes in the movie didn't provoke her suspicion. At least, Paul could influence the situation through friends, which she didn't know.
          It would be no good for her to appear in the sight of the inhabitants of the village. They could connect with the militia and she could be returned by force in the children's home, where she would be abused by all kinds of scoundrels again. Without wishing to stay at home in such good weather, he asked to walk in the taiga. The old man led her out through a secret gate. The fence in the back of the yard divided the yard from the forest. There was an imperceptible gate in the fence. She had seen his pockets were full today. After walking a mile, they said goodbye and the old man strictly forbid her to continue following him. In five minutes as he went away, she still decided to follow him. She ran silently in the direction he could be, but the old man Paul disappeared, like he never existed.

Next chapter: http://la-flagellation.blogspot.ru/2017/11/the-teleportation-part-1-chapter-12.html