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
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
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