The first part of the "long road in the dunes" is over - in Russia, at last, a federal commissioner for the protection of business interests has appeared. This event was preceded by endless discussions on a number of fundamentally important issues, the main of which was the following: what will the business community get from a certain intercessor for its own affairs? Who will he be, this ombudsman - an adviser, a public figure or just an official under the head of government?

Our local coordinating council for SMEs, I remember, emphasized that this position should be state, with a clearly defined terms of reference, otherwise who will listen to the “authorized person”? The voice of the defender of the merchants will not reach the ear of the boss, who will have the right to "final paper". There was already an example of this kind. In Ulyanovsk, the Ombudsman holds the rank of Deputy Prime Minister of the regional government. But if it is an official, then his circulation in society will also be bureaucratic in its main features, that is, it is known which one ... And even though they will call him a beautiful foreign name, designed to mediate, this will not introduce anything fundamentally new into social metabolism. Unless it will become a new word in state construction.

And if so, then it would be better if the German experience was taken as a model. There, not only is there no entrepreneurship outside of membership in the chambers of commerce and industry, but also these chambers are like a special entrepreneurial ministry: they sit everywhere, participate everywhere, all laws are voted - at least by signatures, without which, however, not a single act of business will not take off. At the moment, the German chambers of commerce and industry are involved in the formation of budgets at all levels, the development of construction and industry, the preparation of bills relating to the regulation of small businesses. Chambers of Commerce and Industry have a great influence on all aspects of society, participating in the meeting of local governments.

In our country, this topic was well highlighted last summer at a meeting of the Public Chamber of the Republic of Tatarstan by Khuzina from Delovaya Rossiya and Shamsutdinov from Right Cause. "DR" boasted of the analytical notes of the "Barometer" project, with which she filled up the tables of the government, and "PD" was importunately interested in:

- Veta is not?

- And what is under the veto in the country? - DR boiled. “If it were, we wouldn’t be sitting here.

Symptomatically: "public activists" longed for an administrative cudgel, and not, for example, to develop arbitration arbitration, which would not allow a mass of disputes to reach an official trial, with which business representatives are categorically dissatisfied.

The country has a great number of public organizations designed to represent and protect the interests of business. And there are many of them in the republic - more than three dozen. And what? Who among the entrepreneurs will remember them offhand?

- The Association of Small and Medium Businesses, the Association of Enterprises and Entrepreneurs, the Chamber of Commerce and Industry, the Farmers Association - what else? What else can be known to a businessman of my level? - exclaimed then the general director of "Elemte" Z. Shafikova.

We have organizations for every taste: for parties, New Year's balls, training courses ... Yes, but businessmen do not really want to go to matinees and opening days. Almost 170 thousand SMEs alone - and only 20 thousand members of public organizations. Will the authorities seriously listen to every eighth or ninth person?

Vladimir Zhuikov, who represented the "Center for Business Services" of the Chamber of Commerce and Industry, I remember, for a long time listed organizations that, in theory, should protect the interests of entrepreneurs. And he asked himself a rhetorical question: will there be a “synergistic effect” from the establishment of a regional ombudsman? It will, of course, how not to be. Will it block another synergistic effect that comes from fear of the authorities and legal illiteracy?

There are, of course, serious successes in the profile, so to speak, properties. The Farmer's Association designs insurance and banking products and offers them to bankers and insurers. You can deal with arbitration courts, legal services, business lunches. Yes, not much else. But a specific area of ​​relations with the administration has been and continues to be served by specific intercessor mediators. It is difficult to expect that the Ombudsman will strongly press them.

So far, there is a regional ombudsman only in Ulyanovsk. But what the Ulyanovsk guest, Deputy Prime Minister Anatoly Saga told our local entrepreneurs, did not connect in his mind with human rights activities, even if they were so specific. At best, it looks like the work of a specialist in psychological communications between the population and the authorities. Relations are warming, of course, but that's all.

No one then objected and does not object that ombudsmen-arbitrators are needed and important - regional and federal. But it is more logical to develop what already exists and for some reason is stalling.

Public activists-businessmen bitterly stated that, for example, Canadian public activists consider bank interest more important than anything else, which they are not interested in. Business rights are protected by the state of businessmen. And disputes are resolved in courts.

“Half of the people need loans, investors. Public organizations do not have systematic work on this part. Focus on the financial component." Maybe, indeed, kickbacks and other things of the same kind are inevitable when they are waiting for help from the state? The giver will always hurt the taker.

Baitemirov has long been talking about the turnover of land - more precisely, its absence, Salagaev - about huge kickbacks to administrators who "will put in a good word" for a loan applicant, others - about "leasing", squandering state support to entrepreneurs ... It was, in essence, about a threat to the entire economy. About threats to all citizens. This means that it is rather strange to artificially narrow the issue down to the entrepreneurial segment, the plots recorded only within this social stratum. It's like a substitution of concepts. In the West, the financial ombudsman resolves disputes between banks and consumers of their services, without distinguishing social status of people. In Britain, the Guardian, for example, maintains an independent ombudsman editor to deal with reader complaints about journalists - all readers!

Most likely, judging by the statements of Boris Titov, it is not investments that will come to the fore in the work of the ombudsmen, but the rights of businessmen, the review of cases opened against entrepreneurs, and contacts with the law enforcement system. In any case, violations of rights long before the appointment of the federal commissioner were monitored by the Opora Rossii special bureau. Apparently not relying on the speedy progress of the judicial system, Titov also called for the development of powerful arbitration, that is, to remove disputes from the business community as much as possible from the jurisdiction of official courts.

Another note. In progressive countries, the ombudsman is a "parliamentary" rank that controls the actions of government departments. Is the Deputy Prime Minister in this case an ombudsman? Rather, another official on special assignments. Putin called such a figure "procedurally significant." Characteristically, no one remembers the Guild of SMEs, which brought people to the streets. The full is not a friend to the hungry.

The Ombudsman will have the right to defend the interests of entrepreneurs in court, consider their claims, make proposals to state authorities, as well as the right to suspend departmental regulations pending a court decision and, as interim measures, apply to the court to promptly suspend the actions of officials. In addition, according to the prime minister, associations of entrepreneurs will have the right to file lawsuits to protect the interests of merchants.

ABOUT mbudsman(from Swedish ombudsman, ombudsman, “representative”, entered Russian through English, hence “men”) - in some states, an official who is entrusted with the functions of monitoring the observance of the legitimate rights and interests of citizens in the activities of executive authorities and officials. The official job titles vary from country to country.

The post of "parliamentary ombudsman" was first established by the Swedish Riksdag in 1809. The official title of the position of such a state controller is different: for example, in France - an intermediary, in the UK, New Zealand, India - a parliamentary commissioner (authorized). In some countries, there are several ombudsmen, each of which is assigned a specific area of ​​​​management (in Sweden, for example, civil, military and consumer affairs). They are elected by parliament or appointed by the head of state. When checking the actions of officials of the state apparatus, the Ombudsman does not have the right to cancel their decisions, but can give appropriate recommendations. In most countries, its control is very limited, it does not apply to the activities of the government, ministers, foreign affairs agencies, police, municipal bodies.

The whole genre of alternative history rests on "What would happen if ...?" So, the hero of this novel, a senior police lieutenant, having inadvertently pleased in 1911, faced this dilemma. Fortunately, Stas is a man of action. You can think fast and very fast. And therefore, having quickly calculated the key moments of that difficult time, he decides, for starters, to save Prime Minister Stolypin from the bullet of the anarchist Bogrov. The main thing is to get involved, and then the battle will show ...

The work belongs to the genre Detectives. It was published in 2019 by AST. The book is part of the Modern Science Fiction Action (ACT) series. On our site you can download the book "Officer for special assignments" in fb2, rtf, epub, pdf, txt format or read online. The rating of the book is 4.27 out of 5. Here you can also refer to the reviews of readers who are already familiar with the book before reading and find out their opinion. In our partner's online store you can buy and read the book in hard copy.

Yuri and Vera Kamensky

Officer for Special Assignments

Part I. Unaccounted for

Chapter 1

From a trifle, everything, in general, began. Of course, when you are going to "firearms", all seven senses are fully mobilized. And then, business, then interrogate the teacher on fraud. Among other gullible fools, she gave money for cheap black caviar. Well, you have to think about it. So where does this smart girl teach?

Stas glanced at the diary. Gymnasium No. 1520 ... but, in Leontievsky, next to the old MUR. He himself, of course, did not catch this, the building in Bolshoy Gnezdnikovsky was demolished before the war.

The weather was surprisingly sunny. For Moscow March, the phenomenon is, frankly, atypical. You can also walk on foot, fortunately, not so far, otherwise you have already smoked all the lungs in the office.

Senior Lieutenant Sizov ran down the stairs, showed his ID to the sentry at the exit, and, opening the heavy doors, went out into the street. The sun was already shining like spring, and, behold, the breeze was blowing quite fresh. He squinted, looked straight at the sun, zipped his jacket up to his throat, and slowly walked down the stairs.

A flock of laughing female students hurried to the glass cafe, giving him, on the run, appraising and mischievous glances. Next, a pensioner in "professor's" glasses walked sedately, leading a red-haired dachshund with a gray-haired muzzle on a leash. From the balcony, a black dog greeted her with a booming bass, thumping with his tail on the bars that protected his freedom - you see, old acquaintances. Granny, hurrying to the bus that was approaching the bus stop, awkwardly hit him with a shopping bag, and she herself was almost knocked down by a skateboarder who flew by with a torpedo.

Somewhere, on the verge of hearing, the ambulance siren was screaming, hurrying to the call. A bluish cloud of exhaust hung in the air from cars rolling in a wave, another hour, and traffic jams would begin. Everyone has their own affairs and worries, no one cares about him. Leisurely walking along Strastnoy Boulevard, Stas was not thinking about the upcoming interrogation. Why break your head there, everything is simple, like a child's ass. Yesterday's book was in my head. The name of the author was somehow interesting - Marhuz or a surname like that? He even “scored” it into Yandex, having learned, among other things, that it was some kind of fabulous beast. Already by this it was clear that the writer was a great original.

The book was written in the alternative history genre. It seems that the entire literary world is simply obsessed with this "alternative" - ​​they shred this poor story, whoever is in what much. However, "The Elder Tsar John the Fifth", unlike other writers, was written in a very entertaining way. And made me think, for that matter. At least, that our life is a chain of continuous accidents. Here, for example, if he falls ill now, and all the cases that he has in production will go to Mishka.

It’s not even the point that the “roommate” in the office will curse him last words. They just have a very different way of working. Mikhail, straight as a handle from a shovel, working with suspects, suppressed their will. No, not with fists. Beating is the last thing, pure profanity. Well, you make a person sign the protocol of interrogation, so what? He will sit in a cell for a week, listen to experienced "prisoners", talk to a lawyer - and went to the prosecutor's office "cart".

It's not even that the prosecutor's office and the "bounty hunters" will drink a bucket of blood. She is sucked for far-fetched reasons - just go! - and, simply, a swindler in a court session will sing the same song. And he will be justified, this is not the old days for you, the end of the 20th century is in the yard. Humanization, glasnost, pluralism and, God knows how much, any fashionable chiaroscuro. Thanks to enlightened Europe, you might think that before them we slurped cabbage soup with bast shoes.

So, Bradbury, perhaps, was right about something - if you crush a butterfly in the Cretaceous period, you will get another president “at the exit”. Another thing is that no one, of course, will follow this regularity, and will take it for granted. He will also say with a smart look: "History does not know the subjunctive mood." She told you herself, didn't she?

The screech of brakes whipped through his nerves, causing him to look up. The gleaming radiator of the Land Cruiser moved inexorably toward him, and time seemed to stretch. Stas already felt the heat from the engine, the smell of burnt gasoline, the car was advancing slowly and steadily, like a steam locomotive going downhill. The body did not have time to get out of the way, and, then again, the leg caught on the curb .... He rushed with all his strength, and suddenly ... a snoring horse's muzzle appeared right before his eyes, his face smelled of acrid horse sweat. The end of the shaft hit his chest, knocking the last of the air out of his lungs. The street swirled before my eyes. The last thing he heard, falling on his back, was a selective mate.

Coming to his senses, he felt an unpleasant cold on his face, as if he had been buried with his muzzle in a melted snowdrift. Stas tried to brush away this cold, but someone held his hand.

Lie down, young man, - said a calm male voice.

His head was still spinning, he opened his eyes, saw a man with a beard leaning over him. The light irritated and Stas closed his eyelids again.

“A doctor with an ambulance,” a thought surfaced, “it wasn’t enough to thunder in Sklif yet. Damn it, like, nothing is broken. They’ll keep them for a week, and then I’ll rake things with a shovel. Where did the horse come from?

And the people, standing over him, discussed him as if he was not there, or he had already died.

You see, alien.

"Why did it happen? A native Muscovite, by the way.

American, apparently. You see, the pants are stitched. I took one of these.

“Is he talking about jeans, or what? Found, damn it, a curiosity - jeans in Moscow. Village, right? Yes, they are in any village.

Wouldn't die.

"Ah, here, to hell with you, you can't wait."

Overpowering himself, Stas opened his eyes and tried to sit up.

Lie down, lie down, it's bad for you to move.

Again this one, with a beard.

It’s bad for me to lie down, - Stas muttered, - there is no time.

He stood up with difficulty, listening to himself. The chest, of course, ached a little, but it was quite tolerable. Brushing off his pants, he glanced at the people standing next to him. The fact that “something is not right” with them, he understood immediately. What exactly is "not that"? Consciousness gradually cleared up and, slowly, began to evaluate the information that, without stint, gave eyes.

Now, of course, it is difficult to surprise anyone with the strangest clothes, but, to be like this, all at once? As if he got into the crowd on the filming of the "old time". Naturally, the cab driver standing next to the cab is dressed like a cab driver from the beginning of the century. And a lady with a coat on her shoulders, well, straight to you, the lady from the picture, and next to her, a simple-looking woman in a plush skirt opened her mouth. The pot-bellied uncle snorted and puzzledly scratched the top of his head with his five fingers. Signboards with "yat" climbed over my eyes. The Mummers, in turn, stared at him like kindergartners at Christmas tree. Now, of course, there are no services of any kind ... and shows. Who will surprise you with this “retro” now? But a bunch of logical "inconsistencies" grew like an avalanche.

Chapter 2

Well, just like in the movies. The portrait of Tsar Nicholas on the wall, heavy velvet curtains and the furnishings appropriate to the time - a complete entourage. From behind a massive table, a tall, broad-shouldered man with a lush mustache, exactly like in the portrait in the book, rose to meet him.

Hello, Arkady Frantsevich.

Please, sit down, - Russian Sherlock Holmes gestured at the leather armchair, - how would you like to be called? Thank you, Vladimir Ivanovich, you can be free.

The young detective, placing his pistol and ID in front of his head, inaudibly disappeared through the door.

Stas. Stanislav Sizov. Detective.

And, colleague., - Koshko, having opened the certificate, carefully studied it, - the detective, hmm ... what a strange position, the right word ..

What's strange here? - shrugged operas, - Although, yes. Oper-fell-wet. This is how they make fun of us, joke, in a sense.

It's funny, - the detective laughed, - fell wet. The Russian people know how to twist something like that ..

Before, in fact, we were called inspectors of the criminal investigation department.

Well, it sounds much more noble, - the state adviser nodded approvingly, - otherwise, it fell, wet, bad taste. In what year did you see the light, Mr. Sizov?

In the sixties, - Stas answered and, having already answered, he realized that the seasoned detective simply “spoke his teeth”, - in nineteen hundred and sixty.

And your pistol was made, exactly, in the year you were born,” Koshko said thoughtfully, “right for you, Herbert Wells. And what, the time machine is invented? No, according to your testimony.

No, it hasn't been invented yet.

I got what you mean. You know, what I like about this whole incident is, well, this is its utter absurdity.

Well, yes, - Stas nodded, - it was possible to invent something more useful.

That's it, - the famous detective nodded, - it's more useful, you rightly deigned to notice. This story does not promise you anything but a headache.

That's it, - muttered the opera.

Arkady Frantsevich rubbed his forehead.

Speaking mercantilely, for you this adventure is like smoking a hare, but, here, for me, as a detective, well, like a gift from above. You, I dare to hope, did well in the gymnasium on the history of the Fatherland?

I was in time, - Stas nodded with a wry smile, remembering the textbook "History of the USSR". - and, most importantly, he himself then read the history of our book. For you, of course, I am a valuable source of information, the goat understands.

Koshko, of course, noted the sarcasm that sounded in the interlocutor's answer, but did not react to it in any way, only an eyebrow, slightly noticeably, rose.

And the memory of me survived?

And by the way he asked it, Stas realized that the question was not idle.

“And you,” he grinned to himself, “nothing human is alien.”

They remember you, - he nodded, - they put you as an example to us. They call you the Russian Sherlock Holmes.

Nice to hear, of course. But I really talked to you, I beg your pardon.

He picked up the phone.

Sergey Ivanovich, please, order a dinner for two persons in the restaurant. No, over here. Thank you.

Well, here, - Koshko smiled, - now we will have dinner, what God sent, and then, don’t blame me, you will tell me about your past, and I will listen about our future, I apologize for the pun.

The State Councilor carefully blotted his mustache with a crisp napkin. The adjutant brought in a tray covered with a napkin, on which stood a covered teapot, a silver sugar bowl, and two tea glasses in glass holders.

Thank you, Sergey Ivanovich.

Nodding, the officer silently disappeared through the door.

Tea, I suppose, has not stopped drinking in Russia? - Koshko asked, filling the glasses with a drink as dark as tar.

They didn’t stop, - Stas nodded, sipping from a glass, - this, however, is rarely possible to drink. Hurry, racing. More sachets.

Silk, like the Chinese, or what?

Paper ones, - the operas sighed heavily.

Paper? - the detective was surprised, - Well, this, your will, is a mauvais ton of the purest water. How can you?

God be with him, with tea, - Stas shook his head decisively, - there is a matter that cannot be delayed. Four days later, in Kyiv, student Dmitry Bogrov will kill Pyotr Arkadievich Stolypin with a shot from a revolver.

Do you remember the details? - Koshko immediately crept up, as before the jump.

The king with the whole court will be in Kyiv. Naturally, the prime minister will also be there.

Stas spoke dryly, briefly, detachedly. Emotions are over, work has begun.

The head of the Kyiv Security Department, in my opinion, the surname is Kulyabko.

The cat nodded silently.

I received information from my agent Dmitry Bogrov that at night a woman arrived in Kyiv, on whom the combat squad was assigned to carry out a terrorist act - the murder of Stolypin.

Bogrov said that he knew her by sight and would help, if anything, to identify her. Kulyabko wrote him a pass to the theatre. Bogrov went there and fired two shots from a revolver at the prime minister. From instant death he was saved by the order, which was hit by a bullet. Changing direction, she passed the heart. On the fifth, if I am not mistaken, September, Stolypin will die in the hospital. They say there was a version that Bogrov carried out the task of the Okhrana.

All the while Stas was talking, the detective listened to him without interrupting. He didn't ask a single question the entire time. When the opera fell silent, he sat for a long time, thinking about something. It was not difficult for Stas to calculate the course of his thoughts. He himself, if he were in Koshko's place, would break through two directions. First, is his strange appearance part of a giant misinformation? It is not clear, of course, for what purpose, but when it becomes clear, it will be too late. In politics, sometimes, such multi-moves are played, the grandmaster smokes. And the second - if true, how to protect the prime minister, who, in life, does not listen to advice, but rushes like a bull at a red light? The task is not for the first class, frankly.

So, there is such a version that the head of the gendarme department contributed to this? - said, finally, Koshko, - Kulyabko, of course, bourbon and stupid, what to look for, but an honest man.

I have the impression that he was simply outplayed, - Stas decided to interject.

Koshko silently nodded, continuing to ponder something.

So, so, Mr. Inspector, I will not prevaricate, I have thoughts on your account. Both "pro" and "contra", do not blame me. If you are a detective yourself, then, you know, in our accursed trade, trust is worth a lot, and it can cost a lot. But the stakes are painfully high. If we lose Pyotr Arkadievich, we will screw up Russia, I beg your pardon.

He looked searchingly at the opera. Stas was silent. The well-known detective was right, which is already there.

Let's do this, - continued Koshko, - I appoint you as an official for special assignments. I'll settle the formalities at the top myself, this is my sadness. But if it turns out that you, sir, are a hoaxer, do not blame me - I will shoot myself.

I agree, - Stas said calmly, - about Stolypin and my contemporaries have the same opinion. Only the main trouble is not in the terrorists, but in the king. Your autocrat is weak, you'll excuse me if I accidentally violated something.

He is not only ours, but also yours, - the detective said with pressure, - and “violated”, I dare say, is not the right word. I advise you to think ahead.

So you thought of it, - Stas muttered uncompromisingly, - they banged the prime minister, then together they merged Russia to the Bolsheviks. And eighty years later, the opera in the offices began to be hung up, because the family is starving, and the salary is not paid for three months.

He got carried away. But the defiant look of the opera came across the bewildered eyes of the great detective. There was such undisguised pain that Stas felt ashamed.

How can this be? - quietly asked Koshko.

Excuse me, - Stas felt unbearably ashamed, as if he had whipped a small child in the face, - forgive me, Arkady Frantsevich. We have there Lately not all was well. Tell you - do not believe. Yes, and probably not worth it.

Worth it, - the detective said firmly, - but more on that later. If everything is as you say, it must be broken. But now the main thing is to save Pyotr Arkadyevich. How do you, - he turned the conversation into a more urgent direction, - do you prefer your weapon or is it better to take it from our arsenal? I'm afraid that this type of cartridges are not found now. Except that.

Having examined the PM, he skillfully pressed the latch, pulled out the magazine and, having clicked out the cartridge, twisted it in his fingers.

From Parabellum Borchard-Luger is suitable?

No. This one is a millimeter shorter. And a different type.

Because?

Here, I would take Parabellum. Can?

Why not? - Koshko shrugged his mighty shoulders, - Parabellum, so Parabellum. Well, of course, you need to change clothes. In some form, you, God knows, for whom they will take. It's out of place in your new position, you know.

Yes, who argues? - Stas was surprised, - Only, here, our money is not in use here, but I don’t have yours, you know.

Let me be curious.

He took the outstretched twenty-five rubles, carefully examined it, rubbed his forehead, - this profile, your will, reminds me of someone.

Well, yes, - Stas grinned, - now he, perhaps, is on the wanted list. Vladimir Ilyich Ulyanov - Lenin, the founder of the world's first state of workers and peasants.

State Founder? - Koshko twisted his lips in disgust, - Is this lawyer, a socialist?

That's why they ate you up, - the opera said mercilessly, - because you didn't take them seriously. They will not liberalize with you. Okay, not by the time this topic, then I'll tell you with all the details. You will forget about sleep for three days, I guarantee.

Two hours later, senior police lieutenant Sizov, now an official for special assignments under the head of the Russian detective, entered Koshko's office. This time he was wearing a gray double-breasted wool suit. The clothes, in principle, were not too different from those to which he was accustomed. Except, perhaps, a bowler hat. But during these years, it was decidedly not accepted to appear on the street without a headdress.

In his pocket was a solid wad of money and a document certifying that Sizov Stanislav Yuryevich was not just anyone, but oh-hoo. And, as a finishing touch to his new position, a brand new Parabellum, habitually tucked into his pants belt.

Come in, Arkady Frantsevich is waiting for you, - said the adjutant.

Thank you, Sergey Ivanovich, - Stas responded politely, opening the door.

Already at the very threshold, he quickly looked over his shoulder and caught a look full of dislike. Yes, his adjutant doesn't like that, and don't go to grandma. Although, why, it seems. Or does he not like everyone who gets too close to his boss?

Well, now, it's a completely different matter, - the state adviser greeted him, - now they will give a car. We'll have dinner on the train, time is precious.

The railway station square greeted them with ringing cries of boys selling newspapers, which famously maneuvered between the public, with the cries of lively hawkers offering hot pies and bagels, piping hot.

Everything was decorous on the platform - the ringing of the bell, which marked the arrival of the train, the puffing of the locomotive, shrouded in hissing steam. And, no fuss and nervousness for you when boarding the cars. Porters in aprons carried suitcases, trunks and bags of departing passengers under the lazy gaze of the attendant.

And the platform lived its own life - the chesty laughter of a lady in a long cape and the gallant bow of the officer who saw her off. Cheerful chirping of kids that, under the supervision of a skinny maman and a portly nanny, proceeded to the next carriage. The prim German is important and imperturbable, and then minces the “bun” in a bowler hat and with a monocle. Young officers look at him mockingly and laugh merrily, full of youth and youthful recklessness. Aha! They made a stand on a pretty girl. Well, nothing is new in this world!

The first blow on the bell rang and the mourners left the cars. At the second blow, the locomotive answered with a whistle and puffed, throwing clouds of smoke into the sky. The train shuddered, twitched and, moving from its place, began to pick up speed. Stas, thinking about his own, followed the floating platform with his eyes. The conductor, who peered through the door, politely asked: would the gentlemen deign to have tea or would they prefer to go to the restaurant? Definitely, here the passenger service is at the proper level - this is not disgusting for you - boorish service from his time.

He gradually delved into the life of this Russia and caught himself thinking that he was sincerely sorry to lose her - such. Outside the window of the car floated black as ink, the night with the occasional lights of substations.

Believe me, Stanislav, - Koshko sighed, adding a little bit of cognac to the glasses of tea, - I, after all, am an old detective, beaten and beaten. What you tell me the truth, I see.

I can’t understand,” he continued, “how could it happen that the Sovereign, in general, with this, God forgive me, trash, entered into negotiations? In 905, all these Robespierres were dispersed by one Semyonovsky regiment like the wind of autumn leaves. Where was the Life Guards? Just do not say that they betrayed themselves.

They didn’t surrender, - Stas shook his head sadly, - they disappeared in the Pinsk swamps. He sent them there himself. That's right, Arkady Frantsevich.

This dialogue was preceded by a long story. Stas, sparing the detective, led an excursion into national history. True, about the most extreme moments - about the impalement of priests and other Middle Ages - he, having regretted the interlocutor's nerves, did not spread too much. The cat was enough for his eyes and what he heard. He was already aware of rampant terrorism. I also listened calmly about the Russian-German war. The story about the execution of the royal family made the state councilor grit his teeth, only the jaws went on his cheekbones.

Oper, looking at the genuine confusion of the State Councilor, has already begun to think - for evil or for the good of his appearance here? He did not suffer from youthful maximalism for a long time. And about the butterfly Ray Bradbury remembered well. And, also, where the road paved with good intentions leads. He understood one thing very well - he would not achieve a complete understanding of the situation from the locals. Monarchists will be loyal to the tsar, regardless of whether it will turn out to be good or bad for Russia. Revolutionaries, too, take out and put down the overthrow of the autocracy, and no nails. And then they will take each other like spiders in a jar.

I wonder if an official for special assignments is a big enough "bump" to start his game? Yes, no, - he mentally pulled himself up, - have you lost your mind, or what? It's cheaper to squeeze between Scylla and Charybdis. There, and then, more chances. Yes, what is there, if we talk about the chances, he has them, like a mouse between two millstones.

Okay, colleague, - Koshko yawned, - let's sleep, perhaps. We will arrive in Kyiv only tomorrow evening. The sovereign will only arrive in five or six days. So, I think we have time. Yes, how do you like the facilities here? You, I suppose, progress has stepped so far that we, the dark ones, could not even dream of.

How can I tell you, - Stas answered evasively, - I didn’t ride in the general’s cars. In simple, of course, there is no such luxury. But the trains, of course, run faster. Good night, Your Excellency.

He, little by little, began to grow into this new old life._

1 Stas did not make a reservation, this is exactly what is written in the materials of the criminal case. The fact is that until about the 30s of the 20th century, the words “pistol” and “revolver” were full synonyms.

Well, I've already seen so many storytellers here ... - the bailiff chuckled, - one more, one less ....

And Stas told. Calmly, slowly, in order. When he named his year of birth, both raised their eyebrows slightly. After the episode with the jeep and the driver who replaced it, the duty officer nodded to Semyonov at the door, and he went out without uttering a sound. Returning about ten minutes later, he placed a thickly written form on the duty officer's desk.

The driver fully confirms that this gentleman appeared out of nowhere right in the middle of the street.

He waved his hand. It was clear even without words - what the hell does a cab driver need?

Well, what are you supposed to do? - the duty officer rubbed his cheek, - Decisively, I am lost ....

Can you tell me, - broke the pause of the operas, - what date is it today? And what year?

Okay, mister bailiff, I went to the post. History, of course, is interesting, but lack of time.

Go, go, Semyonov. And in fact...

Farewell, Mr. Sizov. Hope to see you again. I really want to ask you something. If you don't mind, of course.

I don’t mind, - Stas sighed, - where will I go now ....

When the door closed behind the policeman, he suddenly slapped his forehead.

Wait, mister bailiff... you have, after all, Koshko Arkady Frantsevich is in command?

State Councilor Koshko is the head of our police. So, his name has been preserved in the annals of history?

It has been preserved, - Stas nodded, - but is it true that any person from the street can get to see him?

Stas. Stanislav Sizov. Detective.

And, colleague ..., - Koshko, opening the certificate, carefully studied it, - detective, hmm ... what a strange position, the right word ....

What's strange here? - shrugged operas, - Although, yes ... operas-fell-soaked. This is how they make fun of us ... they joke, in a sense.

It's funny, - the detective laughed, - fell wet. The Russian people know how to twist something like that ....

Before, in fact, we were called inspectors of the criminal investigation department.

Well, it sounds much more noble, - the state adviser nodded approvingly, - otherwise, it fell-soaked ... bad taste. In what year did you see the light, Mr. Sizov?

In the sixties, - Stas answered and, having already answered, he realized that the seasoned detective simply "spoke his teeth", - in nineteen sixty.

And your pistol was made, exactly, in the year you were born,” Koshko said thoughtfully, “right for you, Herbert Wells. And what, the time machine is invented? No, according to your testimony.