London 4019. On the Britain. Evgeny Russ
raised his hands and head. It was a woman officer and in her hands was a Kuznetsov’s tube. She hung in the air at a height of three meters. She was wearing jet boots and a Gauss protective vest absorbing induction bullets.
“FSB officer,” – said Kmykh, – “certificate is in my ring.”
“Lean the ring to scanner,” – said the police officer and threw a plastic scanner card under Kmykh’s feet.
Kmykh leaned the ring to scanner, and a hologram with a royal coat of arms appeared in front of the officer. There was no name and identification number, which meant that any police officer was required to provide any assistance to this FSB officer. The woman put Kuznetsov’s tube in a holster, descended down on the stone floor of the station and offered hers help. On the floor was a man with a Mexican appearance and a broken arm in his elbow joint. Both of his legs and an unbroken right arm were pulled together by guitar strings. On the neck there was also a stranglehold of a guitar string. Nearby lay a broken-up guitar made of wood.
"Is he alive?" – She asked.
"Yes, he is unconscious. Painful shock. A stretcher is needed to take it to my capsule in the parking mine,” – Kmykh said.
The officer touched her bracelet and contacted her police department. “The Fidel Castro Metro, Savmak Station, requires a stretcher without an orderly near the statue of Savmak,” – she said.
“Estimated time of arrival about one minute and ten seconds,” – the department informed.
A minute later, the anti-gravity stretcher of the Red Cross municipal service arrived along the air corridor allocated to them along the ceiling of the station. The stretcher slowed down at the statue of Savmak, and sank near the officer’s feet. Kmykh put the terrorist body on the stretcher, took them by the control handle and raised them to the level of the belt, convenient for transportation.
“Thanks for the help, officer. Have a nice day,” – Kmykh said, and set off transporting the stretcher toward the locking door along the corridor to the parking shaft. These were standard stretchers with a control handle and a return button to the medical base. Having thrown the body of the terrorist into the luggage boot of the capsule, Kmykh sent a stretcher to the base of the Red Cross and dialed the number of the parcing attendant. While the Maserati capsule was rising through the shaft of the carousel, Kmykh appeal to Alice.
“Hi, Alisa.”
“Hello, hello, Eugene.”
“I have terrorist in the luggage boot. Prepare medical preparations for interrogation. I'll be in Liverpool in twenty minutes.”
“Okay, Eugene. We have some bad news. Ippolite Reznik is kidnapped. Our employee, who took Reznik under protection, is killed, and two security drones are destroyed. External surveillance cameras show that he voluntarily siting in UAZ capsule. This morning he was in the GKZ library and received files for work. Video surveillance was lost at the pier number 1756 where the capsule of the terrorists went under water.”
"It is bad news. I am heading to pier 1756. Do we have a hangar on this pier?"
"Yes, there is garage under inscription 'Diagnostics of parking anchors of all models'."
"Thanks, Alice. Turn autopilot on these coordinates."
"Already included. In touch."
Four minutes later, Kmykh was already at the pier, and the Maserati capsule smoothly entered the garage gates just opened by Alice. Kmykh lowered the capsule to the concrete floor, stepped out of it and went to the luggage boot. Opening it, he saw a body that was already conscious and writhed in pain. Kmykh dumped the body onto the concrete floor. Then he took a medical pistol and two liquid pills from the glove compartment. Inserting an anesthetic pill into the gun, he leaned it against the terrorist's shoulder and fired. The terrorist instantly felt better, and Kmykh noticed relief in his eyes. Then Kmykh inserted a second liquid pill. It was the strongest drug for interrogation.
“Now you will tell me the coordinates of the houseboat where your friends are terrorists. If you refuse, I will give you the Trichlorechinococcus-18 injection and you will tell everything yourself. This drug shortens life, but under its influence you will tell absolutely everything, whatever I ask. After its use, usually no one lives longer than 150 years.”
In response, Kmykh heard a selective swearing, which was borrowed from the Old Russian language. Kmykh, without hesitation, leaned a medical pistol against the neck of a terrorist and fired. After a minute, the terrorist's pupils dilated and filled with blood, and Kmykh realized that it was already possible to ask questions.
"The coordinates yours friends on houseboat, please, and your identification number."
The terrorist gave the coordinates and his number. The terrorist’s eyeballs were inflated and were ready to burst, but he did not feel pain.
“Fine,” said Kmykh, “now tell us the coordinates of your base.”
The terrorist wanted to say something, but his eyeballs burst, and eye fluid and blood plasma flowed onto the concrete. After a second, the terrorist froze.
"Alice, look at his ID number his age. Out of time, he kicked a bucket."
"He was 162 years old. In this age, in any case, he would not have survived after Trichlorechinococcus-18."
"Well, you heard the coordinates. I'm flying out. Please open the gate."
Kmykh sat in the capsule and scored the coordinates. The garage door opened automatically, the Maserati capsule smoothly left the garage and set off with acceleration to the open sea. Kmykh chose a height of 14 meters above the sea, which was reserved for FSB.
Currant
The houseboat R-118 drifted two hundred miles from London. Hans von Bender stepped out of the cabin and headed for the barbecue area. Before ten meters, he called Abdullah on duty there. Abdullah jumped up from a deck chair and went to the boss.
“Abdullah,” said Hans, “that's all. We must leave. Impolite Reznik is already at the base with all information.”
“And what to do with these both?”
“Accident, they are poisoned by beer. Perhaps a robbery – we will take two bushes of currant. Bring mamba's poison from UAZ. Or the best drag the whole medicine brief-bag. Have you drunk all the beer?”
“A couple of cans still seem to be left.”
“Pour from each jar and drop two drops in each, then put it on the table to the hostages.”
“And they will drink?”
“No, boob! I will inject them with injections. There is a medical pistol in the medicine brief-bag. Put on gloves.”
“Good, Hans, I get it.”
"Well, go and do it! What do you wait?"
Abdulla turned and headed for the UAZ hovering near board. Meanwhile, Hans went to the wheelhouse, where the rest of the bandits played cards.
“Arkady,” – said Hans, “put on the gloves, wipe details of the drone and assemble it back. He is anyway deactivated.”
“Smith, drive capsule onto the deck to the barbecue area. We will leave,” – said Hans and then turned to Kim.
"Kim, dig up two bushes of currant and prepare for loading it in UAZ. And look, if the soil is natural, then it also needs to be taken along with the bushes."
“Well, Hans, I will do so,” – said Kim, and with a grin went off to carry out the task.
“I'm not Hans, I'm boss for you,” – said Hans, – “you get it, right?”
“Got it, boss,” – said Kim, ceasing to smile, and then hastened to leave.
Everything was ready for departure. Currant bushes were also prepared, but not yet immersed in the capsule. Hans handed the medical pistol to Arkady and said, – “Arkasha, as we load the currants, you will make the hostages an injection. Don’t throw the gun, we’ll take it with us. Everything must be done