February 8, 1994
Zhorik felt it. Zhorik knew it. Tuesday Yura came rushing in with the news: they’d found the bastards!
Everyone knows that «Soveretto» liqueur is an exclusive product of «Proma Impex». In the territory from Brest to Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky there was no firm besides ours selling that vileness wholesale. So then! A client had just complained about the grand liqueur turning out to be cheap swill for Biryulyovo drunks! According to him, they deal «Soveretto» on Elevatornaya Street at a third of the price.
Whoa!
Time to call the cops. Right now!
I concentrated. Hm… No point jumping the gun.
I put questions to Yura. Did we know the warehouse address? Phone number? Could we order Soveretto without giving ourselves away? What about the alcohol, the five pallets hauled out of Khryakino?
Overall, the task was simple: get the exact warehouse address without arousing suspicion, and confirm the booze was there too.
Twenty minutes later Yurik confirmed that the entire range hauled out of Khryakino was being sold in Biryulyovo, the coordinates copied down and copied again.
I raced to the Terem with a decision made – revenge! No need to kill, but material damage and some minor physical harm – absolutely necessary! I’d answer for it later! I was ready!
Chicha was out, having fallen down some stairs the day before and picked up injuries. Karabas was standing in for him. He listened attentively to my scattered speech about «Soveretto» and Biryulyovo, then pleaded limited resources and advised against acting hastily – better to think the matter through than to jump the gun like some people did.
Who exactly Karabas was hinting at, I didn’t bother finding out. Left the scoundrels’ coordinates and headed back to the office. Adrenaline was boiling in my blood. I wanted action. I wanted revenge. My soul was being torn to shreds by a thirst for justice.
