Читать бесплатно онлайн книгу автора  Hunt for Wunderwaffe. Immortal

Sergey Solovyov

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Hunt for Wunderwaffe

PROLOGUE Operation Wunderland. Hitler’s bet

— Is it far from the airfield to the Werewolf headquarters? — asked the pilot and not someone, but the officer with the buttonholes of the SS navigator.

The cockpit was cramped, especially with the SS officers who entered. This was an undoubted violation of the rules, but who was going to follow them now? And, the aircraft commander did not insist that the officers leave the cockpit.

Geographical coordinates of the Werewolf facility:

49°18’30.3"N 28°29’35.9”E

“No, not very much. Here, Vinnitsa, already under us, and there, and the village of Strizhavka — and the rate from it is eight kilometers away, in a dense forest. Beautiful, I’ll tell you the place! said the pilot almost dreamily. — Beautiful, almost gingerbread, fabulous forest, with excellent houses for officers. There is even a pool and an open-air cinema. Have a great rest!

“You see, Sievers, everything is going as it should,” said the Sturbanfuhrer, “the Fuhrer will certainly approve of our preparations. And, I hope for more funding than before, until our study is completed.

— As much work as time spent, — said the gentleman sadly in the form of the SS gruppenfuhrer, — but no, this direction will certainly not be covered, too promising. The Fuhrer himself spoke favorably about the topic. Worry in vain, Hugo. And the documents are well selected.

— However, both the base and the atmosphere itself are here… Such, excuse me, a resort… We may not have enough time. And other questions…

— Everything will be fine. I have no doubt about the genius of our Fuhrer. He knows how to understand the whole point. This is very important for the Reich

Zivers looked calmly at one of his helpers. He understood that much, if not all, now depends on Hitler’s personal approval.

“All gentlemen! Buckle up, we are starting to decline! — commanded the pilot, — the runway a couple of kilometers from the village!

The plane was really good, as well as the personal pilot of the Fuhrer. But, Sturbanführer Thielemann adjusted his belts, and involuntarily grabbed the armrests of the chair. I noticed how closely Zivers was watching the landing in the window of the plane, the facial features of the head of Anenerbe did not change at all at that moment. The engines buzzed piercingly, the light blow of the landing gear wheels against the concrete of the runway was very noticeable, and Thielemann noticed that their plane immediately went to one of the taxiways, freeing the runway.

— Here, gentlemen, we arrived! Sorry, we don’t have flight attendants, there will be no one to kiss you goodbye! the pilot was joking.

His assistant opened the door, and the soldiers serving the airfield quickly rolled up the ladder. Both officers of the Ahnenerbe slowly descended to the ground. We didn’t have time to really look around. However, they were already expected.

— Heil Hitler! greeted their approaching officer with the colonel’s shoulder straps, — commandant of the headquarters Colonel Kurt Thomas! Let me introduce you to both SS Standartenfuhrer Johann Rattenhuber and Adjutant Fuhrer Hauptmann von Belov.

— Sturbanführer Hugo Thielemann.

— Gruppenführer Wolfram Sievers.

“Please, gentlemen! The car is waiting, now we will reach the bunker very quickly! You’ll be pleasantly surprised.

Thielemann loved cars, and there was something to be surprised at. After all, in front of them stood a rare copy of the art of engineers of the Third Reich, the very famous three-axle Mercedes G4 WH-32292, and Hitler’s driver, Sturbanfuhrer Erich Kempka, was driving. Yes, at least they met them with all the attention.

The car drove slowly, as if so that guests could enjoy the extraordinary landscape. At first glance, the Werfolf rate was more like a cottage village, or sanatorium, somewhere in beautiful Bavaria far from here, as if it had grown up among beautiful forests. The road built by prisoners of war was truly German, straight and flat, and beautiful pines stood untouched by caring builders.

— There is also a swimming pool, an open-air cinema and a casino for gentlemen of officers, — the commandant of Werfolf boasted of his achievements, — how much work it cost! But, as you can see, the result is worth it.

“A wonderfully beautiful place, Mr. Colonel,” said Zivers.

For example, the wooden barracks of the soldiers were perhaps indistinguishable from the burger estates of southern Germany. Made of large logs, with four windows on the sides, the buildings were very pleasing to the eye. And how breathed here, such a pure, beneficial air! It would be fashionable to stay here, heal and rest.

But now, the car rolled up to the bunker, as if hiding between a hundred-year-old, no less, trees. A gray, concrete, unassuming building, with a small door, as if out of nowhere arose in this dense grove.

— Here, come in! — and Yogan Rattenhuber was already ahead, showing such an important structure.

SS soldiers standing at the posts stretched out in a string, seeing their strictly boss. The same one smiled favorably at his subordinates. It was evident how proud the Gruppenfuhrer was of the order that he started and stubbornly supported here.

— The Fuhrer is waiting for you, — said the SS officer on duty, saluting those who came.

The heavy door opened, as if by itself, opening the entrance to the meeting room. Thielemann was almost surprised by the asceticism of this room. On the left, against the wall, a stove with a fireplace rose to the ceiling, bleached, decorated with three painted plates. Nearby stood a large round table, apparently a dining room, and a long conference table. Chairs and chairs were quite simple, without much frills. An ordinary lamp burned on the ceiling. rather than an expensive crystal chandelier. The situation itself did not even speak, but simply shouted about the modesty of the Fuhrer of the German nation.

And so, from the side door, Hitler himself entered. In an indispensable paramilitary uniform, with a swastika bandage on his right sleeve. He held his left hand behind his back, slouched a little. His face looked tired, and his black hair was carefully smoothed, but still capriciously disobeyed the combs, and some curls were crooked, very upset by this of their owner.

— Rattenhuber, and you, Colonel Thomas, come out, please. These people will tell me something important. We’d better talk in private, “the Fuhrer said imperiously.

“That’s right, my Fuhrer! — immediately, without reasoning, answered Rattenhuber, — Thomas, let’s go! he called the colonel.

At the very door, these officers clicked their heels and saluted. Hitler responded by raising his right hand. He laid it down when they came out, and with a sign invited the members of Ananerbe to sit down at a round table. There was already a coffee pot and appliances at the ready.

— So, gentlemen, how are your preparations for the expedition? Hitler asked, smiling a little, did you, Wolfram, report to me that von Wenden had agreed to take part in this raid?

“Yes, my Fuhrer. And this should bring success to the enterprise. Thielemann’s group is being trained in Alta, Norway, and will be transferred to the Kamenny base on Novaya Zemlya in a week.

— Bolsheviks do not make obstacles? Still, our base is not far from their observation points?

— They are short-sighted, and lack the ability to think creatively.

— Yes, these commissars are primitive drudges, and where to their weak mind to German genius. And most of the scientists and intelligent officers left, rather fled from the wild terror, — Hitler said with pleasure, crossing his arms on his chest and proudly straightening his back, — they will not understand anything before we capture the Heart of the Earth and secure victory. Thielemann?

— The hidden island is constantly in a ring of dense fog, according to von Wenden, the sharpest rocks at the bottom cover the fairway, and unloading will be difficult. A difficult, very protected place. But, von Wenden promised to lead us.

“I really, really hope for the Baron. And, I will adequately reward this Superman. I owe you very much, Sievers, that you introduced me to him. That day was one of the best of my life, I truly saw a miracle!

— Only, my Fuhrer, von Wenden, he claims strange… Absolutely incredible things… That the island is guarded by the Dead, and we can only be saved by a few goats sacrificed, right on the shore.

“Goats?”

— exactly. It’s so weird, my Fuhrer!

“I didn’t believe in much either, Thielemann, until I saw Superman himself, his resurrection. He personally attended how Dr. Mengele chopped off Wenden’s head, and then watched it grow to his neck, and he came to life again. I felt his irreplaceable strength — and Hitler began to walk in excitement around the office, throwing furious glances at the guests — all this is, and these are not fairy tales for children… How not fairy tales and the very existence of the Ancients. We will get help from them. You, Thielemann, will take Sleeping from the Island. So we will get trump cards in negotiations with the Immortals. And get Wunderwaffe out of their hands. Let the blind believe that the Wunderwaffe is supertanks, or guns, even missiles. No, the true Fairy weapon is a weapon from the Land of Fairy Tales, Wuderwaffe can only be from Wunderland. Its terrifying power will help us win the war.

“That’s right, my Fuhrer! Zivers said loudly, we will deliver the cargo in a submarine!

— No, Wolfram’s not… Too risky… — Hitler sat down on a chair standing nearby, and began to quickly write on a sheet of paper — here, the order… The battleship Admiral Scheer will go to sea, and he will deliver Sleeping to Norway, and then you will personally bring it to Germany.

— And then what?

— Do you remember, Zivers, about that case in Siberia, in 1908? About the explosion of incredible power, which was written about in the newspapers? How for many tens of kilometers around everything was simply demolished, crushed! — Hitler said this in incredible excitement, his eyes just burned, and his hands began to shake, — the Russians were then able to hide a lot, but it was you who unearthed that it was a bomb blown up by the Immortals… Well, now, these commissars — and he said these words with contempt — all this became unnecessary, they are stupid, deaf and blind. Now, this is a genuine Wunderwaffe, a wonderful, fabulous weapon of incredible power that will give us victory… Hitler repeated, with him, only with him we will win!

— So what? How will we act, my Fuhrer?

Wolfram Sievers already looked at Hitler with fear, he became really obsessed, saying such words, discussing this incredible project. So the main goal is Wunderwaffe… And that explains a lot.

— Still just Zivers… — and Hitler again looked at the chapter “Ananerbe” as a small child — This will become quite doable and logical. We will give the Immortals Sleeping, and in return we will ask them for Wunderwaffe. They will not refuse us, I am sure of that…

PART 1. Telegram — Warning. “There will be a huge explosion on Tunguska”

CHAPTER 1 Telegraph Station

Telegraph operator Alexei Pyatakov was on duty at the Yuza apparatus, often looking at the tower clock, and slowly, even tediously ticking in the corner of the room. Today’s night of June 14 turned out to be restless, so I even had to beat off the telephone message, knocking on these keys by order of General Orlov himself. True, it became more comfortable to work than on the Morse key, Pyatakov was able to appreciate this.

Sadly looked around the walls of such a familiar room, covered, as if in mockery, with cheerful greenish wallpaper. Nevertheless, the bosses did not spare funds for the maintenance of their service, and even the furniture was an expensive walnut tree, with spring seats on chairs and armchairs, and leather upholstery. The sofa was especially good, so all of itself so enticing, with a rounded back, soft sides, which seemed to ask him, even begged:

“Sit down with us, soldier… Sit, rest. Or maybe you can lie down! Where will your telegraph go!”

As if yielding to such thoughts, he settled down in a comfortable chair, even stretched his legs. I already wanted to sleep, and it seemed that the hands on the dial just froze. He checked how the electric lamp worked, flicked the switch, liked how the light was knocked out from under the green lampshade.

“But, there is a service, but here, nevertheless, pulling the strap is much better than somewhere on Kushka,” Alexey said quietly, calming himself down, but now we have strong tea, but sweet… And, we also have a tea sausage to reinforce forces.

Here, in the corner, there was a refrigerator, albeit, at first glance, an unassuming black color. And for sure, there was cold, from ice loaded into the upper hatch. Well, ice, of course, like everyone else’s house, was stored in a deep subfield, covered very carefully with straw. And, the products were stored very well, that even their cook, Efim Sergeevich, descended tula only in a sheepskin sheepskin coat, health birch.

But, the thing was much more thorough, weighed five pounds, no less. Recently, by order of the elder, Pyatakov and Evstafiev moved this thing from one corner to another, they suffered. A little Alexei was not injured in this case, he almost crushed his finger. And, almost earned a slap in the face from the elder, sergeant major Ivan Fedorovich Dolgunov, a thoroughly and zealous person.

But now it was much more convenient to extract very useful things from it, for example, the same tea sausage. Here is her, angry, and Alexey got it now. Like bread from a bread bowl. He put these supplies in front of him on a white plate, carefully cut the sausage with a knife, and came out like in an officer’s buffet. Well, at least not worse. Bread, of course, is not sieve, as there, but also not bad.

“Here, eating is called sandwiches,” the telegraph operator even recalled the name.

It looked very beautiful, it even became a pity to eat. But, as they say, he overpowered himself, and slowly chewed it all, washed down with noble hot tea. Now, imitating Ivan Fedorovich, he ran his right index finger over his mustache and coughed authoritatively. But, unfortunately Pyatakov, the mustache did not grow very much, their density was weak… Still, he turned barely twenty-two years old.

And he ate, and immediately took off his sleep like a hand. I was already happily watching how the sun was shining outside the window.

And then, stuck the receiver. The paper tape twirled quickly on the table, covered with letters, apparently a very urgent and important message. Pyatakov grabbed a piece of cardboard, and began to briskly stick on the tape, quickly cutting it with scissors along the boundaries of words. First, it knocked out where the message came from: “Vagran station.” He did not know about such. Then, the addressee, from which Pyatakova threw into sweat:" His Imperial Majesty Nikolai Alexandrovich in his own hands.” Then, even worse: “Secret.” Alexey was already going to wipe himself with his sleeve, but quickly took out a scarf from the cuff of his uniform, and wiped his wet forehead. Glued and glued further, and soon, the message was ready. He put it in a large gray envelope and sealed it. It remained, the most unpleasant. According to such messages, according to the instructions, it was necessary to immediately report personally to Mr. Shcholkov. And this oh how I did not want Alexey Pyatakov!

Vasily Alekseevich Shcholkov was the permanent head of the Palace Telegraphs Department, and he lodged here, in a house nearby. Who did not know that Mr. Shcholkov had found the era of the optical telegraph, with its famous wooden wings, difficult to communicate. There was a whole system of such signs, and it was not easy to semaphore, Alexei was forced to study this picky sergeant major. Yes, the electromagnetic telegraph Vasily Ivanovich built, like the building of this station, and in addition introduced telephone communications in St. Petersburg and Peterhof. And that Vasily Ivanovich Shcholkov, who gave half a century of his life to the case and witnessed the reign of three emperors, was such a living legend among telegraph operators. And here, wake up… But, military business… And, Pyatakov twisted the handle of Erickson’s telephone, picked up the phone, and said impressively:

— Connect to the house of his nobility Shcholkov… Yes, official need… I expect…

I had to wait, of course. But, as the voice of his beloved boss rang out, Pyaiakov jumped up from his chair and stretched out into a string, as if he could even be seen here.

— Your nobility, received a telegram to the highest name, with the stamp Secret. Telegraph operator Pyatakov reported. So exactly, sealed. There is, to issue a duty general to the messenger against signature!

Pyatakov in two movements took out a thick book from the shelf with the inscription: “Expedition,” quickly filled in the outgoing data — June 14, 1908, 03 hours 20 minutes. I heard the sound of a car approaching, and a messenger came, the wahmister of the Horse Guards Regiment, his acquaintance Grigory Ivanovich Chudakov. Looked awfully important and personable, in his leather jacket and white cap with a red band.

— Good day, Grigory Ivanovich. Here, and the package, everything is ready. — and held out a steel pen for the signature.

— Are you on duty again, Alexey? Well, it’s not bad to serve here, “he said, hiding the envelope in a sum,” it’s time, sorry. Then we’ll talk more.

The motor at the entrance rattled. The car sneezed once, right, for authority, and quickly rolled towards the Grand Palace. Pyatakov adjusted his cap and returned to Yuza’s apparatus. Until the end of the shift it was another three hours and forty minutes.

CHAPTER 2 Palace in Alexandria

— Your Excellency, package. Transmitted by telegraph operator Pyatakov.

“Thank you, Gregory, thank you,” the general replied in a concerned voice.

He examined the seal on the gray envelope with the transfer time, everything was in order. Once again he waved his hand to the wahmistra, letting go of the messenger. And then, from his native regiment, an old proven servant. Even when Orlov himself came to the Konnogvardeisky regiment, Chudakov was already pulling the strap of a difficult extra-long service.

Now General Orlov was an adjutant wing of the sovereign. Honor is considerable, and respect, but much more than that. His service at the Court was on a daily schedule. The watch lasted 24 hours. The adjutants were present at the daily divorce of the palace guard, taking the “password” from the guard and informing him to the emperor. The adjutant wing on duty provided a “connection” between the king and the people, collecting petitions from persons who were present at the palace during the divorce of the guard. This was done so that “the Sovereign Emperor was not stopped by petitioners.”

And General Orlov passed by two agents of the Security Department sitting at the entrance, unknown subordinates of the palace commandant Dmitry Fedorovich Trepov: Two years ago, a special detachment was created from intelligent and nimble people who were ready and able to do a lot. The task of the detachment was to protect the Tsar when traveling outside the palace residences. Its creator and immediate supervisor was Alexander Ivanovich Spiridovich. The schedules for the fighters included gymnastics on cars (simulators), the theory of field observation, a verbal portrait, information about weapons and shooting, the history of the revolutionary movement, reading plans and maps, Russian studies, Russian language and Russian history. And, interestingly, a spiritual conversation was held once a week. Why, General Orlov no longer understood this.

The time was early, but the day, or rather the night, was already going completely wrong…

***

— So, Petrovich, if anything.

— Yes, I remember, your Excellency… ‘the gray-haired batman repeated.

Luka Petrovich Vasiliev was the permanent batman of Count Orlov, and began to serve even when the general began his military career as a cornet in his native Konnogvardeisky regiment. The fact that both of them have come a long way, and the count never regretted that he took an intelligent guy from the Yaroslavl province into the service.

— Yes, you go to bed, sleep a couple of hours. I will look after everyone, your superiority…

The general lay down, covered with a blanket, and fell into an anxious dream. I dreamed of all sorts of things, and in addition, some voices, and a woman’s cry. Sighing, he sat down on the corner of the bed creaking under him, thinking that all this had happened. But no, I heard noise and voices in the next (reception) room, moreover, very clearly.

He jumped up, habitually put on all his uniform, managed to look at himself in the mirror, is it not suitable for an adjutant wing to look bad? He adjusted his cap and entered the reception room.

— Yes, you understand, — the young lady said suffocating, — they will execute Dmyitriya tomorrow, there is no time at all, but he is not guilty.. Honestly noble word!

Orlov frowned. He saw a lot of petitioners, whose friends or relatives were allegedly innocent, had seen enough and heard enough. True, this girl was glorious, but she seemed to speak from the heart, not just did not play with words.

— Here, look… He was consumptive, he was treated, — and she put yellowish paper from the doctor, — and he wanted to leave their cell, but he was threatened. They promised to kill him and me. I only learned this for three days… — she burst into tears and grabbed the general’s hand, — You, you, in your power to help, figure it out…

— So the court was…

— Who is judging them? Court martial, at three days. No lawyers, no jury… And they did not listen. As they took the whole cell with weapons and dynamite, so everyone to the Peter and Paul Fortress… Yes, he will die soon, my consumptive Dmitry..

— Sit here, I’ll talk to the valet.

The general got up from his chair, went out, covered the door behind him. And then, it was already about twelve in the afternoon, the sovereign could already go to bed. But, the young lady was wonderfully lovely, and the guard officer could not refuse her request. Orlov knocked on the valet’s room. The door opened immediately.

— Your Excellency?

— An urgent matter. Is the sovereign still not resting?

— No, deign to read. He asked me to wait half an hour.

— You see, and then the Supplicant appeared. He prays for leniency to the groom. Please report.

The valet shook his head. Looked at his livoyel

— No doubt, wait.

Literally a couple of minutes later Nikolai Alexandrovich himself came out, in his usual officer’s uniform. He was, as always, fit and cheerful.

— So what’s there, Orlov?

— The lady is asking for a pardon for the groom. He is very sick, and did not kill anyone, he is not marred in actions, there is no blood on him. He says tomorrow is the execution…

— Let him come, — Nikolai confidently said, putting a mouthpiece with a smoking cigarette in the ashtray: — I thank you very much for doing this. When a person’s life can be saved, there is no need to hesitate. Thank God neither Yours nor My conscience will be able to reproach us for anything, — added the sovereign.

He stood very straight, put his hands behind his back. A life Cossack came out of the other door. And this was true, however, and in the general’s pocket there was always a Browning ready for shooting. Was Kula to go? Time is…

But now, the valet entered, held the young lady, and left the reception. The sovereign listened carefully to everything, read the Petition.

“Everything will be fine,” the sovereign said calmly.

He quickly sat down at the table, began to confidently fill out telegram forms addressed to the Minister of Justice and the commandant of the Peter and Paul Fortress.

“Look,” the young lady showed the papers.

“Delay the execution of Dmitry Ivanovich Frolov. Wait for orders. Nikolay.”

She simply looked enchanted at the even lines of the royal order, unable to say anything, then nodded and lost consciousness. And she would have fallen to the floor if Orlov had not hastily picked up the young lady and put her on the sofa.

“Send your messenger to the Palace Telegraph immediately. My car is at your disposal, Orlov. And at the same time telephone the Minister of Justice and the Commandant that the telegrams have been sent and that they must take appropriate action. And, cameras — invite the maid of honor, you need to take care of the girl.

“I’ll do it now, sir!

The general hastily left the duty room, and on watch, telephoned His Majesty’s garage, and then called the messenger.

Orlov remembered that back in 1906 another event was important for the history of the Russian Palace Department: His Imperial Majesty’s own garage was created. 30 drivers, 30 soapers, 30 mechanics served in the imperial garage. During the trips of Nicholas II to rest in Yalta, the management of the garage accompanied him with his families.

— Here, Gregory, you will go to the Palace Telegraph now, you will personally see that the telegraph operator would beat off the message, but you will take the answer from him that the telegrams have been received. Did you understand?

— And how not to understand, Your Excellency! I know where the telephone exchange is located, St. Petersburg Avenue, house 46, Truveller’s house!

“Well done! So, you telephone the addressees and duplicate the telegram. That’s it, go!

Vestova famously trumped the boss, and went down the stairs of the entrance. And after a couple of minutes the car drove up. Orlov took a silver cigarette case out of his pocket and armed himself with a cigarette. You could calmly smoke, and take a walk in the park, enjoy the cool night.

Vestovoy returned a couple of minutes later, the general took the execution paper, and went into the king’s chambers. The sovereign calmly awaited the arrival of his adjutant wing.

— So, Orlov?

— Everything is fulfilled, Your Majesty! — and held out the paper.

— You see how well you did that you listened to Votre Inspiration. You made two people happy, — said Nikolai, — now, we can rest. Do not hesitate, the Lord will repay us for our leniency to those who ask for leniency.

***

The adjutant wing again returned to the emperor’s chambers. He was very uncomfortable again to tear off the valet from sleep, and the general decided to wait. It was already going on by eight o’clock. True, it was possible to turn to the general on duty, but then the valet came out, as if listening to his thoughts.

— Your Excellency, — this devoted employee of the Palace addressed him, — the Sovereign does not sleep. You can tell if something important happened.

— Urgent telegram received. He must hand it over personally, into his own hands. Please excuse the concern!

— Come on in.

The general returned to the room in which he had already been tonight. He was slightly embarrassed, and smiled with difficulty.

— Yes Orlov, the night turned out to be restless… — Nikolai himself hid a slight grin in his thick mustache and carefully groomed beard.

The ivory penknife instantly cut the gray paper of the message, the twine burst at once, and cardboard with a telegram pasted on it appeared on the table. Nikolai grinned a little, seeing the sender’s address.

— But… ‘he muttered, immersed in the reading.

Count Orlov stood opposite the sovereign, expecting him to let him go. A couple of minutes later, Nikolai extended a message to his wing-adjutant.

— Read and you, Orlov… It is not clear who sent this, and it looks more like a joke. Sit down, there’s the chair next to it.

The adjutant wing sat at the table, moved the telegram to itself. He began to read:

“Wagran Station, 12.10am. Telegraph operator Timofeev. On June 17, 1908, an explosion of 20 million tons of trinitrotolluol will occur over the underground Tunguska. This will be proof of our power, and readiness to use such weapons again, but for our protection. We demand not to visit some areas of Novaya Zemlya Island… sowing. latitude… east longitude and the Ural range… sowing. latitude and… east. longitude. This is just a warning.”

— Very strange, indeed, reminiscent of a strange joke, sovereign. But, there is nothing easier than checking. Give instructions to the gendarmes of the Perm province to check this Timofeev, and who was on the telegraph key at that time.

— undoubtedly. Quite a smart proposal. But, while no one should know about it, Orlov! You remember that this is the second dispatch of this content. The first was sent, if I’m not mistaken, on the second of May?

“That’s right, Your Majesty. Yes, it looked incomprehensible. So they did not attach importance to the incident.

— Now we need to figure it out. And, I was informed that the French are going to send an expedition to Novaya Zemlya. The ship has already left. What do they want to find there? Do not find it all too… suspicious?

— Sovereign…

Nikolai Alexandrovich quickly wrote an order, and an order for General Gerasimov. General Alexander Vasilievich Gerasimov, headed, and very successfully, since 1905, the St. Petersburg security department, and in his power it was quickly to establish the truth in this matter.

CHAPTER 3 Wagran Station

On the clean, recently washed glass of the window, two mosquitoes fussed in vain, poking their long noses into the thick glass. But they don’t understand that, the creatures are stupid, that the window is clean, recently washed, and his wife, Efrosinya Ivanovna, worked on it herself. Just sighed a man sitting opposite, at his desk, in a strict uniform, and did not beat the villains with an already folded old newspaper. Not that I regretted the good living creatures, but I thought about the window cleanliness.

And everything would be fine, but at the same time the ungrateful creatures buzzed disgustingly, acting on his exhausted nerves. And Fedor had a terrible headache since the night. He was in the service, here at Wagran station post office. And then, despite the early time, in business. They did not give a rest here. An hour ago, a telegram came from St. Petersburg, and not easy, but encrypted. You can’t read this one. He sealed it, as it should be, but sent it with the boy as a peddler, Petka Ivanov, and now, nevertheless, he went to the drunken samovar, and gladly poured boiling water into a glass with a cup holder. Then the brews from a small teapot, and there, from the bedside table, as if by itself, a crumpet appeared. It was necessary to correct the strength! So, I ate, immediately and easier… I put a statement in front of me, you never know what, but he, in business… And then, the front door slammed, and again, from a loud sound, my head ached mercilessly.

— And, Fedor Ivanovich, only you and remembered! said the gentleman who came in.

Here Trofimov jumped up from his chair and adjusted his cap. And then, not a simple person came, but a gendarme captain, a great power in their area. Artemizov himself Nikolai Fokich, in his own person, deigned to come here early.

— Your nobility, what do you owe? We do not violate everything as it should! When serving, day and night!

— Yeah… — Artemizov dissected thoughtfully and sat down opposite the pillar telegraph operator, — here, Mr. Trofimov, an order came from the capital to deal with your jokes. You, mischievous, sent — and he looked into the paper — a telegram to the Highest Name at midnight, consider today. And who advised you, or decided it himself?

— Yes I.. Your nobility… Yes, I could not decide on this… I’m only for business needs!

— Come on, answer faster. And then instantly they will fire you from service, you will collect cones in the forest! — and slapped his palm on the table — maybe he was drunk? — and already looked compassionately at the employee of the post office, — it happens with everything. And the bosses are kind, they will forgive you for the first time.

Trofimov feverishly recalled this night and last day. No, and what things I did with the housework, so I chopped wood, but there was no vodka, for sure… He sweated all over, began to frantically wipe his forehead with a handkerchief, dropped it a couple of times, but, as if not understanding, only shrugged.

— Yes, I did not drink… Exactly, not half a glass…

— Okay, — the captain looked at once, — or maybe who else was? Or your sons, mischievous?

— No, they don’t know how. Exactly, no one could, your nobility.

— Well, Trofimov, so you sent. Who else, think for yourself? Or did other people sit on your key?

The poor telegraph operator did not know what to answer. So true because his nobility says, no one could send a telegram except him…

— So I… What to do, let them fire, expel a person if they have no conscience…

— You’re good, stupid head… Here, write… I was drunk, it happened by chance. I vouch to you, everything will cost…

I thought for a minute Trofimov, but understood that it was impossible to arrange everything better. You have to lie. Or even really, they will be fired after all, but you won’t find another service here for a hundred miles…

— Exactly, Nikolay Fokich, so everything was… Not from evil…

The captain simply beamed at such words, moved a piece of paper and a steel pen to the telegraph operator.

Trofimov immediately repulsed the telegram, and Artemizov left the post office.

The gendarme officer was very pleased with himself, such a job done. And then, it was done, and now his fishing was waiting, for which he had already prepared in the morning. Indeed, their places are deaf, there are no theaters for you, but hunting and fishing for divo were good. So the captain thought, looking around the railway station. Well, how to say the station? Platform and a couple of buildings nearby, however, God’s sin to anger, trains came to them twice a day.

But another, worse thing came to mind. And what, as it was a slander against him. Say, Artemizov began to take bribes, he is not on duty as he should, he does not catch villains on the track, but robbs unfortunate townsfolk! Here the gendarme captain himself sweated. How did you not immediately guess? But he could, Trofimov… He could… After all, in winter, I remember, he punished him for the mess, and he could remember…

“Good evening, your nobility! ‘he heard suddenly the voice of a trading grandmother.

He walked, and behind his thoughts he did not notice Praskovya Kuzminichna, he even scolded himself. Mentally, of course, not out loud. She was a very important and necessary person here, replacing fillers, which, however, the gendarme captain did not have here. And my grandmother, she saw and heard everything, and loved to report on everything that happened at Vagran station. The most important, state, was, in general, a person!

— And hello to you, Kuzminichna! How, pies, disassemble? said the gendarme officer hastily.

— So the train will arrive in half an hour, and I expect it. So, good people will come up, they will want to have a snack from the road, and I have everything ready, and with berries, and now, with hares, and even with fish. I suppose people are all cultural, and not such that they would go around at night…

— What? — Artemizov just dumbfounded at once, — who was here last night? Speak, speak, Kuzminichna, — and the captain removed two silver fifty dollars from his pocket and put it in front of the woman.

People here were old school, and paper money did not hurt. Immediately tried to change credit tickets for much more tangible silver, or even gold coins. Therefore, the gendarme captain hoped more for the effect of silver coins. Indeed, I was not mistaken. Well, not exactly…

— On the ruble you, read, almost half of everything is due, — the merchant whispered anxiously, putting the goods in rolls of brown paper, — here, eat to your health! Good pies, fresh, just baked today!

— Thank you, Kuzminichna. We sing, and Marya Vasilyevna and I have enough for lunch. Your wife has been bowing to you for a long time!

— Oh, my God, Nikolay Fokich! I am very grateful! And then, what kind of people are angry, sometimes, of course… So at first I thought that it was not a local… And he, a lanky fisherman, Mishka, looks here. And he, at night at the post office and came, exactly! And what is surprising is not alone, but with a woman, seemingly not old, high and cool. I remember it firmly… I still looked through the window, what was being done there… So this woman, something to the telegraph operator, and he got down to business. Bear, as she snorts at me with her icy eyes, I’m already stunned! And Fedka, well, Fedor Ivanovich, worked everything, knocked on his apparatus. I ran away, of course. Although he asked to bring him a couple of pies, but I forgot, apparently, — the merchant said slightly confusedly, — as Mishka left with the woman, I waited a little, and I went in. And the telegraph operator looked at me, but asked who she was, and why she came, as if she did not know. Here it is…

— Don’t think bad. — answered the gendarme, — See, Fedor Ivanovich earned, tired a little… This is the case. Well, I’ll go. And thanks for the pies!

The captain simply beamed at such words, moved a piece of paper and a steel pen to the telegraph operator.

Trofimov immediately repulsed the telegram, and Artemizov left the post office.

The gendarme officer was very pleased with himself, such a job done. And then, it was done, and now his fishing was waiting, for which he had already prepared in the morning. Indeed, their places are deaf, there are no theaters for you, but hunting and fishing for divo were good. So the captain thought, looking around the railway station. Well, how to say the station? Platform and a couple of buildings nearby, however, God’s sin to anger, trains came to them twice a day.

But another, worse thing came to mind. And what, as it was a slander against him. Say, Artemizov began to take bribes, he is not on duty as he should, he does not catch villains on the track, but robbs unfortunate townsfolk! Here the gendarme captain himself sweated. How did you not immediately guess? But he could, Trofimov… He could… After all, in winter, I remember, he punished him for the mess, and he could remember…

— Good evening, your nobility! ‘he heard suddenly the voice of a trading grandmother.

He walked, and behind his thoughts he did not notice Praskovya Kuzminichna, he even scolded himself. Mentally, of course, not out loud. She was a very important and necessary person here, replacing fillers, which, however, the gendarme captain did not have here.

CHAPTER 4 House of the Gendarme Captain

“This is how it turns out,” the gendarme officer thought to himself, “a night guest came to Trofimov, about whom he did not mention. And, for sure, he worked on the key, as Kuzminichna showed. That means it’s good, and I didn’t deceive the bosses. The telegraph operator sent a dispatch, that’s for sure. Everything turned out in time.”

While the point is, the captain got to his house. Well, not quite his own, but the official one given to him from the treasury. And all one thing, he liked this shelter. A cozy house, on a stone basement, two floors, cool and beautiful, upholstered in shingles for warmth and plastered. It looked like a real brick, it was painted in an elegant light green color, under the iron roof painted with meerik.

— Nikolay Fokich, good day! said the janitor.

Ermolai Panteleimonovich Fedorov served as his janitor, but rather not served him, but this house. I was at this estate for ten years.

— Great, Yermolai. Is everything all right?

— So thank God, your nobility! — and the court again began to take revenge.

And there was order, and it was pleasing. And then, after all, it became boring in the estate, only their youngest, daughter Annushka, remained with them. The eldest son, Leonid, studied at a mining school in Perm, the middle Ivan, too, entered there last year. And the eldest daughter, Elena, was recently married, to a railway employee, too, now lives in Perm. In general, everything was good with Nikolai Fokich, or no worse than others, as he sincerely believed.

Artemizov went into the house, where on the first floor, at the farm, Taisya Ilyinichna, their cook, ordered. Then Nikolai Fokich modestly coughed while a responsible and strict woman acted as a priest with a samovar. She turned, making a strict face, but noticing who it was, she immediately smiled.

— Ah, Nikolai Fokich! And I thought, again, Yermoshka worries.

And then, the cook was a woman of the old rules, and adored detailed men, and best of all, of course, the military. The captain noticed with what approval she looked at his uniform with shiny buttons.

— Here, Taisya Ilyinichna, tell Glafira what to serve pies for tea.

— So not otherwise from Kuzminichna took? — she shook her head condemningly, — yes, in our house flour is sieve…

— Nothing, people eat, and we will try.

— Well, in ten minutes the samovar will boil.

— Thank you, Taisya Ilyinichna.

And the owner of the house slowly climbed the stairs to the master’s part of the house. He went into the living room, sat down in a chair. Hearing the steps, Marya Vasilievna, his wife, also came here. Artemizov stood up, greeting his beloved woman, she smiled back. Marya Vasilievna in her forty-two years, as before, was pretty, sweet and friendly, and Artemizov did not regret his choice of wife.

— Now we will drink tea, with pies, — he said.

— So good, — the woman answered, sitting down nearby, — and Annushka will come.

“What is she?”

“Reads everything. It doesn’t hurt to embroider. Although, you, I made a shirt on a typewriter. But, this is so, in secret. He will give an angel for the day.

“The hostess is growing,” the captain smiled rather.

But then, interrupting their conversations, Glafira entered the room with a samovar, and then she accepted a wooden dish with pies. Then she arranged cups of simple service, ordinary white faience.

— Glafira, call your daughter, be kind. And, you can go.

— Now, Marya Vasilievna.

The maid left, and the mistress of the house personally began to pour tea into cups. It turned out all cute and pleasant, reassured Artemizov. No, of course, he heard about Chinese tea ceremonies, yes, as he believed, they, in the Urals, probably no worse, or even better. And tastier tea with pies.

— Daddy, mom, — said the daughter who ran into the living room.

Artemizov sighed condemningly. Why run? It was time for my daughter to walk slowly, like a decently young young lady. And then, braid to the waist, and all running. Although Annushka grew up pretty and caring, she pleased her father. And surprisingly she was wearing this simple brown dress, and a large bow of the same tone, adorning her braid.

— Oh, pies! And they smell delicious! ‘she chirped.

— Here, eat, — and Maria moved a full cup on a saucer to her daughter

Then, Nikolai Fokich got tea, and Marya Vasilievna herself gave herself a drink. Artemizov slowly, and at first carefully began to taste Kuzminichna’s cooking. No, for sure, she knew some secret or she gave birth there, but the pies were amazingly good, which is directly impossible for even a well-fed person to come off. Everyone ate with pleasure. Annushka even defeated as many as three pies, then drank tea decorously. It is clear that the girl read about different diets there, she took care of the figure. Well, Artemizov himself ate about a dozen, and decided to stop, for now, at least. Marya Vasilievna did not eat a lot, she put everything on her spouse. But now, the meal was over, Anna kissed her mother and father and went to her place.

— Well, I have to go… — said Nikolai Fokich, — service. We also need to go to the fishermen, and to Andronovka, we should look at the Old Believer.

— You would have taken Timothy and Peter with you. Everything is calmer, — said the woman, — there is nothing for everyone to drag around distant places.

— Nothing, I’m not old yet…

And Artemizov went to the stable. The officer habitually saddled his stallion, Cowry Chestnut, led under the bridle into the yard. Here the wife saw off, skillfully put the pack with the edible to the saddle. The captain, as it seemed to him, famously sat down on horseback, kissed Marya Vasilievna, and sent a stallion with a step. There was no hurry yet. And on the outskirts, drove a leisurely trot, since it was about Andronovka for five miles, or a little more.

CHAPTER 5 Strange fisherman and revolver with bent barrel

The horse walked along the forest road well, dexterously. Well, Artemizov himself was a noble horse, accustomed to long trips. And what is there for him these five miles, so, a short walk. I didn’t go with a simple one, I had to look at this Mikhail, at the late guest of the telegraph operator Trofimov. There seemed to be no suspicion, only the inner voice was so nasty that it would not be bad to talk to such a person. Everything was strange, incomprehensible. Well, if Mikhaila disappeared in Andronovka, then I followed to talk about this man with the headman of this village.

Soon he was on the outskirts of this village. Yes, he looked rich and well-groomed. The houses were all big and good, two floors, of huge logs. Whimsically decorated with carved boards and pillars, and the wickets and gates are just a sight for sight, the eyes could not be torn off. The children played by the road, and the captain drove up to them.

— good afternoon. Do not lead to the headman? To Harlampiy Lukic?

— And what, badly needed? asked the gloomy guy, frowning whitish eyebrows, — without him in any way?

An ordinary-looking country boy, in simple gray ports and the same shirt. Barefoot, but with kartuz, the former is obviously a source of his pride.

— What’s your name, man?

— Andrey Petrovich…

— And me Nikolay Fokich. Service, this is the case. It is very necessary for state needs.

— So let’s try, of course, — the boy said decorously.

True, Artemizov noticed how one of the mischievous people rushed, flashing his heels, to houses outside the outskirts. Well, yes, this was not a curiosity to the captain. The messenger ran to warn the headman that they say, a stranger, an unkind person showed up in their places.

The Old Believers of the gendarmes did not hurt. And the police. And in general, representatives of the authorities, every single one. Well, in Russia, in general, the authorities did not favor, but in Siberia so especially, and Artemizov has long been accustomed to this. Actually, people from the authorities did not see anything good, and never counted. Therefore, they did not want to know her, and tried not to have any business with her, if possible, of course.

So the gendarme captain went further to those houses where the boy ran. Artemiov was not too worried, he knew that all one would deal with this matter. Two Old Believers passed by, with water from the well. The girls are prominent, only gloomy and unsmiling, hiding their faces from someone else’s person. Well, soon, the long-awaited headman came out to meet with two strong-looking fellows. Here, out of politeness, Artemizov left the saddle, led the horse about.

— Ah, your nobility! — deliberately greeted the headman cordially.

— And I am glad to you, Harlampy Lukich,” the gendarme replied.

He was actually honestly glad to see this man. He knew how to do everything decently, so that conflicts would not arise between Old Believers and immigrants.

A lot of workers came from Perm here to work, and, of course, anything happened.

— What led to us?” Maybe you want honey? We are amazingly good!

— No, the headman… I can’t have a lot of sweets, doctors don’t tell me. Are you all trading? We bought a lot of things, I know… And why do you, Harlampy, a set of chemical glassware made of heat-resistant glass? Surely moonshine in the usual does not work? Or does it taste bad?

He knew that the Old Believers did not drink, but screwed up such a barb of genre, could not restrain himself. But, it was strange that these residents bought in the village. If there were guns, or what gear, or at least gramophones. No, gramophones bought of course, as many as five. And a piano, which simply amazed his imagination. Bicycles, however, were also bought. And I did not notice that at least one of the locals would ride them.

— You’re joking, Nikolay Fokich. We take something of course, so artfully, for ourselves. Kids to school, for lessons.

— Children, of course, God’s work… And are you going to spend the phone in the village? Even in Perm, the wire was bought, four Ericsson devices.

— why? Did I break the law? So we are not terrorists with revolvers, we don’t run around stations, we don’t blow up bombs, “the headman began to get angry.

— Yes, I wanted to talk about something else, do not be angry with me, Kharlampiy. I heard about one fisherman, Mikhaila. Nodo would talk to him. He is some kind of strange… And he is not local. Did you hear, not far from him?

Artemizov prudently conducted this conversation, in which every word was important. He deliberately provoked the headman, wanted to probe the reaction of the interlocutor. It was necessary to move the Old Believer in the right direction. This, like a heavy barrel to roll, is difficult and difficult only to put on the edge, and then, it goes easily, read, it rolls itself…