On the cross E-Book

Sergiy Zhuravlov

• Herausgeber: SUNRAY
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Serie: Multiple
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 497

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Ivano-Frankivsk region homicide investigator Danila Nimak is not like everyone else.He has little interest in everyday life and family. Work is everything to him.And now he is in the epicenter of the incident on the trail of Dovbush. The execution of the elderly teacher from Lvov is obvious to him. With his instinct of an experienced hunter, Danila finds the killer's business card in the mouth of the corpse. He realizes that this is no ordinary murderer.That same day, for some unknown reason, he is removed from the case. However, Danila doesn't stop there. Enlisting the support of the ubiquitous journalist of the main TV channel of Ukraine, Nadezhda Avdeeva, Nimak continues to investigate.Whoever disturbs Danila, tries to incriminate him in a criminal case against himself. In fact, forcing the investigator and the journalist to hide from law enforcement agencies.At one point, when Danila and Nadezhda have a lead to the perpetrator, they are surrounded by law enforcement officers right in the hotel.But, the dodgy Nimak, taking his boss hostage, escapes the chase. The freedom doesn't last long. The KORD fighters take them in, and as it turns out, not to shut them up.Minister of Internal Affairs Avazov meets the couple in the woods at a hunting lodge. The politician offers to continue the investigation and agrees to cooperate with the Belarusian security forces.The couple travels to Belarus to investigate a series of similar murders that began decades ago.But whoever started this game is playing it dashingly.Nimak is accused of a murder that took place in Belarus on the day they crossed the border exactly where they were.It is obvious that everything done in Belarus is known to the Russian secret service. The couple is secretly transported to Moscow.They start beating Danila, at the last moment he spits in the face of the colonel...Avdeeva is tried for illegal crossing of the Russian border. She faces a prison term.But at the trial she is released. Avdeeva is freed at the trial. A flight from Ukraine is sent for her by Avazov.Danila wakes up in the cell of the most famous prison of the federation - Black Dolphin.He is serving a life sentence. Here the living envy the dead. But! Our hero doesn't give up, even here he plans an escape. And paradoxically, he succeeds.Escaping from pursuit, he crosses the border of Kazakhstan. Local patriots help Danila get to the Ukrainian embassy.Danila is reinstated to duty. Nadezhda and the investigator continue to investigate. Eventually, the couple ends up in the village of Belokorovichi, in the Zhytomyr region. They meet with Kutsepalov, and he tells a story of murders dating back to 1947.It turns out that all this is connected with the red-headed enkahedrons. Kutsepalov, aka Churasov, commander of a special punitive detachment. On whose conscience thousands of mutilated, raped, burned, hanged, thrown off cliffs and buried alive patriots of Ivano-Frankovsk region, who fought against any occupation.At some point, Danila's nerves give out listening to this hellish executioner's confession, and he pulls the trigger.Nadezhda and Danila bury the corpse in the woods. They return to the house, and there is an ambush. The killers are waiting for them.The mother, and her two adopted sons. She is the one who avenges her crippled youth. It was Churasov who first raped her, the girl, and then threw her into the abyss. She survived, left for the rest of her life with a disfigured psyche and appearance.Danila and Nadezhda now know everything up close and personal. Who, and why they killed. Such knowledge does not suit the killers.They take the couple for further elimination without trace

Leseprobe

Table of contents

Input data

Prologue

Niimak's precept

A coin in the throat

Somewhere out there

Niimak thrilled

Meeting in Berlin

The trail was beginning to show

Capture Niimak

Second murder

Taking a hostage

Danila hurts his commander

Antique coins

Shootout bad plan

I just trust you

Victory at the price of Grand Press

In Glushkovichi

The times are new, the methods are old

The power of persuasion

Ninety-first

And as always silence

Sons of Light

The trail goes into the distance

Patience broke down

Free bunk

Black Dolphin

I find the defendant Avdeeva

Seven hundred and fifty to a thousand

Lastly

He wasn't going to argue

Wheeling plus Bombila

Dead Sea Scrolls

A communal supper

We Know Nothing About the Yesse

How did you get here?

On the red felt lay

Belovkorovichi again

Stalin's Punisher

Neighbor

Finite la comedy

Chasing thoughts away

Source found

Alone Together

Don't wait too long

I will tell you everything

The coin again

Epilogue

Shortly about the author

On the cross

© 2021 SERGIY / copyright holder.

All rights reserved.

Author: Sergiy Zhuravlov

ISBN 9783985102709

[email protected]

BOOK SERIES.

MULTIPLE

NOVEL

BOOK 1

ON THE CROSS

Prologue

If one man killed another man, should he also be killed for it, for he is a murderer?

If one cleric called to kill another man for censuring the beliefs imposed by the cleric, should he be put to purifying fire?

If one man, having become the dictator of a large country, seizes his neighbor's land and declares that nation his subjects, labeling them “second-rate,” and physically eliminates dissenters through death camps, starvation, relocation to deserts. Should he be publicly executed? Make him the father of nations? Make him an idol for the “chosen people”, that is, the invaders?

To these and many other questions, you will find the answers in this series of books.

On the Cross

Danila Niimak scrutinized every detail of the dead body, as far as distance allowed. A naked old man hung from the crossbar of the steel cross. The reddish stains on his legs suggested that no more than four, five hours had passed since his death. There was no sign of a struggle or any other markings on the body. At least it seemed that way at first glance.

“Mr. Investigator, shall we remove the body?” the thirty-year-old sergeant, standing behind the police officer, asked, covering his face with a black mask.

Danila glanced at him over his shoulder and, leaving the question unanswered, threw a red anti-smoking gum into his mouth.

“So do we take off the corpse or not?” the sergeant pressed for an answer.

“No!” cut off Niimak.

The forensic men had been hustling along the Dovbush Trail for an hour and had almost finished doing their job. They thoroughly examined the metal frame of the cross, the area near it, and even took samples of the excrement that the flabby body had released. Still, Danila wanted to take another look at the dead man exactly where the killer had left him. This posed certain problems. Despite the early hour, eight o'clock in the morning, numerous onlookers with binoculars, cameras, and video cameras had already gathered. They could see the old man hanging from the cross like the palm of their hand.

“I think we're going to be at the top of YouTube today,” the sergeant remarked.

Niimak once again walked around the cross. He no longer remembered which one for this morning.

“Exposing a victim in a frontal place like this where hundreds of people can see her is a serious challenge. A murderer who is trying so hard to be seen, clearly doesn't want to remain anonymous!” pondered Danila. “The killer leaves an identifying mark, an autograph, a mark, a tag, a business card.”

“Can we at least cover him up?” the sergeant wouldn't let up.

Danila stopped, tore his gaze away from the murdered man and asked again:

“What?”

“The cape. Let's put a cape over him.”

“No! I want to see him as he was last seen by the killer,” Niimak replied, popping a new piece of gum into his mouth.

The sergeant stood silent for some time, and this compelled the officer, without taking his eyes off the victim, to inquire:

“Is something wrong?”

“No. I just thought what they were saying about you was just a rumor.”

Niimak didn't answer. He knew exactly what he was talking about. At best, the investigator perceived him as a very sympathetic policeman who had long ceased to be impressed by corpses. At worst, they saw him as a loser, not particularly successful at projecting a positive image. His red-and-black checked flannel shirts and worn jeans, which constituted his personal vision of the uniform of a detective officer, did little to contribute to this. It didn't matter now, however, in the slightest. Niimak twirled a pack of gum between his fingers, then rubbed his temples and gazed again at the unfortunate man on the cross. He supposed that one of his superiors would soon appear on the Dovbush Trail. Stand there for a few minutes and start reasoning like this sergeant.

“Do you think there's a religious motive here?” the sergeant asked another question.

“No, I don't.”

“What do you mean there isn't?!”

Niimak was silent.

“He's hanging on the cross!” the sergeant wouldn't let up. “It's obvious, isn't it?”

The investigator put the pack of gum in his pocket, convinced once again that it was a poor substitute for cigarettes. He would have given much for a puff of the smoke of good tobacco, but he had given up smoking two years ago, because of chronic migraines. Without nicotine, Niimak was used to starting the day with a tablet of Saridon, sometimes two. Today, however, he left the apartment in a hurry and forgot about the painkillers.

His father used to say that a migraine was like a chainsaw that saws the brain in his skull somewhere just behind the eyes. Danila rarely agreed with his father most of the time, but here he had to admit he was right. There were days when he felt not the chainsaw, but as if a whole freight train was rolling along the bones of his skull as if on rails. At such times, he would have torn his head off if only the pain would finally go away.

“You're not very talkative,” the sergeant muttered without waiting for a response.

Danila didn't react at all. He glanced intently at the thick rope the old man was hanging from. It was tied to the cross in a figure of eight knot, well known to anyone who has ever done rock climbing. The killer had tied a double noose at the end. This, too, was not a particularly valuable clue. Niimak already knew he was dealing with someone with mountain climbing skills. No one else could have dragged the cross and the victim up the mountain trail in the middle of the night.

“The cross and the corpse clearly indicate a religious motive!” the sergeant did not let up.

Danila turned to him, then rubbed his temples and turned to the annoying officer:

“Sergeant, how many steps separate us in the table of ranks?”

“Seven.”

“Do you ever want to get over them?”

“Of course I do!”

“Then listen. If there was a religious motive here, the killer would have left behind much more than the cross and the body itself. Such people love symbolism,” Danila pointed his hand to the victim's unnaturally swollen, ball-shaped belly. “Here he would have left a Christian ichthyosis, a pentagram, a Star of David, a crescent moon. However, if you could notice, the body is clean.”

“I wouldn't say the body is clean. But.”

“Devoid of symbolism! What do you mean?” Niimak cut him off.

“Symbolism is the cross itself!” the sergeant stood his ground.

“No!” said Niimak and sighed. Most clever men like this would have given up long ago, relying on the experience of a superior in rank, but this one was stubborn. “The cross on the Dovbush Trail was the main thing the assassin emphasized to make everyone believe your version.”

“Of course, just now.”

“Now that we've agreed,” Niimak interrupted his musings,” call the prosecutor's office in Yaremche and tell whoever is in charge there to expand the area around the crime scene.

“I think the bosses are already there.”

“And tell them to move the gawkers away so that no lens can reach the corpse.”

“I will.”

Danila looked critically at the guy coming down the trail. Obviously, he hadn't been this high often. No wonder he hadn't. His kind only appeared in the mountains during the winter vacations, patrolling the ski slopes.

The investigator focused again on the murdered man. Who could have dragged the victim out here without leaving any trace on the unfortunate man's body. A trail of snow was out of the question. It had been a snowless winter this year. And it hadn't rained in a long time. And the trail had been trampled by hundreds of feet. Niimak circled the cross once more, but this time he saw nothing that could help him. No drag marks, no evidence that the man had been dragged up the rocky slope here. If he had been dragged, there would have been abrasions. For Niimak, it looked as if the victim had climbed to the top, placed the cross, undressed, climbed up and hanged himself. But there had to be an autograph somewhere? A trace of the killer. An appeal to whoever would follow his example.

Niimak's precept

Niimak's immediate superior, Senior Councilor of Justice Yuri Popovich, clumsily climbed up the slope, not unbuttoning a single button on his officer's tunic. Finally, the gray-haired man stood next to Danila, while ostensibly not noticing him at all. As if Niimak was nothing. But it was always like that. Popovich had no sympathy for Niimak. Probably, because he'd been his daughter's boyfriend and then left her.

“What the hell is this?” asked the warden, getting to the point without further ado.

“A corpse, Mr. Warden,” Danila answered with a sneer in his voice.

“I see that he is dead! How did he get here?”

“It looks as if he climbed up here himself when he was alive.”

“Stop being sarcastic!” the head of the detective department glared at Niimak.

“'We haven't managed to establish how he got here yet,” Danila changed his tone.

“It's been an hour and a half. What have you been doing all that time?” the chief became indignant.

“Researching important details, Mr. Deputy Justice Adviser!” the investigator reported.

“Indeed!” Popovich snorted and sighed. He has to report to his superiors, and there is nothing to report. “So, can we say that the murderer got here by trail, coming up from Yaremche?” turned to Niimak.

He was silent, chewing his gum.

“I am waiting!” Popovich was clearly losing his temper.

“That's all as far as specifics go.”

“What did you say? I'm sorry, did I misunderstand you?”

“We have nothing more.”

“The man is hanging on the cross!” Popovich barked.

“That's right, Mr. Warden!”

“And you do not take it upon yourself to say that it was the murderer who dragged both the cross and the victim here from the valley?!”

Danila would rather ask why everyone thinks there was a murder? This wasn't the first or last time someone would dare to commit suicide in the mountains. Nevertheless, he bit his tongue.

“What do you say, Niimak?” Yuri barked. “I saw the Channel One cameras along the road. The vultures are already circling over the carrion.

“Nadezhda Avdeeva?

“Excuse me?

“That's the journalist from Channel One, Nadezhda Avdeeva. Is she there?

“What does it matter?

“I like her voice and her look. In fact, she's a real lady!”

“I want to know what happened here, Niimak?” Popovich interrupted Niimak's rant about the virtues of the presenter, bringing the conversation back to work.

“Of course, Mr. Warden.

Yuri looked at the body once more in disgust, then pointed it out to Danila.

“I want you to tell me something now.

“Unfortunately, I have no idea who or how could have done this.

“I need something. Anything. Any version. Do you understand?” Popovich interrupted him. “The minister is already hovering over the investigation committee, and his chief over me. I have to throw these bulldogs a bone.

Danila also looked at the naked body and said softly:

“Bye I am. More precisely. Well. It looks like the dead man walked in here and hanged himself.”

“We both know that's impossible.”

“And yet, the evidence supports that theory.”

“You mean suicide?” Popovich asked incredulously.

“I don't think so.”

“I do not understand you!” Yuri irritably fixed his tie, though. “Why not? Let it be suicide!”

“The suspect showed the greatest discretion in everything but one thing,” Niimak said, talking as if to himself.

“Except what?” Popovich became suspicious.

“He used a dynamic rope,” Danila answered, squinting through a sudden attack of headache. “If he wanted to kill himself instantly, he would have taken a static cord.”

“Can you make yourself clearer?”

“The victim died of asphyxiation, not cervical vertebrae dislocation, which causes rupture of the spinal cord and consequent instant death.”

“What are you basing your speculation on?” the chief inquired.

“This man didn't die immediately? You can see for yourself, from the point of suspension, the neck is almost one and a half meters. One meter from the victim's feet to the ground. The dynamic rope eliminated the jerk that could break the neck. The root of the tongue was pressed against the back of the throat. The man suffocated in agony. It is hard to believe that someone would dare to do such a thing while planning a suicide.”

Popovich approached the cross and involuntarily looked at the excrement beneath it.

“Where are his clothes?”

The operatives scattered over the slopes in search of them. Judging by the time, they would have found it long ago, if it were anywhere around here.

“So the killer took it,” Popovich summed up and added. “Definitely.”

“I bow my head to your insight, Inspector,” Danila nodded slightly.

“Don't mock me, Niimak! I've already threatened to promote you once.”

“I'm aware of that, Mr. Warden.”

“Then you should also know that I could easily bury you too!”

“Really?! I'm already scared! I'm trembling!”

The anger in the chief's eyes was a balm to Danila's soul. An old policeman, Popovich rarely knew how to hold his own, and it was only by some miracle that he rose so high in the ranks. He had been shaped by the militia, and that had an effect on everything.

“Have the prints been taken?” the chief of the detective squad went on to inquire.

Niimak nodded, put his hands in his pockets, and then began to clarify:

“How about that! The forensic experts are indescribably thrilled. This cross used to stand by the roadside, near the chapel. There were a lot of fingerprints on it!”

“Have you examined the body?”

“Certainly!” Danila answered, and again looked at the hangman. “We shall know more after the autopsy.”

“In that case, take the poor man down,” Popovich ordered. “Most likely, the “First” journos have already plugged in the surveillance cameras.”

It got colder somehow. A slight plus quickly turned into a minus.

Danila summoned several of the lower ranks, including a young sergeant who was blowing his mind. Wearing gloves, the officers removed the unfortunate man from the cross and placed him in a black sack.

“A seventy-year-old man. Stocky. On his nose a blurred mark from his glasses,” Niimak began dictating a description of the victim on a tape recorder. “There's a pronounced ligature mark on the neck. The most severe hemorrhage is near the Adam's apple, indicating a fracture of the hyoid bone. There were already cadaveric spots on the arms and legs. Everything seems normal. With one exception. The face should look very different. Son of a bitch!” shrieked the coroner.

“What?” asked the warden.

“That doesn't apply to you.”

“I know it bloody well doesn't apply to me! What did you notice?”

Danila pointed to the bruises and swelling on the dead man's swollen face.

“In a typical hanging, the blood would flow down,” Niimak explained. “And here, as you can see, there was no cutting off of the blood supply to the brain.”

“Excuse me?”

“Someone blocked the blood flow!”

“That doesn't mean anything to me. You sound like a medical examiner.”

“Take a look,” Niimak continued, leaning over the corpse, ignoring the commander's retort. “His face is blue. And there's some dried blood around his ears. This suggests that in the moments before death, blood was flowing into the brain, but not draining out of it.”

“What are you talking about, Niimak?”

“There was no occlusion of the blood vessels,” Danila explained. “The poor guy didn't lose consciousness! Whoever hung him wanted to prolong his agony.”

“What!”

“Hence the dynamic rope,” said Danila rather to himself than to the chief. “The murderer did not want to damage the spinal cord. He didn't want to kill too quickly.”

“He was torturing him.”

“Rather, he took pleasure in bringing his victim back to life and killing him again. And apparently he did this several times? Which means he spent a lot of time here.”

Popovich stared at the victim for a while longer, then nodded to the orderlies, and they closed the bag. But then Danila leaned over the corpse and revealed his face again.

“What are you doing? You can explain to me!”

Niimak didn't answer. He squatted down and gazed into the bluish face, into the glassy eyes. He covered them, and then put his hand into the dead man's mouth. Those watching the scene could barely contain their squeamishness, and the pesky sergeant puked as soon as he turned away.

“Niimak! What are you doing!” Popovich yelled.

“Calm down, Mr. Warden!”

“How calm down! Take your paw out of the dead man's mouth!”

A coin in the throat

The investigator carried out the order. He snatched the mask from the pale sergeant's hands and wiped the blood and phlegm from his trophy with it. Then examined it closely, holding it up with two fingers. “A dead man has a coin in his throat.” It was a coin. He held it out to the warden.

“Hold it. You have gloves. Hold the coin.

A confused Popovich complied with the request. Danila took out his smartphone and took a picture of the coin on each side. He knew it was about to go on a long trip through the labs and then God knows where else, and he wouldn't see it for a long time.

“Enough!” Popovich growled, called up one of the forensic scientists, and handed him the coin.

Danila looked at the pictures with interest. It was most likely a not too refined counterfeit of an antique coin. It had four columns on o

ne side and an inscription on the other. Niimak didn't know what alphabet it was written in, but it certainly wasn't Latin.

“How did you know the killer had left something in his throat?” the warden asked when they moved away from the scene.

“I didn't know. Only guessed.”

“That's my job! And your job is to answer them.”

“The First has very long and tenacious tentacles,” Niimak explained.

“Yes, but First has dozens of reporters all over the country, so why her?”

“Yes, that's right!” Niimak agreed. “Except that it was her, and not someone else, who was seen yesterday in Bukovel with the President.”

“I did not watch TV.”

“And there is no need. There is YouTube.”

“Excuse me?”

“Forget it. I met her this morning at the gas station. Stopped for coffee.”

“Coffee on the way to a crime scene?”

“Exactly. Can't start the day without coffee. I'm a little irritable without it.”

“I understand,” Popovich replied. “And after what I've heard about you from the people at the District Office, nothing surprises me anymore.”

“And from your daughter,” Danila added.

Popovich hissed something to himself as he noticed the Channel One cameras in the distance. He pulled back the flaps of his officer's jacket and straightened his tie.

“Think of her again, and your face will be no prettier than the dead man's today.”

“Copy that, Mr. Warden!” Niimak barked.”

“And keep quiet in front of the camera! Is that clear? Even if Avdeeva asks if you want her. Be quiet and try to put on a clever face. You're from an intelligent family, aren't you?”

“I am. My father lectured in Lvov.”

“And you joined the police. Bravo!” the chief said with a squeamish grimace and added: “Lord, what kind of rags are you wearing?”

“A Tommi Jeans shirt and Levis pants. And this jacket.”

“It's the perfect set to look awful, if you add to that the obvious traces of a hangover. Your appearance is not suitable for filming,” Popovich added. “Anyway, stay one step behind me.”

“No problem, chief!” agreed Niimak, watching at this moment as Nadezhda Avdeeva takes command.

She pushed the curious away, clearing a scrap of space for herself near the striped ribbons of the fence. She managed to place both herself and the camera there, which now filmed the two policemen approaching the journalist. At first glance, the girl did not look anything special: her hair slicked back and gathered into a small bundle, a plain jacket with the “First” logo on it. But there was one but that caught the investigator's eye.

“What buns!” said Danila, almost licking his lips.

“Shut up, Niimak!” Yuri muttered, quickening his pace.

The sky darkened abruptly and splashed with fine rain. Popovich and Niimak stopped a few yards from the cell, waiting for a sign that they could go on. Nadezda looked back, gave them a duty smile, and announced the news. Apparently, “First” was live. Danila had no doubt that both the Chief Prosecutor and the Minister of the Interior were watching the program. Then he thought that the prime minister and the president were probably watching it, too. This morning, the whole country saw a corpse hanging from a cross on the Dovbush Trail. It couldn't help but resonate.

“Could you share with us some information about the victim?” Avdeeva asked, holding out the microphone in the direction of the officer in police uniform.

“No!” retorted Danila, peering over the chief's shoulder.

The camera and the microphone instantly moved in his direction.

“In the frame, the viewers could see that the victim was a man in his seventies, completely naked and.”

“Suicide!” blurted out Niimak, stepped forward, and taking out of his shirt pocket an empty, worn-out packet of Parliament, looked questioningly at the reporter, as if he were going to buy him a cigarette. He took out a strip of gum, unfolded it, and put it in his mouth.

“Are you sure?” the reporter interrogated.

“That the man killed himself on the Dovbush Trail? Yes!” cut off Niimak and took the initiative. “There is no doubt about it.”

From the corner of his eye, he watched the chief, who had to admit that it was too late to save the situation.

“It sounds ridiculous!” Nadezhda objected.

Niimak shrugged and, looking at the journalist, began to chew gum. Everybody was silent. The cameraman stuck out from behind the machine and looked questioningly at Avdeeva.

“Could you tell us something else?” she turned to Niimak.

“No!” Popovich intervened. “The press-secretary will give you all the information you need in due course. Thank you.”

Accompanied by a young sergeant and several other officers, Niimak and Popovich left the film crew. A crowd of gawkers parted to give them passage, but from time to time, questions were shouted out that went unanswered.

“You're dead!” growled Popovich.

“That's right, Mr. Warden,” agreed Niimak.

They passed the last gawkers and moved down the path. Danila looked with some surprise at Popovich walking beside him. He was too calm. Probably only, because the First's camera was watching them.

“Niimak, I am serious!” Popovich confirmed the threat as they left the crowd of onlookers behind. “That path and the cross are going to cost you.

“I don't think so. I'll take him by the naked balls!” Niimak replied, looking over his shoulder.

With what pleasure he would have exchanged with Avdeeva, accompanying him with a glance, a few more phrases. Although, he had already said what he was going to say.

“Do you think it can happen?”

“I challenged him!” Niimak cut him off. “I didn't publicly acknowledge his authorship, thus trampling all his hopes of becoming a star.”

“And you really think you pissed him off enough to make him take you on?”

“I'm sure I do!”

Popovich shook his head and added:

“Miracles, I wouldn't expect. It's that our boss is sure to rip your balls off.”

“You would stand up for me, wouldn't you?”

Niimak, I wouldn't put my ass on the line for you even if I got paid.

Danila smirked and focused on the road. The gravel was icy, and the descent had become quite difficult. Rough-treaded boots did little to save him. Popovich, walking beside him, was in a much worse position. His stylish leather-soled shoes were now transformed into small skis. At one point he had to step off the trail and descend, shifting downward, grabbing at trunks and branches. Niimak thought of the weirdos who came out on the trail in sandals or flip-flops. If these suicide candidates managed to make it back down to the valley alive and well on their own, it meant that fate had indeed smiled on them. The same could not be said for the man who was now being carried in a black sack. To him, happiness was a scarce commodity. Who was he? Who had displeased him so much that he had been killed in such a brutal way? He agonized for an unbelievably long time while he was conscious.

“Why did you stop talking?” Popovich, out of breath, asked, sinking one foot into the hole.

“Enjoying the contemplation of nature!” Danila quipped.

“Do you have to be in such a hurry?”

“I am in no hurry, Mr. Chief. It is you who are moving slowly.”

“Let's take a break.”

“No problem.”

“I'm not used to it. Not everybody has the time to waste on a daily jog.”

For years, Niimak would get up at six o'clock in the morning to go for a one-hour run. During that time, he would cover twelve and sometimes thirteen kilometers. And it was not for the sake of fitness he did it. It was just for that time that the headache that had been bothering him since dawn would subside.

“How much will,” Yuri exhaled.

“Another twenty minutes.”

“Not good.”

Danila looked at him with an appraising look and said:

“I declare with all responsibility” I will not carry you on myself.

“Wait. I need some rest.”

Popovich stopped to catch his breath. Niimak stood next to him, looked around and threw away his gum. He wondered how the chief had climbed to such a height in the first place. No sooner had Popovich regained his breath than his cell phone rang. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and reached for the leather case from the nineties, which he carried on his belt.

“Good morning, Mr. Justice Counselor, third Class,” he said on an exhale. “Yes. Yes. No. I gave an order to remain silent. No. Or that. Yes, of course, I understand,” Popovich hid his smartphone, scooted toward the next sneer, and just as he grabbed its barrel he shouted:

“You're suspended! Did you hear that, Niimak!”

“What?” interrogated Danila.

“'My supervisor has ordered that you, Mr. Niimak, be suspended from duty for three months.

“He has no right!”

Popovich looked up at his interlocutor.

“He has every right!” Popovich replied. “There is a disciplinary case against you.”

“That is nonsense!” Niimak sniggered. “In such a short time, no one would have had time to put even a stamp, let alone a signature.”

“And yet, the regional prosecutor's office itself just informed me of it,” Popovich winked sweetly. “Obviously, you got in for other things.”

“Shouldn't you know about that? You're the bloody boss!”

“Be careful what you say.”

They were silent for a minute.

“And yet, what did you know?” Niimak asked.

“I didn't know anything.”

“How is that possible?”

“However, even if things were different, those hyenas wouldn't tell me anything. They probably know you're sleeping with my daughter.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“Shut up, Niimak!” the warden grumbled. “And get used to it, because that's all you'll be doing for the next three months – sleeping with my daughter!”

Three months. That was enough to make any trace of the murderer disappear, and the case get lost among other unsolved cases. Niimak stopped abruptly. Popovich walked a few more steps by inertia, and looked back at his subordinate.

“This is some nonsense!” Niimak could not calm down. He realized that even if he succeeded in getting the suspension lifted, he would not be assigned to today's case. At best, street patrols and lectures in schools awaited him.

He turned around and started climbing back up the mountain.

“What are you doing? Niimak, stop!”

“I'm suspended, Mr. Popovich. So, I can disobey your orders.”

“In that case, surrender your weapons!” shouted the chief, and by some miracle in three jumps he overcame the distance between them and added. “And the service card!”

Danila handed him a card that looked like an ID card, and then unzipped his holster. The service Fort he no longer needed. All that mattered was that the phone's memory contained pictures of the coin, which represented the killer's only clue or business card. He soon left Popovich behind.

Somewhere out there

A bald man was watching a live broadcast of Channel One, sitting in an armchair that remembered the days when Soviet propaganda was shown on a black-and-white screen, at best. He had replaced the upholstery in the old chair and had the wooden armrests lacquered with expensive lacquer, but there was nothing he could do about the weary seat, which had settled on the left side. The thing was, he always sat on one side. And when he tried to sit up straight, it caused severe pain in his spine and he involuntarily returned to his usual position.

The man turned off the television and got up from his chair. He was home alone, indeed, as he always was. He no longer remembered the last time someone had visited him. With a shuffling gait, he walked over to the old computer and sank heavily into a chair. Leaning against the desk, he started the system and waited for a long time for the old monitor to wake up. He looked through several information portals and, not finding what he was looking for, got up from the chair and went to the chest of drawers by the window. He pulled out the top drawer, looked at the box that contained ancient coins. There were seventy-seven of them. One for every goddamn year.

You're tracking me

Avdeeva told her cameraman to stay put. She herself took the binoculars and went down to where the two policemen had gone. No suicide was out of the question. But the policeman himself was well aware of that. Somehow the body had been brought up to the top, and she was about to find out exactly how it had been done.

“Mrs. Avdeeva!” someone called out to her.

She stopped, immediately recognizing the voice of her recent police interlocutor. Only now, as he drew nearer, did she get a good look at him?

He had severe features, but at the same time it was felt that he was a kind man. His lack of uniform made him look nothing like a police officer at all.

“And this is Homicide!” remarked the reporter with a smirk.

“Are you stalking me?”

“I'm admiring you! You have a terrific figure!”

“What did you say?” Avdeeva asked, looking down at the investigator. She tried to find something in his eyes that indicated that he liked to drink and had already taken a double dose today. There was nothing else to explain his behavior.

“I couldn't help but notice as I drove through the ice to your house.”

“Are you crazy?”

“Danila Niimak!” he answered, holding out his hand.

“I take it that was your affirmative answer?” Nadezhda asked.

“In that situation, yes.”

“If you want to add something to the camera, I'll call the cameraman.”

“I have nothing more to say in front of the cameras,” Niimak objected. “Besides, I'm not dressed up today. And you, as always, look just great!”

Avdeeva looked at her companion with bewilderment. More than once she had produced investigative reports for “First” and each time she had met with a completely different reaction from the police. They were always wary and not very friendly, because they thought that she intruded into their holy of holies and with her reports did more harm than good. This one seemed ready to talk. Except for this clumsy flirtation.

“I've seen some of your materials,” Danila began. “I found them very convincing.”

“Really?”

“You do your job well. The report from Kalush led to an inspection of the hospital there. You pointed out irregularities in several tenders, after which corrupt schemes were discovered. In addition, you managed to record a visit of the SBU to an apartment.”

“I know my materials very well!” Avdeeva cut it off. “What do you want?”

“Shall we turn to you?”

“Should we?”

Niimak nodded.

“Okay. Then tell me, what is it?”

“Can I get the gist of it in general terms?”

“I'd appreciate it.”

“On the bad side, I've been suspended from the case. On the good side, I was able to get some very valuable evidence.”

Nadezda looked at him incredulously, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Enough information for once?” Danila asked.

“What evidence?” Avdeeva answered with a question to a question.

“Photographs. The camera resolution on my smartphone is about 100 megapixels. I assure you the picture sharpness will be decent.”

Nadezhda took a step closer, not taking her eyes off her interlocutor. She knew at once if he was telling the truth” she had a rare chance. A suspended policeman was usually an embittered policeman. And those are pretty talkative. All she had to do was find out what the price of the information was.

“Why were you suspended?” the question sounded like a gunshot.

“It sounded like you doubted it was true. What would I have accomplished by deceiving you?” he shrugged and turned to the crowd for a moment.

“Nothing.”

“Exactly! And as for the reason for the suspension, I don't know.”

“Maybe somebody got mad, because of your prank in front of the camera.”

“I think it was just an excuse.”

They walked to the edge of the trail, where they had a view of Yaremcha. The mountain slopes were covered with a green carpet of young greenery. But now it was cold. Nadezhda rubbed her hands and turned to her interlocutor and said:

“You must at least have some idea what you were suspended for.”

“There are too many possibilities.”

“Are you that popular?”

“Apparently not enough, since my name is not known in Kiev. If only you came more often.”

“What's your name again?”

“Danila Niimak.”

Avdeeva squinted, obviously diving into the recesses of her memory, dug there, but did not find anything. She hadn't heard the name. But that was even better. If this man had been involved in any high-profile case, of course she would have known about it.

“Will you tell me what this is about?”

“Sure,” Niimak answered. “Someone has preemptively decided to leak me.”

The journalist looked at him questioningly.

“In other words, somebody upstairs doesn't want this case solved.”

“What makes you think that?”

“After they suspended me.”

“Maybe they've got a smarter investigator in mind. Have you thought about that?”

“Nope.”

Niimak looked at her as if he expected her to smile, but Nadezhda stood there with a stony expression on her face.

“I know who will be assigned the case.”

“And?”

“You couldn't find a more wretched tracker than Sergeant Podoprigora.”

” I came across one, and I wasn't even looking for one.”

Niimak only smirked, appreciating her quip.

“Now, let's see if I understand your intentions,” said Avdeeva in a serious tone. “Not only are you going to do the investigation after the suspension, but you're ready to give me the evidence in the unsolved case?”

“That's right!” Danila agreed. “But let's make a deal. You will not reveal the source of information. Journalistic secrecy! You will not say a word about our intercourse.”

Avdeeva raised her eyebrows.

“I'm sorry, madam, it slipped out.”

“Yes. I thought so. What do you want in return, Niimak?”

“Cooperation.”

“Not only will you be fired, but you'll go to jail,” Avdeeva smiled and shook her head. “Do you know that?”

“It's more likely that Putin will take back the Crimea,” Danila answered and smiled.

Nadezhda took another step and looked down. A thought flashed across her mind: to get involved in the case, started by Niimak, was tantamount to throwing herself from this place into the abyss. Obviously, he hadn't thought it through, but that wasn't her problem.

“All right! Let's see if you can get me interested.”

Danila pulled out his phone and opened the picture of the coin. Then he ran his finger across the display and showed the coin on the back.

“It was in the victim's throat.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No way. I pulled it out of him myself.”

“Let me see it?” Nadezhda asked, squinting. “Antique columns. What does that inscription mean?”

“You can Google it.”

“Let me see! The killer left a business card. That's not surprising. Every moral freak somehow wants to indicate his authorship. That coin sounds like a real dead end to me,” she handed the phone back to Danila. “Whoever went to so much trouble with the cross and the victim wouldn't have left a clue in the corpse's throat that could lead to him. It's just an autograph. A horrible one, but still just a signature.”

“I understand that!”

“Then why are you showing it to me?”

“So that you can understand” I have more than you.

Nadezhda was silent for a while, which made him feel a little uncomfortable, but he pulled himself together.

“If you're not interested in my offer, then I am,” Niimak yawned and continued, “I can manage on my own. Although, I was thinking that Channel One's biggest star would be happy to help expose the criminal.”

“I'm not the biggest star on Channel One.”

“But you will be, thanks to this case,” Niimak encouraged Avdeeva and handed her a strip of gum. She refused. “If you agree to my terms,” Danila finished his thought.

“Are you kidding? Will he still make demands?”

“That's my plan!” Niimak summed up. He had noticed long ago that some policemen in the distance were interested in the two men standing on the edge of the path. “I am ready to go shoulder to shoulder with you if you guarantee me that you will not broadcast any material without my consent.”

“And what else?”

“The following conditions are more personal. But I'll introduce them later when we get to know each other better.”

“Don't even think about it!”

“I'm not thinking about it. I'm just going to carry out my plan.”

Nadezhda shook her head and headed downhill. She didn't want to attract the attention of the police when she was one step away from cooperating with their persona non grata.

“Was I being too direct?”

“More than that.”

She was used to more veiled sexual innuendos, but even those flowed over her like water over a wild duck. The guy might have been handsome, but there was something of the modern rebel in him.

For several minutes, they walked in silence. Nadezda felt more confident, being able to lean on her companion. Danila, on the other hand, was straining hard to stay on the trail. Now, he would have taken great pleasure in putting at least a few cogs on his soles.

“I must check on you, Niimak!” the reporter responded.

“I don't see any obstacles. Ask your informants. Call the local media. Talk to the priest in my parish. You can ask the mechanic where I get my car repaired. Everybody around here has had problems with me. You'll be thrilled.”

“Brilliant.”

“That's the deal. I'll take care of identifying the hangman, and you find the numismatist.”

Avdeeva nodded, and at that moment she slipped on the icy gravel. Losing her balance, she knocked Danila down. He twisted and fell on his back. Nadezda safely collapsed on top of him, finding herself face-to-face in his arms. So, they slid down the trail until they ran into some bush. Their lips met for a moment.

Niimak thrilled

They walked down to the highway and headed for the car parked right in front of the rise. Niimak looked with white envy at the ripe cherry-colored Audi A5 coupe. He walked around the car and looked carefully at the trunk lid. 3.2 Quattro” he expected nothing less.

“Is something wrong?” asked Avdeeva.

“No. No, I am delighted!”

“Sit down. I'll turn on the heating.”

He gladly took up the offer, as he had long lacked at least one more layer of insulation. As soon as the door closed, the overwhelming scent of Kenzo Cupid perfume enveloped him. Of that he had no doubt. Only this perfume smelled like that. He unwrapped the gum and tried to concentrate on its pungent taste.

“Is it some kind of habit?” Nadezhda asked, pointing to the package.

“I chew it every time I feel like smoking.”

“How long ago did you quit?”

“More than two years ago.”

“I see,” Avdeeva nodded, took out her phone and started leafing through the address book.

Finding the right contact, she dialed the number and greeted the interlocutor. The phone worked in hands-free mode. It was not difficult to guess that a representative of the local media was on the line.

She silently listened to the informant, who listed everything he had found on Niimak. He told about the affair of the investigator with the daughter of the chief, and about the beating of a German tourist who bathed in the Prut, and about the detention for drunken driving. It was not much, but if they started digging into his past, they would dig up more.

Avdeeva took the information unemotionally. This strengthened his confidence that he did the right thing in offering her cooperation. Although, as a matter of fact, he had no other choice. Leaving his boss on the trail, he made a few calls, trying to take advantage of old connections like, you me, me you. However, all his debtors sang in unison, assuring him there was nothing they could do for him. Suspension is unavoidable, and the term will probably be extended. And the case would go to Zagoruiko, who would helpfully cooperate with the prosecutor's office. No one knew the reasoning behind the decisions made by management. Chewing gum in front of the camera and stating that the dead man on the cross was suicidal was hardly a reason to launch an internal investigation. Something was wrong. Clearly there is someone directly involved in this case, and he acted with lightning speed. Like a professional.

Avdeeva ended the conversation and turned to Niimak:

“An acquaintance of mine, and you heard this, speaks highly of you in the most flattering terms. Congratulations, you have grown in my eyes.”

“Thank you. I've never been charged.”

“It's hard to indict a 12-year-old boy.”

“We're not North Korea yet. Anything would be possible there.”

“All right. (chuckles) Relax. After all, you passed the Avdeeva test. You got a positive evaluation.”

Niimak raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Now show me what you can do professionally. Find out who our victim is.”

“We call these unknown plaintiffs John Doe.”

“A what?”

“It's an outdated legal term used in a situation where the real plaintiff is unknown.”

“Thank you for the clarification,” Nadezda smiled. “Perhaps one of yours has already been able to identify him?”

“Perhaps. It's been a good two hours.”

“Did it take us that long to come down the mountain?”

“Girls don't watch watches with me,” Niimak winked.”

“Better start calling, Niimak,” she smiled back.”

For starters, he dialed the number of an acquaintance, from the crime lab. He hoped that if anywhere knew anything about the naked old man from the cross, it was probably there. No documents were found at the scene, so that left fingerprinting dental records and, finally, DNA testing. The interlocutor, however, had no information for him” except that the body was already in the morgue of the hospital in Nadvirna, where an autopsy was being performed.

“And I was sure that he would be transported to Ivano-Frankivsk.”

The investigator did not react in any way to the retort. The place where the autopsy was conducted did not matter, because they were not allowed to see it anyway.

“They could have sent the corpse to the Forensic Institute,” Avdeeva persisted. “They had better equipment.”

“What a splendid idea! A flight with a decomposing corpse on board. The victim has a different status than a plane ride.”

Nadezda shrugged her shoulders.

“And by the rule of territorial jurisdiction, the case is in the hands of the Delyatin prosecutor's office,” added Danila. “Anyway, they failed to identify him.”

“I should have expected so.”

“You don't have any confidence in the law-enforcement bodies, madam.”

“Yes, I do. But I prefer Facebook.”

Niimak looked at her questioningly. Avdeeva pointed to the bag lying behind the driver's seat. While Danila took out a small laptop, Nadezhda opened the mirror and began to fix her hair.

“You'll be pleased that I sent a message straight from the trail,” she announced.

Niimak turned on the dormant computer and, after opening it, logged into the social networking site.

“Are you logged in?”

“Definitely.”

“You're taking a risk. Someone might leave you a crappy gift on your wall.”

“I like living on the edge of risk,” she replied, fixing a strand of hair.

Danila glanced at the last post on Avdeeva's fan page. Made sure that, the same thing on her Twitter and Instagram.

“And how do you like it?” Nadezhda asked. “A hundred thousand subscribers to my tweets and twice as many fans. It's better not to go to Insta, or you'll start to get complex.”

The investigator silently looked through the comments. There were more than a thousand of them, despite the fact that the messages appeared only two and a half hours ago. Both messages were appeals, and Internet users responded immediately.

“I did a little crowdsourcing.”

“I see,” Niimak replied. “I also got a reprimand from the Media Ethics Commission. You can see the victim's face in these pictures.”

“It means nothing to me.”

“And that's in a good approximation.”

“Did anyone recognize him?” Avdeeva asked.

“If the number of likes under the answer indicates its recognizability, then it's none other than Nergal, rehearsing before the concert.”

“There are no other options?”

“There are plenty!”

“Do you have any sensible idea?”

“I'm looking, hopefully I'll find one.”

“More precisely?”

“According to one of your fans, pretending to be a great Revenant, our deceased is a lecturer of the Lvov National University, a certain docent Rustam Halimov. Does it mean anything to you?”

“Nothing,” replied Avdeeva, continuing to look at herself in the mirror.

Niimak rushed to Google and got confirmation that the corpse from the trail was docent Halimov when he was alive. The university website had already posted a photo of the unfortunate man and a brief biographical note. He taught basic archival science.

“And what do you say to that?” Danila asked, continuing to rummage through the web.

“He probably got a few students expelled from the university, because of him. They got mad at the teacher, conspired, dragged him off to the trail, and there they massacred him for the edification of the other teachers.”

“Of course they did,” Niimak muttered. “What I agree with is that there must have been more than one killer. From one, or even two, Halimov would have escaped.”

“Are you saying that he climbed to the top with his own feet?”

“I deduced that, because there were no abrasions on the body. Besides, everything points to the fact that he died already on the cross.”

Nadezda closed the mirror, and started the engine. You could tell that the engine was running by the subtle, soft and even pleasant vibration of the seat. When the car moved down the road, it made a low sound, indicating that there were at least three hundred horses under the hood. Danila watched the dashboard and the engine sounds. Nadezda calmly drove the car.

“Where are we going?” the passenger asked.

“To Chernivtsi.”

“Do we have a destination? Or are we going to spend the evening in Cardboard?”

“I know a man who knows,” without stipulating, pressed the gas and dashing around the oncoming two trucks, “about the antique culture.”

“Isn't there such a person closer, not a hundred and forty kilometres away?”

“You could just Google it,” she pedaled again and went to the left, avoiding several cars. “But as of tomorrow, I'm on vacation. So why not in this town?”

“You should be jealous,” he glanced at the cars that had gotten behind him.

“Jealous of yourself! Your vacation will be much longer than mine.”

Niimak had to agree.

As usual, road works were going on at the Kyiv – Chernivtsi fork. Danila did not expect anything different. Nor did he expect to get any kind of message. When he saw the number of missed calls, he could not believe his eyes. In addition to them, a text message icon was visible in the corner of the screen. Niimak looked at it and was amazed.

“What?” asked Avdeeva, turning her head to him.

“They're waiting for me at the headquarters.”

“You were suspended.”

“That's right. And now they would like to interrogate me.”

“Turn back?” the tone of her voice indicated that the question was rhetorical. So Danila didn't answer.

“What's the risk to you if you don't show up?”

“Nothing good.”

Without taking her eyes off the road, she made a gesture with her hand for him to continue speaking. But Niimak was silent for a while, wondering why he was in such a hurry. There was only one conclusion to be drawn: someone wanted to silence him. Immediately.

“Hello, wake up!”

“I am thinking.”

“Don't think, answer me!” Nadezhda insisted. “Unless you want to get off at the nearest gas station.

Danila coughed. In fact, he had to be prepared for the journalist to bend her line. In fact, he didn't mind, but on the one condition that he had the last word.

“Technically, I would face disciplinary action and consequences of a, shall we say, professional nature. But if I don't show up, whoever I'm bothering will prosecute me.”

“So we're talking about consequences not at all related to what you're about.”

“Scared?”

“No. I just want to be clear. I'm not going to help a criminal.”

“I am an officer of the law, and I am clean before the law,” he answered and became silent as he thought about how long it would take his superiors to process the paperwork.

Under normal circumstances he would have easily distracted himself for another week, but in this situation he had to admit that he had a head start of several hours. He looked at Nadezhda, trying to understand her thoughts. She caught his exploratory gaze and smiled.

“As long as you're not officially accused, you're clean in my eyes.”

“So there's nothing in the way of our intimacy.”

“Our intimacy is and always will be only in your fantasies.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I'm sure.”

He spoke without caring much about the meaning of what he said, because his mind was occupied with other things. He was thinking about how he was trapped. It was an unbreakable trap, not just a snare as he had originally assumed. He could understand that someone wanted to take him off the case. But where did the story of abuse of power in the line of duty come from? Someone clearly wanted to put him away before he started sniffing out who benefited? Niimak was hoping to find out something in Chernivtsi. The coin itself didn't say much. But perhaps Avdeeva's specialist could shed some light on what might be connected to it.

The stretch of road where the work was being done ended. The car easily passed the two hundred mark.

“Is this your numismatics trusted?” asked Danila, seeing that the needle was at the 250 kilometers per hour mark.

“Just like me to this beautiful Audi A5.”

“Do you know it well?”

“Let's just say. I've known him longer than I've known you.”

Niimak rubbed his temple. The headache was unbearable.

“I think whoever I'm bothering is probably watching our every move.”

“Sounds a little paranoid.”

“More like preemptive,” Niimak grinned. “And, just in case, schedule a meeting with this specialist in a crowded enough place.”

Meeting in Berlin

“Berlin Donner” on Heroes of Maidan Street was not the ideal place to solve the mystery of the antique coin. But Avdeeva decided it was better to reassure herself than to regret later. She did not belong to the group of fans of conspiracy theories, but the haste with which the police leadership wanted to eliminate Niimak was really alarming.

Avdeeva suggested a table near the window. Danila looked around the room, assessing the situation.

“Do you think we will discover some ancient secret?” Nadezhda asked in a whisper.

“What?” said Niimak, thinking for a moment.

“That's what you seem to think. It's as if you think we're about to be attacked by the keepers of the secret mark.”

“My thoughts are more prosaic,” he replied. “I'm being hunted, and I don't know by whom. So, I'd rather find out whose hunting me before they spot me, lest I become somebody's trophy.”

“Makes sense.”

From what she could find out about Niimak, she knew he rarely did that. The informant claimed that Niimak usually behaved recklessly and took unnecessary risks. And his addiction to alcohol was to blame. He had enough seniority, experience, and accomplishments to take a higher position, but was still a senior homicide officer. And no wonder. They don't put alcoholics in leadership positions. But she had been watching him for hours, and so far she had not noticed anything of the sort.

“Coming!” said Avdeeva, seeing the man they were waiting for.

Danila looked around, and Nadezhda noticed his hand touching the place where his holster would normally be.

A lanky seventy-year-old man wearing a regular medical mask glanced around the hall and, without seeing Avdeeva, headed for the food counter. He picked up fries and cheese sauce. He took another look around the hall. Avdeeva prudently took off her mask and raised her hand. This time he saw her and headed toward their table.

“How do you know this old man?” Niimak asked.

“He once appeared as an expert on one of my broadcasts.”

“He must be trustworthy.”

“I trust him. He works at the local history museum.”

“That sounds lame to me. I know at least one historian from the museum I wouldn't cooperate with. He was very unstable.”

The man with the potatoes walked over to the table. He gave Danila a nasty look, and then nodded to greet Nadezhda. He sat down next to her, put the tray in front of him, took off his mask and put it in his pocket. Not only that, but he looked at the stranger once more. He took a piece of potato, dipped it in sauce, put it in his mouth, covered his eyes and began to chew slowly, enjoying the taste. Then he opened his eyes, took a glass of juice and took a sip from it.

“I see our professor is a food lover!” snorted Niimak.

“I did not come here for a meeting, but for friendly company, assuming that I could have a snack together,” he replied, and went back to eating potatoes in an even more demonstrative manner.

The investigator looked questioningly at his companion. Avdeeva shrugged her shoulders. Then on the set, in front of the camera, the scientist was pouring out a nightingale. So, she thought that it would not shut him up now. Apparently, he had other motives then.

“Did my friend tell you about the problem?” the investigator tried to start a conversation.

It took at least ten seconds before he heard a short:

“Yes.”

“And what do you think about it?”

“I need to see the subject.”

“We sent you the obverse and reverse of the coin in the mail,” Nadezhda intervened.

The professor didn't answer. He took the last piece of potato, smeared the gravy with it and sent it into his mouth. Then he wiped his fingertips on a napkin and clarified.

“I need that line. I have to hold it in my hand. Otherwise, I can't tell you who wrote the line.”

“At this moment it is impossible,” said Avdeeva.

“Why not?”

“Because this coin is in the evidence warehouse at the police department,” explained Niimak.

“In that case, in spite of my sincere wishes, I can do nothing to help.”

“Dear, I'm sorry, I don't know how to address you.”

“Doctor of History, Zinoviy Puntus.”

“Danila Niimak,” the investigator introduced himself. “Tell me, what kind of coin is this?”

“The tetradrachm.”

Neither Danila nor Nadezhda knew anything about it. To cheer the scientist up somehow, she gave him one of her trademark television smiles.

“This coin equals the weight of four drachmas,” announced the professor.

“Thank you, but please — get to the point. And without unnecessary details,” Niimak showed impatience. “Say what.”

“I will not tolerate such behavior,” said the scientist and looked at Danila as if he were one of his students.

“So don't tolerate it. Who is forcing you? Just tell us what we need to know, and then we'll go away.”

“You've got some nerve, young man!”

“No more than you are a snob!”

“Boys! Gentlemen! Men! Brack!” Nadezhda waved her arms like a referee in a ring and looked reproachfully at the angry men, who behaved worse than the boys in the sandbox. Niimak scowled, tilting his head; the professor sighed defiantly.

“My acquaintance, Danila, has some problems,” she said, turning to the old man.”

“It can be seen with the naked eye.”

Danila grimaced, but restrained himself.

“And now, Mr. Puntus, tell us about this coin,” asked Nadezhda, making her eyebrows curled.

A gleam appeared in the old man's eyes. Just like that time, in front of the camera. That program was devoted to antique culture. Then she could hardly keep awake, and the interlocutor, having saddled his horse, reveled in self-love.

“I do not even know what to tell you!” he said with false modesty.

“Anything you can,” Nadezhda encouraged him with a smile. “Let's start with the obverse. What are these columns?”

“Didn't you go to school?”

“I did, but I was more focused on chemistry then.”

The scientist looked at her dismissively.

“Well,” unhurriedly he began. “Obviously, we can see the Doric columns. You can see the echinous ones well.”

“Indeed,” Niimak muttered.

“As you know, this style was present in architecture as early as the seventh century B.C. But that doesn't mean that the coin dates from that time.”

Avdeeva nodded understandingly and opened her mouth slightly. She listened to the professor, leaning her elbows on the table and resting her head with her hands.

“What period did she come from then?” I asked her with the look of a schoolgirl.

“I think it was about five hundred years B.C. The tetradrachm was in circulation until about the forties. Although it appeared later, too. Especially at the frontiers of civilizations.”

Nadezda hoped to get a little more out of the numismatist. Although, if the murderer himself left the obol coin, it was not worth waiting for miracles, because whoever had organized such a performance was unlikely to leave a trail that would lead to him.

“Is that all?” I asked with hope in my voice.

“What else can I say without a coin?”

She thought for a moment, and then held out her open palm to Niimak. He quickly figured out what it was all about, took a cell phone out of his pocket and handed it to the journalist.

“See if you can see better on this phone?”