Here's another souvenir for you, since you seem to be ignoring my requests. I stand by my word. A day, a finger. Meet me at the shack in 18 Bulatnikovskaya street, right past the gate, so we can arrange the exchange.
You may be tempted to contact the cops, but I suspect you already realized they won't be of much help.
Goddammit. The Captain was indeed hiding something. He couldn't be trusted. That young officer –Kenya, was it?– on the other hand, seemed friendly and willing to help. Mr. Petrov did not have the money, but he was willing to make a deal. Half of it seemed somehow reasonable.
He rushed to the police station. Kenya was again at the main desk. He sprung up as soon as he saw Mr. Petrov. Both of them sprinted outside and got into the old man's car.
“Did he say anything else?”
Mr. Petrov silently handed him the envelope.
Kenya went white as he read the note. “Shit. I... I knew something was off here. But this... That scoundrel openly admitting it, that's too much. I mean, I thought we were here to protect the citizens, not to look the other way when... things get ugly.”
Mr. Petrov looked at him. “What the hell do you mean, things get ugly?”
“Well, yesterday I was still in shock, and didn't really want to believe it, but... the Captain told me to not get involved in this like, a handful of times. He... seemed to know who... who was behind it, he even... let out a couple veiled threats.”
“Dammit.” Mr. Petrov took a deep breath. “Boy. I'm going to that place. Will you come with me?”
Kenya nodded.
Author's note: Any reference to real world places is purely fictional.
