-Still, it's an abomination, Veronica shook her head. — You can, Gladyshev, you want to rant, but I dislike it. Why have they drochili?
-Well, I don't know... Probably, as it was intended. It too is nested in any sense. Look, here. These foreigners have given for this обосранный toilet rabid money! Don't they have no taste?!
-May be. They are fat mad! Money is nowhere. Then one of two things: either they are rich idiots, or I complete fool, " tertium non datur! What you looking at?! Me-uh! — Veronica expressive and evil showed language of one of the Americans that he was very surprised, and walked briskly away, abandoning Dima over his shoulder:
"Let's leave Gladyshev, go! I was tired.
Dima, as if apologizing for Veronica, looked at foreigners, shrugged, and took her to catch up.
Chapter 22. (020).
After the third impact at шедшегося in the jaw,Толстунин "pushed" out. Still being in a rage and fury from the incident, Zhora pressed on the accelerator, adding gas, and, switching and raced along the Avenue, the squeezing out of the car all its horsepower.
The sky over the city beginning barely земетно to brighten. From the darkness gradually emerged from the outlines of the clouds. Here in the East должнваа was first посветлеть, and then become red strip of sky. The dawn was breaking. Was going to rain.
His Mercedes raced the пусттынному Avenue, whistling through the chilly pre-dawn air, saturated with moisture. He rapidly проскакивал intersections, обозначавшиеся to the horizon line flashing yellow light traffic lights.
Rare guards, still not have been in this hour of their booths, accompanied him on his car ошарашенным glance and without that emerged from orbits from the fighting intensified sleeping eye, as if considered not "Mercedes"ghostly flying Dutchman, cut жиддкий fog at two hundred miles per hour. Gang traffic cops knew that their machines are not able to go so fast and are therefore perceived "Mercedes" as its interval, the twilight daydreaming and not raised the alarm. Furthermore, there was a strict order to delay any black "Volga" — and they vigilantly looked out and were waiting for her at the crossroads.
When East заалела dawn, Zhora was outside of the town, in the forest, where a few days earlier he had almost lost his life.
-You will know meadow? he asked Bondi Boma.
He shook his head.
-Here I just do not thy slapped. Don't know who it was, cops or many pills (however, I wouldn't be surprised if I find out suddenly that some of your works in мусоровне, and after the change in a hurry to the case or "swing"). But I sewed himself: and that was it.
-In vain! "nodded Толстунин.
-Who knows, who knows! I don't think so, anyway.
He wanted to eat and sleep. Sleep even more, and he felt that not survive for long. Visit амшине to the solitude of the bushes, into a small gully, he stopped.
-Now we are going to sleep!
After these words, Zhora put a gag Толстунину mouth, and bound him capron tow rope "doll" and пропихнул on polik between the front and rear seats.
All this was given to him is not easy, but he didn't even have the strength to выругаться and barely made it as immediately dropped dead on his face on the front seats, placing a hand cocked "Kalashnik"knocked down deep sleep, resist giving him anymore.
When he awoke, it was dusk. George thought it was near the place where the hotel is located in which to live Gladyshev and Veronica, and it would be nice to go there, to see how they're not dead I still starve to death, if they have pocket money.
Suddenly his thoughts закралост a bad assumption. He imagined that the police know where they are located, and she wants to arrest them, so as to reach him, Jora: he will not leave his wife. If only the police know that she was his wife. And why not? If Bondi BOM wanted him to hunt, he could, using the mighty detective device, check all hotels, hover help for all guests. Not so many hotels in Moscow, as it might seem at first glance. Not much compared with the police, with this army, which, if necessary, can sweep inundate them all to a single, large and small, luxurious and comfortable, private and public.
This thought he was creepy, and he instinctively feeling for the handle of the machine, hugged her and even felt a finger cold metal of the trigger.
She was still laying on his stomach, with his for the convenience of feet up on the door of the salon. For Windows meanwhile more and more dark. Because of the backrest could hear the faint sounds of fuss and wheezing. See, Bondi BOM too awake or not sleep at all.
Zhora agreed that think about sleeping in his position would be difficult for any.
"However, this was not a dream. So, he really is in my hands", he thought, and comforted by that thought.
His anxiety for her subsided. In which case he could exchange it for Толстунина with minimum risk. He certainly could think of, to keep Bondi Boma in fear at a distance, were it to change it on his wife. You could, for example, to get a remotely, radio, managed charge or do anything else for her and her security. With Гладышевым would be more difficult: neither was he going in the case and then save it: the police, whether they are aware of all of his works would understand this.
The stronger grew dark, the more disturbed Jora different thoughts. They have a dense swarm out of his head, and they had to somehow get rid of.
He sat up, and ззаглянул the back seat. In сгустившихся in the cabin twilight, I could hardly distinguish the associated human body. The darkness was dissolving it in yourself.
-Woke up? asked Zhora of Толстунина, but when there was no answer, and remembered that covered his mouth gag. Had to turn the light on.
In view of the terrible Bondi Bohm was very miserable. Жоа even horrified that a man of such status and influence can so terribly sorry look. When he pulled the gag from his mouth, he could not speak, apparently unable to cope with закостеневшим language and swollen мыщцами jaw and cheeks.
"If I shoot him, his body would look even more sorry for," thought George, and he suddenly wanted to make this a stray thought. Bondi BOM now he didn't need as recently and Hippo was not needed Bondi bomu. The same hands right up and scratched put a turn in human flesh.
Zhora scared of this desire, catching myself on the fact that he has just like to kill. This smacks of madness, but it is not yet owned by his will. But before, until recently, such a thought, she come to his mind, would have aroused in his mind a storm of protest. Yes it would simply not occurred to him a few days earlier.
"How fast can change man!" surprised Zhora. However, the idea of murder was not his mind. He simply banal just suddenly wanted someone to shoot. He wished that weapon in his hands worked and shot no where and not for anything, and whenever found its purpose and killed.
-What if I kill you now? asked Zhora and noticed how widened pupils of Толстунина.
He liked the idea. He even put his stomach machine to frighten. He felt that now he seems to understand, whence come from maniacs-killer, and чтоиспытывают sadists, измываясь over his victim. See a strange fear was horrible intoxicatingly, and the desire to kill in his brain like the feeling of hunger, свербящему stomach.
Bondi BOM still couldn't answer. Jaw and tongue refused to obey him.
-Yes, what you say that I've got you now I shoot you?! — continued to taunt him Zhora, experiencing a sadistic pleasure. — Why are you I need? Я_то not knowing all work like that. Now you for me so dangerous...
Zhora hardly selected arguments for its terrible consequences of his behavior, and it looked as if a hungry man sitting in front of a bowl of soup, ranted, why he wants to eat, thinking of his желаниюэстетически attractive shell that at least in his own eyes look more properly than it really is and at least to not get frightened animal truth hunger: hunger from what I want to eat. Invent arguments is becoming increasingly difficult, and starvation seems to be screaming so much that my stomach is nipped his guts.
The desire to kill was like hunger. It grew and invent каеи-that is unnecessary arguments became heavier. It called to action and so неоттвязно hold of his thoughts that пожжелай now I Zhora stay, it would not have been able to cope with him.
George pulled Толстунина of the car, opened it and lifted. Bondi BOM desperately shook his head, saying associated members numb, занемели and therefore do not obey him.
"The better — decided to George, and there will be less to kick!"
He grabbed the handcuffs and violently dragged Толстунина on the yellow carpet of fallen leaves, зашуршавшей under the feet, to the oak tree, which stood nearby.
Forcing puffed up and расцарапать the face of the Bush twigs. Through which one had to be torn, and this practice is somewhat cooled his frantic desire. He began to reflect more coolly, and for a moment even decided to kill again is absurd and stupid, maybe even disgusting. But it was a temporary enlightenment. Barely George took a breath, blood again rushed from his brain, and again was going on bullshit. Thoughts devoured each other, and above them влствовало infinitely, soared high above the desire to murder.
George remembered how calmly and even with a certain curiosity shot in the head Brand Ilyich. It was so nice to see a shot knocked out his brains, as broke his skull, like a broken his neck. In this picture there was something fascinating, alluring — he now understood it, and he wanted to enjoy it again.
He tried to remember how it really was. Now it seemed to him that he killed not really, but in sleep kill for fun, and now wanted to know whether it is really the same look as then or not.
The victim was sitting in front of him. It was nearly dark, but the face Толстунина was to him a good view. On it in large letters was written fear, pleading for mercy. Жоре even think he now reads on his forehead thoughts that are born in my head. It was a delightful sense. "You shall not kill! — be able to distinguish it. "I should say, where is what you are looking for!"
But Жоре and now you don't want to know where that is. He was generally indifferent, who is sitting in front of him, Толстунин or even knows who. Main now was that he was a victim, a living being that he could deprive him of life, on which his power was now make penalty, and nobody in the world could stop him. It was an indescribable power somewhere, perhaps, very close darted back and fussed people, but nobody, nobody was able to stop him.
In seconds he ascended to the peak of mount Olympus to from there, feeling the immense power over their own fate and the fate of the victims, to feel everything, Everything for himself and for him. It was him and the Judge and God, he had an absolute, and that absolute was deliciously ruthless.
On the brow of the victims were faster, replacing each other any thoughts: wagon, ready to ship, station, he was standing on a table drawer, in which lay the invoice on this wagon — for a moment he discovered something that has been hidden from him. But nothing seemed now not fit him and not even surprised.
Suddenly on the brow of the victim became apparent in prayers to God for salvation. "I am your God, thought to himself, George. I am your merciless God!" "Yes he's just crazy!" "Mattie screamed the brow of the victim. "I'm not crazy, насчастный! — mentally he replied without any disturbance. "I'm just going to kill you and decided to do it!"
Stepping back a few steps from the oak, Zhora обратиося to the victim.:
"I could shoot you in the car, but you'd испаячкал me the beauty of its свинячей blood. You must die here under the oak, and where was supposed to die pig!"
"I will give unto thee the keys of the world! Leave me my life! I'll give you immense power! You don't know what power is able to get! I will serve you like a dog!" — still begged him to sacrifice his thoughts showed through forehead together with drops of cold sweat of terror.
However, Zhora was deaf to this strange signals originating him OLT victim without a single word. He was God, and the bottom one whose fate he wanted to finish immediately, promised him something strange, like бывздумав to mock him.
-How can you promise me something?! "he exclaimed, чувствуяпатетический ecstasy to which the summarized егоо closely the upcoming act of killing. "You, the victim sentenced me to death! You wished to mock me?!
From the side it might seem that someone talks to himself standing over completely helpless man with a gun at the ready. But watch out for this tragic final act of the monstrous performance was no one. In the forest they were alone, and because George himself mentally flew from yourself some distance and saw how it all looks: against the backdrop of deep blue sky darkens powerful, stocky oak, and near it the two figures; one, бессилльная, at its foot, leans back against the trunk of a tree, the other, majestic, powerful, towering over her; clearly visible contours of the machine in her hand; the silhouettes of the fascinating theatre of shadows, only the present.
It was dark so that he was out of sight of the person Толстунина. This he did not like. He wanted to see the face of the victim at the moment of death, to remember, to capture every detail of the murder, to compare it with the one that has already become unreal, painting жизнелишения when he calmly, coolly shot in the head Brand Ilyich.
His mind was beginning to take shape collection of murders, and QC any other collector, he sought to acquire new instances. The following promised's about to find himself in her, and in anticipation Жороа felt a mad joy, as if every time after this life is promised to turn to some other party, new images, hitherto unknown, and allow themselves to capture thus in his memory.
All the past had been a dream. It dissolved into nothingness, but only that managed to remember to leave in the collection of their brains, belonged to him forever. True, and the images that they could lay hands on and remember, have become blurry with time, and sometimes it йпроисходило very quickly. They развывались like children's drawings on asphalt from the rain, and demanded again and again replenishment.
Zhora tore through the bushes to the car, started it and giving back up, and then turned around and drove her to the oak-tree which lay Толстунин, turned on the lights to see well, you do not miss anything and to remember everything. Each детаь the victim's behaviour should not escape his attention. He must all remember to enjoy it properly in the memories. He must see the smallest details, to compare them with the details предыдудщего killing, which now eluded him like a fish out of hand, and for them it was impossible to catch.
