Читать книгу Fly Hunter: The Story of an Inquisitor онлайн

The steering wheel of the car stopped obeying Bulov, so the director decided to leave the car at the restaurant and walk, luckily Kasym lived in the center, nearby. But after a block, Bulov saw the woman of his dreams and went after her. The woman was a professional, hoping for an acquaintance, she walked slowly, but Bulov thought she was speeding like an express train. Staggering from side to side, he stubbornly followed her, but caught up with her only in the old city district, when the woman, convinced that she was being approached, simply stopped. Bulov circled her for a long time, then tediously seduced the woman, from those women who make their piece of bread with butter on the panel, and was very proud of himself when he convinced her to take him home. He offered her twenty-five coins, so he liked her. If the woman demanded payment, the night of adventures would have cost Bulov only five coins, and twenty would have remained for a familiar venereologist. But the pleasure of being able to persuade another woman also cost something, let it be an extra twenty coins.

Slums, they are everywhere – slums. In a sober state, Bulov would not risk showing up here, but he was "knee-deep" in drunk. After a long wandering through crooked, tangled alleys, passages, through yards merging into each other, Bulov would not have found his way back even if he had been threatened with execution, the woman finally led him to her small, tiny apartment, where she honestly earned the unexpectedly inflated amount.

Bulov felt like going to the toilet. It turned out that all "amenities" were in the yard.

– You'll go out to the yard and fifty meters to the right, – the woman explained to him readily.

– What if I run out in just my underwear, I'll even put shoes on one bare foot, nothing?

– Who will you see here at such a late hour, your acquaintances, or what? The night is warm, run like that, just don't fall there. Maybe I should escort you? – she worried.

– Are you crazy? – Bulov was offended. – I'm as sober as a glass.