Читать книгу Fly Hunter: The Story of an Inquisitor онлайн

Aman-Jalil stayed late in the office, catching up on work accumulated during his honeymoon. The driver waited obediently; it was his shift. He was nervous, feeling a gnawing unease.

– Curse the day and hour when the crazy thought of taking Gulshan came to my mind, – he scolded himself. – For one sweet night, I might end up on Bibir Island if that fool confesses to Aman-Jalil… No, she wouldn’t. Is she mad? They'll send me to the island, but she'll never forgive that night with me, kick me out… And she has a child! She might even say it's mine… No, she'll stay silent, I'm sure. I'll wait… If she keeps quiet, she's scared. When the boss is busy, I'll make her sleep with me again; now, he'll be busy at night often: young wife, beautiful, not like that village girl… But what a body she has, what a body. A houri!

Late at night, Aman-Jalil finally got into the car and ordered the driver to take him to Gulshan. The escort car followed them, but Aman-Jalil didn’t take any guards with him. Hearing the address, the driver got scared, sweat trickling down his spine. Driving as if in a dream, he reached the house, feverishly contemplating: will there be a talk with the three of them, after which he’d be sent away, and that would be the best outcome, or not? Stopping the car at the entrance, the driver quickly jumped out to open the door for Aman-Jalil.

And then rifle shots rang out. Consecutively. Three bullets hit the driver. The first bullet wounded him. He turned around and looked pleadingly at Aman-Jalil. He sat still, smiling at him. In Aman-Jalil’s eyes, the driver read his verdict. And it was only death. It came with the second bullet. So, the third was redundant. The guards rushed out at the shots, thoroughly searching the nearby houses but found no strangers.

The widow mourned at the funeral; she still felt sorry for her foolish young husband, the father of her little daughter. But Gulshan smiled, beginning to enjoy the power to control life and death…

All the morning newspapers were filled with descriptions of the nocturnal attack by the enemies of the people on the defender of law and order. They detailed Aman-Jalil’s firmness and bravery. They praised the driver’s heroism: "the valor of a soldier shielding his commander with his body." The driver was posthumously awarded a high honor. A toilet on Liberation Square was named after him, and Gulshan loved to visit it whenever she was in the center, to pay her respects… The widow was granted a pension and a hero’s ration. Gulshan’s mother took her little daughter back to her hometown. Now she was not ashamed to return…