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The three of them were sitting at the mahogany table Barskikh, Syrgorian, and

Ezhov, better known by the nicknames Barin, Syr, and Ezh1 co-owners of Medikum-

Ts, the biggest pharmaceutical company in the region. Besides medicines, they were

engaged in the transportation and purification of something else, which takes up less

space than medicine but is worth much more. This side of their activity, it goes without

saying, was not advertised, and those who knew about it preferred to keep mum. No one

with too loose a tongue lives to a ripe old age. Usually four people sat at this table

together, but now the second chair from the end was empty. This was the chair of Shish2

Shishov the fourth co-owner of the company.

Suddenly the office door creaked and opened slowly. The men were on guard. A grey

cat leisurely looked in from the hallway and, after turning its head, dived under the

armchair. Pest! Barskikh threw an ashtray at the cat. Normally this emaciated, long-

armed man, dressed brightly and tastelessly like a parrot, kept himself in control, but

now had lost his temper. Possibly, this happened because his passion for his own goods

has long since overgrown the usual attachment.

How often have they been told not to let in this nasty beast! Wheres the secretary?

he started to yell nervously. I let her go, said Ezh. This was a huge, clean-shaven husky

fellow with a fat massive neck with the folds crawling to the collar. Off with you! This

creep scared me! Ill wring its neck! raged Barskikh.

Cool it, Barin! Syrgorian ordered with a soft Armenian accent. Ezh, describe what

you saw. Ezh appeared calm. Only his fingers, with which he was turning the little

wheel of the lighter, trembled slightly. They shot down Shish before my eyes. We just

said goodbye and he sat down in his car. Drove about thirty metres, got up to an

intersection, and here some fellow shot him several times through the side window, then

immediately dived into a back alley. Did you make out this fellow? No. Too far.Syr got up and paced around the office. Small, pot-bellied, he nevertheless gave the

impression of an important and dangerous person, one better not to get involved with.

No doubt, they ordered a hit on Shish, but who could have? he asked. Ezh finally lit a

cigarette. Anybody, he said. Shish was no angel. We all know that he was a

considerable bastard. A whole bunch of people dreamt of sending him to the other

world. And will form a line to spit on his grave. Perhaps competitors? asked Barin.

We have no competitors, Syr said confidently. In any case not the kind that could

immediately jump on our chair. Redistribution? Ruled out. It was no shakedown of

the family. Theyll send guys to protect, only thisll help diddly squat, said Ezh.

Syr, walking around the office, suddenly stopped with his belly hanging over hispartner. Their heads almost touched. Listen! No one gains anything with a new war.

Nows not that situation. Only one of us could put a hit on Shish, he said with authority.

What do you want to say? That it was me? Ezh turning purple crushed the cigarette

1 The Russian words barin is a member of the old Russian gentry, syris cheese, and ezh is a hedgehog.2 The Russian word shish has multiple meanings: the pointy tip of something, zilch, or a rude hand

gesture.




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pack in his hand. What are you talking about, Syr? What the devil? The Armenian kept

his gaze.

Think for yourself! With the death of one of us, the shares of the others increase

proportionally. Before Shishs death, each had twenty-five percent, now its already

thirty-three. Remove one more, itll be fifty. And the last one standing will take control

of everything. And you think the one who disposed of Shish will want to get rid of the

rest? asked Ezh. Most likely yes. He goes all the way. You yourself know, redistribution

never ends with one corpse. And if its the Mob squad? Ezh surmised. Ne-ah. The

family would know about it. Its one of us. You, or you or me, said Syr, shifting a soft

but fixed gaze from one partner to the other.

The silent Barin fidgeted uneasily, which did not escape his partners. Can one of us

really turn out to be such a bastard? asked Ezh, sullenly looking at him. Its not me!

Why are you staring at me? Barin began to yell. You could also order it! He stole your

dame! To hell with the dame! Ezh said quietly. He intended to get you out of the

business altogether. Shish repeatedly said that you leave us holding the bag Its

true, agreed Syr. Shish always considered you a nutcase. It all began when cocaine

started disappearing from the cache. Shish was a dumbass if he thought its me. Why

tie me to this nickel and dime? Barin stated in irritation. He knew what he was talking

about. When it is your third year on heroin, cocaine no longer measures up. You or not

you, whats the difference, Ezh shrugged his shoulders. You lose control of yourself.

That I lose control! Oh, you jerk! Barin yelled, rushing at Ezh.

Ezh with a well-calculated hit in the chin knocked him off his feet. Barin sat down

on the floor. He sat motionless for several seconds, anxiously touching his jaw. Then,

roaring with rage, he pulled out a pistol, but Syr, standing nearby, kicked it out of his

hand. Jumping up, Barin quickly backed to the window. Blood was flowing from acorner of his mouth. Syrgorian leaned down and picked up the pistol.I swear to you,

Syr, its not me! Barin yelled.

When his back appeared by the window, a shot rang out. The bullet, piercing the

glass, entered the back of Barins head. The body slipped down to the carpet. Ezh and

Syr dropped down onto the floor and pressed against the wall. They did not approach

Barin, it was so clear that he could no longer be helped. Its not you? Ezh asked

nervously. Didnt you see that the shot came from the window? Well, it went there, not

into you! Syr shouted hysterically, pushing away the cat rubbing against his leg.

There was a screeching of tires and, carefully looking through the blinds, Syr saw a

white 4-door sedan racing away. The partners stood up hesitantly, continuing to stayaway from the window. Damn, I cant believe my eyes! They took him out! So, it isnt

one of us! said Ezh, looking with horror at the corpse. Then he looked up at Syr and

stared with conceived suspicion at him. Dont look at me. He could also be the client,

Syr said softly. You cant make out through the blinds. The killer could also have

messed up: had to shoot into the back of the head. You mean the killer blew it? Ezh




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asked with relief and his tensed muscles went a bit limp. Yes, he blew it, Syr said softly

and, having jerked up his hand, fired twice at his partner.

Ezh fell like a sack onto the floor. He died instantly, not even had time to be

frightened. That surprised expression still remained on his face. After wiping clean the

handle of the pistol, Syr put it in Barins cooling hand. He moved unhurriedly and

matter-of-factly. Lets take the process of elimination. Barins dead. That left the two of

us. I wasnt the client. It means, Ezh ordered everything, he said to himself.

After looking anxiously at the two stretched-out bodies lying on the floor, Syr

thought that now it would be best for him to hide before the police arrive. There was

nobody in the office, no one saw him shooting Ezh. The Armenian community would

provide him with an alibi, and lawyers and money would take care of the rest. Although

he planned nothing, now he is the sole owner of a successful business bringing in huge

profits. Possibly, the family would be displeased, but he knows how to calm it. Money

stops all questions, and a lot of money removes the possibility of the emergence of

questions.

Having closed up the office, Syr went down the stairs and, glad that he parked on

the other side of the street, made his way to his car. The minute he put the key into the

ignition and turned it, there was a powerful explosion

A shorthaired grey cat watched the explosion from the window, shattered by the

blast, of the deserted office. After ascertaining that no one left the car, the cat jumped up

onto the table. Meowing, it turned on the computer and, deftly hitting the keys with its

paw, it went onto the net. After keying in a certain email address, the cat sent a short

message:Dear Katya! Grandma got there normally.

Having made sure that the message was sent, the cat jumped down from the table.On reaching the cache in the wooden panelling of the office, the cat skilfully opened it,

and with delight drew into its nostrils cocaine from a half-kilo bag ripped open with its

claws. Soon hot happy waves swept over the cat After slamming shut the cache, it hung

onto the curtain meowing, and then, having picked its way through the broken window,

jumped into the courtyard.

The cat was satisfied. Now it is the owner of everything, the numbers of the accounts

and records are known only to it. It found out about them long ago, being in the office

when the owners brought them in. Fortunately, no one pays attention to cats. Now is the

end to insults and kicks! Enough of narcotics and beautiful cats, enough of everything,

the main thing is to find a way to keep skilfully in the background.Crossing the street, the doped-up animal did not notice as a battered pickup stopped

beside it. Two fellows got out of it quickly. One of them deftly dropped a net over the cat

and, after opening slightly the iron side, threw it in with the other similar poor devils.

See how it howls! Never saw one howl so! his workmate said in amazement. Howl or

not now. All the same itll be finished off, said the first, sitting down at the wheel. The

vehicle took off.



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