Absolute Honor

Hasayev rubbed his dim eyes and followed the waiter through the corridor of the bathroom to the dressing room on the side of the bathroom.

At this moment, he kept cursing in his heart, and his resentment was soaring.

Every Wednesday and Saturday of the week is his private time. This is a rare opportunity to relax, a happy hour that belongs to a man.

For so many years, Hasayev has been living a double-faced life. He has four daughters and three sons. His two wives have added a lot of live treasures to him like a sow. The youngest daughter is only At the age of three, when I saw him, I called him "tada" (папа transliteration, meaning father) in substandard Russian.

All of Khasayev's children receive orthodox Russian education, and even the eldest son is still studying at Moscow University. He knows that he cannot pass on the so-called hatred to the next generation. History belongs to history, dust to dust, and life must continue.

He dealt with people like the devil in **** like Baschief, earning dirty money, but he couldn't mention half of them to all his relatives.

This made Khasayev's temper a little weird. He often broke out nameless fires for no reason, making his wife and daughter extremely in awe, and even a little cautious in front of him, but most of the time, he is a good father, loving and caring, and meticulous. , Is a good husband in everyone's mouth.

This high-end Turkish bath is the favorite pastime of the men in Itumkalie. Every time Khasayev comes here, he has to sweat for an hour, then wash in the hot and cold pools, and then lie on the stone slabs beautifully. Let "Tanrak" smear himself with aromatherapy essential oils, massage every inch of his skin, and finally fall asleep. At five o'clock, the waiter will wake him up. This man who was released in the Turkish bath. Then he left slowly and drove home.

But this beauty was interrupted tonight.

Of course, he was not interrupted for the first time.

Hasayev came to this bathroom six years ago, and in the past six years, he has been interrupted twice.

Because of Hasayev’s special occupation, there is almost no personal time in his life that is entirely his own. In many cases, Baskiv is like a ghost hovering above his head, seeming to be watching and affecting his life all the time. .

Therefore, wherever he goes, he must bring the satellite phone that belongs to him and Baskif to contact him alone. Even in such a naked "frank meeting" place, he still instructs the waiter if he puts it in the cabinet. The phone rang many times, and you must wake yourself up.

"It must be Baschief!"

He cursed secretly in his heart. From the bottom of his heart, he didn't like Baschief. Although he didn't like Russians, he at least didn't appreciate Baschief who took an extreme line.

In the Beslan incident that year, Baskiv was also involved. He was one of the dangerous people who successfully escaped, and Hasayev was the key figure in his escape from the country.

I saw those **** scenes on TV, especially when the bodies of innocent children were carried out of the school by soldiers. That day, Hasayev became worse-tempered than a mad dog. He pointed at the wives and children who watched the news on TV. They flew into a rage, smashed a table of fruits, turned off the TV, and hurried their wives and children into the room.

No one wants to see this. From that day on, Khasayev began to feel guilty, especially when he saw his innocent children, he occasionally came up with strange thoughts, thinking that those were in Beslan. The children who died in the school should have had this life enjoying sunshine and flowers, and he was the demon who took part in depriving them of their rights.

This kind of thought presses on Khasayev's nerves like a nightmare all the time, making him crazy, making him dull, and going to the Turkish bath more often, at first it was once, and then twice a week.

Lying on the stone floor of the Turkish bath, Tanrak’s powerful hands squeezed the fatigue out of the pores little by little, and Khasayev felt that his soul was going out, as if floating to the ceiling, quietly. Looking down at himself.

who am I?

Did I do everything right?

Am I a sinner? Or the devil?

At that moment, he tends to have such strange thoughts.

However, Baskiv not only haunts himself like a lingering evil spirit, but the rewards he gets for doing things are also quite generous, which makes the greedy Hasayev feel a little cant, it is like opium or poison, knowing that it is poisonous. , But it makes people addicted.

Because of this strange contradiction, Hasayev began to prepare for himself.

The fake identity abroad is actually not fake, but it’s just a fictitious identity. He and his wife and children have a virtual identity in nearby Georgia. From birth to education, everything exists, as if they were one. People who live in Georgia but have never left that country.

This is what he paid a big price and got it from local powerful people.

As long as something goes wrong one day, Hasayev even used his knowledge of the border to develop a route to leave the country.

Everything was perfect. On the day that Khasayev made all this, he poured wine in his office, drank several glasses secretly, and celebrated his cleverness.

So the dressing room is more than two hundred square meters in size. Inside are neat rows of wooden cabinets. Everyone has his own key to open his own locker with his own clothes placed in it.

The phone was ringing as expected, rolled his eyes, and stood still in front of the cabinet, intending to turn his head back.

He wants to let the waiter leave, and then find a quiet place to talk to Baskif, where it is not convenient for any outsiders.

It’s just that he didn’t have time to turn around. A big, powerful hand passed around his neck from behind, covering his nose and mouth tightly with a towel, while the other hand was like an iron hoop~www.NovelMTL.com~ to hold his neck. Ring live.

Khasayev was extremely frightened. He had no time to reflect on what happened. He was not a trained professional soldier or a spy. There was chaos in his head, as if a film projector suddenly burned through a film in a movie theater, and only a blank was projected.

In the nasal cavity, a strange smell penetrated into the nostrils. Khasayev was still alive and kicking. After the smell entered the respiratory tract, he suddenly felt that the whole person was in a strange state of excitement, and there was an unconcealable sense of joy. Feeling tired, extremely tired...

After a few seconds, Khasayev's whole body softened like noodles.

From the other end of the dressing room, a fsb agent dressed up as a guest, with a big white towel around his waist, glanced at the waiter and nodded. The waiter turned and walked to the side locker and fetched a few large ones. With bath towels, the two neatly rolled Hasayev up like spring rolls, then walked to the window and opened the curtains.

This is the first floor. Outside is a side street in the back alley. The waiter pressed the agent's headset in his ear.

"The goods arrive, send someone to check it."

Soon, there was a "tuk tuk tuk" percussion from the glass window.

Agents dressed as waiters and bathers opened the window from the inside, wrapped Hasayev and his satellite phone, and threw it out like a dead fish.

puff--

The window sill was less than one meter and five meters high from the ground, and the people outside obviously caught the fruiter who was not beside him, so the voice was very low.

The waiter closed the window cleanly, then drew the curtains, returned to Khasayev's cabinet, closed the cabinet door with the other's key, and looked up the time.

It was 1.07 in the morning, and the entire arrest process did not exceed seven minutes.

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