Читать книгу Fly Hunter: The Story of an Inquisitor онлайн


Aman-Jalil caught the pilot's envious glance and a devilish smirk played on his thin lips.


"I won't treat you, or you'll crash my plane, not because I care about the plane, feel free to crash it, but count me out," Aman-Jalil thought, pretending to pour himself cognac and drinking it, tilting the empty glass into his mouth. He didn't forget to nibble on a "Lux" chocolate, convincing the pilot more than if he had seen the cognac flowing down Aman-Jalil's throat. Alright, enough pretending, leave half for the pilot to shut his mouth… I wonder who he's bringing along?"


Aman-Jalil spilled a bit of cognac on his collar, waiting for the car to suddenly shake.


– Hey, driver, watch out, is there a pothole or something?


– You think this is a main avenue? Let's switch seats: you take the wheel, and I'll drink the cognac. Deal?


– Hold the bottle, it's exactly half full, honest… Just swear you'll finish it at home, they're already saying I'm getting all my friends drunk, the mullah almost hinted at it right in my face after the morning prayer. Don't you know?


– Small, isn't he? I don't drink at work!


Aman-Jalil stood up, discreetly wiped the bottle and handed it to the pilot.


– Drink up, elder, and understand!


– What am I understanding?


– Understand, I say.


– And what's that?


– I don't know, they say in the capital.


– Maybe it's a curse word?


– Maybe, but it sounds good.


– No, not a curse word: understand, learn, that's what it means…


– Clever! Listen, how clever you are, eh!


– Did you think…


Aman-Jalil suddenly saw a small black fly, it flew past Aman-Jalil and landed on the pilot's helmet.


– Wow, look, a fly on your head, don't move, I'm going to kill it now.


– Are you planning to shoot it with a pistol?


– Why with a pistol, dummy, then I'd have to shoot you in the head too, a fly is smaller than a bullet, don't you understand… Don't move.


Aman-Jalil took out a thread from his rubber band, his eternal companion, he always had these threads, carefully unraveling the most ordinary rubber band that held his underwear together. In a second, the killed fly fell onto the control wheel.

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