The girl's eyes flashed fiercely. Gideon continued:
"I know who you are, Victoria. Exactly Victoria. That's the name your mother gave you at birth, but you don't remember it. Since your foster parents showed up, you've been called Tatiana, but that's not your real name.
"What are you talking about?" – What is the name? What kind of mother? Aren't you all at home? I think I'd better go!
The girl tried to get up quickly, but suddenly froze in motion and in a kind of constrained state sank back on the sofa.
"I'll finish it, if you'll let me," the boy continued, giving no sign of action at all. – I know that Zoya Petrovna doesn't have a niece. I also know why you came to this house and who sent you here. By the way, the jam is really delicious in those banks that you brought, do not worry that you overpaid for it from local saleswomen.
The girl could not move or say a word, but she looked at her bag of jam jars, which she had actually bought for an excuse to enter the house. The bag with the false link was closed, and the way Gideon talked about the taste of the contents of what he hadn't tasted impressed her. Up to this point, she had blamed everything else on leaks and clever psychological tricks.
"I can hear your thoughts, dear Victoria. Believe me, you're not as bad a girl as you want to be in the actions of the one who sent you here. You came to denigrate me, and it's nice to know how far you were willing to go for it, loyally, let's say, at a high price, but still having fun.
The girl's gaze changed, and there was an undercurrent of respect in it.
"But I still wonder why they sent you." Either you were sent to your death to get rid of an unnecessary link in the chain, or you are just a decoy…, or both.
Gideon tapped the table with his right hand, and the invisible shackles released the girl. She flexed her stiff joints. At the same time, the Windows in the house rang, and the plaster began to fall off the walls. Machine gun six-guns pierced the house through the length and breadth.
***
Tikhon was packing. He gave the guys-assistants the go-ahead to leave. The next city he planned to visit was three thousand kilometers away.
– Tikhon, I apologize, we here with Andrey all cannot understand in any way, – one of assistants addressed.
"Speak boldly, I won't bite you." The question is about the route, right?
"How?" How do you know? Oh, Yes. Yes. There are at least sixteen localities on the road to the next location. Some of them are quite large. Why don't we play in these areas? On the way, right? People live there too! I understand the esoteric meaning of what you're doing, but isn't volume important in this case?
"Sit down, Lesh," Tikhon said kindly.
The guy sat up, all attention.
"You use logic, and I use knowledge. That's why my actions don't always find an explanation in your head.
"Andryukhina, too," the boy added.
"Andryukhina, too," Tikhon agreed, smiling. – Volume… you see, Alexey, we are not engaged in business, it is important for us not the number of services rendered, but the quality.
– As far as I know, there have never been any complaints about the quality. We see what happens when you play. But still I don't understand how in this case the number can interfere?
– I'm talking about another quality… not about the game.
"I don't understand, sorry?"
– In our business, the structure is very important. We raise the frequencies of people's consciousness and space in a strictly defined direction. This process should not be chaotic.
The guy's expression was blank.
– Well, I will explain on a banal example, – Tikhon answered a silent question. "Imagine you're making jam." Here you have collected the right amount of berries, washed it, poured it into the pan.
– Sugar should be sprinkled then in the right proportion! – Alexey joined the process.
"That's right! Now, you already know that proportion is important. But in addition to the dose, let's call it that, it is also important to constantly stir while the jam is cooking. This is done in order…
– So that the sugar is evenly distributed and that it does not burn!
– Great! You know. In our case, the situation is similar. If we pour all the sugar into only one part of the pan, and do not stir-the jam will not work. Sour and what is left without sugar and throw out what will be candied to the point of absurdity. In jam, as in any other process of creation, a certain distribution of sugar particles between the berry particles is important. This order of strict correspondence between atoms and particles is maintained everywhere on Earth. And not only on Earth.
"I wonder if you can tell me."
– No, Lesh, maybe another time. Go get ready, we'll leave tomorrow.
The guy bowed and left. But just a few seconds later he returned.
"Forgot something?"
– Still… if I may…
"Well?"
– Your performances do not support the form of voluntary payment for listening. People don't throw money at you. What funds do you use to pay us? What do you live on?
Tikhon smiled slyly. The guy looked confused.
"Let it be my little secret. By the way, what about the payment? Enough money?
– No, that's fine. More than enough. We do not know where to spend the accumulated funds.
"I think you can sort this out somehow," Tikhon said cheerfully.
– Let's see, spending is not earning. Okay, tomorrow is tomorrow. We'll get ready.
The guy went out. Tikhon took a map from the tube, unfolded it, and, finding his place of residence on it, circled the city in a circle. There were already many such circles on the map. These encircled the city has formed a certain network in a strictly proportional conformity.
The drummer rolled up the map, put it in the tube, took out a dusty bag, looked into it, and emptied the contents. Several bills fell on the table.
"We need to replenish our supplies."
He took one of the bills, looked at it carefully, and put it in his bag. Then he did the same with the other bills. When I put the last one in, the bag was full of cash. Money somehow mysteriously multiplied hundreds of times.
"Having fun?" a pleasant, velvety voice came from the corner of the room.
Tikhon smiled, recognized the visitor, and answered without turning around:
"It's been a long time, Isaiah…
***
Gunmen in black masks, with the words "OMON" on their uniforms, cautiously began to approach the house, which was riddled up and down. The neighbors fled in terror to their homes and hid in distant rooms. Such events have never been seen in this suburb of the city before. Riot police surrounded the house from all sides, two people got inside through broken Windows, three more broke into the door. There were shouts and shots inside, but after a minute everything was quiet. A special forces soldier appeared in the doorway and shouted:
"Empty! They left.
"How did they leave?" They were here a minute ago, I could clearly hear them through the transmitter! "Yes," said one of the men, who seemed to be the leader.
"The transmitter is here, but they are not," said another soldier, who appeared in the doorway. In his hands was a girl's clothing with a beacon embedded in it.
***
The girl was pounding on a nervous basis. A small tremor had not left her naked body for a quarter of an hour. Gideon bathed in the pond, glancing from