Sledgehammer.

Sledgehammer was furious. One beginner merchant refused to pay tribute.

"Lame," Sledgehammer asked, "and did you politely explain to the huckster, who is the boss in Zavolzhsky district? And tell me, how did he knock you out with one blow?"

"He is rabid," answered Lame, "it is impossible to talk with him. He must be just beaten."

"Indeed? You've already beaten him, I see," Sledgehammer smirked, "and what's the name of store?"

"Everything for fishing and hunting," Lame replied.

Sledgehammer pulled a new Glock 17 out of his pocket, took out the store and stared stupidly at the cartridges.

"Call out Fix," said Sledgehammer, "I do not want to kill anyone, we'll go parrot the boy."

At the same time, Sledgehammer returned the magazine to the clip and hid the gun in the inside pocket of the jacket.

After half an hour a tinted jeep with three daredevils rolled along the embankment of the Volga River, making a couple of turns, and stopped sharply near the new store "Everything for fishing and hunting". At the entrance to the store the group stopped – Sledgehammer was interested in a sign near the door.

"Literacy for that is – to read signboard very ease," said Sledgehammer, quoting the Russian poet Mayakovsky. Behind his shoulders were the full 10 classes of Soviet high school. "Entrepreneur Khlipko O.V." read aloud Sledgehammer.

"Well, let's go and see what this Khlipko is like," said Sledgehammer with a smirk, and, feeling a surge of energy, went with the comrades inside the store.

"Just don't fire unnecessarily, you have the iron fist, ram him between his horns once," Lame said, trying to not show out the fright.

"Not pee in pants, Lame, we'll just talk. And you, Fix, don’t touch the gun," Sledgehammer turned to his second comrade, "if need be I'll pull out."

Entering the store, Fix silently looked around, spit out the chewing gum on the floor and said, "Where is this flimsy guy?"

Then, seeing the one old visitor of the store, Fix said, "hey, Antiques, the store closed for tax audit, get out."

"Fix, you didn't have been learned the politeness to talking with old men?" Sledgehammer said indignantly. Then he went up to old man, patted him on the shoulder and said, "Excuse him, sir, this dude is crazy. Do you want to buy something for fishing?"

"No, I just went to look, a light expensive here," said old man and slowly went out.

There were posters, fishing tackles on the walls, tents, sleeping bags, inflatable boats and various utensils on the shelves, hand-made hunting knives was lying under glass showcase. It was knives with multilayered steel with embossed leather covers to them. Sledgehammer was examining the knives and only now noticed the little dude about thirty-five years old, coming out of the cabinet. This was an entrepreneur Oleg Khlipko.

"Hello," said Oleg Viktorovich, "how can I help you?"

Oleg and Sledgehammer's views met. Sledgehammer, as an experienced boxer, instantly appreciated the opponent.

"He is sinewy and swift," thought Sledgehammer, "the second average weight, the protruding joints of his fists identified him as a fist fighter. No wondered he knocked out the Lame with one blow."

However, feeling his superiority in weight, growth and the number of battles conducted in the ring and street, Sledgehammer did not confuse the calm and confident eye look of the store's owner.

"Are you asking how to help? By money," Sledgehammer answered cheerfully, and he and his companions began to laugh loudly.

"Are you from the Bank?" Oleg Viktorovich asked.

"From the bank ‘Sledgehammer’," said Lame and everyone giggle again.

Oleg looked at Lame and recognized in him today's visitor, which had tried to extort the money. "It's good that them is not from the Bank," Oleg thought, and this calmed him even more.

"Good humor," Oleg said, not hiding his joy, "but what concretely did you want?"

"For short," Sledgehammer began his speech, "you will give me money every month for our man. Just if you want your business work and make a profit. You'll pay to us, we provide your safety. If you pay regularly, you will not have the visitors from epidemiological service, firemen, cops or other bastards. How much will you pay – we'll now determine," looking at the goods, finished his speech Sledgehammer.

Fix took out his pistol, smashed the glass showcase with a handle, and took the knife he liked in an embossed leather cover. "A good knife, thank you, bastard," said Fix, and smile.

"It's not funny anymore. It's sad," said Oleg Viktorovich to Sledgehammer and continued, "you will no need money, the Ambulance will come for free."

"Dude, you probably don't understand who you're talking to," said Sledgehammer and approached Oleg at arm's length. Sledgehammer was half a head taller and once again felt his superiority.

"Well, Sledgehammer, why do you talking to him? Hit him between his eyes," Lame intervened in the conversation, standing three meters to the right of Sledgehammer.

"Lame, did I let you to speak?" slightly turning the body to the right asked Sledgehammer. And instantly from this position, he made a blow his Crown Knocking Hook on the right. But before Sledgehammer's fist reached its goal, as at this very moment, Sledgehammer felt a sharp pain in the left temporal bone below the temple. How Sledgehammer was falling, he could not remember. Sledgehammer usually was able to withstand the blows, but now he came to his senses only in a minute. Slowly rising, Sledgehammer found the enemy by his eyes, but did not hurry to move towards him. As if from afar he could hear the screams and curses of Fix. And Fix at the same time held the pistol on his outstretched hand in the direction of the Oleg. Oleg was completely calm, and this made Fix even more nervous. Then Oleg began to slowly raise his hands to the top to the level of his shoulders and slowly approach Fix. "And where were they only taught to hold the pistol on his outstretched hand?" thought Oleg, moving closer to Fix and depicting his own defeat.

"Probably he taught from movies, Hollywood," thought Oleg and spoke loudly and calmly, "you won, you're a tough guy!"

The gun rested against Oleg's forehead. In such situations, Oleg were more than once, and not only in training, but also in real combat operations, while serving in hot spots and in the intelligence battalion. "You won, you're a tough guy," once again heard Fix, and at that very moment, there was a lot of pain in the brush area, and also suddenly his own gun pointed at his left eye appeared in the face. Fix looked at the muzzle of the gun and realized the futility of his life, which would take several grams of lead. Fix knew perfectly well what a shot head looked like, and with horror presented his own head with an inlet and an exit aperture of a bullet.

"When my brains will fly apart, where will I be?" thought Fix. He began to retreat to the door and tried to say something like "do not shoot," but he could not find the words. Then Oleg unnoticeably turned the lever of the safety lock, since he did not intend to shoot, and habitually lowered the gun to his hip at the level of the belt. He was in some confusion too.

"Put the knife on place," Oleg said quietly. Fix complied. Returning the knife, Fix felt better.

"Now he will not kill," realized Fix.

Usually, Oleg killed the enemy in any convenient way for himself and had moved to a certain point on the map. Now, he could not kill his enemies and quit his business – at home wife and little daughter waiting for him.

Sledgehammer disturbed the pause, "everything in the car! He clearly ordered, and, continuing to retreat to the exit, extended his index finger in the direction of Oleg.

"You're cadaver," Sledgehammer confidently said to Oleg and, without looking back, moved with his comrades to the car.

"Get behind the wheel," – said Sledgehammer to Lame, "you're the chauffeur today."

"Where we go?" Lame asked.

"To your home," Sledgehammer replied, "we need to think about," he added, and sat down in the backseat.

Oleg returned to his small office at the end of the trading floor. All this time the young saleswoman-cashier Svetlana was hiding there. She was terribly frightened. Before the visit of suspicious guests, which Oleg saw in the monitor of a street surveillance camera, he invited Svetlana into the office and asked to stay there for a while. Now, seeing the monitor that the uninvited guests have left, Oleg Vladimirovich said, "Svetlana Vitalyevna, you are clever, did not utter a word. Now you can go home and tomorrow you have a paid day off. Remember, you did not see anything and did not hear, you had a break, and you sat in headphones and listened music. This is in case the cops have any questions."

"Okay, Oleg Vladimirovich. Can I go?"

"Yes, of course, Svetlana, and do not worry, everything will be fine."

Oleg was a debtor of the bank "Narodny", with a loan and high interest. The store was rented by Khlipko in his name, with the right of subsequent repurchase from the construction company ‘Volga-Stroy Invest’, owned by Mr. Dobronravov, who simultaneously dealt with affordable housing as a deputy of the Tver City Duma. In Oleg's office, there was a desk with a computer, two armchairs, a monitor for two hidden surveillance cameras, operating in continuous recording mode, an electric kettle and several cups. Oleg took a small towel, carefully wiped Makarov pistol Makarov, and quickly disassembled it into small parts, while wiping every detail of the gun, putting all the details in a common heap in the center of the towel. When he had finished, he wrapped the details in a towel and put it in the briefcase.

Then he took out a sheet of A-4 and wrote a handwritten statement about his finding details which looked like a details of pistol. – A statement to the Police department? – Oleg thought about the cap of the statement. – No! He would have to walk across the bridge, but the Police department was on this side of the Volga. So it's on the way to the Prosecutor's Office across the bridge.

Oleg was an inconspicuous lean man and did not arouse suspicion among the cops, he put on his jacket without wasting time and left. Closing the door, Oleg lowered the jalousies by remote control and moved toward the River Station along the waterfront. It was getting dark. Turning to the bridge and passing a few meters in the center of the bridge over the river, Oleg took out a towel from the briefcase with the details, stopped and threw the details into the Volga River. Then he crumpled the towel and threw it following into the river too.

"The next affair tomorrow," thought Oleg, and leisurely went home, where his wife, daughter, and cherry pie were already waiting.

In the meantime, Lame had already uncorked a bottle of vodka and poured in little glasses.

"For some reason, I do not want to drink," Sledgehammer said and tipped little glass to his throat.

"And what is the reason of drink?" Fix asked.

"For commemorate your pistol Makarov," Lame said, and laughed.

"It's good that the pistol was left for dude," said Sledgehammer, turning to Fix, "I gave you gun to you get rid of it, but not for your cakewalk two weeks with it."

"It would be nice if the cops make a search in the store of a dude and find a gun," Lame said, wrapping a cigar with marijuana.

"And will you going inform to cops or who will do it?" Sledgehammer asked, looking at Lame.

"You have the ace among the cops there, the cop whom you saved," hinted Lama, lit a bush and took a deep dragged on.

"So, I didn't understand, do you suggesting me to blow the whistle?" Sledgehammer asked.

Lame, coughed, he realized that he said too much. This conversation could be end badly for him. He had been selling drugs for a long time in the district and enjoyed authority, only because he was often seen in the company with Sledgehammer.

"No," said Lame, clearing his throat with cough, "I mean that you shot Chub with Elephant, and did not touch the cop, although he saw you."

"Well, he did not inform the cops about, as we agreed, but now he tosses information to me. When I shot the bastards, I did not know that they had a cop attached to a chair in another room. What? Did I have to kill the innocent, just because he's a cop?" asked Sledgehammer.

Lame, trying to change the topic of the conversation continued, "So it was not without reason as he was tied to a chair and tortured. The money not found still. The TV said that all the criminals were killed while robbing the bank, and then garbage said that the two criminals managed to leave. So may be Chub and Elephant were these bastards, and they just have the money stashed away? And you killed them, and everyone knows about it. On the street, people say that you have money, and everyone knows that you have killed these freaks."

"Knows everything, but can't to prove it," said Sledgehammer, "you're not only lame, and you're also stupid as all the nares. Look, if the Chub and Elephant had this money, they would be tortured in the police. And here just the opposite is obtained – they themselves tortured garbage and wanted to know something. So, who has this money? Somebody of garbage has this money."

Fix got tired of listening to smart conversations, and sparkling his fixed tooth in smile, he said, "Sledgehammer, you can’t eat bacon, it’s pork."

"I myself decide with what laws I should live," replied Sledgehammer.

"Well, what did you decide about the dude? Will we throw him a couple of grenades tomorrow?"

"Couple? We have only a couple of them. One will enough," said Sledgehammer, "by the way, where did you hide them?"

"I did not hide it anywhere, there are in the glove compartment," Fix said.

"Well, it's funny," said Sledgehammer, "you bought a nice jeep, but you didn't have enough money to buy a brain."

"So what about the dude then?" asked Fix.

"I'll talk to him myself tomorrow. If he does not agree, we will explode his store in the evening. For short," continued Sledgehammer, turning to the Lame, "you're walking around the district in the morning, looking for some VAZ vehicle without signaling, in the evening it may be necessary. And we will ride with Fix to dude. We'll throw a grenade in the evening, when there will not be a dude. We will not blow up dude. Just a store. Understood? Yes?"

"I understand, Sledgehammer, you always discourse correctly," Fix said and turned to Lame, "Well, you sit there, let's pour it, you see, my wrist is swollen."

"Yes, for hit the woman at her face your wrist is not swollen, but for pour vodka the wrist is swollen," sarcastically said Lame, spilling the remains of the first bottle in little glasses.

"What the woman?" asked Sledgehammer.

"Well when we took vodka in the store, Fix hit a woman at her face," said Lame.

"So she hit me, I did not want to beat her. Instinctively I gave her kick riposte, and she fell from her hooves," said Fix for self-justify.

"Come on, let's go into more detail," Sledgehammer said.

Fix was not eager to talk and his silence was interrupted by Lame, "we stand next to the ticket office, in front of us is a sympathetic chick, Fix approaches her, takes her boobs by hands and says, 'what a cool boobs! Let's go with us to rest culturally'."

Sledgehammer stops laughing for a second and asks, "so what then?"

"And then what? Then chick with a turn of her palm struck on the Fix's beak. I thought the Fix's fixed tooth will fly out," answers Lame and continues to laugh.

Finished laughing, Sledgehammer lights a cigarette, makes two deep puffs, then with disgust kills the cigarette in ashtray. He silently looks at Fix at close-range, as if he sees him for the first time and asks, "Fix, and why are you not laughing? Everyone laughs, but you do not have fun?"

Fix wanted to say something, but Sledgehammer continued, "Probably you want people thinks in the district that my people are scumbags? Are you on the team, or are you on your own? So say then that you are an honest freier. Maybe you want people tell on the street that sledgehammer's people live not according to the concepts?"

The silence reigned. Then Sledgehammer continued, "And if somebody will touch a tits of yours sister, and then he hits her on the face, will you like it? I will not surprise if tomorrow any freier move a blade to yours throat."

"Well, I was wrong, let's forget," said Fix, and handed the second bottle of vodka to the Lame, "let's, open it, and pour it into the glasses.

"It is enough for me," said Sledgehammer. "Don't sit behind the wheel drunk," he said to Fix, "spend the night at the Lame’s home. Now I'll go home. In the morning, come to me at 11 or 12 to Bald's cafe. I'll be there."

"So let me call a taxi," Lame suggested.

"No, I want to take a walk. I got breathed with your cigarettes. Well, good-bye," said Sledgehammer and left.

Everyone knew that Sledgehammer rented an apartment on Schmidt Boulevard and was temporarily registered in it, but where Sledgehammer spends the nights, no one knew.