UNDERGROUND

1

Prologue

June 1991 30 years before...

Supporting his cheeks with his fists, Sasha watched a tiny bird jumping along a thick branch outside the window. The habits of the bird resembled a sparrow, but shone in the sun like a real parrot, shimmering with outlandish ash-rusty plumage. Inflating her red breast, she shook her fiery tail, turning it into a tiny flame.

“Go-ri-tail-ka,” Sasha said quietly, not even realizing that he had guessed her name exactly.

The bird seemed to have heard him, looked at him sideways, like a bird, and, lifting its white-fronted head, gave out a familiar, alarming overflow into the evening heat.

So that's who woke him up in the morning.

Feeling the cold of the radiator with his bare knees, Sasha sat on the bedside table, pushed up to the windowsill, like a hidden hunter, but the object of his interest was by no means a bird. He waited for the footsteps in the hallway to die down. Unfortunately for him, the footsteps died away right behind him.

– What are you! An angry voice rang out.

The boy turned around instantly.

Behind the beds, in the doorway, stood a girl. His plump cheeks were tanned, and his rounded brown eyes shone with the setting sun.

"You can't wear it!"

- Why? Sasha followed her indignant gaze and touched the band under her chin with his bandaged fingers.

- It's only for those who have a birthday!

In truth, he didn't like it himself. Half an hour ago, Irina Petrovna handed him a stupid cap made of colored paper, told him to put it on and go to the sports ground. Today's Saturday turned out to be rich in birthdays. Three people in the whole camp at once, including Sasha. He got the most battered cap, pasted over with faded pink paper and studded with time-blackened silver sequins.

- Today is my birthday.

- At your place?! Today?! - The girl quickly and somehow like a fish, without turning her head, looked around the bedroom of the fourth group, and looked at him again. Sasha saw her wide-set eyes soften. He knew that the reason was in his clear beautiful eyes. People liked them. Especially when he laughed or, as he does now, he raised his eyebrows, trying to understand what was on the minds of others.

- Today.

"Then why are you here alone?"

Sasha thought. It's probably the cap. Of course, it was possible to take it off and go to everyone on the sports ground, where the parents of another birthday boy, Alik, unloaded a whole truckload of treats, including white chocolate that they had never seen before. But Sasha knew that Irina Petrovna was somewhere out there among everyone, who would immediately remember him and make him put on an idiotic cap. All this was difficult to explain to a ten-year-old girl, and Sasha simply shrugged.

- How old are you?

- Nine. Sasha raised his eyebrows again, a habit inherited from his mother that he had never seen before.

- Little one! The girl snorted and stepped into the bedroom. - What is your name?

- Sasha.

- Marina. The girl smiled conciliatoryly, waving her plump hands. - Well? And where are the treats?

Sasha climbed down from the bedside table, took out a torn bag of oatmeal cookies and put it on the bed.

Marina frowned.

- Oatmeal cookies? - Small fingers through the bag touched disdainfully one cookie. - Yes, even stale! Stupid joke!

Semi-circular eyebrows once again flew up over eyes that were too tired for a nine-year-old. He forgot where he was. In this camp, everyone had parents.

Sasha looked at the bag of cookies. His best friend Vadik loved oatmeal cookies. So is Garik. But the situation was such that Sasha would hardly ever have ended up in one of the best pioneer camps in the country if everything that was left of Vadik and Garik had not now been stored in the refrigerator of the main center of forensic examinations in the Moscow region.

Didn't your parents bring you anything? – Marina only now noticed a patch on the sleeve of his shirt.

- He has no parents. A thin, dark-haired boy from the older group appeared in the doorway. The boy gave Sasha an arrogant look and bit off a half-eaten apple. - He is an orphanage.

For Marina, this sounded like a direct attack on her idea of ​​the universe.

- No parents? What's wrong with them?

- They rejected it.

- Why? – Marina stunned looked at Sasha.

“He probably did something bad,” the boy assured with the look of an expert, “and you can’t play with him at all!”

Marina frowned at Sasha's bandaged palms and fingers - everything on both hands, except for the big ones. Sasha was silent, shaking his leg. The untied lace slipped across the linoleum.

- Truth? - Marina clearly wanted to cling to the last attempt to keep her world whole. This boy was too cute to do something "bad". Black wavy, unruly hair and huge, shining eyes made him look like a big puppy. “Why… Why were you rejected?”

The boy with the apple came up to Marina and began to whisper something in her ear. Marina's eyes opened wide, and Sasha saw fear in them. The failed ally finally left his location.

- Alik's parents give everyone a whole pack of chewing gum. – Already in full voice declared a boy.

- Truth?

- Let's run!

Marina threw another distrustful look at Sasha and Sasha's failed friends left him.

When their clatter finally dissolved into distant screams and laughter, Sasha stood up, noticing out of the corner of his eye how the crumpled top of the cap flickered in the mirror on the wall. The boy was a bit small for his age, but well built. He rested his forearm on a column near his bed and, pressing his forehead against his hand, began to dangle his foot like a boy, describing a semicircle on the floor. A shadow fell for a moment on his pretty face - his plump lower lip and chin trembled, as if he wanted to burst into tears. But only for a moment.

Sasha stopped swinging his leg, straightened up and looked seriously at the bag of cookies.

There is nothing to do here, he thought decisively, and, stepping to the bed, he began to stuff the cookies into his pockets. It's time to do what they always did with Vadik and Garik.

Sniffing, Sasha calmly looked at the open door, listened - nothing but a distant squeal and laughter on the sports ground. Then he went to the far window. He knew that he could not get out through the front door, and the windows of the first floor, like those of the second, were protected from opening by children with special locks with a key. Only transoms open. But in the morning, when everyone left for breakfast, Sasha pulled out the side and top yards that held the glasses with the help of the shackle from the bed. In the orphanage, they often did this. While everyone is frolicking on the sports ground, Sasha will calmly get out of the window - two steps along the gable, from there to the visor of the vestibule and - look for the wind in the field.

Sasha took a towel from the nearest bed and awkwardly bending over, hissed in pain. Wincing and carefully touching his chest, he sat for a few seconds, biting his lip, then carefully planted his foot in the nightstand and tied the shoelace. Then he climbed onto the bed, wrapped a towel around his hand so as not to cut himself, and pulled the glass away from himself. Warm, dusty air blew out of the crack, but Sasha immediately ducked down, scolding himself for his indiscretion. Directly opposite the main vestibule on the street, he saw a black "Volga" and white Zhiguli with a blue stripe and the inscription "Police". A policeman and Irina Petrovna were standing by the car. Both of them had their backs to him, but Sasha reacted differently. It seemed to him that someone in a black Volga was looking at him. Someone huge, with strange white hair. Maybe it just seemed, but Sasha, at the age of nine, already knew very well that his instincts never deceive him.

Sasha sat down on the bedside table, put his hands on the edge of the window sill and rested his chin on them. In any case, even if someone noticed him, he still did not understand anything. Just think - one of the children looked out the window. Sasha shook his head, listening to the voices - low, masculine and sonorous - of Irina Petrovna. It was impossible to make out the words, but by the sound, he realized that they were approaching, passing very close, under his window. Sasha even caught a few words uttered by Irina Petrovna: "this is the smartest child who ...". Then the voices faded away and everything was quiet. They must have entered the building. The boy slowly rose above the windowsill. There was really no one near the cars. Sasha straightened up and immediately his eyes met the eyes of the old man. The old man stood under his window and looked straight at him. Tall, incredibly tall, and... No, not so bald, but on the contrary - with long and straight ashy hair like Werther's robot. And the face - it was alive, not the mask of a dead man. It's too late to hide. The old man looked at the boy carefully. Then he smiled - the same grin that people smile when they are not used to doing this. How did he notice it?! The belated answer came by itself: stupid hat!