Rubbing his hazy eyes, Hasayev followed the waiter through the bathroom corridor to the dressing room on one side of the bathroom.At this moment, he was constantly cursing in his heart, and he was angry.Every Wednesday and Saturday of the week is his private time, which is a rare opportunity to relax, a happy hour that belongs to a man.For many years, Hasayev has lived a two-faced life, he has four daughters and three sons, and his two wives have added a lot of live treasures to him like a sow giving birth, and the youngest daughter is only three years old, and when she sees him, she calls him "Daddy" in a milky voice in non-standard Russian.All of Khasayev's sons and daughters received an orthodox Russian education, and even the eldest son was still studying at Moscow University, knowing that he could not pass on those so-called hatreds to the next generation, that history would return to history, dust to dust, and that life would have to go on.He deals with hellish devils like Baskief, earning a lot of money but not being able to mention half of it to all his closest relatives.This makes Hasayev's temper a little weird, and he often breaks out nameless fires for no reason, which makes his wife and daughter extremely awe-inspiring, and even a little cautious in front of him, but most of the time, he is a good father, loving and caring, and a good husband in everyone's mouth.This upscale hammam is a favorite pastime for the men of Itumkale, where Khasayev would sweat for an hour each time, then take a hot and cold bath, then lie on the stone slab and let the "Tanrak" apply aromatherapy oil to him, massage every inch of his skin, and finally fall asleep, and the waiter would wake him up at five o'clock, and the man who had been released from the hammam slowly left and drove home.But tonight this beauty was interrupted.Of course, this is not the first time he has been interrupted.Hasayev came to the bathroom six years ago, and in the past six years, there have been two interruptions.Due to his particular profession, Khasayev has almost no private time in his life, and many times, Baskiss is like a ghost hovering overhead, seemingly watching and influencing his life all the time.Therefore, wherever he went, he had to take the satellite phone that belonged to him and Baskief alone, and even in such a place of "frank and honest" contact, he still told the waiter that if the phone he kept in the cabinet rang many times, he must wake himself up."
It must be Baskiss!"
He cursed to himself, in his heart, he didn't like Baskif, although he didn't like the Russians either, but at least he didn't appreciate Baskief's extreme line.Baskiv was also involved in the Beslan incident that year, and he was one of the dangerous people who managed to escape, and Hasayev was the key person who escaped the country for him.Seeing the bloody footage on TV, especially the corpses of innocent children being carried out of school by soldiers, Khasayev's temper became worse than that of a mad dog that day, and he was furious with his wife and children who were pointing fingers at the TV news, smashed a table of fruit, turned off the TV, and hurried his wife and children out of the room.No one wanted to see this, and from that day on, Hasayev began to feel guilty, especially when he saw his innocent children, and he occasionally had strange thoughts that the children who died in the Beslan school should have this life of sunshine and flowers, and that he was the demon who participated in the disenfranchisement of them.The thought was like a nightmare that weighed on Khasayev's nerves, drove him crazy, made him depressed, and went to the hammam more often, first once, then twice a week.Lying on the stone floor of the hammam, "Tanrak" squeezed the tiredness out of his pores little by little, and Hasayev felt that his soul was about to go out of his body, as if floating to the ceiling, quietly looking down at himself.Who am I?
Am I doing everything right?
Am I a sinner?
Or the devil?
In that moment, he tends to have this strange thought.However, Baskiv not only haunted himself like an unbroken ghost, but also received a very generous remuneration for his work, which made the greedy Hasayev feel a little unstoppable, like opium or poison, knowing that it was poisonous, but making people addicted.As a result of this bizarre ambivalence, Hasayev began to prepare for himself.A fake identity abroad, in fact, it's not fake, but it's just a fictitious identity, he and his wife and children have a virtual identity in neighboring Georgia, from birth to education, everything exists, as if he is a person who lives in Georgia but has never left that country.This is what he got at great cost from powerful people in the area.Whenever something bad happened, Khasayev even used his knowledge of the border to develop a set of routes out of the country.Everything was perfect, and on the day Khasayev had all this worked out, he poured wine in his office, drank several glasses of wine, and celebrated his cleverness.So the dressing room is more than 200 square meters in size, and there are rows of neat wooden cabinets, each with their own key, open their own locker, and place their own clothes in it.Sure enough, the phone was ringing, and he rolled his eyes and stood still in front of the cabinet, about to turn back.He was going to get the waiter out and talk to Baskief somewhere in a secluded place, where it was inconvenient for any outsiders.However, before he could turn around, a large strong hand went around his neck from behind him, covering his mouth and nose tightly with a towel, while the other hand wrapped around his neck like an iron hoop.Hasayev was so frightened that he didn't have time to react to what was happening, he was not a trained professional soldier or a spy, and his head was in chaos, like a projector in a movie theater that suddenly burned through the film, projecting nothing but blank.In his nose, a strange smell penetrated into his nostrils, and Hasayev was still alive, and after the smell entered his respiratory tract, he suddenly felt that the whole person was in a strange state of excitement, and there was a sense of joy that could not be concealed, and then he instantly felt tired, extremely tired......
After a few seconds, Hasayev's whole body softened like a noodle.From the other end of the locker room, an FSB agent dressed as a guest with a large white towel around his waist walked out, and the waiter looked at each other and nodded, the waiter turned around and walked to the side of the utility cabinet, took a few large bath towels, and the two of them neatly rolled Hasayev up like a spring roll, and then walked to the window and lifted the curtains.This is the first floor, and outside is a side street in a back alley, and the waiter pressed the agent's headset in his ear."
The goods are in hand, send someone to check."
Soon, the glass window sounded the sound of "tuk tuk".Agents dressed as waiters and bathers opened the window from the inside, wrapped Hasayev around his satellite phone, and threw it out like a dead fish.Poof--l'oeil was less than a meter and a half high from the ground, and the people outside had apparently caught the fruit merchant, who was not on the side, so his voice was very low.The waiter closed the window cleanly, then closed the curtains, returned to the cabinet in Khasayev, closed the door with the other party's key, and looked up at the time.It's 1:07 a.m., and the whole arrest process didn't take more than seven minutes.