Until Friday, life and work went on as usual. Veronica migrated in the usual way along her usual trajectories and did everything as usual.

The first news came before dinner. Alena knocked, looked in, received permission to enter and tightly closed the door behind her.

- Did you hear? The new boss fired Zhenya!

- I wonder why? Veronica chuckled.

Zhenya sat quietly all week, talking on the phone, as they said, only on business, dressed decently and even, they say, did something for work, besides bringing coffee to the boss and connecting with him by phone. Once Nedolyubov tried to teach her to at least register incoming documents, but this turned out to be an unsolvable task. It was also not possible to teach her how to dress - once Veronika herself heard how the old boss regretted that you would not go out to good people with Zhenya, a disgrace. But in the waiting room and on the table in the office, she suited him quite well. I wonder what she baked Iceman with? Or was he not only by the name of Icy and did not succumb to her charms?

By lunchtime, there was already an order - to fire Evgenia, to take an unknown person named Anna Konstantinovna Konovalova in her place, and to dismiss two young ladies from the secretariat who were engaged in the work with documents that Evgenia was not able to perform - also fired. State optimization, so to speak.

During lunch in a cafe, they only talked about this. The new employee was supposed to come on Monday morning. Evgenia spent half a day walking on two floors and sobbing on the chest of everyone who was ready to listen to her. And the girls from the secretariat, as it turned out, received decent recommendations, and both were taken to some other structures of the vast Icemen corporation, for some kind of similar job.

All these details were told by Marina Boyko, of course, the personnel officer should know everything. She still brightly painted and unbuttoned the top buttons of her blouse - perhaps not as frankly as Zhenya, and her costume was generally more decent, and her tights were not black and not fishnet. She also stopped choking to death. Veronica was interested - did she think of it herself or did someone kindly suggest it?

And in the afternoon, the chief accountant Zhanna called and was glad that the money from the client, with which they were supposed to close another hole in their threeshka caftan, had not arrived. Because the client claims that the cargo was not delivered to its destination.

So work, Veronika Andreevna. Get it, the result. And then someone didn’t get somewhere - and everything goes to the fucking mother.

I immediately wanted to kill someone. And it was even clear who exactly - Dimka Pomerantsev. Veronica took the phone, found Dmitry there and called.

- Veronika Andreevna, what fate? - Pomerantsev pretended that he was just born and did not know anything, his bass rumbled frivolously and naturally.

– Dmitry Sergeevich, I really want to see you. Here right now.

"I can't refuse a beautiful lady," he said heartily.

Gad. It doesn't matter what's wrong with him again, but Veronica was no longer going to cover his ass. And no one will give a new deferred payment.

Pomerantsev appeared five minutes later, contented like the cat of the Berkins, neighbors in the dacha, who amused himself by stealing food from Mukha's dog's bowl.

- Dima, what the hell is with the delivery of the cargo again?

“The car broke down,” he said readily, as if nothing in his life depended on this car.

- And who sends faulty cars on a flight? Veronica asked.

- So, you see, Veronica, the car was quite serviceable. But on the road, anything can happen, as if you yourself are not driving and you don’t know!

– I know that you and I have time – until the end of the working day. To take this money somewhere and send it to the bank.

“Did you say we were given a reprieve?”

Yes, on Monday. Today is Friday, didn't you know?

- I thought - for a month.

Of course, he thought. Instead of Monday, the next planning meeting was on Wednesday, and it was clearly said there that the payments must go through, and the deadlines were named.

“In general, Dima,” Veronica began wearily, “I won’t detain you anymore, go.” I'm waiting for offers of money in half an hour.

"Where can I get them for you?"

- I have no idea. Just like in the bank, they don't know where we get the money from. Who pays us and for what. They don't care about that, trust me.

- Well, you can call! And agree! You always could!

- That's it, my possibilities are exhausted. Go, I don't want to see you. Half an hour later, do you understand?

He just looked at her incredulously and left.

Named by herself for half an hour, Veronica twisted various options in her head and discussed them with Jeanne. Alas, it didn't work out. It never came out. Only ten percent of the amount could be obtained.

Half an hour later, Pomerantsev did not call back. However, Veronica somehow assumed so. He was never ready to be responsible for the jambs with the delivery of cargo, and Nedolyubov does not care.

Stop. What the hell is Nedolyubov? She, and they all, have a new CEO for the fifth day. And Veronica didn't know yet whether he cares or what.

Need to find out. Is he in charge or what? If the chief, let him harness himself and think what to do.

Veronica called the receptionist, but no one answered her. Ugh, Zhenya was kicked out, she had time to think when they picked up the phone.

- Icy, I'm listening, - came from the phone.

Hello, this is Lastochkina. May I come to you on a very important matter?

“Yes, Veronika Andreevna, I’m waiting for you,” she heard.

She put her phone in her pocket, picked up all the papers on the case and went.

- Alena, if they fire me the fuck - do not remember dashingly.

- No fluff, no feather, Veronika Andreevna!

- To hell!

I wonder what caught fire at Miss Finance, so Vic called himself Veronika Lastochkina. She had a voice - and look, someone will be torn to pieces.

He himself was in a great mood - because he persuaded his father to allow him to take his former secretary here from Vlad. Anna Konstantinovna was close to sixty, they had been working together for seven years, and Vic could not get enough of her. There were never any problems with her, she always knew everything, did everything on time, she had complete order in the documents, and she looked perfect. The destitute Vlad only sighed heavily, but said nothing. That's right, he is sitting in the rear, this is Vik at the forefront, and he has valuable personnel.

Lastochkina came in about three minutes later, well, yes, her office is almost very close. So what? Upset? No, but he's angry. I wonder who?

Then Miss Finance began to tell who she was angry with, and his iridescent mood disappeared without a trace. She dispassionately laid out - how many times the contracts were broken due to technical malfunctions, drunk drivers, loaders who did not go to work, cars that were not refueled on time.

Here it is, the very thing - Vic felt it. That, because of which a decent-looking transport company was in a deep ass. Something with which Nedolyubov could not or did not want to get involved. What he has to unearth.

No, dad and Mike will help, if anything. But this is for the most extreme case. He is the general director here, he must decide the issue himself.

- What amount should be paid today, Veronika Andreevna?

Four hundred and fifty seven thousand.

Fine.

Don't worry, we'll pay. Details from Zhanna Arkadievna?

- Yes.

“Today I will cover the payment myself, and then we will work with the esteemed gentlemen Pomerantsev and Visyukov,” obviously the deputy for logistics and the chief engineer know something about this.

"Thank you," she said slowly, never taking her eyes off him.

It's like she finally saw it, or something. Or is there something wrong with it?

– Veronika Andreevna, are you all right?

- Oh sure. It's just ... you take it and pay yourself?

“So this is my property now, right? My, so to speak, asset. I need it to work and make a profit. To do this, you have to invest in the beginning. But rest assured, I'm not going to do this all the time.

- The main thing is to tell this to Pomerantsev.

“I won’t tell him anything about it at all,” Vic winked at her. “And you don’t talk, okay?” And we will ask Zhanna Arkadyevna to keep a secret.

“Of course,” she said, still shocked.

What is it? It's a matter of life, as they say.

- Go to your room, we'll do everything now. Did Pomerantsev show himself in any way after your conversation?

- Not.

- That's fine. Let him think that it was you who again performed a miracle for him. At least for a while. And thank you, Veronika Andreevna.

- Why, Viktor Valentinovich?

“For showing me the problem area. I knew it was there, but I couldn't figure out where. It will be easier to root it out now, I hope—smile at her and let her go, Vic thought. - Go to track the transfer, and then, after all the conversations, I will look at you and tell you what I managed to find out.

His hands itched to start doing something.

Vic began by opening the file that Mikhail Grigoryevich, the head of his father's security service, had given him. And in a good way, it was necessary to read this file for a long time. But Vic didn't like reading about people you didn't know anything about. Now he had his own idea of ​​at least some of them, with whom he managed to contact during the past almost five days.

Of course, the GN company was checked from head to toe, that is, from parking in the basement floor of the business center to the roof over the offices of the general and deputies, before buying. And they also talked about the employees. At least, about those on which something noticeably depends in the company.

Little was known about Lastochkina - she lives in Akademgorodok, in a three-ruble house with her mother and sister, they live mainly on her income, because her mother has a penny pension, and her sister is a student for the third time, and for a third time - for a fee. My sister is studying at the Polytechnic University to become a psychologist (it’s necessary, as it happens ... before, they studied at the Polytechnic University to become engineers), and she barely studies. There is no relationship at the moment, and it has been like that for two years. The names of former hobbies do not tell him anything, but there are also brief references about them, one in Irkutsk, two in Moscow. Ugh, why does he need Lastochkin now, he didn’t go to read about her at all! But she's waiting for a transfer.

I asked the chief accountant for payment documents. I called my father's accountant, Olga Vasilievna, who had access to family accounts, ordered to pay these documents immediately from his personal account. That's it, it's decided.

Next - Pavel Olegovich Demyanov, deputy for security. Vic read it and laughed - apparently, Demyanov was Mikhail Grigorievich's man. Or a man of a man of Mikhail Grigorievich. And I started working recently, before the last New Year. Is it pre-sent? One call quickly confirmed the assumption, thus, the respected Pavel Olegovich, thirty-three years old, divorced twice, with three children from two marriages, could be trusted in work matters.

Demyanov appeared instantly - all the deputies' offices were on the top floor.

“Good afternoon, Viktor Valentinovich,” he said ingratiatingly.

And in general, he was all creeping and creeping, you won’t notice - he will crawl by the collar, and, most likely, will still stick.

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